“亂世絕響”：曼哈頓的中國(guó)六朝藝術(shù)展

What a shock to wake up one morning and find armed men, who spoke no language you knew and looked like no people you’d ever seen, roaming the streets of your city. And more shocking still to learn that your protectors — your leaders, your army — had fled in the night. This scene repeated itself many times in China beginning in the third century A.D., when the Han dynasty collapsed and non-Chinese nomads swept down from the north and breached the Great Wall.

一天早上醒來，你發(fā)現(xiàn)手持武器的人在你所住城市的街頭走來走去，說著你從未聽過的語言，長(zhǎng)相跟你之前見過的人都不一樣，那是多么可怕的事情。更可怕的是，你了解到保護(hù)者——你的領(lǐng)袖和軍隊(duì)——已經(jīng)連夜逃跑了。從公元3世紀(jì)起，這一幕多次在中國(guó)上演，當(dāng)時(shí)漢朝崩潰，非華夏的游牧民族從北方長(zhǎng)驅(qū)直入，攻破長(zhǎng)城。

They brought fear with them, but other things, too: knowledge, beliefs, and cultural curiosity, which turned into respect, or something like it. That respect worked two ways. Gradually, the invaders came to look, and sound, and be Chinese. And the Chinese began to have an expanded, sharper sense of themselves.

他們帶來了恐懼，但也帶來了其他東西：知識(shí)、信仰和文化好奇心，這些轉(zhuǎn)化為尊重或某種類似的東西。這種尊重起到了兩個(gè)作用。慢慢地，入侵者的長(zhǎng)相、語言及其他方面與華夏民族無異。而華夏民族開始對(duì)自己有了一種更廣泛、深刻的認(rèn)識(shí)。

Exchange is the dynamic that animates “Art in a Time of Chaos: Masterworks From Six Dynasties China, 3rd-6th Centuries,” the inaugural exhibition at China Institute Gallery’s new home in Lower Manhattan, on Washington Street. The show is a jewel, and let me just say up front, I don’t know how China Institute Gallery, now 50 years old, does what it does.

華美協(xié)進(jìn)社中國(guó)美術(shù)館(China Institute Gallery)遷至曼哈頓下城華盛頓街后的首展“亂世絕響：六朝藝術(shù)，三至六世紀(jì)”(Art in a Time of Chaos: Masterworks From Six Dynasties China, 3rd-6th Centuries)背后的動(dòng)力正是這種交流。這場(chǎng)展覽是一塊瑰寶，請(qǐng)?jiān)试S我先說一句：我不知道已有50年歷史的華美協(xié)進(jìn)社中國(guó)美術(shù)館是如何做到這一點(diǎn)的。

Season after season, it brings extraordinary treasures to New York, many directly from China, loans that even big-budget museums might have trouble nailing. With this material it creates exhibitions that advance scholarship (some of the catalogs are instant classics) but also give unalloyed pleasure, partly because the scale is always right. The galleries in the institute’s old Manhattan premises on East 65th Street were two tiny rooms. The new ones are larger, but still ideal. You spend your time and energy on looking, not on walking.

一季又一季，它給紐約帶來非凡的珍寶，很多直接來自中國(guó)，有些甚至是連那些預(yù)算很高的博物館可能都不易借到的。憑借這些資料，它做了不少既推動(dòng)學(xué)術(shù)進(jìn)步(有些展覽目錄立刻成為經(jīng)典)又帶來純粹愉悅的展覽，一個(gè)原因是它的規(guī)模總是恰到好處。該美術(shù)館在曼哈頓東65街的舊址只有兩個(gè)小展廳。新館的展廳面積更大，但依然很理想。你可以把時(shí)間和精力用于觀賞，而非奔波。

Yet within a compact space, the show covers a vast swath of history. After Han rule ended, political discord reigned. China was effectively split in half, with the north ruled by foreigners, the south by Chinese. Each half further splintered into successions of rival kingdoms fighting among themselves. The centerlessness lasted for nearly four centuries.

