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O SERIJI

Moje bivanje v Evropi je v hipu prešlo v svoje 17. leto.

Z ženo in otroci smo v zadnjih potovanjih domov obiskali južno in vzhodno obalo Tajvana. Vedno znova me preseneti fotografska intuicija v meni; takoj ko se odpovem običajnim turističnim krajen na Tajvanu, mi številni avtentični liki in nenavadne zgodbe, s katerimi se srečam, dajo vtis da sem v tujini. Škoda se mi zdi, da večino časa preživim v Evropi, saj moj radoveden pogled nima veliko priložnosti za raziskovanje teh prijetnih presenečenj skozi medij fotografije. Leta 2017 sem bil povabljen nazaj na Tajvan za dalj časa trajajoče fotografsko sodelovanje, v sklopu katerega sem dobil izredno priložnost, da si ogledam gorate predele Nantoua in obalo Dulan, in da obiščem enkratno kulturno krajino tega čudovitega otoka – to je bil eden najlepših izletov nazaj domov v zadnjih letih.

Še pred šesto zjutraj je staroselska mladina mesta Ren'ai v Nantouu krenila proti vzhodu, tovornjak za tovornjakom, proti visokogorskim plantažam čaja in zeljnim vrtom. Lokalni kmetje so vešče usmerjali svoje štirikolesnike po strmih gorskih cestah, ko so divjali proti jutranjemu soncu, ki je kukalo z obzorja. Na poti smo naleteli na kmetijo lipovih gob shiitake na gorskem pobočju. Kmetje so lično zložili tisoče in tisoče lipovih debel, ki so spominjala na umetniško instalacijo. Ko sem stal v njihovi sredini si nisem mogel pomagati, da ne bi zajel sape; bilo je, kot da bi stopil v sliko Henri Matissa, v svet, kjer so občutja lahko predstavljena le s plastmi barvnih vzorcev.

Naslednji izlet me je pripeljal na vznožje obalnega gorovja ob dolini East Rift. Pod popoldanskim soncem so se turisti prerivali za sliko pred popularnimi atrakcijami, jaz pa sem se odločil za osamljen sprehod skozi odmaknjena riževa polja Chishanga. Nastavil sem uho melodiji riževih poganjkov, ki so šelesteli v gorskem vetriču – bil je zvok, ki je globinam mojega srca podal gotovost, bil je mehkoba materine uspavanke, tiho mrmrana otroku v njenih rokah.

In čeprav sva se prvič srečala, je imela sanjska pokrajina moje otoške domovine tako nepojasnljivo intimnost, skoraj kakor star prijatelj.

Po 17 letih od doma me je nepričakovano zadel vtis, ko sem stal na sredi polja, ki ga pred tem nisem nikoli obiskal – te omamne pokrajine in valovite sence so delovale, kakor da že leta pričakujejo moj prihod, morda že 17 let. Moralo se je zgoditi le hipno, slučajno srečanje, ko sta se najina pogleda srečala v kratkem, bežnem trenutku, medtem ko je hrup sveta okoli naju poniknil. Tega občutka ne bi mogle opisati niti najbolj natančne besede, te lahkotnosti in evforije, trenutka, ko sta fotograf in podoba zopet združena.

Edini dokaz moje nenavadne izkušnje, ki bi ga lahko delil z zunanjimi opazovalci, so fotografije, ki sem jih posnel po mojih razburkanih čustvih.

Ta način gledanja je bil 17 let star – kdo pravi, da lahko fotografija ujame le en osamljen trenutek v času?

- Simon Chang (2017)

ABOUT THE SERIES

In the blink of an eye, my sojourn in Europe has entered its 17th year.

In recent travels back home with my wife and children, we made a few trips to the southern and eastern coast of Taiwan. The photographer’s intuition within me has never ceased to amaze; as soon as I forgo the usual popular tourist spots in Taiwan, the myriad authentic characters and extraordinary stories I encounter gave the impression of being overseas. It is a pity that most of my time is spent in Europe as this affords me little opportunity to allow my inquisitive gaze to settle down and linger with these pleasant surprises through the use of images. In 2017, I was invited back to Taiwan for a long-term photography collaboration which gave me the rare chance to see the mountainous regions of Nantou and the Dulan coastline, and to visit the unique cultural landscapes of this beautiful island—it became one of my most enjoyable trips back home in recent years.

Even before six in the morning, the aboriginal youth of Ren’ai Township in Nantou drove eastward, one small pickup truck after another, towards the high mountain tea plantations and cabbage patches. Local farmers skillfully steered their four-wheel drives along the steep mountain roads, hurtling in the direction of the morning sun peeking over the horizon. Along the way, we happened upon a basswood shiitake mushroom farm on the mountainside. Thousands upon thousands of basswood logs were laid neatly by the farmers, resembling art installations. As I stood in the wooded midst, I could not help but draw a deep breath; it was as if I had stepped inside a Henri Matisse painting, into a world in which one’s state of mind could only be interpreted by layers of color patterns.

Another trip brought me to the foot of the Coastal Mountain Range next to the East Rift Valley. Under the afternoon sun, tourists contended with each other for a picture in front of the popular attractions while I chose to take a solitary walk in the remote rice paddies of Chishang. I tilted my ear towards the melody of the rice stalks swaying in the mountain breeze—it was a sound that conferred an assurance in my heart’s depths, it was the softness of a mother’s lullaby hummed lightly to the baby in the crook of her arm.

And although we are meeting for the first time, the dreamlike scenery on this island homeland of mine possessed such an inexplicable intimacy, almost like that of an old friend.

After 17 years away from home, I was struck by an impression while standing in the middle of a field I had never visited before—these intoxicating landscapes and undulating shadows seemed to have anticipated my arrival for years, and just possibly, for 17 years. All that was needed was a fortuitous encounter during which our gazes would meet for a brief, fleeting instant, while the bustle of the world around us fell away. It is a feeling even the most precise words could not capture, that lightness and euphoria, that moment when the photographer and the image are again reunited.

The only evidence of this extraordinary experience to be shared with outsiders, are the photographs made in the aftermath of the pulsating emotions.

This way of seeing has been aged for 17 years—who is to say that photography can only capture a particular solitary moment in time?

- Simon Chang (2017)