bearing fruit of fondness, Grounds of Coherence #2, 2025
16mm film hand processed with cotoneaster transferred to 4K, 2 channel video installation, 05:40
Transcript in English
they are a mother, they won’t plant here the promise that can’t be kept
their desires skilful toward swift comfort by another
they break wooden chair on my growing body
they whip inflamed skin with vine
they are a mother, in strong winds they breathe for me
effortlessly, they are the sun in my body
pointing to the coop that had flown beyond the fences, they say
the glass enclosed garden will come to be destroyed by the gale
the laid egg engraves the name of the storm
they are a mother, with structures built upon their beliefs felled on a whim
their known streets and villages are changed in name
they lie to me to amass money and security
my grieving they undermine with ease
they want me to inherit the hatred that is kindred
collar held they dragged me across concrete
their lost language can’t conceive the open wounds between family
they change their face to gain a brief relief
they are a mother, in their world I name places that are loved
raven crag rests on the shoulders of stones, on the back of a cow
they guide me to settle where seals and humans love one another
the stories they tell avert ravage and cultivate kins
they are a mother, hands occluding their gaze and listening in the world
their ripening self inherits a shape upended
they demand I perceive through the reading of their weathers
their flung bowl aims at my skull yet apt to judge
they escape repair of themselves and others as perpetrators
no ground between accountability and my self-determination
someone once warned them not to befriend those who think freely
portending they will not recognise each other’s passion
they are a mother, their judgement impervious to presence of toxicity
their understanding lies within cause, timing, and effect
they do not take reckless wounds as betrayals to relation
they won’t equate taking leave with intention to escape
they are a mother, warned to mask unease before surveillance camera
their loyalty examined at state border crossings
they inflict shame upon the ones I can love
they see my words as danger, my emotions as unfaithful
they teach skills to flee reality without reason
punishment comes easy like words spoken to hurt
their efforts futile where dams bring fish to extinction
but suppress they must the sorrow brought by fire and death
they are a mother, before me they change the colours of heather
they are the southwest gust crossing stark ancient landslides
they say I can’t protect the hunger of the golden eagle
the crofter shares solace too with their shepherd and sheep
their trees become the four walls of a room
their sand is but invisible within their state of absence
my breath connects the far and near roots in their soil
my feet cloaking generations move on their grounds of care
they are a mother, they fear in their words of truth
they are encouraged to seek suffering lands for travel
stole to copy my address book
turning my chance for blessings into their bets
their body is used as a boundary for viruses
learning their culture through limits of capital exchange
they look to the estranged temple rebuilt after fires
they listen to the sand at their doorstep change fate
they are a mother, they endow my hands the gift to place seeds
giving gnawed greens the patterns of renewal
they say, the moments hosting these images relate to my hometown
foretelling the sun’s stay prepares no rainy day
they inscribe time into stones and stratums
they arrange dances where ocean and mountain exchange places
they look with me through windows at mink preying seabirds and poultry
growing here since their pelts were bred to multiply
they are a mother, their nights filing anxieties unanswered
they love in constraint, recounting in its inseparable place
they are a mother, when my feat brings them no correlate praise
they will forget that they are a mother, if not I and they are the same
they are a mother, they teach me to trace as a lake marks wind
as my body is the memory of rising to light
Transcript in Chinese
他是一位母亲，他无心在脚下种植不能履行的承诺
他熟练地渴求他人捎来暂时的安慰
他拾起木椅砸向我仍在生长的身体
他挥舞藤条鞭打那时已红肿的皮肤
他是一位母亲，在强风中他能替我呼吸
不用尝试或努力他是我身体里的太阳
他指着已越过栅栏的鸡舍说
玻璃围起的菜园终将被大风摧毁啊
鸡蛋上也刻了风暴的名字
他是一位母亲，与他信仰有关的建筑随意就会被拆除
他熟悉的街道和村落都被改了称呼
他能欺瞒于我为了囤积安全与金钱
他不怎么费力便能忽视我的哀悼
他要我继承亲缘间的记恨
拽着我的衣领将身体在水泥地上拖行
他失去了语言，比划不出家人间未修复的伤口
他换了面容能获取短暂的解脱
他是一位母亲，他世间被我喜爱之处都开始有了名字
渡鸦山岩有时在石肩有时在牛背
他引导我安家海豹与人相爱的地方
他讲述的故事能避开杀掠也可创造亲缘
他是一位母亲，一双手挡住他处于世界中的注视与聆听
他还未成型的自知有被任意颠覆的形状
他要我的知觉生根于对他阴晴的阅读
他摔碗具的方向是我还没有判断能力的头骨
他逃避自己和他人作为施暴者修复的困境
理解不了问责与我自决的关系
曾有人也告诫他不要交自由思考的朋友
预言他们认不出彼此热情的样子
他是一位母亲，他的判断不被毒性的存在左右
他知毒之何谓何时与何因
他不视莽撞的伤口为关系的背叛
他不将生命的出走等同于逃跑的意图
他是一位母亲，有人警告别在监视镜头前一脸不自在啊
他的忠诚在跨越国界时被不断检验
他将羞耻强加于我可爱之人
他视我文字为危险，我的情感为不忠
他不需要理由，便能教授逃避现实的技巧
轻易想象惩罚出口伤人的言语
他无法应答快被水坝灭绝的鱼类
却要压抑大火和死亡带来的悲伤
他是一位母亲，在我面前他改变着石楠花的颜色
他是跨过黑色远古山崩来自西南方向的强风
他说金雕的饥饿是你保护不了的啊
农夫也会心疼自己的狗和羊群
他的树木可作屋中四壁
他的沙砾却要隐形于自身的无法缺席
我的呼吸连动他土地里扎根的远近
我的双脚穿着世代行于他的关心之上
他是一位母亲，他畏惧自身一切有关真相的字句
他被鼓励去受压迫的土地旅行
将我电话本中所有的信息都抄写一遍
将我或有的对祝福的期盼视为赌注
他的身体被当作病毒的界限
通过资本置换的局限理解有关他的文化
他看着大火之后重建的陌生寺庙
他听着家门口的砂石命运被纂改
他是一位母亲，他赋予我双手安放种子的能力
给了被啃噬的绿叶革新的图腾
他说这些图像所占的分秒与你的家乡有关
嘱咐太阳的逗留也无法为雨天做准备
他将时间刻于石块与地层之间
他编排的舞蹈中海洋与山脉交换着位置
他与我一同抬头看窗外跑过的貂掠杀海鸟与家禽
因为衣皮被繁殖而在此生长
他是一位母亲，他的夜晚是无法应对的焦虑
他只能在爱的裹挟里/讲述离不开的地方
他是一位母亲，当我的成就带不来有关他的赞颂
他会忘了自己是一位母亲，否则我也于他无异
他是一位母亲，他教我何以如湖泊去记载风的痕迹
因我的身体是与暴动有关的光的记忆
Credit
Original Script in Chinese: Shen Xin
English Translation: Ali Van, Shen Xin
Script Edit: Ali Van
Camera and Edit: Shen Xin
Script Performance and Sound Design: Shen Xin
Recordings of Storms: AX Archive
Colour Grading: Jason R. Moffat
This work is made on Northern An t-eilean Sgitheanach (Isle of Skye).
Member discussion: