[Mending Years, 2023.06.28-07.12, Gallery L0, JCCAC] Winsome Wong stands by an artistic method that highlights an open-journey of discovery, whereby life, relations, conversations and the search for forms are one integral whole. Reading her father’s recollection of his own parents’ tough livelihood in the 1960s-80s, Winsome also thickens her family story with the place of writing that has always been at work. Her response to father’s piece: realization comes after the completion of an art work, perhaps? – editor’s notes「縫補歲月」這展覽，為何會說到黃慧心父親的寫作？正因為藝術創作不單是作品的完成，同時可以或更加是創作的過程和延伸。發問的行動和帶關注的好奇心，刷新了黃慧心的創作模式，由攝影、拍錄像到閱讀和整理默默躺存的家庭照片簿，到影像和關係的現場物理化，重新發現文字在這個策問、追尋、創作過程中的隱藏能量。以下是黃慧心讀了父親書寫後的延伸論述：發現在創作之後。-- 編者序
**feature image: family photo: Winsome Wong, Grandma, Father All images in the post, courtesy of the artist Winsome Wong
展覽開始之後跟父親聊起朋友們讀到他的文章的反應和感受，他只是淡淡的笑笑說他自己也沒怎麽多想，沒有去想自己寫得有多細緻情感是否細膩，對他來説大概也是直接地把自己的回憶以及所經歷的寫出來，至於篇幅，他也是淡然的微微笑著說好像寫著寫著就慢慢的成爲了現在的篇幅。他從來沒有要求很多，在我提議和主動問之下才說把這篇文章簡單打印出來，釘裝成幾本很簡單的小冊子，讓他分享給幾個朋友就可以。
每次有展覽都會盡量邀請他去，雖然通常對他來講作品也是帶點抽象，但他還是會來看一看，就算跟他未必可以討論到很多，但我就會當作兩個人一起去一個新的地方新的體驗，雖然我不知道他是怎麽想的。給他看了一下其他朋友作的新詩，他也覺得對他來講是抽象的不太懂欣賞。我覺得大概這也是爲什麽他會寫出他那種文字吧，也是我喜歡看他文字的原因，直接的沒有很多的修飾和設計，是什麽就是什麽。
小時候因爲嫲嫲中風了行動不便，常常需要去不同的檢查和日間護老院，所以父親跟母親決定由母親出外工作，而父親留在家可以照顧我、哥哥和嫲嫲，而且功課和教育上由懂得中文的他來跟進也比較方便，所以父親就在家靠寫不同的稿賺錢，有時候是投稿到報紙上，很多時候也是在當撰稿，消化不同的内容變成文章，甚至幫別人寫小説。
記得小時候班上要選一首詩做代表、然後全班一起朗誦參加班際比賽的時候，我被選出來的詩好像其實也是出自他的手筆，我還記得那句“抱著太陽笑哈哈”，現在想起其實也蠻厲害的，因爲幫小學生作詩也要把自己代入小學生的程度。而我也會期待在報紙上看到他的文章，所以小學時有一陣子除了看娛樂版期待看到偶像的新聞之外，就是會看副刊有沒有他的文章被刊登，而這些文章又有沒有我的存在。我最自豪他被刊登的最大篇幅的投稿就是在明報副刊一整頁的篇幅，内容其實就是小學的我怎麽看偶像哈哈。就算在比較小的角落看到他的文字，或者在沒有被刊登的稿子裏，看到裏面的我或者家人的影子，我也是感到開心的，甚至到現在也還記得内容。這樣講會有點罪惡感，但初中的時候我開始知道電腦上他儲存稿子的位置，所以有時候我也會去偷偷看他的稿子，尤其是他幫別人寫的小説。那本最後沒有出版的小説，我可能是唯一的讀者，我忘記了最後他有沒有讓我讀，但反正我應該也是偷偷的讀完了。
後來，嫲嫲正式入住了護老院，而且撰稿的收入沒有很好，他也轉到別的行業，需要更多身體勞動，也沒怎麽寫作了，但至今依然維持著看書的習慣。高中需要交很多報告而我打字很慢，我會拜托他幫我把我的手稿打出來，大概那就是他不再寫作後少有會打很多字的時候吧。曾經問過他會否想再寫作，他好像説過覺得以前用太多腦了，希望之後做些不需要用太多腦的事。那時候我大概會覺得他有點消極吧，但現在想起，他由中學時期已經開始投稿（而且那些寫上日期的剪報到現在都很整齊的保留著），其實他也堅持寫作堅持了很長一段時間，也是很厲害的事。
本來自以爲對已經離世的嫲嫲頗爲熟悉，因爲這個展覽才隨口問了父親嫲嫲有否打過工，而父親一如以往簡單回答嫲嫲有一段時期也曾打工幫補家計，但要問到細節卻有點不順利。我對這件事有點在意，因爲我一直理所當然的以爲嫲嫲一直只是家庭主婦，而在她離世幾年後才知道這件事，她生前我們也蠻多聊天的時候但她也沒有提起，現在我卻不知道怎樣才能填補這個空白。而爺爺父親比起嫲嫲的話真的寡言太多倍（例如我要跟爺爺聊很多天才知道原來嫲嫲以前也會跟朋友打麻將，甚至會過海聚會，而因爲認識嫲嫲的時候她已經行動不便，所以其實我沒有怎麽去想她有沒有朋友等等的問題），我也好像重複用不同方式問問題也問不出什麽來，最多也是知道一些資料性的答案，譬如工作地點等等。我好想知道嫲嫲那段日子的感受，而問爺爺的時候，他説哪有什麽開心不開心的，大概他就是這麽直接生活的爺爺，而我應該問誰也問不出什麽來。
