為何選擇「東亞」這一概念上含糊不清、頗有問題的、但卻被日常使用著的地理現實作為一個展覽的主題？東亞的地緣政治輸入，殖民與後殖民的現狀及潛流，圍繞這些問題的辯論早已展開，學者如孫歌、溝口雄三（Mizoguchi Yuzo）、陳光興、泰薩·莫里斯-鈴木（Tessa Morris-Suzuki）、濱下武志（Hamashita Takeshi）等對其都有長期研究。在2022年，如果僅提出「什麼是東亞」這樣的問題，或只以地域作為展覽的基礎，這可能在智識上聽起來陳舊過時也缺乏創意。自相似的主題展覽如《建構中的亞洲美術新世代》（Under Construction: New Dimensions of Asian Art，2001-2002）發生已過去二十年，該地區探尋這一主題的展覽紛繁，在今日香港策劃此展覽的意義又是什麼？如果將「東亞」視為一種進程，那麼人們是如何在21世紀的地緣政治經驗（包括社會運動和全球大流行病）中自我識別和評估東亞辯論的一系列遺產和包袱，並產生自己的詮釋和迭代？
作為「再紡東亞」系列展覽的第二章節，CHAT的展覽「邊織邊拆的網」是新一代藝術工作者對這個名為「東亞」的進程的參與。策展人王慰慰為其選擇了16組藝術家。觀看這個雄心勃勃的、有時甚至是充滿壓倒性的展覽需要強大的心靈，因為它要求觀眾集中注意力來吸收不同的敘述，其中許多是通過視頻作品表述的。雖然有很多方法可以從展覽中梳理出意義，例如文美桃的《擴散性線體》中看不見的線將紡織廠工人的女性身體跨越時間和空間地聯繫在一起，而朴智希（Park Jeehee）的《橢圓形軌道》中水晶似的塊狀物暗示了「生態模糊性」或該地區歷史和未來的相互聯繫和生態的物質性，本評論將專注於幾個作品來探索其「什麼是東亞」的策展意圖。
可預見的，日本帝國主義和隨之而來的戰爭在幾件作品中出現，其中既有歷史敘事也有推測性解釋。集中在同一空間里，楊圓圓的《大連幻景》和鐮田友介（Kamata Yusuke ）的《日式住宅》分別又共同編織了殖民主義現代性的視覺敘事，將移動和靜止的圖像交織在一起，強調對物質結構的諷刺性使用，同時構建了歷史和虛構的記憶。滿洲里，大東亞共榮圈中日本和殖民地臣民的所謂烏托邦，是《虛無鄉遠》的背景。這是一部由李繼忠和伊佐治雄悟（Isaji Yugo）分別創作（由於COVID的旅行限制）的合作多屏幕作品。從作為干擾和敘事編排的輕聲細語的日語對話中，伴隨著貧瘠的風景和腐爛的大豆（滿洲里的主要農產品）的圖像，人們聽到了「家」和「家庭」的反駁，所有這些都是情景性的和不確定的——當「家」不再時，人們回到什麼地方？在這種敘述中，人們如何看待這些日本定居者？他們是暴力軍事入侵大陸的前線棋子，但也是被描繪的可悲和絕望的人。對日本帝國主義和亞太戰爭的記憶束縛了該地區也分裂了該地區，因為在不斷變化的地緣政治背景下，流動的策劃的敘事也被用來支持民族國家的身份。這些藝術作品如何與「國家記憶」合作或爭論，對觀眾的詮釋提出了挑戰。
帝國的記憶並不是該地區唯一正在進行的當代進程。人口結構轉變的現實從該區域不同的支持生育主義的政策和對繁殖、身體和個人選擇的侵入性干預中可以窺見，例如中國大陸的獨生子女政策的逆轉。在如此狀況下，被認定為女性的個人如何生存？李清月的《光○》敘述了對睡美人的另一種文本和視覺詮釋，而陳逸雲的《麗卿媽祖 》裝置中的虛構人物「我」將是任何東亞民族國家的春夢，其中「我」因生育孩子的數量和生育的超人般速度而受到推崇，從懸掛的白色襯衫裙上代表驚人出生日期的神秘數字可以推測一二。在這些重塑母性的推測性未來中，儒家和父權制度將如何對待他們的女性？
「社會秩序」和「教育水平」等浪漫化的觀點經常被東亞地區內外的評論家們用來解釋該地區的經濟崛起。先是自我陶醉的「儒家價值」的說辭伴隨著20世紀末「亞洲四小龍」的出現而興起，之後是諷刺畫般的 「虎爸虎媽」概念的盛行——二者都在贊美看似和諧的社區，重視社會秩序和卓越的應試能力。加藤翼（Kato Tsubasa）的作品《打破寂靜之日》中的音樂表現突出了約束和干擾，似乎是在描繪個人在社會壓力下掙扎共存的情景。 康瑞璟 （Suki Seokyeong Kang）的《席上席 — 激活 — 中華基督教會基全小學》也是對這種將個人社會化和區隔化的結構的一種跨越式的表達，既充滿希望也頗為壓抑。香港的小學生將他們的想象世界用Jeongganbo（一種朝鮮王朝時代的韓國音樂符號系統）繪制在大型紡織品上，其中一些想法超出了被勾勒的框架，但也與令人悵然的信息共存。
一些作品不是簡單地根據汪暉所定義的「文化主義、國家主義和文明理論」來獲取共同點，而是通過人和物的遷徙來尋找聯通的渠道。 例如王博的作品《九龍東往事》，通過一個整合了人類毛髮交易歷史的影像作品——其中有些是事實，另一些是可信的想象——香港的和「亞洲間」的視角的線索出現在人們面前。其古怪又耐人尋味的敘事從1965年的「共產主義頭髮禁運」開始，追溯關於「東亞」的某種冷戰意識形態的構建。香港和中國大陸之間的關聯也通過2021年CHAT駐場藝術家何鋭安的作品《Lining》中的紡織品歷史來講述，這是其三部曲視頻裝置的第一部分。這些有關資本主義和全球化的故事不僅是關於「東亞」的，冷戰時期的地緣政治總是涉及美國和全球的其他參與者。
在處理一個以地區為基礎的展覽時，人們總是可以指出其遺漏的例子，儘管策展人盡了最大努力，但它可能不是面面俱到的。不過，如果此展能包括例如沖繩的視角，那就更有意思了，因為2022年是沖繩群島「回歸 」日本的50週年，這將在作品之間設立起建設性的對話。當身份、時間、空間和背景都發生了變化，蛻變成了全新的、有時甚至是無法辨認的，人們所渴望的家在哪裡？被日本和美國軍隊殖民，並與中國大陸、朝鮮半島、台灣和東南亞有著長期的關係，來自琉球群島「浮球」（即琉球Ryukyu日語字面上的意思，編輯注）上的人們屬於哪裡？ 「東亞」超出了東亞的範圍，目前學術標籤的 「東北亞」雖然仍然不夠，但其試圖將該地區與東南亞、中亞和其他的「亞洲」們聯繫起來。將東亞的概念放在亞洲範圍內，特別是考慮到與香港的歷史聯繫，可能會對與這些生活中的地緣政治現實有關的身份的流動性進行更深層次的演繹。
