假如（在一起）: 從「自發／自主／自救」到「 共生／共治／共活」(中)
Can We Live（Together）: From “self-survival” towards “co-existence” (ENG)
本地自發組織實踐的策展計劃
1.8 - 19. 10. 2014 @ 油街實現 oi!
文：李俊峰
Text: Lee Chun Fung
從「自發／自主／自救」到「 共生／共治／共活」
在電視劇「天與地」中，葉梓恩(佘詩曼) 有一句這樣的對白：「和諧不是一百個人說同一句說話，和諧是一百個人有一百句不同說話之餘，又互相尊重。」然而現實的問題是，我們在歧異的價值觀互相衝突下，是否真的能和諧共處？“假如（在一起）”正正期望審視一種個體主動、自發地連結起來，相互協作共同實踐理念的生存狀態，勾畫出當下的自發／自主／自救組織的能量，探討這種自發性對應當下藝術發展，乃至人文生活的積極意義，進而思考這「在一起」的生態如何持續發展。
「在一起」，又或作「自發組織」（autonomous self-organization) 指的是一種民間由下而上、主動、自主、自發地締造改變的組織能量。「在一起」對應的是主流建制中層層壓榨的不平等狀況，因此成員間沒有等級從屬，各人均為平等參與，藉著商討達成共識，共同追求轉變的期許，因此「在一起」的推動力源自每位參與者的主動性，分享積極轉向的成果。「在一起」對應的是現實的不足，合力組織起來加以填補，因此亦可以理解「在一起」為由個體發動從「自發／自主／自救」到 「共生／共治／共活」的行動。
與此同時，「在一起」無疑呼應前「油街藝術村」所指稱的一個重要面向：一種超越官方規劃，靠著藝術家強烈的熱情和投入，所創造的一片自主空間。（當中，我們可以這次有關重新考掘“死在香港”的訪問中略為了解）然而，「油街實現」由官方創立，一方面受著不同機制的監察和限制，同時亦必須保持固定的生產效率。從藝術生產的觀點，兩者可比喻作以下不同：「在一起」就像是有機種植的野地，農夫紮根於土地，與周邊社區及至自然環境損益相關，兩者互惠共生。生產者向自己負責，生產自己所需，並與成員共享。相對而言，主流建制卻像是企業式經營的藝術工廠，講求結果的準確性、過程需一定控制、生產者層層分工，擔當不同職責，以保持運作效率。兩種藝術生產的方式其實各有利害，我亦不主張排拒任何一類，然而現實狀況卻是，自主的土壤平台正遂步減少，由資本或體制背後推導的生產方式卻愈來愈多。
因此我們或需正視「油街實現」與「油街藝術村」在兩個明顯迴異不同的藝術生產系統，從而面對一個重大問題：這兩種方式是否有互相實現的可能？就是說「『油街實現』如何實現油街」？有沒有互相協作支持的可能？ 更多的發表機會，又是否帶領我們進到一個更多元、更能包容、聆聽不同異見的文化環境？ 及至面對消逝中的社區生活，藝術的角色是在加速這份消逝？還是嘗試平行修補？我希望此計劃能藉此打開兩者對話的起始。
無論如何，我們都知道具主體性的城市發展，必不能將認同感從外強加於民眾，而是由個體／社區自覺到內在轉變的需要，繼而自發策動，積累經驗滋長。社區文化如是，藝文發展亦然，否則必然出現不同價值的對立和衝突。「在一起」嘗試超越體制的桎梏，以平等、階級、自主的方式組織起來，並讓理念實踐到日常生活中。因此，我在此提議「在一起」作為一道「微出口」的可能。
作為內在與持續的抵抗﹣﹣「理念聯合運動」的策略
過往我們普遍相信「直接行動」作為一種民主實踐和制衡，比如像參與遊行集會、簽名運動，及至或即將發生的「佔領中環」，確實回顧香港的社會運動都是一頁頁人頭湧湧的遊行集會影像，這種主動性當然不應被質疑，但我希望在此提出，是否能有一種超越的想像，一種讓理念滲透和實踐到日常生活，並連結起來持續地抵抗的可能？舉一個例，去年和黃旗下的碼頭工人去年因著工種外判揭示了長期的薪酬待遇壓榨問題，為追討合理的回報而策動罷工，運動一觸即發，但與過往香港曾發生過的工人運動不同，這次工運更進深地漫延到一般民眾的參與層面，民眾擁躍的捐助，及至發動罷買旗下商店，在罷工行動以外形成廣泛滲透的包圍力量。
這正是我想像「在一起」持續制衡愈趨單一與壓抑的抵抗力量。想想看，碼頭工人每天在搬運誰的貨？這些貨物最終又是誰來消費？資本主義並只是一種單向地「資本壓榨無產階級」的關係，因為生產過程到最後仍必須要靠普遍的大眾的消費來完成，從而獲取營利。而像工會般的結構一定程度上只能制衡資本，卻不一定關懷廣大民眾的利害。比如說，超市以低價搶佔市場佔有率，而讓小市民能自力更生的小商店、街市等卻逐一倒閉，這種市場優先的價值下，社區小店的生存空間應由誰來守護？又或說地產商跑到新界發展農地，大肆破壞自然環境，並從中獲取巨大營利，更讓農夫們失去家園。這不單是「資本﹣工人」、「發展商﹣迫遷苦主」的單向關係，而是新的二元關係。資本結合公權力的結構，一步一步侵入「我們」的生活空間，特別是欠缺開放的民主制度監督下，勾結狀況對立出受壓迫的「我們」，「我們」不只是「無產階級」，而是跨越階層的大眾。但在這種結構下，誰能來守護「我們」？這即便是一種「在一起」聯合制衡的需要。
日本當代左翼思想家柄谷行人 (Karatani Kōjin) (指出，現代社會的結構是「國家﹣資本﹣國族」(Nation - Nation state - Captal) 三環互相扣連的結構。見下圖：
在這三環結構中，任何一環被除去亦不可能建立一個現代社會的政體。社會運動可視為制衡這個結構的一種內在對抗力量，即便如「工會﹣資本」是一例，這些制衡力量有其一定重要性，但柄谷行人建議一種嘗試超脫「國家﹣資本﹣國族」三環結構、組成超脫於社會階級與藉相互協作，平等自由的共同體作為制衡的策略，亦即是「理念聯合運動」(association movement) 的概念，而當中維繫組織的向心力來自抗衡「國家﹣資本﹣國族」的理念，以構成平衡三環結構的阻抗。因此我們亦可將是次計劃的「在一起」組織放進「理念聯合運動」的觀點。
同一時間，我們亦可援引「根莖」（Rhizome）的概念，社會的轉變其實往往並非一個特殊事件或一位英雄的出現而觸發，社會轉變潛藏在如「根莖」網絡中的無數無數微型的社會聯繫。堅實而正面的社會轉變建立在集體意識的轉變，先是民眾的意識，其後才有可能真正引發「革命」。這些聯繫必須藉共感的群體生活維繫，這卻正是若我們相信「參與式民主」的價值，那麼「在一起」就為當中的重要基礎。
禮物經濟﹣﹣互惠共生的博弈
