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剛好過了一個月，《待渡》的錄像紀錄今天上載，幾分鐘的短片記一個輪廓，也簡單地寫一篇記一記事：

去年七月，賽馬會藝壇新勢力的同事來電，邀請創作「藝術行」。如果「藝術」要在這個時候出行，要往哪裡行、怎樣行呢？彳亍間徘徊，釀成《待渡》的構思── 這個「行」，可不可以就是揚帆出發之前，在躊躇的邊界停下腳步，整頓──或者安頓──一下？ 

五位主要創作者陸續坐上這張碼頭的長椅。我們五人（陶瓷藝術家尹麗娟、媒體藝術家伍韶勁、作曲家林丰、編舞黃靜婷和負責策劃的我）當中有時常共事的伙伴、有相識多年的朋友、也有之前未碰過面的。大家一開始的共識是要做一件融在一起的事，合作由對話開始，我們分享有關「待渡」的聯想：黃靜婷說了好多次「支離破碎」，尹麗娟以舊作提出「固定」事物可能的無形轉化，伍韶勁思考控制以外的機遇，林丰想到白日夢，我心中記着一位深耕文學的朋友多年前說過的話：「有時，寫詩就是辦法。」

整個作品在大家的投入中慢慢成型。尹麗娟燒好上千塊白瓷碎片，伍韶勁將元素拼合成有聲有畫的連鎖鞦韆與風鈴，林丰在脆弱而鏗鏘的鈴聲上，鋪疊與海風和渡輪協奏的聲境，黃靜婷的編舞為空間體驗再灑上一道光。技術及製作團隊用心思時間將構想實現，技術監督黃子珏讓頌缽徐疾有致地自行吟鳴；突然風起，裝置統籌丁立德、謝俊昇和何兆川等隊友趕忙掛起黑紗，為天旋地轉的白瓷護航⋯⋯最後，觀眾到場了，或是好奇、或是安然、或是沉重地踏上碎裂瓷片，光影和聲音，隨他們的搖晃變成海流。 

展場中心的裝置以外，作品也伸延到碼頭的其他角落。「待渡」的名字取自梁秉鈞先生（也斯）於1974年寫下的〈北角汽車渡海碼頭〉。很榮幸獲也斯太太吳煦斌女士同意，在正好面向那個碼頭的窗沿投映詩句，請觀眾在地閱讀，同時透過超越時間的詩，靜觀當下。我們沒有直接演繹詩作，但跟它開放的目光遙遙對望，平靜地讓「來自各方的〔車子〕在這裡待渡」；背景不同的觀者，可以在線性邏輯以外，用感知觸碰各自的聯想。

比較具體的部份，是十多個浮於維港的故事。項目經理梁棨豪與不同年齡層的香港人訪談，他們的聲音輯錄在林丰和楊我樺後製的電話錄音中；屬於個體也屬於時代的「待渡」故事，同時印在玻璃窗上：林BB期待戴上口罩，因為那代表難得的「去街街」；鄺媽媽復職的盼望可能要再延遲一點，因為她打算再生一個，讓孩子在不確定的路上有所陪伴；為了家人有天可以安居樂業，Joy在症情下離開家鄉，2020年的旅程，也是過去數十年來無數外傭的心路；黃女士用「畫一棵樹、畫一把花」挨過浩劫，十多年的書寫，因為物換星移又多一重意料不及的意義⋯⋯

觀眾很願意花時間看在窗上的故事，他們的身影讓我想起意大利畫家Umberto Boccioni在1911年的作品《States of Mind III: Those Who Stay》：第一次世界大戰前夕，幽藍的人影幢幢，在火車站離散。謝徵燊設計的燈光暖和，碼頭窗邊的人不感孤單，或許是他們的注視肯定了一種共存，又或許是在聲境之中，不同人的步伐也彷彿踏上了共同的拍子。同在和同行，在這個時候特別重要。

感謝馮曉彤到訪後的文章，她在由孫穎麟、陳曉玲、盧敬燊擔綱的演出中看到螢火蟲自由地起舞，「我們只需一點光，就足以照亮整個黑暗的空間。」一位觀眾在社交媒體上說：

當人人在思考「待」還是「渡」時
我想到的是「守」
守住自己相信的  喜愛的
只有這樣
無論去哪兒
或留在哪兒
那裡都是我的
目的地

她在給觀眾留下密語的泥片上劃下一個「守」字。那片泥大概投下了展覽最後方的沉澱裝置，看得見的可能會隨時間消散，但一層層存在過的永遠存在。那些晶瑩透亮的瓶子，是場地經理姚銘珊和操作小隊每天細心守着的。在大風的港口旁，微小事如擦走塵埃，跟想像和信念都一樣。

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賽馬會藝術行：《待渡》於2021年4月14日至25日在北角（東）碼頭舉行。

錄像紀錄：https://youtu.be/v7-JAUE5S_Q
錄像統籌：郭靄儀
錄像製作：生活用紙

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Curator Note "After Before a Passage"

Exactly one month after the show, videos of Before a Passage are uploaded today. The short videos give a sketchy impression of the project. This text tells its tale from behind the scenes.

