從邊緣畫上身體的坐標—「2020綠島人權藝術季」中的消失、檔案與身體

文/張懿文
To Draw the Body’s Coordinates from the Margin – Disappearance, Archive, and Body of the 2020 Green Island Human Rights Art Festival
Written by CHANG I-Wen

身體的記憶、表演的痕跡、消失的檔案,迷漾著聯繫著彷彿是片段的密碼,有待人們重新發現其中的關連,表演藝術學者Diana Taylor在 “Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas”一書中,指出記憶會一直保留在身體經驗之中,透過演出而流傳於世,也因此表演即是「活的文件檔案」。而今年《綠島人權藝術季》以「如果,在邊緣,畫一個座標」為題,從消失的檔案記憶出發,探討各種弱勢族群人權之議題,策展人羅秀芝邀請了十四組藝術家(包含兩組國外藝術家)參展,並與國立臺北藝術大學合作《記憶.邊緣 — 北藝大特展》,在展覽中有許多表演特質的作品,透過身體切入作品回應策展主題,召喚消失的歷史檔案。

 

綠島是一個位於臺灣臺東縣外海、處在太平洋中的台灣離島,有著典型的熱帶顏色氣候,而綠島最為人所熟知的,莫過於其在戒嚴時期關押政治犯的歷史,今日被改名為「白色恐怖綠島紀念園區」的地景即與轉型正義有著密切的關連。也被稱作火燒島的綠島,在「白色恐怖綠島紀念園區」內,更容易感受到讓人喘不過去的炙熱,高高的圍籬分開了自由與束縛的距離,從「台灣保安司令部新生訓導處」到「國防部綠島感訓監獄(綠洲山莊)」,而「綠洲山莊」雖有著優雅的迷人名字,卻是個大型的監獄,這是今年《綠島人權藝術季》的主要展場之一,而山莊內的八卦樓正是法國社會學家傅柯(Michel Foucault)所指涉的「環形全景監獄」(Panopticon)建築,以一個中心點向四方展開,四邊突出的長廊兩側是一間間狹小的牢房,展示著現代的刑罰如何透過空間而對身體進行監控,針對個人的身份認同提供判斷標準。

 

從踏入「綠洲山莊」,觀眾就以活生生的肉身進入這個特殊的場域,漫步在遼闊而曝曬的園區內,對比室內建築的狹小和悶熱,異樣地讓人感到身體的不舒適,步入「綠洲山莊」八卦樓內令人煩躁和壓迫感十足的牢房間,來自尼泊爾的跨領域概念藝術行動者阿許米娜·蘭吉特(Ashmina Ranjit)之作品《2004 偶發: 事件發生現場》,透過現場藝術,紀錄了2004年正值尼泊爾內戰方酣之際,死亡籠罩,政府卻在首都加德滿都的暴動和示威進行暴力鎮壓,當時阿許米娜·蘭吉特與全尼泊爾共52個電台合作,持續一個小時播放由藝術家提供的——哀悼死傷者的哭泣與吶喊的聲音,而藝術家號召反對黨聯盟、學生黨聯盟、平民百姓,大家一起參與表演抗暴與被鎮壓的行動。而在八角樓的監獄空間內,《2004 偶發: 事件發生現場》的文件檔案在牆壁上展示著,牢房內播放著當時哀悼死者的恐怖呼喊和啜泣聲,迴盪在狹小而又略顯陰森詭異的八角樓廊道內,令人不寒而慄,觀眾一邊觀看著《2004 偶發: 事件發生現場》的照片與錄像,一邊被充滿歷史感的空間和驚悚音效環繞,彷彿又重新親臨2004年在加德滿的行為事件現場,彼處曾經發生的歷史事件,呼應綠島監獄裡,幽靈回返再現的可能出口。

 