但正如何穎雅 (Eliane.W.Ho) 在《組織．大眾》(Organization-at-large) 一文提及，「在一起」不宜將其過份浪漫化，否則「在一起」只為一種空洞的姿態，又或淪為像「人情債」般的小圈子遊戲。試想想，“協作”、“共生” 、”集體生活“ 等字眼有多少真的曾在我們日常生活發生？我們是否真的擅長並感到迫切需要尋求集體的生活？因此，我理解「在一起」為一種藝術家、知識份子及至廣大民眾，因意識到系統的破裂，而主動的向下流動、修補和重建的過程。
我們在此亦不妨從「博弈論」（Game Theory) 思考所謂的「共生協作」關係：假設在群體中每個個體都只為個人利益出發，並具一定進取及至攻擊性，這一種性格的個體將輕易淘汰那較溫和、無私奉獻的個體，在族群中得以繁衍。但情況一直發展下去，自私的個體將因過渡的惡性交鋒而在有限資源中的環境中漸漸減少，而這一時間卻會由主動避免競爭、相互協作和考慮到整體族群利益的個體取而代之。但兩者最終其實都沒有完全排除另一方，而只是一個互相平衡的博弈狀況。
所以與其說「在一起」將能變成一場波攔壯闊的革命，取代當下的不平等、壓抑自由的主流制度，倒不如是先承認「在一起」是一種制衡的力量，但這制衡力來得腳踏實地，倒靠大家身體力行，把集體的力量一點一滴的累積。
從「禮物經濟」的觀點，這種互利互惠亦不妨視為一種對抗「國家﹣資本」扣連結構的一種制衡力量。「禮物經濟」
遠比我們所知的市場經濟更早出現在人類社會，「禮物經濟」不以社會契約和明確協議約束保証必然的報酬，施與者沒有任何得到回報的要求和預期，而是基於個體主動在社群中轉贈「盈餘」，這些「盈餘」沒有變成個人累積的資產，而是像禮物般在社群中流傳。
在人類學家牟斯（M.Mauss) 的著作《禮物》中講述毛利人部族裡有一個叫hua的概念，hua是一種藏森林、土地、大自然裡，也埋藏在物件中的「靈」，族人在「禮物交換」的過程中，收禮者基於對hua的尊敬，必需向施與者作出回報。因此禮物的交換同時也是一種靈性的交換，接受禮物有如接受對方靈魂的一部份，hua近乎是一種精神信仰，是維繫部族社會的一種集體力量。所以，若我們將「禮物經濟」作為對應當下資本主義的話階級壓制而產生的「負反饋」，個體間的協作互利與主動的「向下流動」又是否可以視為一種hua的創造過程？與此同時，若將hua放到「藝術」創作的領域思考，我們可將藝術視作為一種個體藉感知對話生產的普遍共感經驗，藝術亦像是召回我們對hua的感知力，並重建人與人的關係和對話。
第一部份 ﹣﹣「一人做d！」（每人做一點）個案考察
此部份從3位藝術家＋3組自發組織的個案，考察人與人之間如何建立連繫，走在一起組成群體，而群體之間又對社會構成更大的改變，從而反映當下自發組織的生態，及他／她們如何透過協作商議，實現平等交流的過程，提示一種基於集體生活的關係生產方式。
梁志剛( Michael Leung) 本身是一位設計師，近年積整地策動不同面向的本地食物生產的實驗計劃，如他的「城市耕種計劃」(Community Farming Project) 是其中之一。城市種植近年愈趨流行，很多文化藝術機構亦嘗試營辦如天台農圃等活動，但與此同時，城市空間的管理卻進而步步縮窄，規限自發利用城市公共空間進行種植的可能。梁志剛的計劃正正觸及這種政治性。他的「城市種植計劃」考察油麻地內不同街坊的種植情況，在寸金呎土的油麻地，不難找出街坊處處「善用」（擅用？）街道的公共空間作各種種植的方式，由路旁的夾縫到路牌上的空間...這不單是民間智慧的體現，也是街坊自動自覺「反規劃」，主動創造了一片社區文化共享的平台，可惜此一自由空間卻日漸受到規管。
機緣巧合下，梁志剛認識到在油麻地某天橋底的城市農夫「芒果王」(Mango King) 。無論是農作物的生產量，及至如何運用本身的環境儲存雨水作灌溉，都像無師自通的運用了樸門文化（Permaculture）的原則。（梁志剛因此也笑言他平日的城市種植實踐顯得相形見拙）。梁志剛是次展出他們兩的交往紀錄，他時而在探訪時送上水果，芒果王又回贈菜蔬，兩人像是回到原始部落般的禮物互酬關係。香港作為亞洲金融中心，正當生活種種微小細節已難以脫離以貨幣為本：「工作﹣賺錢﹣消費」的想像，我們感到雀躍的是這各自從社區的土地上生產，「禮物經濟」的復歸。
盧樂謙 (Him Lo) 是 「藍屋香港故事館」（Hong Kong House of Stories) 館長，也是多個自發組織的發起人，當中包括如：「人民足球」(People's Pitch)、「這一代的六四」(64 Contemporary)、「Art after 6」等... 阿謙在其「社區藝術」的創作中，不是以個人主義的角度出發，而是藉著組織中各自討論商議，一步一步地達至共同的理念和目標，並合力去共同完成。有說足球是世界語言，那「人民足球」便以這親切簡樸的包裝，生產暗藏激進生活態度的連結。無論是如何運用街道空間作足球比賽，在重建區舉辦球賽連結各路街坊一同告別，及至思考由社區生產球衣與不同球賽用品的可能性，這都可理解為集體協作過程下的“藝術”生產。
位於北京胡同裡的「家作坊」（HomeShop) 是一個建立在藝術家與社區人士共同生活、創作和相互交流的自主平台，當中曾出版雜誌、製作錄像、藝術行動等。 發起人何穎雅 (Eliane.W.Ho) 與另一成員Fotini Lazaridou-Hatzigoga去年於「活化廳」(Wooferten)的駐場計劃拍攝四個紮根油麻地的社區／藝術／行動者組織的紀錄片﹣﹣《明日大致多雲》(Precipitations)，採訪四個背景各異的自發組織中成員的理念想法，亦間接促成組織間的彼此的對話。是次何穎雅收集區內廢棄物資搭建放映棚，並邀請大家在小屋中插播錄象，開放展出平台。
從空間生產至關係生產
年輕又別具行動力的策展人高穎琳(Kobe Ko)在九龍城街頭策動了「週街展」(Chow Kai Chin)，我們可以想像其他藝術機構同樣以差不多的方法在街上做展覽，但不會展現出同樣活力，正因這種活力來自「週街展」的自主策劃方式。「週街展」沒向官方申請批准，同時參與者不屬於任何機構，可理解為一個社區自發的藝術展覽。作品或是因觸碰空間管理者神經而被快速拆去，又或剛好掉進三不管的公共地帶而留下至今，又或藝術家爽約沒交作品，這種意外卻又帶領我們回到街道的本身，一種無規管卻又碰撞無限可能的空間。正正對應當下如工廠般的藝術生產系統，愈趨單一化地控制結果的文化環境，我們怎不更應珍視這份意外感？
「週街展」提示了街動作為一個分享文化與生活的公共平台，同樣來自展示自由發表需要的案例是「百呎公園」(100 ft. Park)，由何兆南(South Ho) 等幾位朋友合力營辦，「百呎公園」對應是藝術系統內的不足。當下愈來愈多的資本參與藝術生產，其實是一個治理／單一化的過程，一百呎的白盒子空間「百呎公園」提供系統裡的例外狀態，在公園內進行沒規管實驗的可能。有趣是「百呎公園」堅持自主經營，沒想過申請官方資助，大小事務由成員互相分擔，卻又正因這份堅持，「百呎公園」漸漸走出持續經營的道路。