有一段時間我也放棄了再問問題，直到很後來才突然想起或者叫父親直接把各種他知道的資料，包括各種地理位置寫出來，或許會比我東問西問湊出的資料更準確更有效率，而且我也私心想在看一次他的文字。而他也是輕輕的答應我可以兩個星期内給我。有一天打電話給他，他説請了一天假寫這篇文，那時候有點意外和感動他會這樣做。然後有一天早上朦朧之間收到他這篇文章的電郵，覺得很久沒有看過他的文字了，像是長大之後，看過不同種類(雖然也不是很多）的文字之後，回到最初小時候會接觸的文字，有種熟悉卻需要一點點熱身進入的感覺，第一次讀會忍不住想，這就是我小時候讀的文字嗎? 讀第二次的時候，可以放下了關於童年回憶的思考之後，真正進入他所寫的世界後就被觸動了，仿佛從他小時候的眼睛看到他的世界，他眼中的爺爺嫲嫲、大人們的模樣，他眼中的這些大人的身影。而有關嫲嫲那時候的感受，也好像透過父親的文字得到了某種解答。父親的文字帶著一點距離卻對我來講帶著某種細膩溫柔。那些爺爺嫲嫲不會提及的過去，也好像讓我更明白了父親現在的模樣。
After the exhibition started, I talked with my father about the reactions and feelings of friends who read his articles. He smiled lightly and said that he had not thought too much about it. He was not self-conscious about how detailed and emotional he wrote. He simply wrote directly what he recalled of his experiences. As for the length of the piece, he smiled and said it just grew with his reminiscences. He didn’t ask for a lot: after my asking, he said that he would be so happy as long as the piece could be printed out and the pages stapled into a few copies of a booklet that he could share with a few friends.
Every time I am part of an exhibition, I will do my best to invite him. Although my works could sometimes be a bit abstract to him, he would still come to have a look. Even if we may not be able to discuss a lot, I will treat it as he and I visiting someone’s show together, like going to a new place to share a new experience – even if I don't know what he thinks. When I showed him my friends’ poems, he said he found them abstract and difficult to appreciate. I think this is probably why he writes the way he does, and it is also the reason why I like to read his writing. It is straightforward without a lot of decoration and design, and it is what it is.
When I was a child, my grandma suffered a stroke and was unable to move around. She often needed to go to different check-ups and day care homes, so my parenets decided that my mother would go out to work, and my father would stay at home to take care of me, my elder brother and my grandma. It is also more convenient for him who knows Chinese to follow up on the children’s school work. In those days, my father made his income by writing manuscripts at home, sometimes they were his own creation submitted to newspapers, and most of the time they were assignments, such as digesting different contents into a single article, and he even wrote novels for others.
