《盘》，2023
声音影像装置，16 mm 影像，CGI 图像，田野录音，5’15”，loop, full HD
感谢： 冯诗乐、唐腾华。
陈牧星野用儿时钵钵鸡的记忆串联起身体的时空感应。钵钵鸡小食摊作为他童年记忆的核心，曾一度消失在中央和地方政府对小商小贩的严格管理下，疫情之后，随着国家层面对多样化经济的刺激，小商贩得以更新的味道。记忆和现实的错位，加之艺术家成年后的迁徙（displacement）加重了其身体和精神的漂泊感。用酉阳山歌《丁市》的声音、屠宰生牛的场景、CGI成像技术将艺术家的头颅替换钵钵鸡中的食材，用“生猛的食材”来炖煮异乡漂迫的离间感。钵钵鸡小食摊，也在机缘巧合之下，成为艺术家的祭坛。
“Do it”, 2023
video installation combinedwith CGI, 16mm film, field recording, Full HD, 5’15”.
Shut out to: Shile Feng, Tenghua Tang.
Muxingye Chen uses “Cold Skewers*” - a famous dish from his hometown (southwest of China, Sichuan province), to evoke the spatial and temporal sensations of his childhood body memories. The “Cold Skewers” snack stalls once disappeared due to strict government regulations on street vendors. However, after the pandemic, with the national stimulation of a diversified economy, these street vendors have reemerged, though the snack has lost its original taste. The disconnection between memory and reality, coupled with the artist’s displacement in adulthood, intensifies his sense of physical and spiritual drifting. Using the singing of the Youyang Folk Song* “Ding Shi*,” scenes of butchering cows, and CGI imaging technology to replace the ingredients of “Cold Skewers” with the artist’s 3D head, he cooks up a feeling of estrangement from displacement. The snack stall has, by coincidence, become an altar for the artist.
影像中的文字:
鹿特丹是一座港口城市 它的风是猛烈的的
特别是在市中心火车站正门口 一阵一阵地扇在我的身体上
这种极其扁平化而又猛烈地敲击 解构了我的身体 灵与周遭的关系
越来越原子化 附近消失了
唯一能够抓住的
在这个漏风的城市里
不停相互转换的控制和被控制的角色
和可能只有模糊的身体记忆 祖先的记忆
再冲击和再记忆
Rotterdam, a port city, where its wind is fierce
Standing at the entrance of Rotterdam Central Station, the blast strikes against my body
In this onslaught, my body's essence they assail,
dismantling the bonds, spirit and surroundings once unveiled.
Fragmentation ensues, as nearby realms dissolve,
yet, one thing I can grasp,
Within this draughty city's ephemeral domain,
Roles of control and being controlled intertwine, constrained.
Amidst the haze, echoes of ancestral heritage may unfold,
A faint corporeal recollection, ages untold.
Persistently impacted, ceaselessly recalled,
Memories surge, as new tales are enthralled.
酉阳山歌《丁市》：
打把菜油壶 象牙梳一把 梳起油头 唱歌冤奴家 说起山路行 犹如风抬云 慌忙两步到了情哥门 走起街沿口 一对大黄狗 没见情哥来撵狗 黄狗尾巴长 莫咬美娇娘 闻起人亲骨头香 走起槽门口 只见被人喊 没见情哥哥在外走 左脚跨进房 右脚伸进红楼窗 害病之人失望小情郎 双手来扶起 二人哭兮兮 情哥哥毛病何处起， 一没去读书 二没做活路 三没交情用心做 脚下有虚毛 头昏眼睛花 身上犹如棒棒打 你的毛病我知情 要奴把你诊 要奴把你找个好医生 左手提捆纸 右手提只鸡 慌忙两步到了先生屋 茶也我不吃 烟也我不喝 要你先生来占卦 毛病是如何 卦打三卦阳 娘子听我讲 你各回去卖猪羊 瞒到我的娘 悄悄买猪羊买起猪羊摆祭坛 七七四十九 奴家都要走 眼泪汪汪难开口 埋在大路旁 去来好烧香 烧得香纸又好看
Lyrics of Youyang Folk Song "Ding Shi"
Picking up the vegetable oil pot, an ivory comb in hand,
Styling the oiled hair, singing the song of the oppressed.
Speaking of walking on mountain roads, it's like the wind carrying clouds,
In a hurry, I arrive at my beloved's door, strolling along the street.
Two big yellow dogs, but my beloved doesn't come to chase them away,
With long tails, don't bite the beautiful young lady.
Smelling the fragrance of human's kin bones,
I walk to the side of the grindstone, hearing someone call.
But I don't see my beloved walking outside,
My left foot steps into the room, and my right foot stretches through the window of the red building.
The disappointed little beloved needs help,
I extend my hands to support him, and we both cry.
Where did the beloved brother's ailment originate from?
Not going to school, not finding a decent job, not treating people sincerely,
His feet are weak, his head dizzy, his eyes blurry,
It feels like he's been beaten with sticks.
I know all your problems,
I will diagnose you, and find a good doctor for you.
In my left hand, I carry a bundle of paper,
In my right hand, I hold a chicken.
In a hurry, I arrive at the gentleman's house,
I don't drink tea, and I don't smoke.
I want a fortune teller to read mine,
How did this ailment come about?
The divination results in three positive hexagrams,
Listen to me, my lady,
Both of you should go back and sell pigs and sheep,
Hiding it from my mother, secretly buying pigs and sheep.
Set up an altar for sacrifices, seven sevens make forty-nine,
I will leave with tears welling up, finding it hard to speak.
Buried by the roadside, going and returning,
I will burn incense, making the paper money look beautiful