雖然空間緊湊，但該展覽涵蓋了一段很長(zhǎng)的歷史。漢朝統(tǒng)治結(jié)束后，出現(xiàn)了政治紛爭(zhēng)。中國(guó)實(shí)際上分裂成兩個(gè)部分，北部由外族人統(tǒng)治，南部由華夏民族統(tǒng)治。每個(gè)部分進(jìn)一步交替分裂成戰(zhàn)亂不斷的敵對(duì)王國(guó)。這種沒有中央集權(quán)的狀態(tài)持續(xù)了近四個(gè)世紀(jì)。

This is the barest-bones version of a very tangled history, one to which even a large show couldn’t do full justice. This one doesn’t try. Instead, it views the period known as the Six Dynasties — or, in China, as the Northern and Southern Dynasties — through some of its distinctive cultural achievements, which included refinements in celadon porcelain, the growth of Buddhism, and advances in calligraphy and painting. And it draws its illustrative material from three of China’s major regional art institutions: the Shanxi Museum in the north, and the Nanjing Museum and Nanjing Municipal Museum in the south.

以上只是這段非常復(fù)雜的歷史的基本框架，哪怕一場(chǎng)大型展覽也無法展示它的全貌。該展覽不做這方面的嘗試，而是通過它的一些獨(dú)特文化成就來審視這段被稱為六朝或南北朝的歷史，包括青瓷技術(shù)的改進(jìn)、佛教的發(fā)展，以及書法和繪畫的進(jìn)步。它從中國(guó)三家重要的地方藝術(shù)機(jī)構(gòu)借來具有闡釋價(jià)值的資料：北方的山西博物院，以及南方的南京博物院和南京市博物館。

With its elusively colored glazes — jade-green, kingfisher-blue, smoky-sunset-yellow — celadon was thought to have near-magical properties. Production of it exploded during the Six Dynasties, particularly in the south, answering the need for everyday tableware, collectibles, luxury items and grave goods.

青瓷色澤縹緲——翠綠、翠藍(lán)和煙灰日落黃——被認(rèn)為具有近乎神奇的特性。青瓷的產(chǎn)量在南北朝時(shí)期暴漲，尤其是在南方，用于滿足日常餐具、收藏品、奢侈品和明器的需要。

A little asparagus-colored water container in the shape of a toad would have been equally suited to home or tomb. A splendid wine jar embossed all over with lotus petals must have been the prized possession of some Buddhist-minded owner. The Buddha himself appears on a chunky pot called a “soul urn.” Such vessels were made to accompany the dead in the afterlife, and this one is capped by a sculptural tableau. The Buddha sits in a mini-pavilion, amid flocks of sprites and birds, looking out with a smile as if to say: “No worries. Come join the fun.”

一個(gè)蘆筍色、蟾蜍狀盛水小容器既適合家用，也適合用作明器。一個(gè)周身裝飾著蓮花瓣圖案的酒罐可能是某位信佛者珍貴的物品。佛本身出現(xiàn)在一種名為“翁棺”的厚實(shí)陶罐上。這種器皿用來陪伴往生后的死者，這一件的頂部是一個(gè)雕塑造型。佛坐在一個(gè)小亭子里，四周圍繞著仙子和鳥，佛面帶微笑望著外面，似乎在說：“不要擔(dān)心。一起來享樂。”

Buddhism probably arrived from India during the Han dynasty, but was embraced with panicked intensity in the disordered and disorienting era that followed. Brought overland by Indian monks traveling the Silk Road, it entered China from the north, where it took monumental visual form in the giant cave sculptures of Shanxi province. Unsurprisingly, some of the show’s most beautiful images come from the museum there: the sandstone figure of a bodhisattva wrapped in a breeze-ruffled cloak, and the carved foot-high head of a gender-fluid spiritual being lost in a dream of peace.

