我们的书写发生在现在时，而我们的思路的箭矢虽然一往向前，我们却需要往回查看过往的记忆来抓住前一刻稍纵即逝的灵感。接收到的与被表达的与现实之间是有着无可填满的罅隙的。
摹写，刻画任何真实的事物，无论你与此对象离得多么近，现在变成历史，而历史变成回忆，都会经过思维的稍加修改，变成一种“阐释”和“转译”。我们永远离本质有一步之遥。我们好像永远也走不出那个有火光和花影的洞穴。
“我们知道这世界，我们只是不能看到它。” 瓦莱里在其著名的 «对外科医生的演讲»所说的话:“真实根本就没有也不可能有别的定义。没有任何其他感官会在我们内心中孕育出一个固体的阻力能交流给精神的这一特殊确信。” 也如杜布菲所说，我们头脑中的世界是一串串用代码表示的转译，是已经固化了的旧式子。记忆也好，记录也好，代码代码，转译的转译。我诚恳地发问，我们是否应该做出积极的努力，去接近真实的本质或者本质的真实呢？
摹写，刻画任何真实的事物，无论你与此对象离得多么近，现在变成历史，而历史变成回忆，都会经过思维的稍加修改，变成一种“阐释”和“转译”。我们永远离本质有一步之遥。我们好像永远也走不出那个有火光和花影的洞穴。
“我们知道这世界，我们只是不能看到它。” 瓦莱里在其著名的 «对外科医生的演讲»所说的话:“真实根本就没有也不可能有别的定义。没有任何其他感官会在我们内心中孕育出一个固体的阻力能交流给精神的这一特殊确信。” 也如杜布菲所说，我们头脑中的世界是一串串用代码表示的转译，是已经固化了的旧式子。记忆也好，记录也好，代码代码，转译的转译。我诚恳地发问，我们是否应该做出积极的努力，去接近真实的本质或者本质的真实呢？
Our writing takes place in the present, and while the arrow of our thoughts travels forward, we need to look back at past memories to catch the fleeting inspiration of the previous moment. There is a gap between what is received and what is expressed and reality that cannot be filled.
Imitation, the portrayal of anything real, no matter how close you are to the object, the present becomes history, and history becomes memory, all of which are slightly modified by the mind and become a kind of "interpretation" and "translation". We are always one step away from the essence. We never seem to get out of the cave of firelight and flowers.
"We know the world, we just can't see it." In his famous "Lecture to the Surgeon General", Valéry said: "There is and can be no other definition of the real. No other sense can conceive within us a solid resistance to communicate to the spirit this particular certainty." Also as Dubuffet says, the world in our minds is a series of translations represented in code, old formulas that have solidified. Memory or record, code code code, translations of translations. I sincerely ask, should we not make a positive effort to approach the essence of the real or the essence of the real?
Imitation, the portrayal of anything real, no matter how close you are to the object, the present becomes history, and history becomes memory, all of which are slightly modified by the mind and become a kind of "interpretation" and "translation". We are always one step away from the essence. We never seem to get out of the cave of firelight and flowers.
"We know the world, we just can't see it." In his famous "Lecture to the Surgeon General", Valéry said: "There is and can be no other definition of the real. No other sense can conceive within us a solid resistance to communicate to the spirit this particular certainty." Also as Dubuffet says, the world in our minds is a series of translations represented in code, old formulas that have solidified. Memory or record, code code code, translations of translations. I sincerely ask, should we not make a positive effort to approach the essence of the real or the essence of the real?