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卢彦鹏

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卢彦鹏

借花献佛

王琦

 

2012年的其中一个傍晚，光的盛筵与身处巍山古城的卢彦鹏相遇。

 

火把节的烟花引诱着这个酒后的摄影师举起相机，他将镜头对准两棵树中间，向上与向下，重复两个动作——拍烟花散开，以及拍它散落下来。

 

作为工业革命产物的摄影术，此时形似一种祭祀的仪式，参与了这个古老节日的狂欢，但没有任何摄取历史的野心。昆虫一样的光被捕捉下来，节肢动物的触角或胫节伸展在黑暗中。可能是原始天真的卢彦鹏的投射，也可能只是他记录了一次谬斯与现实世界的交媾，一次光的繁殖，证实了摄影成为一种偶然的神迹的可能。

 

但这不是“决定性的瞬间”。拿起相机、按下快门这个动作对他来说更像捕风捉影。这些靠直觉捕获的光影在暗房里成为笔触，卢彦鹏靠它们绘画他的摄影。早期的《石头的记忆》中，他的影像与太太凌华的画作重叠，对卢彦鹏来说，这是同一时期出去拍照的他与在家画画的凌华在不同空间的重叠。这组作品最早透露了其影像的两个当下----摄影当下和暗房当下，是观看与成为记忆的观看的交织，既有淋的酣畅，又有氤氲的混沌。

 

对象因此是被消解的，这使他在处理山或佛像这类题材时回避了一种对象重量。山和佛像同样是一个形体或轮廓，一种笔触的线索。

 

最早当他游荡在山野或寺庙中时，也曾刻意避免将佛像作为拍摄对象，宗教场塑造了一种庄严感，尽管它们本身丰盛的样式总在吸引他，但这也可能遏制摄影创作的主体性，使他仅仅成为一个形象或符号的记录者。后来他尝试拍一些老家平和的地方小神，民间信仰有更世俗化的形象，让人更易亲近。再后来，看到我收藏的一些明清木佛像在家中随意摆放，完全脱离了宗教语境，他便更自如，像拍烟花一样随手捕捉它们的轮廓。

 

烟花与佛像的重叠进一步减轻了重量。古时塑完像在佛像背后开孔洞，放入经咒、五谷、药材或金属肺肝并封印，以期神力。烟花似乎就是这些依据式样传统雕刻的匠人产物装藏那一瞬的灵光乍现，它调动了图像的运动感，让这些尘埃落定的形体有了一种继续塑造的可能。卢彦鹏这个时间和空间的中介者，用两个当下的重叠，完成了一次借花献佛。

 

Blossom with Buddha

Wang Qi

 

One night in 2012, while situated in the ancient city of Weishan, amid a feast of lights, I met Lu Yanpeng.

The fireworks of the Torch Festival enticed the photographer to take up his camera after having a few drinks. He aimed the lens between two trees, above and below, two repeating motions—capturing the blooming spread of the fireworks along with their scattered dispersal.

As a product of the Industrial Revolution, photographic technology in this moment seems akin to a kind of ritual ceremony, participating in the revelry of this ancient festival without any wild ambitions of documenting history. These little lightening bug like sparks were seized as they fell, extending out into the darkness like the antennae or legs of an arthropod. While it is possible that this is the inherent naivety of Lu Yanpeng's work, it is also quite possible that he merely happened to record an intimate coupling between the muses and the real world—a singular moment of brilliant, breeding light, confirming the possibility of photography as a miraculous happenstance.

However, this isn't “the decisive moment”. Grabbing the camera, pressing the shutter— according to him, these actions are comparable to chasing the wind and clutching at shadows. The interplay of light and shadows he intuitively captures become brushstrokes in the darkroom, Lu Yanpeng relies upon them them to paint his photographs. In his early work Memory of Stones, his images are superimposed with paintings by his wife Ling Hua. According to Lu Yanpeng, this process was a way of superimposing him going out to shoot and Ling Hua staying home to paint during the same period. This series was the first to reveal the two simultaneous present moments within his work—the present of photographing and the present of the darkroom, an intermingling of viewing and the memory of viewing, interspersed with the glimmer of drunken merriment and the thick fog of primal chaos. 

 

Consequently, the subject of his image is essentially dissolved, which allows his treatment of subject matter such as sacred peaks and buddhas to evade their objective weight. Similarly, his renderings of sacred peaks and buddhas are both physical form and contour, the thread of a brushstroke. 

Early on, when drifting among remote mountains and temples, he painstakingly avoided making the buddha his subject and allowing religious sites to create an air of solemnity. Yet all the while, their sumptuous form always fascinated him, perhaps this, along with the contained subjectivity of photography, caused him to become a mere recorder of form and symbol. Later, he tried to photograph some secular images of local deities and folk customs in his ancestral village, allowing them to be more accessible to people. Even later, when he saw some Ming-Qing wooden buddha sculptures in my collection placed randomly around my home, completely separated from any religious context, he effortlessly captured their contours just like he photographed those fireworks. 

 

The superimposition of fireworks and buddhas goes one step further to lessen their heft. Upon completion of an antique buddhist sculpture, a hole was formed in the back which was then stuffed with scripture, curses, grain, medicinal herbs, or precious metals and sealed in order to impart divine powers. Fireworks seem to be the products of the same craftsman responsible for this kind of traditional engraving—loaded with the sudden flash of divine light, fostering a sense of movement in the image, providing static physical forms with the possibility of continuous formation. Lu Yanpeng, as an intermediary of time and space, superimposes two present moments to form an exquisite flower to be offered before the buddha. 


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