佛教很可能是漢代從印度傳入中國(guó)的，但在之后的混亂時(shí)代里，人們因?yàn)榭只哦鵁崆榻蛹{了它。印度僧人沿絲綢之路從北方將佛教傳入中國(guó)，以巨大的石窟雕塑的恢宏視覺形式出現(xiàn)在山西。毫不意外，該展覽最美麗的一些形象來自山西博物院：一尊砂巖雕像描繪的是一位菩薩，她的披風(fēng)被微風(fēng)吹出皺褶;一尊一英尺高的頭像描繪的是一位迷失在平靜夢(mèng)中的性別模糊的神靈。

Buddhist art had a troubled run in China. It never entirely escaped suspicion as an alien import. Calligraphy, by contrast, was embraced as Chinese to the core, and found its most famous exemplar, Wang Xizhi (A.D. 303-361), in the Six Dynasties period. In the fourth century, he and his family were among the many upper-class northerners who relocated south to Nanjing. There he devoted himself to Buddhist and Daoist studies, which in his case entailed some serious partying. And one party made him immortal.

佛教藝術(shù)在中國(guó)有過曲折的經(jīng)歷。作為一個(gè)外來事物，它從未完全擺脫質(zhì)疑。相比之下，書法在本質(zhì)上被認(rèn)為是中國(guó)藝術(shù)，南北朝時(shí)期出現(xiàn)了其最著名的代表人物王羲之(303年至361年)。他的家族是4世紀(jì)南遷到南京的很多北方上層家族之一。在那里，他潛心研究佛教和道教，還參加了一些嚴(yán)肅的聚會(huì)。其中一個(gè)聚會(huì)令他永垂不朽。

One bright day in 353, he and 41 of his scholarly friends gathered at a picnic spot, the Orchid Pavilion, to drink wine and compose poetry. The plan was to collect the poems in an album, and at some point in the hard-drinking day, Wang Xizhi decided to provide a preface for it. He called for ink and a brush and, in fluent script, wrote an account of the feelings the gathering inspired in him.

公元353年一個(gè)晴朗的日子里，王羲之和41名學(xué)者朋友在一個(gè)名叫“蘭亭”的野餐地點(diǎn)聚會(huì)，飲酒作詩(shī)。他們打算把那些詩(shī)編成詩(shī)集。王羲之那天喝了很多酒，在某個(gè)時(shí)刻，他突然決定給這本詩(shī)集寫個(gè)序。他要來筆墨紙硯，洋洋灑灑寫了一篇文章，講述那次聚會(huì)帶給他的感受。

The result was a kind of lyric lamentation on the transient beauties of emotion, friendship and nature, and a call to turn attention toward those things, and away from the demands of professional ambition and civic life. The message sounded a note of political resistance in a Chinese culture shaped by Confucian ethics. Wang Xizhi’s validation of individualism and vulnerability, implied by the polygraphic movement of the brush in his hand, had deep resonance in an insecure time.

文章哀嘆感情、友誼和大自然易逝的美麗，呼吁大家關(guān)注那些事物，不要理會(huì)職場(chǎng)野心和世俗生活的要求。在被儒家道德塑造的中國(guó)文化中，那聽起來像是對(duì)政治的抗拒。在那個(gè)不安穩(wěn)的時(shí)代，王羲之對(duì)個(gè)人主義和脆弱的肯定——這流露在他揮舞的筆尖下——引起了深刻共鳴。

The resonance lasted. “Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion” became the most widely emulated work of calligraphy in Chinese history, the model for a new standard of expressive writing. Although Wang Xizhi’s original manuscript was lost long ago, the touch of his brush was preserved and replicated countless times in copies traced on silk or paper, or carved into stone tablets. Any link to his spirit, at whatever degree of separation, is valued, and the show has one in a different calligraphic text: the carved stone epitaph of the great calligrapher’s young cousin Wang Xingzhi (A.D. 310-340), unearthed in 1965 in the family burial ground near Nanjing.