雖然名為「再紡東亞」，但這次展覽顯然還缺乏一些「交織」。任何區域性的探索也是策展的一次選擇過程——一次塑造敘述的行為。似乎策展人允許藝術家們自由地詮釋這個主題，這導致了某種程度上的相似，想法和作品模式的某種常規演繹。公平地說，疫情的狀況影響了藝術作品類型的選擇，更多視頻作品取代了裝置。也許一些更直接的不規則性或不熟悉性在美學上會更合適「再紡」的主題。儘管如此，或者也正因如此，這個展覽是一個必看的展覽，因為它可以讓人們體驗到該地區不斷變化的背景和代際交往，因為人們繼續努力將東亞作為一個歷史實體、一個地緣政治的現實，以及作為一種同時包容又分裂的身份。
也許「什麼是東亞」這個問題中的歷史重要性不在於問題本身，而在於「問題再次被提出」這樣的簡單事實。某種程度上，這個雄心勃勃的展覽，加上其附帶的知名學者們的在線論壇（由潘律策劃，絕對值得在Youtube上觀看），可以被理解為列斐伏爾（Henri Lefebvre）式的「空間生產（production of space）」，用以創造新的社會實踐、意識形態和語境。無論人們將邊界描述為流動的還是液態的，這個展覽都提醒人們，對東亞/亞洲的定義及其被想象的一致性——歷史、文化、地理或其他的——都將不斷轉變。就像一個可以挑選的自助餐廳，記憶和現實在不斷變化的、當下的政治環境中被選擇、更新和重新敘述。由此產生的展覽創造了新的語境，並重新嵌入了自己。這一系列的未來迭代應該是有趣的。
作者：中山和泉（Izumi Nakayama）是香港大學香港人文社會科學研究所的研究員。她的研究興趣集中在現代和當代日本和東亞的身體、性別、勞動和技術，研究月經、更年期和生死等的歷史。 她還教授新的生殖技術、生物倫理學和生物黑客技術，探索藝術、食物、時間、情感和生命的交叉問題。
翻譯：萬豐
Spinning East Asia
Why choose “East Asia” –-conceptually vague and problematic, while used as an everyday geographic reality—as an exhibition theme? The debates of its geopolitical import, its problematic colonial and postcolonial contours, and its potentials have been long examined by scholars such as Sun Ge, Mizoguchi Yuzo, Chen Kuan-hsing, Tessa Morris-Suzuki, Hamashita Takeshi, to name a select few. In 2022, to posit “what is East Asia” might sound intellectually old-fashioned, or to put on a regionally based show, creatively outdated. Twenty years after the 2001-2002 “Under Construction: New Dimensions of Asian Art,” and other themed exhibits in the region inquiring this very issue, what does it mean to curate this show in Hong Kong? If one views “East Asia” as a process, how do people self-identify and assess the array of inheritance and baggages of the East Asia debate within their 21st century geopolitical experiences (including social movements and a global pandemic) and generate their own interpretations and iterations?
CHAT’s “Spinning East Asia Series: A Net (Dis)Entangled,” the second chapter in their Spinning East Asia Series, is a new generation’s artistic engagement with this process called East Asia. Curator Wang Weiwei selected 16 groups of artists, and this ambitious, and at times, overwhelming, show is not for the weak hearted, as it demands the audience’s focused attention to absorb the diverse narratives, many of them through video work. While there are numerous ways to tease meaning out of the show, such as the invisible threads in Man Mei To’s Diffusing Linear Body linking female bodies of textile factory workers across time and space, and Park Jeehee’s Drawing Elliptical Orbit crystal blocks hinting at the “ecoambiguity” or the materiality of the region’s historical and future interconnectedness and ecology, this review will focus on a few works to explore the curatorial intent “what is East Asia.”
