Norton Simon Museum
Pasadena, CA

去的路上在看關於 Tarkovsky 的書。

Jawlensky.
在 Variation 的系列前眷顧良久，有 如入夢境之心。

我依然甘心作一個匠人。因為似乎只有一顆接受的心，沒有給予的熱忱和能力。

從 The Blue Four 的廳裡出來，好像身體心靈裡好像有所缺失，好像有一部分永遠離開了我，粉塵一樣附在流落在那裡的那些畫上。有如從夢中醒來，惘然所失，想憑空抓住那一段流逝的時光，那一段時光中的萬般感受，可是只有眼睜睜看它湮沒於尋常的生活。

Klee 的 Aquarium: 錯亂透視的房間﹔Ferninger 的蝕刻﹔拖著長長直線的船、浪、雲端。Kandinsky 在最末的房間，我隔門望過去看到他那幅水彩的 Deluge I，許多年裡看得熟記於胸的那張畫，腦海裡已經成為代替了他名字的符號，剎那在眼前出現，仿佛愕然在現實中碰到夢裡的陌生人，一時難以抑止。

上樓去看館藏。從旋轉扶梯拾級而上，看著一階一階泥黃色的大理石發怔，好像是 Klee 的顏色。那被水洇過的煙紙色。面對巨幅的古典名作如對腐朽之軀，我失魂、落魄、興味索然。偶爾也心意激蕩，那是看到凡高的黃草帽，和陽光裡閃爍的卷曲的樹葉，還有 Modigliani 穿紅衣的妻子。Soutine。Oscar Kokoschka。

看過藏品去博物館專店找喜愛作品的卡片和書。看到它們卻涼透了心。折回展品面前再看，依然有血有肉有風有骨，和干巴巴印在會反光的卡片上的完全不同。原作怎麼那麼奇妙？豐富飽和的色彩，紙張年舊了的痕跡，texture of the paper，strokes，顏色間互洇染的過渡，尺寸。展廳的燈光，背景中的聲音，白牆，畫與畫的排列。色彩產生線條畫不可同日而語的強烈感情。我不相信自己一生能甘於只用黑色。

In his biography of Goya, Robert Hughes makes the point that the Spanish artist’s only access to the work of Rembrandt was through prints. He goes on to write of those prints. “They are not mere records or reproductions of paintings but fully achieved works of art in their own right, and scrutinizing them must have made clear to Goya how rich the print media could be as independent, not merely reproductive, forms of expression.”

Given our tendency to equate the past with authenticity, this is a startling notion. And today, with art books, postcards, web sites, videos and DVDs all multiplying the amount of reproduction available to us, it may still be startling. The reaction to this modern convenience is, predictably, a focus on purity, an insistence that art can only be experienced in its intended form. Just as there are people who insist that a DVD is never an acceptable way to see a movie (ignoring that, depending on where they live, DVDs are the only access some people have to a variety of movies), there are those who say a work of art must be seen in person tobe aprreciated. There’s some truth to that. Many movies require a bigness that only the screen can convey, and the size of a Jackson Pollock or of Monet’s water lilies is lost in reproduction.

- Charles Taylor, Poetic Gestures