高風筆下不間斷痙攣著的自我與古代經典
楊小彥
 
走進高風在北京的畫室，突然感到一陣緊張與窒息。其實，他的畫室頗有條理，墻上靠著一溜尺幅巨大的作品，內容是對古代經典名作的改畫。我遠遠一看，覺得確有雅致在其中彌漫。可是，稍微端詳，便發現那是一場貨真價實的視覺騙局，一場關于經典與自我之關系的奇特反語。之后，我開始感到了一種對立，一種對陌生者初來乍到時所產生的內在擠壓。  于是，緊張與窒息就升騰起來，擋都擋它不住。

這真是一種周星馳式的無厘頭感受。

從高風所提供的藝術經歷看，我想他的作品大致上可以分成三類，第一類是行為藝術，第二類是以自我為對象的架上油畫，第三類便是一開始我進入他的畫室時所看到的被改畫后的古代經典，也算是架上。而聯結這三類作品的，卻是一種對細胞的持續描繪。

在高風畫室一角，懸掛著他的一些早期作品，很多張，大大小小，似乎像是一張合成后和成品，內容全是各種細胞的放大圖，是用鉛筆、水彩或毛筆涂抹而成的，像草圖，更像是對細胞進行觀察后所留下的筆跡。我發現這件作品所透露的情緒，包含了高風其后在絕大部分作品中都蘊含著的一種揮之不去的、生理意義上的、隱匿其真相的、與生俱來的恐懼。

開始是觀察，漸漸的，觀察不夠了，就開始咀嚼，再后來，咀嚼也不夠了，因為已經擴散，已經迅速復制和克隆，成倍地、幾何級數地在生長，于是就驚慌失措，被置換，在置換在走向遠古的經典。我相信高風正是這樣走過來的。這個過程，頗像一種器物的生長，而且是一種生物學意義上的生長，從一點開始，裂變、沖突、和解、再裂變、再沖突、再度和解，直到走向脫離個體領地，走向失控的遙遠異域為止。但那時，生長本身就已經沒有意義，而徒具痕跡可以留存了，真實的器物同時也成為異類，讓原本與它密切相關的人類也相形見絀。

觀察階段的高風是帶有某種生物性質的，他對不同種類的細胞，包括與細胞相關的液體進行觀察和描繪。這些細胞和液體，如何沒有專業知識做支撐，外人大概是看不出其中會有多大的差別，但一旦把它們置入藝術家的“顯微鏡”之下，其中的差別就懸空出來了。我懷疑正是這當中的懸空，促成了高風創作的激情，進而把這懸空變成事實，變成可以辨認的“作品”。接著，高風進入行為藝術，用一種徹底讓皮膚發麻的方式，去體驗細胞與液體沖刷的滑膩感覺。這是一種內在的性感覺，和肉體高度一體，所以也成為一種力量，不可抗拒地擠壓著來自肉體內部的分泌物的排泄。從這一意義來看，行為藝術本身是不可觀賞的，而是體驗的，而且是用自身的肉體去體驗。

這讓我剎時想起一本奇怪的書籍，書名叫《精子戰爭》，一本從細胞水平揭示男女沖突的社會生理學著作。作者用了一種詭異而又不無色情的客觀方式，仔細描繪了男女在情感的遮掩下，是如何表達他們的肉體意志的。當中，真正的戰勝者并不是我們所想象的男性，而是女性。女性用了一種讓男人們意料不到的柔情，戰勝了表面看來是男權統治的等級社會。我不能肯定高風也閱讀過這本書。藝術家大都憑直覺從事創作。我從來也不相信那些勸導藝術家去讀書的陳腐概念，以為藝術創作的高度和對書籍知識的掌握有關。我甚至還以為，過多的書籍知識只能敗壞直覺，從而讓藝術成為無根之木無源之水。

我估計高風從事行為藝術的時間不太長，很快就重新回到架上領域，探討用平面表達細胞的游動與變異。這時，細胞在他的觀感中開始濃縮成一個符號，那就是凹陷，或者叫吞噬，或者叫合并。

他開始畫一系列帶肖像的作品。這肖像像是自畫像，又像是年青人的特指圖形，沒有五官，只有一個凹陷的或吞噬的或合并的肉洞，以及肉體向四周的漸次溶化。

而這個“四周”，卻是他生活的地方，比如北京。

也就是說，高風一直在想象一種生命成長與溶化的歷程。開始是“寵物”(其實是對“寵物”的反諷)，接著是“藍色生物”系列，想象細胞可能的性狀，再接著是“生物今生”系列，把自己也置入其間，體會變異的孤獨。最后，也就是最近，高風的“生物”走向古代經典，通過“凹陷”與“溶化”來分解過去視覺文化的輝煌。

“生物今生”之“魔換系列”和“古生物前世系列”恰成對比，表達了高風對生命與歷史關系的視覺認識。“魔換”是對現世的嘲諷，而“古生物前世”則是對經典的胡搞，兩者合在一起，便讓生命從自以為是的尊嚴走向它的原點，那就是細胞水平上的無目的胡逛亂游和生命繁殖與復制意義上的縱欲狂歡，它恰巧應合了當今流行的大眾犬儒主義的諂媚俗笑與昏話碎語。結果是，在高風筆下，組成生命的細胞就像那些不受約束而又地位低下四處亂竄的精蟲，全都患上了先天的哮喘，呼喊著上騰上跳，痙攣著走向當下，也走向古代。而高風本人則站在這騰跳和痙攣的中心，沉默著，尋找尚未到來的答案，關于生命細胞的答案，關于生活消失與新生的答案。也許，這答案永遠不會來，也許，根本就沒有這樣的答案。但不要緊，高風等待著，用了他那年齡所無法理解的耐心，等待注定等待不來的結局。