Predictably, Japanese imperialism and the ensuing wars feature in several of the works, where historical narratives meet speculative interpretations. Enclosed in a single space, Luka Yuanyuan Yang’s Dalian Mirage and Kamata Yusuke’s Japanese House together and separately weave visual narratives of colonial modernity, interlaying moving and still images to highlight ironic uses of material structures, all the while constructing historical and fictional memories. Manchuria, the supposed utopia for Japanese and colonial subjects of the Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere, is the backdrop for The Shadow Lands Yonder, a collaborative multi-screen work created separately (due to COVID travel restrictions) by Lee Kai Chung and Isaji Yugo. From the soft-spoken Japanese dialogues, operating both as interference and as choreography of narrative, accompanied by scenes of barren landscapes and images of decaying soybeans (a major Manchurian produce), one hears the refrain of “home” and “family,” all of which are situational and uncertain—what does one go back to, when “home” is no longer? In this narrative, how does one view these Japanese settlers, who are the frontline pawns of the violent military invasion into the continent yet depicted as pathetic and forlorn? Memories of Japanese imperialism and the Asia Pacific War bind yet also divide the region, as fluidly curated narratives are used to buttress nation-state identities in the changing geopolitical contexts. How these artworks collaborate with, or contest “national memories” challenge the viewer’s interpretation.
Memories of the empire are not the only contemporary processes in motion within the region. The realities of the demographic shift can be seen in the respective pro-natalist policies and invasive interventions into reproducing bodies and personal choices, as seen in the reversal of the mainland China’s one-child policy. How do individuals who identify as female exist in these conditions? Li Qingyue’s Aura ○ narrates an alternative textual and visual interpretation of Sleeping Beauty, while the fictitious character “I” in Chen Yiyun’s Le Qing Mazu installation would be any East Asian nation-state’s wet dream, as she is revered for the number of children and for the superhuman speed with which she reproduced them, as seen in the cryptic numbers representing surprising birth dates on a hanging white shirt dress. Even in these speculative futures reifying motherhood, how do Confucian and patriarchal systems treat their women?