「獎」是成就的表揚與嘉許，也可以是權力圈子的劃界整治。如何選出？怎樣提名？評審構成？無不影響得獎結果。不同的藝術獎項，代表背後眾多不同的意識形態。「Tuna Prize」是由浸大視覺藝術院的畢業生自發創立的「獎項」，獎項在畢業展中頒發，在眾多由學校頒發的獎項中分野出一個屬於畢業生的聲音。當中無論是評選方法與準則等都由畢業校友組成的評選團平等商議。香港的藝評生態一直難以發展，若「Tuna Prize」持續下去，一方面紀錄著不同年代藝術學生對當代藝術趨勢的看法，並積累了豐富的討論成果。（相反很多時由官方建制的獎項卻不見同樣的討論份量）「Tuna Prize」另一方面也構成畢業生與畢業同學間的對話社群，關注創作本身的自發組織，這也可視為一種從空間生產到關係生產的過程。
第二部份 ﹣﹣「微型部署」藝術家回應創作
展覽特意邀請到兩位藝術家：梁御東(Ocean Leung)、姚妙麗(Joe Yiu) 就是次計劃進行回應創作。梁御東與友人曾在十多年前到訪過前油街， 在外牆上噴上「犀利」塗鴉，前油街的建築經已被拆下，「犀利」的痕跡卻竟然仍奇跡般埋藏在當日的外牆上，洗擦不去！是次他的創作計劃邀請到北角區的臨時演員飾演熱心參與「油街實現」(Oi!) 的街坊，到來「假如（在一起）」，是次展覽計劃無論藝術家和我說什麼都受到言論自由的保護，但與此同是又是否如示威區展示的臨時展演性質？這都不無對我作為「客席策展人」的當頭棒喝！與此同時，在資本主義社會只要有錢便可以購買觀眾前來熱心參與，也沉重而無奈地道出當下藝術生產系統的空洞。
同樣擅長以黑色幽默演繹系統的荒誕，姚妙麗這次的計劃提問「油街實現」與周邊社區關係作開始。曾為北角街坊的她這次開啟的是「有商有量．實現油街」的公眾咨詢計劃，邀請觀眾與業界持份者給予意見，另一方面也提問「油街實現」的社區參與面向：「社區」只作為藝術接收者的觀眾，又或是彼此共享／使用的持份者？藝術作為一種教育群眾的工具，還是開啟平等對話和參與的可能？在這個面對「仕紳化」發展的社區，「油街實現」的定位可如何作出平衡？「實現」是一個期許，而若權力不是放到民眾參與， 「有商有量」並不一定成真。
這次梁御東和姚妙麗同樣觸及社區營造與藝術生產的「臨時性」問題。如姚妙麗的社區咨詢收集得來的意見是否真正能進入未來規劃中？誰人有權來決定？誰人可參與討論？未來這種社區面向又是否持續出現，一同「有商有量」？當下這種欠缺持續的藝術生產方式源自「藝術生產﹣消費」的單向邏輯，並不思考生產過後如何持續發展。正如本地藝術生態多年來為人垢病的生生死死，卻又前仆後繼的生存狀態，我們有沒有可能擺脫這種不持續狀態？似乎在沒有結構性轉變前，我們只有靠著自發「走在一起」才能讓事情持續進行。
在是次的展覽計劃我亦策劃了：「假如（死在香港）」(What If “Death in HK”)，考掘前油街的「在一起」藝術生態。當年由「藝術公社」 (Artist Commune) 在前油街策劃「死在香港」到今天「藝術公社」及前油街的相繼「死亡」，這計劃期望回溯並展示當時藝術家的生命強度。從錄象訪談中，我們能一探相信是香港最早期「在一起」藝術組織之一的「及第粥」(Hue Art Association) （1989﹣1994）。藝術家們在南丫島上租住工作室，進行不同創作實驗，時而種田務農，靠山吃山，靠海吃海，當創作累積一段時間便在田野上進行裝置展覽，在共同生活的土地上分享創作成果，今天回看仍不失「前衛」。到「藝術公社」時期杜煥（To Wun) 等人租用前油街的「停屍間」舉辦展覽計劃「死在香港」(Death In HK)，在這邊緣的空間展示了充沛的活力，但展覽卻被當時藝評人普遍批評為嘩眾取寵。在今天的語境下，我卻十分“懷念”這份粗野和直率的創作態度。「死」是一個在文化上壓抑的符號，禁而不語卻又無法回避，都像暗喻當下藝文及政治生態的一種陰翳、壓抑現象。韓國人說身土不二，中國傳統觀念也是死在家鄉。回溯「家鄉」的碎片，思考「死亡」如何取替「死亡」，也藉以開啟另一生命的再生。
小結： 未來就是靠我們走在一起
當下，香港的社會政局無疑充滿不安和焦慮，矛盾加劇而對話的空間亦愈趨減少。「我們是否能共同生活？」（Can We Lives Together?) 是一個我們必須面對的問題。 今天已被普遍懷疑結合全球化資本的新自由主義將為社會經濟帶來福址，還是加大貧富差距？我們也開始不再相信「發展是硬道理」，正如發展新界鄉郊的農地是一種可持續的發展方式。只由少部份人推選的代議政制卻明目張膽的出賣大多數人的利益，無視亦無意建立社會共識，此種種問題將現實放在面前，除了「自救」別無其他良方。因此，若我們想像未來，未來就是靠自己！
過往在藝術界所謂「主流／替代」（main stream vs alternative)「營利／非營行」(comercial vs non-profit) 的二分在資本與建制進一步進迫下已漸漸被同化，如所謂非營利的藝術機構被邀請作市區重建前後教化社區大眾欣賞藝術的工具，培養更多藝術觀眾，究竟最終是為了提昇城市的文化素養，還是為培養藝術地產項目的消費者？藝術家過往藉「制度批判」的修正主義策略亦漸漸失效，異見只被「臨時」的系統消費掉。但主流建制與自主的藝術生態是否站在敵我對立的狀態？正如我們藉「博弈論」思考共生協作為一種相互制衡，我相信藝術家與及所有從業者都在一個各自損益相關的整體，我們中間應建立的是一種「互惠共生」的關係。我期望在是展的對話中開啟在未來不同組織生態互相支援與尊重的可能。但無論如何，對照當下的環境，我們需要更多的關注和討論那仍未又或無法被體制管轄的自主空間，「在一起」共同去建立及至守護！ 因為當下我們已近乎沒有退路，用一句熱門的說話就是：「自己藝術自己救！」
最後，在是次計劃，我無緣為這城我所敬佩和別具意義的「在一起」組織來一個完整的呈視，唯希望這次只是開啟各方對話的開端，打開此一生態的討論。再一次感謝各位參展人／組織與過程中所有落力幫忙的每一位。
* * *
Can We Live（Together）
Curatorial Project of Self-organized Practice in Hong Kong
Text: Lee Chun Fung
From “self-survival” towards “co-existence”
