青絲白夢

文 / LUPA

成為母親後，才感受到一種特有的細緻與溫柔，像拉威爾的『鵝媽媽組曲』般寧靜與雀躍，也像古琴餘音中的內斂獨語。

一筆一尖，一線一絲，在神經元與肌肉纖維裡層層蔓延

呢喃於指尖、跳躍於筆下，如心中靈動的孩子在草原上無盡奔跑，是在七彩花海中對永恆之美的渴望，也是和過去緊握的青春做了告別。

青絲，古云黑髮、青色絲線、馬之韁繩、妙齡女子、琴弦、垂柳藤蔓。恰恰巧妙也巧合的呈現了這次系列中出現的元素與筆觸。以水墨及染青水粉勾勒絲絨般的大地。

白，是凝聚七彩後，光的顏色，最純淨也最絢爛。
夢，是白晝與夜暮的各種奇思異想。

空氣扶生的異色花卉，根植在風輕吹揚的舒軟草場，寄生在ㄧ層層堆疊暈染後的蟬衣宣紙，每次濕潤後必需細心輕柔的膠糊上舊的畫面，

像一場場寧靜的儀式，若隱若現的覆蓋並道別過去。

紙張的薄弱易破，卻也正是其迷人之處，帶著雲母的光澤，畫了又疊的時光堆砌，像山脈與地層夾著神秘過往。

你站在草上不會知曉，
此刻的光澤是混雜了昆蟲的艷屍又或礦物的晶瑩，
此刻的汙穢是混雜了腐朽的花幹又或生靈的軀體。

Raven Strands and White Dreams

Exhibition foreword by Lupa

It wasn’t until I became a mother, did I start to be aware of a unique delicateness and tenderness, peaceful but joyful like Maurice Ravel’s Ma Mère l'Oye or a whispering monologue in the lingering notes of an ancient string instrument.

One stroke after another, a bit after a bit, my emotions spread through neurons and muscle fibers, murmuring at the tips of my fingers and dancing on the paper like a child with a restless soul running endlessly on the grassland. This is my longing for eternal beauty in a colorful sea of flowers and also a farewell to youth that I once tightly held on to.

Raven strands (dark hairs as the ancients once called them), blue silk threads, horse reins, a young girl, strings, drooping willow and vines happen to coincide subtly with the elements and strokes appearing in this series depicting the velvety land in Chinese ink and blue gouache.

White, the convergence of seven colors, is the purest and brightest of all colors.

Dreams are a state of reverie at dawn and dusk.

The air nurtures the colorful flowers rooted in the soft grassy land caressed by the wind. The old gouache images on the fine glossy rice paper under layers of blended colors require gentle rubbing after they are moisturized, like one after another quiet ritual to cover and say goodbye to the past gradually.

The paper is fragile, but that’s exactly where the appeal lies. On the mica-like sheen, layers of pigments are stacked up over time like mountains with mysterious past stories in between.

Standing on the grass, you know not if the sheen at the moment comes from the carcasses of dead insects or the sparkle of minerals inside and if the filth at the moment comes from rotten flower stems or the bodies of living creatures inside.