是真的剛好，還是命中註定？我們刻意活在時間中的循環，還是偶然的重聚？
2022年出版的《塔塔加的回憶》（ Recalling the Memories of Tattaka ）與畫家石川欽一郎於1909年寫的一篇遊記同名，由一個美術館計劃延伸出來，像報告又像小說，但確實是「塔塔加的回憶」，紀錄了台灣南部美術協會的十二位畫家、台灣風景畫家啟蒙者石川欽一郎曾到訪過的「塔塔加」的寫生經歷和作品。
我是從高雄市美術館展覽上看到這十二位畫家的作品，作品架在輕便的寫生畫架上，展場中間有兩台電視，一台放著畫家進入山林畫畫的紀錄片，另一台播放的則像電影，畫面裡有一個登山協作在林中穿梭一樣，這是代表甚麼嗎？隱約感受到我不應只是欣賞畫作，他們這樣勞師動眾地爬山寫生，背後一定有原因。
現在被稱為「塔塔加」這地方是位於台灣最高的山——玉山附近一帶，那110年前呢？看完展覽，我有點困惑，這些畫家的作品，為甚麼跟我認知的「塔塔加」有點不一樣？從展場的文字紀錄發現他們在尋找地點時，也有我這個疑問。走出美術館後，找到《塔塔加的回憶》一書，了解到石川欽一郎把英國風格的風景油畫帶到台灣，也是台灣風景畫的啟蒙者，這一次作者決定再訪石川欽一郎回憶錄中的「塔塔加」，路越走越深入，方發現這過程猶如當時的情境。
110年前還在日治時期的台灣，日本政府因為決定到深山理蕃，派遣畫家石川欽一郎跟隨軍隊進入現在清境、霧峰一帶的塔塔加，當時的霧峰事件也是台灣史上日本人跟原住民衝突最嚴重的戰役，他的回憶錄曾記載塔塔加駐在所（警署），於是團隊就往塔塔加出發。
「究竟是要到蕃地繪畫呢？或去打仗呢？愈來愈模糊了。」石川欽一郎 （1909）
「位於駐在所的我們成為霧裡最清晰的景物。」《塔塔加的回憶》（2019）
團隊經過幾次場勘，發現現場環境、距離都不像百年前的記載。「那不是我們今天所稱的鄒族語的塔塔加，而是賽德克語的塔塔加（立鷹）。」團隊後來發現使用羅馬拼音會得出別的地名，當時這地名在百年後已成了臺灣大學山地實驗農場，如是一通電話，連上百年遺址。
前兩年因為農場工作而迷路，踩到整齊的石頭才發現駐在所遺址，花了兩年時間，就在通話前不久才把遺址整理完成，如果不是命中註定，我想不到更好的再見。
臺灣大學山地實驗農場的梅峰分區位於2,100公尺，比起香港最高峰的大帽山還要高上一倍多，在濃霧的清晨出發寫生，這些富有經驗的畫家抬著畫具找到心中美景來寫生，想像石川欽一郎當時面對的風景，不一會起了更大的霧。畫家手上的畫筆在空中飛舞，筆觸連結了這百年風光，劃在紙上的聲音縈繞山林，當書本接近尾聲，竟又有另一個故事，帶領畫家進入駐在所遺址的農場協作其實就是賽德克族原住民，也是百年前戰役中的後裔，透過他的身份，每日進進出出祖先的場所領域，走著跟住在平地的人不同的路徑，平凡的生活跟這些畫家及百年前的石川欽一郎進入勘察又有甚麼樣的不同體驗呢？
這是一本書、一個展覽、一部電影，一段連結百年的歷史，一個尋路的故事。
Was it really a coincidence, or was it destined? Are we consciously living in a cyclic temporality, or is our meeting again by chance?
Recalling the Memories of Tattaka, published in 2022, shares the same title with a travelogue written by painter Kinichiro Ishikawa in 1909. The book, an extension of a museum project, feels like a report and a novel at once, but it is “memories of Tattaka” for sure. It documents the plein air painting experience and artworks of twelve painters of the Southern Taiwan Art Association and Kinichiro Ishikawa, the precursor to Taiwanese landscape painting, during their respective visits to “Tattaka”.
It was at an exhibition at the Kaohsiung Museum of Fine Arts that I saw the artworks of those twelve painters, mounted on portable plein air painting easels. At the centre of the exhibition space were two televisions, one showing a documentary of the painters going into the woods to paint, another showing something like a film, where a hiking collective seems to be navigating through the woods. What did these represent? I had a vague feeling that I should not be appreciating the artworks only. To involve so many in their hike for plein air painting, there must be a reason.
What is now called “Tattaka” is located in the area around Taiwan’s tallest mountain Yushan. What about 110 years ago? After seeing the exhibition, I was a bit confused as to why the artworks by the painters were different from the “Tattaka” I knew of. Through textual records at the exhibition space, I realised that the painters also shared the same confusion while searching for the location. Leaving the museum, I found the book Recalling the Memories of Tattaka and learned that Kinichiro Ishikawa introduced English landscape painting to Taiwan, and was himself the precursor to Taiwanese landscape painting. This time, as the authors decided to revisit the “Tattaka” in Kinichiro Ishikawa’s memoir, the deeper they went into the path, the more they realised that the process was just like the circumstances back then.
110 years ago in a Taiwan still under Japanese rule, the Japanese government, having decided to go into the woods to carry out aboriginal administration, sent painter Kinichiro Ishikawa to tag along the military as they entered Tattaka in what is now the area around Qingjing and Wufeng, where the Musha Incident at the time became one of the direst conflicts between the Japanese and the Aboriginal people in the history of Taiwan. Kinichiro Ishikawa’s memoir mentions the Tattaka outpost (police station), and so the team set off for Tattaka.
“The purpose of this trip is to go for painting in the land, or to go to war? It is getting more and more absurd.” – Kinichiro Ishikawa (1909)
“At the outpost, we became the clearest scenery in the fog” Recalling the Memories of Tattaka (2019)
After several site visits, the team found that the actual environment and location were nothing like what was documented a hundred years ago. “It was not what we call Tattaka in the Tsou vernacular today, but the Tattaka in the Seediq vernacular (Liyingshan).” The team later found that when they romanised the name, the name of another location came up, and what was known by that name in the past has now become the Highland Experimental Farm of National Taiwan University. Just like that, a phone call linked up with a hundred-year-old historical site.
Over the last two years, I have got lost during my work in the farm, and when I stumbled upon some neat stones, I discovered the historical site of the outpost. It took two years to organise the historical site, which was completed only moments before the phone call. If this was not destined, I could not think of a better re-encounter.
Standing at 2100 metres, the Meifeng range of National Taiwan University’s Highland Experimental Farm is twice as tall as Hong King’s highest mountain Tai Mo Shan. Setting off in a foggy early morning for plein air painting, these experienced painters ladened with painting equipment found the scenery they had been looking for and imagined the scenery facing Kinichiro Ishikawa back then, as a thicker fog arose shortly. The paintbrushes in their hands danced in the open air, the marks they left pulling together a hundred-year-old scenery, the sounds they made on paper resounding through the woods. Reaching the end of the book, however, another story came through. A member of the farming collective that led the painters to the historical site of the outpost turned out to be a Seediq aboriginal person, a descendant from the battles a hundred years ago. With this identity, he goes in and out of his ancestors’ domains and treads a different path from that of people who live on lowlands. What kind of experience does that ordinary life yield as compared to the painters’ excursion and Kinichiro Ishikawa’s from a hundred years ago?
This is a book, an exhibition, a film, a history that connects through a hundred years, a pathfinding story.