In the drama serial When Heaven Burns, Charmaine Sheh utters a sentence that is as fitting as any other for setting the tone of our exhibition: “Harmony is not the consequence of a hundred people saying the same thing, harmony happens when a hundred people respect one another, even if they each have something different to say.” As such, the question to ask is this when fundamental differences in principles and values come into contact with one another, is it really possible to speak of, to imagine a form of coexistence that does not result in violence? This question is pressing because it speaks to a reality that we live every day, enmeshed as we are in an inescapable mesh of differences. That is, the pursuit of this form of collectivity is not a utopian aspiration, but an unavoidable one. Can We Live (Together) is an attempt to foreground experimental solutions to this perpetual pursuit, outlining the subjectivities and forms-of-life that emerge and proliferate in an autonomous fashion, inventing practices of mutual aid and self-help from the ground up. It is a tentative investigation of the creative powers and capacities that come into play in such instances, the significance that this has for the development of contemporary art and cultural life, as well as an endeavor to reflect upon the ways in which these forms-of-life can be sustained and elaborated upon.
“Live (Together)”, or, if you like, autonomous association, refers to a sort of initiative that takes form from the ground up, a collective capacity that is shared collectively. What it counterposes itself to is a social and political situation that is premised upon hierarchy, mediation and inequality. Because these forms of autonomous self-organization define themselves against such tendencies, they are grounded upon consensus, conviviality and the pursuit of commonality between differences without effacing them. They facilitate encounters between differences without obliterating them, and they stand and fall on the initiative of each and every person who participates and shares in these experimental experiences. Because they form in the interstices and the voids of today's social and political order, they fill these voids with a content that the existing state of affairs lacks, with a power of self-help that is seized from existing centers of power.
At the same time, “Live (Together)” reminds us of the artist village that formed on Oil Street not so long ago. The village was something that exceeded beyond, or perhaps beneath, the grids of urban planning, driven entirely by the passions and desires that appropriated and shaped the space. By contrast, 'Oi!' was an initiative set up by the government and cultural authorities, one that was, as one might expect, circumscribed by all manner of restrictions and surveillance measures, as well as being productive, efficient and marketable enough to satisfy all manner of