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我正站在Lubaina Himid的装置《蓝格测试》里写这封信。如果你在这里,你会多困惑啊。你会被一条钢琴和吉他零件组成的饰带环绕,会看着一根长长、长长的蓝色细线裁开了房间的四堵墙。包裹这间屋子的声音起伏不定,像轻柔的浪。我花了些时间才听出这些飘着的声音在用不同的语言念“蓝”这个词。(西方的美术馆!总是有这些语言陷阱,埋伏着伺机提醒我:你会讲的不是“正确”的外语。)法语的“蓝”——我不会写——在我听来像英文的“模糊”。模糊,模糊,模糊,这些声音说。





Lubaina Himid,《蓝格测试》,2020,装置



Happy New Year.

Writing to you standing inside Himid’s Blue Grid Test. You’d be puzzled if you are here, surrounded by a long, long frieze made of torn-apart pianos and guitars with a zip of blue patterns cutting all the way across the four walls. The room’s wrapped in voices, rising and falling like gentle tides. It took me a while to realise that these dreamy voices are saying the word ‘blue’ in different languages. (Art museums! Always full of linguistic ambushes like this to remind me I don’t speak the right second and third languages.) The French word for ‘blue’(can’t spell it, asked Weitian to double-check if it’s French) sounds like ‘blur’ to my ears. Blur, blur, blurrr.

I’m spending so much time looking at these intricate patterns, with shapes like thistles and swirling jellyfish and all sorts of ocean animals floating up and down. Their different shades of blue – almost glowing – wash over me. It’s like submerging yourself in the tropical sea at dusk, when the water is still warm after having been backed all afternoon by the sun. It’s like being wrapped in soft, white textiles, the ones people would use to make clothes for little babies.

Thinking of you, mama, and the summer nights when we went swimming.





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