“I’m afraid of all human beings when they become violent: I’m afraid of them when they shout, when they insult, when they wield words of contempt, clubs, chains, weapons that slash or shoot, atomic bombs. And yet, as a child, whenever it was necessary to appear fearless, I appeared fearless. I soon got used to being less afraid of dangers, whether real or imaginary, and began to fear more, much more, the moment when others reacted, because I hadn’t known how to react. Popular opinion has it that people who react as stubbornly as I’ve trained myself to have real courage, which consists precisely in overcoming fear. But I don’t agree. We fearful-belligerents place at the top of all our fears the fear of losing self-respect. We value ourselves very highly, and in order not to have to face our own humiliation, we are capable of anything. In other words, we drive away our fears not out of altruism but out of egotism. And so, I have to admit, I’m afraid of myself. I’ve known for a long time now that I can get carried away, so I’m trying to soften the aggressive reactions I’ve forced myself to have ever since I was a child. I’m learning, like a character in Conrad, to accept fear, even to exhibit it with self-mockery. What perhaps should be feared most is the fury of frightened people.”
i think sometimes when we see the weight of systemic oppression / crushing capitalism / pain and destruction it feels overwhelining and stuns us into inaction because it feels like there is SO MUCH that needs to be done, but you alone don’t need to solve it all. what you can do is find your own strength, and use that to help to make your community / this world a more loving and safer space, we can all contribute to revolution and it’s not solely through front line activism, but through cooking, teaching, art making, healthcare, growing food, organizing, etc
i think of all artistic disciplines, writing is absolutely the hardest for me. no room for mind to go quiet and let hands take over. it’s too involved and frankly violent!!!
Question: I just heard you express your feelings about cinema. What I perceived is that this is a form of “eternal return.” That is to say, you may feel being invoked (by a greater force) and then you exercise the invocation repeatedly. What arouses my curiosity is to know whether you want to experience repeatedly this invocation or to yourself perform this invocation?
[Tsai Ming-liang:] This is probably one of the most profound questions I’ve ever been asked. To answer your question, yes, I do often feel summoned or invoked. You experience this when you put all your energy into a creation. When I was filming Goodbye Dragon Inn, I felt I was summoned to shoot that theatre. By being summoned I do not mean that your emotion is stirred up at the sight of it. No! It was way before that: before discovering the theatre itself actually. It came to me in a dream. Like this, I had this dream of old movie theatres. I usually am a dreamer. I am a light sleeper. If I do not dream, it means I did not fall asleep. Interestingly, there was a time when I kept dreaming about the Fu-ho Theatre, the one that used to house the chairs you are sitting on now. It was then that I realized I had to shoot this film, and it didn’t matter what storyline I was going to write. A year later, I rented the theatre for a full year, and prior to shooting it I had written only one page for it, like writing a poem. Everyday I visited the theatre with lighting setup for four scenes. Just shooting a short phrase like that. Go and see this film, and you will understand that it was shot out of a one-page manuscript. In this way, a scene with a lit cigarette could burn forever, as the spectators watch it burn…and burn…. It burns for so long; it is actually some sort of invocation. As time goes by, I realize this kind of summoning actually recurs. If you have a chance, you should also try to interpret your dream. It doesn’t have to be about old movie theatres. Many things are waiting to be rediscovered.
[…]
There is one last thing to mention. In June my installation “Moonlight on the River” (He shang de yuese) will be presented at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum. If you visit it, you may recognize this concept of recycling there and then realize that not all things are disposable. Part of the video installation is a short thirteen minute film rarely screened in public. This work was produced without funding. Lee Kang-sheng and I went to film the dredged Danshui River in order to send it as a gift to a retired film festival chairman. The title of the film is derived from a song title of the same name. And the film itself is based on this idea of recycling cinema and theatre production. This film “Moonlight on the River” is then integrated into this new installation work with the same title. You’ll see what I mean when you go see it. Then you might be asked to buy a cup of coffee on site. Why? Because making coffee is also part of my work. It started out when one of my friends encouraged me to open a coffee shop after I made coffee for him. So I did. And now it is an integral part of the installation. I held on to one philosophy when I opened my shop, that is, I did not care much about sales records, nor about how much I sell. What matters most is to know what exactly I am selling. The coffee I sell is also food for thought, and I guarantee you, it’s delicious homemade coffee. If you visit the exhibition, you will understand why I have integrated the process of brewing coffee. It is part of the recycling concept: nothing in our life should be tossed away easily. Ultimately, I want to put everything back in use. I cannot emphasize this more strongly. Thank you.
countervisuality 