economic criteria. From the perspective of art production, the two can be said to differ in this respect- autonomous communities can be likened to wild tracts of land tended to, farmed and shared in common, land that has not severed, through laws and dictates of property, its organic connections with communities and with the nature from which it comes. Those who cultivate the land are responsible to themselves and to the forms of life on the land, they produce what they need, and share the produce with their communities. On the other hand, the existing establishment can be likened to a cultural assembly line turning out artistic commodities of all sorts, privileging the production of these commodities rather than the activity of creation or the relationships that are formed in the process of production. This assembly line, with its tight disciplinary controls, its division of labor across a global supply chain of cultural labor, is engineered in the interest of maintaining a certain level of efficiency. These two forms of production each have their own distinct disadvantages, and I am not privileging one at the exclusive expense of the other, but the fact of the matter today is that creative autonomy is diminishing daily, compelled as it is to observe standards that originate from the market.
Thus, a strict scrutiny of the difference between “Oi!” and the “Oil Street Artist Village” gives us an exemplary illustration of the cleavage between two forms of production, while raising a significant question: can these two forms co-exist with one another? That is to say....Can autonomous initiatives and government cultural projects interact with one another? Can the establishment of more platforms and avenues for autonomous expression usher us into a more diverse cultural environment that is more open to the circulation of differences? As we face the growing diminution of communal and neighborly life, is art rendered irrelevant to the life of those outside the art scene? Or can this be repaired? By whom? I hope this project can begin to facilitate a comprehensive discussion of these questions.
Whatever the case, we ourselves know very well that any form of urban planning should not be imposed by fiat upon populations, that they should be built upon existing structures, relationships and needs in neighborhoods and communities. Otherwise, these plans will have no terra firma to stand upon. The concept of autonomous collectivity always denotes something experimental, an attempt to exceed existing relationships of power, to test the power of egalitarian collectivity and actualize principles of participation and sharing, rooting them in everyday life. As such, these experiments indicate small pathways, escape routes from what we conventionally take as being 'reality'.