這種共鳴一直延續(xù)下來?！短m亭序》成為中國(guó)歷史上被模仿最多的書法作品，也成為抒情散文的一種新標(biāo)準(zhǔn)的典范。雖然王羲之的原稿早已遺失，但他的筆跡得到保存，并被無數(shù)次復(fù)制成絲質(zhì)或紙質(zhì)版本，或刻到石碑上。與他的精神的任何聯(lián)系都得到珍視——不管存在多大程度的偏離。這次展覽展出了另一種書法文本：這位偉大書法家的堂弟王興之(310年至340年)的墓志銘，它是1965年從南京附近的家族墓地中出土的。

The expressive connection between calligraphy and painting was always close, though Six Dynasties painting, like writing, survives mostly in secondhand form. And the exhibition — organized by Willow Weilan Hai of the China Institute; Annette L. Juliano, an art historian at Rutgers University; Gong Liang, director of the Nanjing Museum; Bai Ning, former director of the Nanjing Municipal Museum; and Shi Jinming, director of the Shanxi Museum — concludes with a few examples.

書法與繪畫在藝術(shù)表達(dá)上的關(guān)系總是很近，雖然南北朝時(shí)期的繪畫和書法一樣，大部分以二手形式留存下來。這次展覽包含其中幾個(gè)例子。該展覽由華美協(xié)進(jìn)社中國(guó)美術(shù)館的海蔚藍(lán)、羅格斯大學(xué)(Rutgers University)的藝術(shù)史學(xué)家朱安耐(Annette L. Juliano)、南京博物院院長(zhǎng)龔良、南京市博物館前館長(zhǎng)白寧，以及山西博物院院長(zhǎng)石金鳴共同策劃。

One is a dim image of cosmological creatures sketched on a scrap of tomb fresco. Another is a figurative tableau originally created in raised linear relief on a set of clay bricks, and preserved now as a pair of painting-size ink rubbings. Titled “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove,” the overall image recalls the Orchid Pavilion affair, but has fewer participants, with each — whether writer, musician, or celebrity lush — carefully personalized.

其中一件作品是畫在一小塊墓室壁畫上的宇宙生物的模糊圖形。還有一件作品是最初刻在一套灰磚上的生動(dòng)的線條浮雕，現(xiàn)在則是以一對(duì)繪畫大小的拓片進(jìn)行保存。作品標(biāo)題是《竹林七賢》，整個(gè)畫面讓人想起了蘭亭聚會(huì)，不過它的參與者更少，每個(gè)人物的特征都得到精心描繪——不管是作家、音樂家還是著名酒鬼。

Like Wang Xizhi’s friends, they were historical figures and Daoist rebels, though, according to legend, more far out, more willing to say no to power and put themselves in danger. The most outrageous of the seven, the drunkard Liu Ling, hired a man to follow him everywhere with a shovel and gave him standing instructions: If I suddenly drop dead, bury me on the spot.

和王羲之的朋友們一樣，他們都是歷史上的著名人物和道教反叛者，不過，根據(jù)傳說，他們更為叛逆，更敢于對(duì)權(quán)勢(shì)說不，將自己置于危險(xiǎn)境地。七人中最令人震驚的是酒鬼劉伶，他雇了一個(gè)人拿著鐵鍬跟著他，還下了一道長(zhǎng)期有效的指示：如果我突然倒地而亡，就將我就地掩埋。

I like to imagine this sage as the one who was shocked by nothing; as the one who treated foreigners as, by definition, friends; and the one who regarded great walls as delusional, built to be breached, and would say so out loud to whoever. I bet he did.

我把這位賢人想像成一個(gè)無所畏懼的人;一個(gè)視外來者為朋友的人;一個(gè)視長(zhǎng)城為妄想之物、修起來就是為了讓人攻破的人;一個(gè)會(huì)對(duì)所有人大聲宣布以上理念的人。我打賭他肯定這樣做過。