Last July, Kingsley Ng and I received an invitation to create an art walk for Jockey Club New Arts Power. If art were to take a walk at a time like this, where could it walk to? How could it walk? 行 (hang4) , the Chinese character for walk, is tellingly made up of two radicals: 彳 (cik1) and 亍 (cuk1). Together as a noun,彳亍 (cik1 cuk1) means pacing slowly, with hesitant pauses. In a time of great uncertainty, perhaps this walk could be a suspended moment for feelings and thoughts to sink in before imminent passages.

Five key collaborators, ceramicist Annie Wan, composer Fung Lam, choreographer Chloe Wong, together with Kingsley and me, eventually got on board. Among us are frequent partners, long-time friends and new acquaintances. Our intent was to create a collaborative piece and the process unfolded through dialogue: Chloe repeatedly talked about “torn into pieces”; Annie showed us how the seemingly permanent disintegrated and transformed in her earlier works; Kingsley thought about chance beyond control; Fung mused on daydreams; I kept in mind what a friend said years ago, “Sometimes, poetry is the way.”

The work eventually got into shape with concerted effort. Over a thousand pieces of ceramic fragments came out from Annie’s kiln. Kingsley wove elements together into a chained set of windchimes and swings. Layering the fragile but resounding clinks, sea breeze, hums of the ferries and musical sounds, Fung composed a pensive soundscape. A choreographed performance by Chloe cast light on latent energies in the site. The technical and production team spent days and nights to realise the scheme. Automated singing bowls chant their songs with magic played by technical director Jason Wong. In the gales of a sudden monsoon, installation coordinators Zachary Ting and Tse Chun-sing, together with team members such as Ho Siu-chuen, swiftly guarded the fluttering ceramics with sails of black mesh… Finally, the audience arrived. With curiosity, pleasure or a heavy heart, they stepped on cracked landings; as they swayed on swings, light and sound flowed like deep currents. 

Besides the central installation, the work also extended to different corners at the pier. The Chinese title of the work, 待渡 (doi6 dou6) is taken from the last line of “At the North Point Car Ferry”, a poem penned by renowned Hong Kong poet Leung Ping-kwan (Yasi) in 1974. On the side facing this very pier, thanks to the consent of Mrs Betty Ng (wife of the late poet), the poem was projected onto the window sill, line by line. Visitors could read the poem in situ, and contemplate the present through poetry that transcends time. Our work was not an interpretation of the poem, but we shared its vista. Equanimously, the open sensorium let “people [wait] a turn to go over” as they find their own associations beyond the confines of logocentrism.  

To buttress reveries and broodings, twelve true stories of passages were gathered by project manager Nicky Liang through interviews with Hongkongers from all ages. Their soundbites were rendered into an recorded telephone message, sonically mastered by Fung and Anthony Yeung. Fuller accounts—personal testimonies that chronicle our time—were displayed in print on window panes overlooking the harbour: 19-month-old Little Miss Lam looked forward to wearing masks because it meant a rare day out. Mama Kwong’s wish to return to work had to be further delayed; she planned to have another child so her son would have company on the precarious road ahead. With a dream to settle back home with her family, Joy braved her way through the pandemic for employment in Hong Kong; her move in 2020 is also the path taken by countless migrant domestic works over the past decades. Ms Wang survived hopeless days by painting trees and flowers; ten odd years of historical writing gain contingent meaning as circumstances change…

Visitors took their time with these stories. Their silhouettes reminded me of States of Mind III: Those Who Stay by Italian painter Umberto Boccioni in 1911. At the eve of the First World War, spectral figures linger amidst melancholic strokes of blues and greys. Wrapped around by warm lighting designed by Mousey Tse, readers by the harbour did not look lonely. There was a strong sense of coexistence in their shared gaze. Stepping on the same beats in the soundscape, they seemed to walk in unison. Being, and walking, together is important, particularly now.

In a review, Dawna Fung wrote about free fireflies she saw in a performance featuring Saxophonist Tim Sun and dancers Gabbie Chan and Lo King-sang. “We only need a tiny spark of light to lit up the entire dark space.” A visitor posted on social media:

    When everyone thinks about “waiting” or “passing”

    I think about “guarding”

    Guarding what I believe in and love

    Only this

    No matter where I go

    Or where I stay

    That place is always my

    Destination

On a soft piece of clay for the audience to leave their marks, she etched 守, the Chinese character of “guard”. That little fragment has probably sunk in a depository at the rear of the whole installation. Over time, what was once visible might vanish, but these strata of existence never disappear. Those crystal clear glass bottles were attentively guarded by floor manager Felix Yiu and our operation team. At eventide, small acts as such guard us like imagination and faith.

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Jockey Club Art Walk: Before a Passage was held on 14-25 April, 2021 at North Point (East) Ferry Pier.  

Video documentation: https://youtu.be/v7-JAUE5S_Q
Video coordination: Jessie Coo
Video production: On the Paper