Sustainable, organic forms of resistance - The strategy of “association”
Typically, we imagine civic participation as a symbolic exemplification of democratic action, whether this assumes the form of marches, protests, the signing of petitions and the like. A perfunctory review of Hong Kong's social movement history presents us with image after image illustrating this sort of mass action. And yet, is this sort of imaginary entirely representative of what 'political action' can involve? I am not proposing that we answer, without reservation, in the negative. I simply want to propose that we ask if there can be a re-imagining of resistance, one that is much more humble and quotidian than such newsworthy, exceptional events. Can we think of a form of resistance that attempts to infuse principles of participation into everyday life, that builds a sustainable form of collective life upon the basis of needs and desires? To raise an example, the dock workers' strike that took place in Hong Kong last year had, as any strike would, a set of demands that were economic in nature, but the everyday reality of the strike, which reached millions of homes through televisual publicity, was shaped by the encounters between workers, customarily trapped in docks to which the public was not granted access, and people/worlds far removed from their working lives.
This gives us a cursory glimpse of what I imagine collective resistance and autonomy to involve in a world where such capacities are discouraged and actively suppressed. Think about it- whose goods were the workers charged with moving every day? Who consumed these products on a daily basis? Of course, exploitation happens in the place of production, but circulation and consumption has to happen for value to be realized. Unions, concentrated on struggles over production and work conditions, cannot throw a leash upon capital for it does not address what happens outside the sphere of work. For example, big supermarkets price smaller businesses out of the market, and the effects that this has on family stores and wet markets are profound. Who will address these imbalances? Or, to take another example, when property developers seize farms in the new territories, ruining the ecology and social relationships that have formed in these areas, these processes cannot be accounted for in purely economic terms. This is not simply a matter of the antagonism between capital and labor, between development and those who are are dispossessed of areas slated for development, but a holistic social-ecological problem. As capital encroaches upon our existential territories, exploiting the inadequacies of existing legal and political arrangements, we are no longer proletarians in the classical sense, but a classless public. Under these conditions, who is in a position to defend this public? Such questions allude to and necessitate the formation of new forms of collective defense.
The contemporary Japanese left-wing thinker Karatani Kojin has pointed out that contemporary society is structured as a triad of “Nation, National State and Capital”. In this triadic structure, the absence of any of these components denotes the absence of a modern political entity. A social movement can be seen as a force to curb the excesses of this structure, but always remains within the confines of this structure insofar as it remains entrapped within its logic. He proposes an experiment to exceed this triad, which he terms the 'association movement'. Some examples can be given- boycott campaigns, cooperatives, the formation of community currencies and other forms of autonomous associations that defect from national, statist arrangements, departing from their founding logics and social relationships. Karatani's rich proposals have animated and informed the conception of this exhibition.
The Gift Economy- A Game Of Coexistence
Elaine W. Ho, in her essay 'Organization-at-large', reminds us that we have to combat tendencies to romanticize and sentimentalize notions of 'community' and 'collectivity', if we are to extract them from the deadly fantasies that drive nationalist agendas and quaint, 'small is beautiful' programs for moral regeneration. Let us think for a moment about 'cooperation', 'conviviality', 'collectivity' and such words. How often do they appear in our everyday lives? Do we feel a desperate need for collective life? Are we properly equipped for its pursuit? I believe that this need, felt among a certain contingent of artists and intellectuals, originates from a collapse of existing systemic arrangements, the failure of existing investments in their perpetuation and an intense awareness of the need to engage in patient reconstruction.
Here, it would perhaps behoove us to employ “game theory” to understand our situation. If, in a group, each individual only pursues, aggressively and continuously, his or her own self-interest, this personality or disposition will eventually eradicate more pacific, altruistic and tender tendencies, leading to the proliferation and multiplication of selfishness. If this situation persists, however, the excess of selfishness will place extraordinary stresses upon existing environmental resources, leading to collective suicide or a transformation of existing relationships in the way of a more equitable form of coexistence. This means that the possibility for the latter tendency was never comprehensively cancelled. Rather, an equilibrium was disrupted. In this way, we can see 'autonomy' as a counter-balancing force, one that has to take root in the reality of concrete life and take form, over time, in living bodies, experiences and practices so that they can give shape to an enduring collective memory.
The perspective that the gift economy affords us should be reconsidered here as a challenge to the Nation-Capital axis. In the work of Marcel Mauss, he speaks of a spiritual principle in Maori culture that goes by the name of hua. Hua is a sort of soul latent in forests, in the land and in nature. In exchanges between tribespeople, those who receive gifts, in order to show their reverence for hua, are obligated to give a gift in return. We can understand hua, then, as a spiritual bond that holds the gift economy together as a collective practice. At the same time, the exchange of gifts is a spiritual procedure, with protocols and proprieties involved in receiving a portion of spirit. Can we conceive of subterranean practices to reconstitute and experiment with collectivity from this anthropological perspective? Can we apply it to artistic practices and other processes of creation? If an art work images and produces its own audience, producing shared experiences and encounters, can we think of it as weaving intimate social bonds and obligations in a similar fashion?