Romanticized notions of social order and high levels of education are often used to interpret the economic rise of the region by commentators from within and out. The self-congratulatory “Confucian values” rhetoric that accompanied the economic rise of the “Four Asian Tigers” in the late 20th century was followed by later caricatures of “Tiger” parents—both of which celebrate the seemingly harmonious communities prizing social order and examinational excellence. The musical presentation of Kato Tsubasa’s The Day to Break the Silence highlights restraints and interference, seemingly depicting individuals struggling to coexist within societal pressures. Suki Seokyeong Kang’s Mat Black Mat—Acts—cccktps is, at once, a hopeful and depressing intraregional expression of such structures that socialize and compartmentalize individuals. Hong Kong primary students illustrated their imaginary world in jeongganbo, the Choson dynasty era Korean musical notation system, onto large textiles pieces where some ideas expand beyond the outlined boxes yet coexist with messages of despair.
Instead of simply drawing on commonalities based on what Wang Hui identified as “culturalisms, statisms, and theories of civilization,” some pieces look for channels of connections through migration of peoples and materials. It is via Wang Bo’s An Asian Ghost Story, a video integrating the histories –some factual, others more plausible and imaginative—of human hair trade, that Hong Kong and hints of an Inter-Asian perspective come to the forefront. Quirky and intriguing, the narrative begins from the 1965 “Communist Hair Embargo,” tracing a certain Cold War ideological construction of “East Asia.” The connection between Hong Kong and the mainland is also told through the history of textiles in 2021 CHAT artist-in-residence Hoi Rui An’s Lining, the first of a three-part video installation. These stories of capitalism and globalisation incorporate more than “East Asia,” with Cold War geopolitics invariably involving the United States and other actors around the globe.
When dealing with a region-based show, one can always point out missing representations—how could it be possibly comprehensive, despite the curator’s best efforts? Still, it would have been interesting to include, for example, an Okinawan perspective, since 2022 as the fiftieth anniversary of the islands’ “return” to Japan would have made for constructive dialogue between the artworks. Where is home that one longs for, when the identities, time, space, and contexts have shifted and morphed into new, and, at times, unrecognizable ones? Colonised by both Japan and the US military, and with longstanding relationships with the mainland, the Korean peninsula, Taiwan and Southeast Asia, where do the people from the Ryūkyū “floating ball” islands belong? “East Asia” extends beyond “East Asia,” and the current academic label of “Northeast Asia,” while still insufficient, attempts to connect the region to Southeast Asia, Central Asia, and other “Asias.” Positing the notion of East Asia within Asia, especially considering the historical connections with Hong Kong, might have spurned more thoughtful renditions on the fluidity of the identities associated with these lived geopolitical realities.
While entitled “Spinning East Asia,” this show is notable for its lack of spin. Any regional exploration is going to be a selective process of curating—an act of shaping the narrative. It seems that the curator allowed the artists to freely interpret the theme, which resulted in somewhat similar, if conventional, renditions of ideas and modes of work. To be fair, the pandemic situation influenced the types of art works, video works replaced installations. Perhaps some more directed irregularity or defamiliarity would have been more aesthetically opportune. In spite of, or perhaps because of this, this show is a must-see as a way to experience the shifting contexts and generational engagements in the region as one continues to grapple with East Asia as a historical entity, a geopolitical reality, and as inclusive and divisive identities.
Perhaps the historic significance is not in the question “What is East Asia,” but the simple fact that this question is posed yet again. To a certain extent, this ambitious show, coupled with its accompanying online forum of intellectual powerhouses (curated by Lu Pan, and definitely worth watching on Youtube), can be interpreted as a Lefebvrian “production of space,” creating new social practice, ideology, and contexts. Whether one describes the boundaries as fluid or liquid, this show is a reminder that definitions of East Asia/Asia and its imagined coherence—histories, cultures, geographies, or otherwise—will continually shift. Like a cafeteria where one can pick and choose, memories and situations are selected, updated, and re-narrated in shifting temporal and political milieux. And the resulting show creates new contexts and re-inscripts itself. The future iterations of this series should be interesting to see.
About the Writer: Izumi Nakayama is the Research Officer/Fellow at the Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences at the University of Hong Kong. Her research interests focus on body, gender, labor, and technology in modern and contemporary Japan and East Asia, examining the histories of menstruation, menopause, and death, among others. She also teaches on new reproductive technologies, bioethics, and biohacking, exploring the intersecting issues of art, food, time, emotions, and life itself.