One time, when I was in primary school, we had to propose a poem for group recitation in an inter-class competition. It seemed that the chosen poem, of my selection, was actually written by him. I still remember the phrase "embracing the sun, laughing ha-ha-ha." Now that I think about it, it's actually quite powerful – to be able to compose a poem for elementary school students means that one has to walk in their shoes. And I had always taken great interest in his articles in newspapers. For a while in primary school, other than reading the entertainment page for news about my idols, I would also turn to the columns to look for which one of Father’s articles had been published, and whether I was ever mentioned. I was most proud that time when he got a piece that covered the entire page in the Ming Pao Supplement: it was about me, a primary school kid, and what idols meant to me. Even in shorter in pieces, I was always excited finding myself or my family members in them, whether published or not. Even now, I am able to remember those bits. And I have to confess my sense of guilt here: when I was in junior high school, I began to know where he stored his manuscripts on the computer, so sometimes I would secretly read his manuscripts, especially the novels he wrote for others. I was probably the only reader of a novel of his that never got published. I forgot whether he let me read it in the end or not, but anyway, I must have read it secretly.
After a while, my grandmother was officially moved into a nursing home, and the income from writing articles was not very good, so he also switched to other industries, which required more physical labor. Since then, he did not write much, but he still maintains the habit of reading books. In the advanced years of my secondary school, there was an increasing number of reports to write for school assignments. Slow in writing directly on a computer, I would seek help from Father so would input my manuscripts as a computer file – and that probably was the only occasion that kept him typing after he stopped writing. I once asked him if he would like to write again. He suggested vaguely that he used to use his brain too much, and hoped to do something that didn’t require too much thinking. At that time, I probably thought he was a bit negative, but now that I think about it, he started to submit manuscripts since he was in middle school (and the dated newspaper clippings are still neatly preserved), and he had persisted in writing for a long time. And that is something.
Originally, I thought I was quite familiar with my deceased grandmother. Because of this exhibition, I casually asked my father whether my grandmother had worked part-time. As always, my father vaguely uttered that my grandmother also worked for a period of time to help support the family, but my further advancing for more details was always frustrating. And this new fact troubled me: I have always taken it for granted that my grandma had always been a full-time housewife, until a few years after she passed away. Grandma and I chatted a lot when she was alive, but she mentioned not even once that she had taken jobs outside home. Now this gap is being filled, and I remain puzzled, especially about Grandpa and Father’s reticence, far more than Grandma’s. (For example, it took a long time in my chat with my grandpa to just I realize that my grandma used to play mahjong with friends, and even meet up across the harbor. I suppose as far as I have been around them, Grandma had limited mobility, and I couldn’t even imagine her having friends.) I also tried different kinds of questions repeatedly without finding out much. At most, I know some raw information such as the location of her workplace. I really want to know how my grandma felt during those days, but when I asked my grandpa, he said that there was nothing happy or unhappy, probably he was the grandpa who lived in such a direct way, and I should ask no one.
For a while, I gave up asking questions, and it was not until later that it occurred to me that it would better to ask my father to write down what he knew, including various geographical locations, which might be more accurate than vague recalling in casual conversations. As well, it would a great chance to read my father’s writing again. Father gently agreed to write and promised me that he could give it to me within two weeks. One day I called him, and he said that he took a day off to write this article. At that time, I was a little surprised and also touched that he would do so. Then one morning, I received an email from him with his article attached. I felt that I hadn’t read his writing for a long time. It seemed that after I grew up, having learned different types of writing (although not many), I returned to the original contact when I was a child. His writing is familiar but I need a little warm-up. The first time I read it, I can’t help thinking, is this what I read when I was a child? When I read it for the second time, I can let go of all queries from my childhood memories, Now I could freely enter his world, and see things from his eyes as a child -- the appearance of his parents and adults around him, their manners and countenances.
As for my grandmother's feelings at that time, it seems that I got some kind of an answer through my father's words. My father's writing has set a little distance, but for me, there is a certain kind of delicateness and tenderness. The past that my grandpa and grandma would't mention seems to make me understand better the father that I have known through the years.
(English translation by Linda Lai)