2008-6-13

廣州中山大學

Dynamic Asthmatic Cells – the continuously spastic self and traditional classics under Gao Feng’s brush
Yang Xiaoyan

Walking into Gao Feng’s Beijing studio, a sudden tension and suffocation rushed over me. Although his studio appeared to be quite neat, a row of paintings in large dimensions re-appropriating ancient classical masterpieces were lined up against the wall. From afar, they seemed to be dispersive of elegance throughout the room. However, as I gazed at them, I realized that they were true visual deceptions, a unique sarcasm between the classics and the self. At that moment, I felt a sense of opposition, a kind of internal impression for beginners. Soon, the tension and suffocation elevated in an irresistible manner.

This is precisely the bewildering impression of Zhou Xingchi’s meaninglessness satires.

Looking at Gao Feng’s artistic experiences, I have separated his works into three general categories. The first is his performance art, and the second is his works on canvas revolving around the self, and the third is his modified classical paintings I saw in his studio, which can also be considered works on canvas. Combining these three bodies of work, we can see his continuous portrayal of cells.

In a corner of Gao Feng’s studio, some of his earlier works are hung, large and small, like synthetic end-products, the content of which is magnified images of the cell done in pencil, water color, or with brushes. They look like drawings, or even like notes taken as the artist observed the cells. I sensed the emotions Gao projected into this work, as well as his continuous, physical, his disguised and his natural fear. 
It began by observing, which gradually became insufficient, and then it became necessary to digest, but that also became insufficient, for as it spread, it began to replicate and clone itself in multiplicity, growing exponentially. Then it was in a state of panic and mitosis, replaced by extending to the distant classicism. I believe this was Gao Feng’s journey, a process of growth for an object, a biological growth that began, split, became conflicted, resolved itself and then split, became conflicted and resolved itself again until it departed from its individual territory and ventured towards the distant unknown. Then, growth became meaningless, with traces of formality kept while the actual object became non-human, outshining the humanity that was originally closely related to it. 
In the process of observation, Gao Feng has certain biological features. He observes and portrays different types of cells, including fluids related to the cells. Without any professional background, most people wouldn’t be able to see the difference in these cells and fluids, although once they are placed under the artist’s “microscope” the difference between them becomes apparent. I would imagine, it is this unknown that inspired Gao Feng’s creative passion, allowing him to transform the abstract into reality, into distinguishable “artworks.” Thereupon, Gao Feng tapped into performance art by completely numbing his skin to experience the slippery feeling between the cell and its fluids. It is an internalized sexual sensation, as powerful as the physical sensation that becomes a type of strength that excretes unstoppable body fluids. To this level, performance art is not visually pleasing, but is to be experienced with the physical body. 
At that split moment, I was reminded of a strange book called War of Semen, a volume unveiling the socio-biological conflicts between men and women. The writer uses an absurd yet asexual and objective approach to portray how men and women express their physical will while concealing their emotions. In this volume, the true fighter is not the male as we might have imagined, but female. Females use their tenderness - unforeseen by men - to overcome the classifications of society that are dominated by men. I am uncertain whether Gao Feng has also read this book. Most artists’ creativity is based on their instincts, and I am not a believer in the passé concepts of persuading artists to read in order to reflect one’s command of knowledge through his artistic creativity. I even believe that bookish knowledge can hinder one’s instincts, making art a rootless plant or sourceless water.
I don’t think Gao Feng worked with performance art for long, but he soon returned to works on canvas, exploring the travels and variations of the cells in two-dimensions. This was when he condensed cells into symbols of his senses, hollow, swallowing, or amalgamating.
He began with a series of portraiture. This series of self-portraits somewhat resembles the thumb stickers that are popular among young people. They did not have any facial organs, but appeared hollow, devouring, like merged holes of flesh, with the flesh dissolving into its surroundings.
This “surrounding” was where Gao lived, a place like Beijing.
In other words, Gao Feng has always been imagining the journey of life and its dissolution. It began with “pets,” then his “blue life” series, an imagination of the possible sexuality of cells, and then his “biological life” series involved himself in the experience of the loneliness of transformation. Lastly, and most recently, Gao Feng’s “biology” was directed toward the ancient classics, and using the “hollow” and “dissolving” to dissect the glory of the visual culture of the past.
 “Biological life,” “Magical series,” and “The Last Life of Archeological Beings” contrast with each other, expressing Gao Feng’s visual understanding of the relationship between life and history. “Magic” is his sarcastic commentary on the world at present, whereas “The Last Life of Archeological Beings” is a trial of the classics, combining the two together in order to allow lives that believed in dignity to return to their origin – a cellular random travel met with the unrestrained celebration of reproduction and the replication of life, which coincidentally corresponds to scrutiny of the kitsch and random commentary of today’s popular cynicism. As a result, under Gao Feng’s brush, the making of life is like the lowly yet unrestrained travel of sperm， born with stamina, jumping up and down, traveling toward the contemporary spastically, toward the past. Whereas Gao Feng is standing in the mist of this random spasm, quietly searching for the unattained answers, answers about the lives of cells, answers about the loss and rebirth of life. Perhaps, the answer will never come; perhaps, there is no answer for it to start with. Nevertheless, Gao Feng waits, with the patience that age does not allow, waiting for the outcome of predestined a inconsequence.

June 13, 2008
Zhongshan University, Guangzhou