Part I. From Each According To Ability- Case Studies and Documents
This part presents the work of three artists and three independent collectives. It will investigate the genesis and formation of social relationships and collectives, the transformations that these collectives produce in society at large, in an effort to reflect upon the ecological conditions under which these collectives operate, as well as the ways in which they instantiate equality and cooperation in their work.
Michael Leung was trained as a designer, and in recent years he has been involved in a variety of experimental food-producing initiatives in the city, his Community Farming Project being but one of these. It has become increasingly fashionable to farm in the city, and many cultural groups have begun farming on rooftops. At the same time, urban space is becoming more and more regimented and regulated, and these coercive measures have placed severe restrictions upon the expansion of agriculture in urban space. Michael Leung's initiatives contest this constriction and codification of city space. His urban farming projects produce maps of agriculture in Yau Ma Tei, documenting the farming efforts of various folks across the neighborhood, charting the many ways in which space, which can range from back alleyways to the tops of road signs, is appropriated and used by people. This is not simply a form of folk knowledge or 'knowledge from below', it is also a tacit form of resistance to urban planning, and an exposure of its fissures. This project serves as a platform for the sharing of practices, a necessity when city authorities are launching a comprehensive offensive against them.
In the course of his work, Michael came to know the Mango King, an urban farmer who does his planting under a flyover bridge in Yau Ma Tei. The Mango King, without having had any prior training in the technique and without being cognizant of the fact, shares much with permaculturists in his farming methods. In this exhibition, Michael will exhibit records of his association with the Mango King, documenting the gift exchanges between the two (the one giving fruits, the other vegetables). Living in the heart of the finance economy, the minutiae of everyday life are fully determined by capital. Wage labor and consumption seem to occupy the entirety of our lives at the expense of everything else, though profane miracles such as these, which seem to signal a return to prehistory, indicate other subterranean possibilities.
Him Lo is the in-charge person of the Hong Kong House of Stories, as well as being involved in many independent initiatives, such as the People's Pitch group that organizes football tournaments in areas slated for gentrification, 64 Contemporary, Art After 6 and the like. Him believes that participatory, community art is not about the individual, but should supply avenues for collective discussion and reflection, so that common objectives and principles can be created and shared. Some say that football is a universal language, and the People's Cup can be regarded as a means to forge new social relationships through the medium of sport. The tournaments take place in unlikely spaces in locales designated for redevelopment, and the uniforms and equipment are produced by neighborhoods themselves. All of this gives us plenty of food for thought when we consider what a collective, participatory and performative form of community art could mean.
Elaine W. Ho, the founder of Beijing's HomeShop and Fotini Lazaridou-Hatzigoga, her associate and colleague, shot a film about four independent art and activist collectives in Yau Ma Tei when they were artists in residence at Wooferten last year. This film, Precipitations, interviews four members of these groups about their principles and positions, as well as providing a means for a conversation to take place between them. Homeshop is a space in which art and the neighborhood can interact with one another. It has published a magazine, produced a series of films, and generated a number of creative interventions through the space, which takes art of its institutional boundaries.
From the Production of Space to the Production of Dialogue
The young and energetic curator Kobe Ko was responsible for setting up the Chow Kai Chin, an exhibition that, while utilizing the increasingly common conceit of having an exhibition on the street (in this case a street in Kowloon City), distinguished itself through its fiercely independent nature. The Chow Kai Chin did not apply for official approval, and none of the participants were affiliated with any government body. In this way, it can be understood as an autonomous community art exhibition. The works met with various fates- some touched a nerve with those charged with regulating the space and were taken down swiftly, some, situated in more obscure areas, remain to this day, while some weren't even submitted. These accidents were part and parcel with the fortuitous and spontaneous nature of the exhibition, which created spaces of infinite possibility. When conceived against the background of a global assembly line of cultural labor, one that continues to homogenize the conditions under which art is produced, how can we not treasure such accidents?
The Chow Kai Chin demonstrates that the street can be transformed into a place in which culture and life can be contested and transformed. In relation to this, we can also refer to the 100 ft Park, a project initiated by South Ho and several of his friends. The 100 ft Park can be understood as a commentary on the inadequacies of the contemporary art system. As contemporary art production comes increasingly under the rule of managerial and market forces, the 100 foot white box space that constitutes the 1 100 ft Park creates a space of exception to the system of art production and distribution, generating a space that does not fall under its dictates or statutes. The 100 ft Park continues to run autonomously, without having applied for government funding. The management of the space is the exclusive responsibility of the people who started it, and the tenacity of its originators has made the space a sustainable, independent initiative.
A prize is a symbol of achievement, though the institution of prize-giving is also an intensely political one. How are nominations made? How are judges chosen? All of these considerations are ideological. The Tuna Prize is a prize established by several art graduates from Baptist University, to be awarded at the conclusion of a graduation exhibition. The panel of judges and the evaluation methods are all discussed collectively. This could have tremendous ramifications for art criticism in Hong Kong if the Tuna Prize continues, the historical record that it will leave behind- records of students' attitudes towards contemporary art and the results of their collective discussions about the situation of art over the years- would be of immense value (by contrast, records of prize-giving proceedings on the side of the art establishment are not nearly as interesting). TheTuna Prize also represents a conduit of communication between final year students and graduates, creating continuity and community between them. For those with an interest in independent cultural initiatives that generate novel social relationships, this is considerably significant.