林子寧《不能說的是 ___》則透過行為表演和參與式互動,引領觀眾進入綠島過去的消逝記憶,臨摹可能發生的不在場:在八角樓的一間牢房內,參觀者在自己的名字被創作者叫到後,以不出聲的方式,用一個「告別的動作」跟在場所有觀眾道別離開;接著,被唱名離開的觀眾,來到隔壁的牢房,觀看之前其他參與觀眾離別時的「告別動作」錄像,最後,在創作者的引領下,參與者彼此分享做了哪些「告別的動作」,透過語言溝通重建牢房內的事件,觀眾也在參與過程中,成為綠島監獄裡囚禁的政治犯角色;有趣的是,北藝大特展的《ㄉㄧㄥ.Watch》也運用了類似的劇場沉浸式裝置,三個展間—「毋忘在莒」、「家書」和「美好的未來」一步步帶領觀眾走進沈浸式劇場的體驗之中,從國共彼此參照的兩岸標語競賽(如「殺朱拔毛」、「保密防諜」、「反攻大陸」到「人民心中的紅太陽」等標語)、到被監控與集權宰制的禁箇下,展場最後一個房間內,透過錄製好的男女對話,重現政治犯面對死亡前夕與愛人的對話,以私人情感的親密性,召喚著聽眾面對時代悲劇裡率直誠懇的人性。

 

林宏璋的《生命字典:白無常、黑無常、青衣人》錄像,處理個人生命經驗的回顧,交織著藝術家父親病危時發作的譫妄症幻覺、與國民黨調查局人員和黑無常、白無常一起審問的鮮活意象,藝術家發掘了一批老照片,是中央社從民國五十四年開始在綠島拍攝的新生訓導處第一期的影像,同時期剛好考上台大法律系的藝術家父親,或許也知道其中的關聯性,令人震懾的是,這些對於白色恐怖威權時代的恐懼記憶,竟然像陰魂不散的幽靈,在病危之際,以譫妄症幻覺的方式現身。在八角樓監獄房間內,《生命字典:白無常、黑無常、青衣人》錄像以牢房、病房的意象與影音並置,鬼魅般的召喚著類似榮格所討論的集體潛意識,走入裝置現場的觀眾,就有如進入白色恐怖時期一整個世代所陷入的集體沈默與創傷之中,在心靈的深處、意識的邊緣,林宏璋將官方影像到父親在瞻妄症之後的個人生命經驗並置,以此呈現國家體制對個人的影響,從觀眾參與和現場建築空間出發,探討醫療系統如病房和監獄的日常政治體系,從身體的內在,轉向對國家體制等更大規模外在機制的鮮活批判。         

 

安魂工作隊的《版畫室與標本室——的確是存在於二十世紀》訴說一個「的確存在於二十世紀」的消失故事,透過「版畫室」和「標本室」的對比,呈現白色恐怖的不同視角與差別敘事:「版畫室」呈現民眾的視角,試圖轉化綠島牢房監獄成為 「自由畫社」畫室,藉以向畫室的成員黃榮燦致敬——黃榮燦曾以版畫《恐怖的檢查》對二二八事件受難者表示同情,並在數年後被情治人員逮捕並羅織叛亂罪名處死,而在綠島展場的「版畫室」中,安魂工作隊的林傳凱和李佳泓在台灣各鄉鎮邀請民眾聆聽白色恐怖時期的故事,再把民眾回應這些事件所創作的素描跟版畫作品,放置在「版畫室」監獄的展間牆面上;而「標本室」則是由國家的視角出發,將民間祭改中的草人裝置在房內,每一個草人都有著自己的故事,藝術家將草人的裝置與標本框結合,在「標本室」中的地圖,詳細繪製了情治人員如何在抓政治犯之前,先細研究每個政治犯的作息路徑、工作環境的地圖,而這些地圖有如搜集標本——空間的座標,即是定位身體在空間中的方式——國家權力對著要整肅的政治犯進行「採集」,身體及其活動空間都是統治與監控的範圍,作品詩意而發人深省——在數位監控的時代,當代「標本室」是否已經消失?