Part II. Molecular Interventions
The exhibition has invited two artists - Ocean Leung and Joe Yiu- to present works that have been crafted as a response to the plan in question. Ocean Leung and his friends(BLOKE) visited Oil Street 15 years ago, and sprayed graffiti expressing their admiration for the village. The structures in Oil Street have since been torn down, but the graffiti remains as an indelible, phantasmal scar on one of the street's walls. For this exhibition, he has hired a group of actors to crash the exhibition in passionate defense of Oi!. Of course, the exhibition is protected under the auspices of freedom of speech, but will this be a dramatization of a scene that we have seen with increasing frequency in today's protests- two opposing sides of protesters cordoned off in their own respective quarantines, haranguing each other at a distance? Capitalism requires only that you have money if you want a sizeable audience for your cultural event, and this is something that Leung's work exposes in the most literal possible fashion.
Another adept at black humor, Joe Yiu is intent on interrogating the relationship between Oi! And the neighborhood surrounding it. She plans on inviting neighbors in the area to offer their own input regarding the project, in an effort to question the relegating of the area's residents to being mere spectators, rather than participants, producers and users of culture. Should art be used as a pedagogical instrument, or should it be premised upon principles of radical equality, participation and dialogue? In a neighborhood torn apart by gentrification and urban development, what ethical considerations must Oi! Undertake? If it is simply a project that is unilaterally imposed upon an indifferent public, culture is simply a monologue among cultural mandarins.
For this occasion Ocean Leung and Joe Yiu have also brought the 'temporariness' and 'momentariness' of art production into question. Can the voices that Joe Yiu records be allowed to enter into the debate over cultural planning? Who has the power to decide? Who is recognized as possessing the qualifications to enter such a debate? Is it possible to interrupt this monologue? Art, as a commodified form determined by market demand, is given to impermanence, and is not particularly good at raising questions of sustainable cultural development. Can this conception of temporality be done away with? Until a structural transformation takes place, it seems that all we can do is engage in such collective conversations on the ground level.
For this exhibition, I have also curated an exhibition of films and documents that I have called What If “Death In HK”. It is a meditation on the collective nature of the Oil Street Art Village, a documentation of the effervescent vitality of the artistic community that existed in that space and time. The films capture, through the use of interviews and footage, a project called the Hue Art Association, that existed between the years of 1989 and 1994. These artists rented a workshop on Lamma Island, where they conducted various aesthetic experiments while surviving on farmed produce. The results of these years were exhibited in an installation exhibition, and the fruits of all of this were shared between members of the association. At the same time, To Wun and various others rented a former mortuary in Oil Street, where they organized an exhibition fittingly titled Death in HK, a powerful artistic statement that was condemned by contemporary critics. I remain very nostalgic for the directness and the rawness of these times. 'Death' is something that our culture actively suppresses and disavows, which does nothing to negate its invariability. Koreans say that the body belongs to the earth, and death in Chinese culture is traditionally connected to the place of one's birth. I would like to plunge into the archives of our city's artistic history, in an effort to restore its explosive potentiality, a force of imagination that could give us a glimpse of another kind of life.
Conclusion: The Future Is The Path We Make By Walking Together
Today, life in this city is riddled with insecurity and anxiety, as spaces for collective discussion and communal life are disappearing. Can We Live Together? is a question that we have to respond to collectively, especially as neoliberalism forecloses possibilities of conviviality and social responsibility. Now that the gospel of economic development and the promises of parliamentary politics have exhausted themselves, questions of sustainability, mutual aid and self-help are once again on the horizon. The future, then, is contingent on our own initiative.
Over time, the divisions between the 'mainstream' and the 'alternative scene', between “commercial enterprises and non-profit ones” in the art world have passed into oblivion. Non-profit cultural organizations are invited to fashion the facade of gentrification projects, to 'educate' the public about the merits of appreciating art and to train consumers of art products. Are such efforts really in the interests of cultivating culture, or do they simply facilitate the expansion of cultural markets? The 'critical' attitude that is expected of the artist has become a cruel joke, if it hasn't lost much of its effectiveness already, consumed by the transience and attention-deficiency of the market. Having said this, can we conceive of the establishment and the independent cultural initiatives of which we speak as being in opposition with one another? The game theory example that we raised earlier points to the possibility of coexistence and equilibrium, and I believe that artists and art practitioners each have their interests to pursue. From these interests, a form of coexistence can be constructed. I hope that this exhibition will help to initiate a conversation between different organisations. Whatever the case, in such bleak times, autonomous spaces that escape and challenge the dictates of the state and the market have to be built and defended! The future of art cannot be left or delegated to anybody else. We must get together to create and safeguard these spaces! It’s almost impossible for us to retreat. Let me use a heated catch phrase, “Let’s Save Our Own Art Together!”
In conclusion, I regret that I have not been able to make a fuller presentation of the groups whose work I deeply esteem and admire. This exhibition is but a modest contribution to a conversation that I hope will continue long into the future. Many thanks to all the artists and groups involved, as well as each and every person who has contributed to the exhibition in some shape or form.