 

在這些以參與式情境或身體出發的作品中,「移情」似乎成為藝術家、作品和參與者之間的連結, 觀眾透過身體感知而與作品產生連結,對作品的回應不再只是理智上的思索,而是透過感同身受得到的啟發與衝擊,身體是回應策展主題的切入點,參觀展覽彷彿就是參與了一場沈浸式的展演,作品透過身體的能動性,召喚出缺如的記憶與檔案。

Within the memory of the body, the traces of performance, and the disappeared archive obscurely and mysteriously connect segments of codes ready to be rediscovered and linked.  According to the performance studies scholar Diana Taylor in her Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas, memory will always remain in the bodily experiences and be passed down through performance, which makes performance “the living archive.”  Under the theme of “If on the margin, draw a coordinate,” the 2020 Green Island Human Rights Art Festival departs from the disappeared archive and memory to touch upon issues related to the human rights concerning different minority groups.  The curator Sandy Hsiu-chih Lo invites 14 artists and groups (including 2 artist groups from abroad), while she also collaborates with Taipei National University of the Arts in the accompanying Remembrance & Marginalization: the TNUA Special Exhibition to evoke the historical achive as a bodily response to the curatorial theme through its many performance-based works.

As a typical tropical island offshore from Taitung, Taiwan and surrounded by the Pacific Ocean, Green Island is most known for its history of prisoning political dissents during the Martial Law Period, especially the Green Island White Terror Memorial Park as known today whose name has a strong tie with transitional justice.  Among the island’s many names throughout the history, “Bonfire Island” particularly reminds us of the suffocating heat, while the tall and huge fences extend the distance between freedom and fetters to infinity.   From “Taiwan Provincial Security Command's Re-education Department” to Ministry of National Defense’s “Green Island Reform and Reeducation Prison,” its elegant nickname “Oasis Villa” served as a giant prison, and it is the main exhibition venue for this year’s Green Island Human Rights Art Festival.  The Eight Trigrams Building inside Oasis Villa features a “Panopticon” architectural structure, famously used by the French sociologist Michel Foucault in his power-knowledge theory, with a center expanding to four directions and the radial wings are divided into narrow cells on both sides of the hallways as manifestation that how modern punishment may find a way to keep the body under surveillance by means of space and to provide parameters for personal identity.

Once stepping into Oasis Villa, the visitors enter the unusual space with their living flesh.  They wander around the open field without any protection from the sun, as a strong contrast against the indoor crampiness and stagnancy, inevitably feeling a strange physical sense of discomfort.  Inside the unrest and oppressive prison cells of the Eight Trigrams Building at Oasis Villa, the conceptual interdisciplinary “artivist” Ashmina Ranjit from Nepal visualizes the government’s violent crackdown against the protestors in the street riots breaking out in Kathmandu, the capital of a country suffering the life-taking civil war in 2004, through live art in her Happening: Present Situation, 2004, Kathmandu.  At that time, Ashmina Ranjit has worked with 52 radio stations across Nepal to broadcast the hour-long recordings of crying and screaming to mourn the victims.  Meanwhile, the artist called up the alliances of opposition parties, student groups, and civilians to participate in the event of the performed resistance.   On the wall of the prison cell display the documents of Happening: Present Situation, 2004, Kathmandu, accompanied by the chilling sound of crying and weeping recorded from the mourning for the dead that resonates throughout the dark and creepy narrow hallway to arouse a sense of horror.  The visitors look at the photos and videos of Happening: Present Situation, 2004, Kathmandu as they are surrounded by the history of the space as well as the horrifying sound effect as if to revisit the scenes of Kathmandu in 2004.  The historical event that has once happened, as a response to the Green Island prison cells, become a possible exit for the ghosts to return and to reappear.

Lin Tzu-Ning’s performance _______what we cannot say interactively invites visitors to enter the disappeared memory of Green Island: inside a prison cell of the Eight Trigrams Tower, once the visitor hears his or her name being called by the artist/performer, they should make a silent “farewell gesture” to say goodbye to the rest of the visitors present; what happens then is that the called-up visitors will go to the prison cell next to the original one, where they get to see the video of the farewell gestures made by the previous visitors; in the end, following the guidance of the artist, the participators will share with each other what farewell gesture they have done, as well as to reconstruct the event taking place in the prison cell through verbal communication.  The interactive participation thus allows viewers to embody the roles of the political prisoners on the Green Island.  Interestingly, D-i-n-g.Watch at ​Remembrance & Marginalization: the TNUA Special Exhibition employs a similar immersive theatrical installation, where the three rooms – "Don't Forget the Time at Jyu," "Home Letters," and "Beautiful Future" – step by step lead visitors into an immersive theatrical experience, starting from the cross-strait slogan competition between KMT and CPC (the list includes “Kill Zhu De and Mao Zedong,” “Be Aware of the Spies,” “Reconquering the Mainland,” and “The Red Sun in the Hearts of People”), the collective oppression of being monitored and dominated, to the last room where the recorded conversation between a man and a woman revisualizes a political prisoner’s conversation with his lover on the eve of his death, evoking the most honest humanity with intimate and personal feelings for the listeners reminded of a tragic time.

LIN Hongjohn in his video Biodictionary: white impermanence, black impermanence, and the man with a blue shirt deals with his life experiences in retrospect, integrating the delusions of his father suffering from delirium and the vivid integration images of KMT’s investigation bureau officer together with Black Impermanence and White Impermanence from folk religion.  The artist has found a group of old photos taken by the Central News Agency when they started to document and report the first-batch prisoners transformed to Freshman Training Office since 1965.   The artist’s father who had just been become a law student at National Taiwan University might have known the connection.  The real shock is how the dreadful memory of White Horror dictatorship stays a haunting ghost which reappears as delusions at the deathbed of his father.   In the prison cell of the Eight Trigrams Tower, the video Biodictionary: white impermanence, black impermanence, and the man with a blue shirt juxtaposes the images of prison cell and hospital ward, like a phantom evoking the collective subconsciousness as proposed by Carl Jung.  The visitors stepping into the installation are actually stepping into the collective silence and trauma shared by a whole generation suffering from the White Terror regime.  At the bottom of the soul and the margin of the consciousness, Lin juxtaposes official footage with the life experiences from his father’s delusions to represent how the state authority can influence an individual.  Starting with the spectatorial engagement and the architectural space, it explores the everyday political mechanism of the medical system as symbolized by hospital wards and prison cells, transforming the inner body into a more piquant critique of the state and other larger-scale external mechanisms. 

The print studio and specimen room–did exist in 20th century by the Libera work-gang tells a story of disappearance which “did exist in the 20th Century.”  With the contrast between “Print Studio” and “Specimen Room,” it demonstrates the myriad perspectives of the White Terror narratives: from the public’s perspective, “Print Studio” intends to transform the Green Island prison into the painting studio of “Freedom Painting society” in homage to its member Huang Jung-ts'un, whose sympathy for the victims of the 228 Incident as revealed in his woodcut Inspection of Horror cost his life when he was arrested by the intelligence agents, falsely convicted of treason, and sentenced to death.  LIN Chuan-Kai and LI Jia-Hung from the Libera work-gang traveled across Taiwan, bringing the White Terror stories to each city and town for the local people, while the drawings and prints from the public as a response to the historical events were collected in the project as displayed on the walls of the exhibition space of “Print Studio.”  As a comparison, “Specimen Room” adopts the perspective from the state, installing the straw figures used for tsè-kái, a fate-changing ritual in folk religion, in the room while each straw figure has its own story.  The artist combines the straw-figure installation and the specimen frames to provide maps detailed by the intelligence agents with information related to every political prisoner’s daily route and work environment.  These maps are like the specimen collected – the coordinates of space, which is how we locate body in the space – to suggest that the state authority is conducting a data collection with political dissidents as their target for the purge, marking body and the space of activity within the reign of its dominance and surveillance.  In a poetic and inspiring way, it brings up the question – in an age of digital surveillance, has the contemporary “specimen room” really disappeared? 

In these interaction-based or body-oriented works, “empathy” seems to create a connection among artists, artworks, and participators.  Viewers are linked with the artworks through physical perception and respond with empathetic inspiration and impact rather than rational thinking.  The body is the penetrating point to respond to the curatorial theme.  To visit an exhibition is like to take part in an immersive performance.  The artwork thus brings back the missing memory and archive through the agency of the body.