云南艺术家罗旭的新作是一些巨大的青铜树叶，喻意着四季更替和生命轮回。它们被表现得不再像是精巧的植物，而具有一种纪念碑式的形式感。这些巨大得超现实的树叶,咄咄逼人，带着一点侵犯性;又是如此栩栩如生，仿佛会荣枯，会生长，但永远不会被风吹落凋零。

　　在中国当代艺术界，罗旭是很独特的一位。他于1956年出生在云南省弥勒县，直到30岁后，才实现了成为艺术家的梦想。他的早期作品被雕塑大师钱绍武赏识，在钱的鼓励下，罗旭考入了北京中央美术学院。但是很快他就发现，要开拓视野，就必须离开北京、上海那样的大城市，即便当时只有在那里才有像样一点的艺术中心。相反，罗旭在昆明郊外找到了一块土地，并在那里建造了他自己的艺术中心。他造的那些外形像乳房的土墩,今天被人称为“土著巢”，那儿是他的工作室，画廊和家。即使这地方看起来那么与世隔绝，这些巢穴仍然吸引着旅客和参观者纷纷前来，一睹这位特立独行艺术家和他那绝无仅有的家。

　　同样，尽管罗旭刻意地回避那些支配着中国当代艺术的话题，他的作品仍然吸引着观众。他不探讨诸如消费主义或全球化，而是沉默地把他对改变和变形的评论诉诸于那些来自自然或人体的形式当中。在其最新的巨形树叶系列雕塑作品中，他把这两种兴趣合二为一——使自然的形式具有人性的品质。其中一件作品《飞鸟尽, 2005》，让人联想到一片挂在树上的叶子就要被吹落而随风飘舞，那东西看上去像要张开的一对翅膀，像一个仙女，但是，它的体量和表面的肌理让人感到可怕。《冬季的静物, 2005》躺在地板上，像一片干皱的落叶，向自身的内部蜷缩着, 仿佛濒临死亡。这些作品与其说是关于植物不如说是和死亡有关，这一主题已在他的一些最新的作品中清晰地表现出来。例如《最后的蜜汁, 2006》和《落叶针灸, 2006》，这两件青铜雕塑作品流露出生命最后一刻的气息，或者更深一层, 从死亡到获得重生那一刻的气息。 这些状态也许都是生命周期的组成部分，却也是很少有人愿意多想的超越了生命的阶段。

　　罗旭放大了树叶的大小，更放大了它们的表现力，以此迫使我们去正视那些濒临死亡或死后不久的瞬间。这些树叶看起来非常痛苦，或者异常悲伤, 它们似乎在哀悼生命的过早凋零。《春天的动态，2005》组合了一片树叶和一条毛虫，看上去好像会在画廊的地板上爬过。《夏季的海滩, 2005》两片肥硕的叶子滑稽地突兀而出, 就像一对富裕的夫妇肩并肩地坐在海滩上。这些作品是怪异的，可能看上去还有一点无聊，但在某种意义上罗旭发展了这些雕塑，它们粗砺的表面和毫不妥协的力量充满了愤怒和挑衅的意味，让人决不能把它们仅仅看作一个玩笑。这些作品让人想起早期超现实主义的癫狂，像萨尔瓦多·达利的作品, 以及最新的科幻电影场景。是什么样的巨树会生出这样巨大的树叶? 如果这些树叶活过来，向热衷于毁灭它们的人类复仇，将会产生怎样的混乱?

　　事实上,尽管罗旭常常被视为过于天真或疯狂，他从未脱离当代中国生活的现实。就在离“土著巢”不远的昆明市区，已经有太多的都市发展带来的破坏性例证，正在迅速蚕食着云南的美。在此意义上，他的作品可以阐释为对自然世界被肆意破坏的严重警告。另一方面，他的作品也从自然界四季更替的衰败中汲取着灵感，当秋天在盛夏之后接踵而至，当隆冬慢慢被春天取代...... 他作品的成功之处正是在于，无论在“主题意义”层面上，还是在“象征意义”层面上，它们都能够被解读。而在任何情况下，作品的形象首先会在观众的头脑中打下深深的烙印，令人难以忘怀。

　　超现实主义使一个艺术家能够深入探究自己的内心，何况他审视的正是这个世界的疯狂。罗旭的早期作品是超现实主义的绝佳范例。在作品中他刻画了女人大腿的形状，有的滑稽而性感，有的丑陋而光滑。那些匀称的大腿和修长的小腿下面是纤细的小脚，似乎二十一世纪还在时兴缠足。但是，罗旭提醒我们，从史前时代第一个女体雕塑“Willendorf的维纳斯”开始，对女性身体的扭曲描绘就是艺术家的特权。在他的版本《东方维纳斯二号, 2001》中，罗旭使用了树脂加玻璃钢而不是青铜，塑造了一个比轿车引擎盖上的标志还要光滑的女性身体。在《东方维纳斯三号》中，一个未完成女体的下半部分正抬起它流线型的大腿直指向观众的脸。这些作品把煽动性的女性视角通过赤裸裸的性感展现出来, 但是完全看不到一个真实女性的任何个性和情感，它们只是纯粹的幻象。罗旭宣称自己有权创作(或想象)这样的幻想，也赋予作品的观众充分自由去创造他们自己的幻想。

　　在他的生命历程和艺术创作中，罗旭都为个人自由创造了空间，并常常以此作为礼物奉献给世界。他已经成长为一个艺术家，从早期作品对女人大腿的迷恋，到以树叶作为隐喻和对生命的注释;他的早期作品提供关于性的想象，近期作品则使人联想到死亡。这些主题对于正值二十一世纪之初的中国来说，并不合时宜。然而，正是因为罗旭对自由的坚持，和对生命中那些基本和永恒问题的执着思考，使他的观众也愿意和他一样，变成“疯子”或“天真的人”。

　　Luo Xu

　　By Barbara Pollack

　　Reflecting the four seasons, the cycle of life, the latest work by Yunnan artist Luo Xu are leaves—huge bronze leaves—presented not as delicate botanicals, but as monumental forms. These larger-than-life leaves are confrontational and a little intimidating. They grow and wither, but can never blow away, towering over viewers in all of their lifelike appearance.

　　Luo Xu is unique in the contemporary art scene in China. Born in Mi’le, Yunnan, in 1956, he had to wait more than thirty years to pursue his dream of becoming an artist. His first efforts were recognized by the master-sculptor Qian Shaowu, who encouraged him to enroll at the Central Academy of Fine Art in Beijing. But, just as quickly, Luo Xu realized that to develop his vision he would have to leave the big cities of Beijing or Shanghai, even though these were the places with developing art centers. Instead, he found a piece of land just outside Kunming which he turned into his personal art center. The structures he erected there, now well known as the Earth Nest, are breast-like mounds, some rising high above the ground, in which he houses his studio, galleries, and his home. And even in this place that seems isolated, Luo Xu’s outpost attracts tourists and visitors anxious to see the unique home of this very unique artist.

　　Likewise, Luo Xu’s art attracts and audience, even though he eschews the themes predominant in contemporary art in China. Instead of exploring consumerism or globalization, this artist comments on change and metamorphosis by dwelling on forms from nature or the body. In this latest series of mammoth leaves, he mergers both interests, making natural forms that exude human qualities. Flown Away, 2005 one of his latest works, evokes a leaf suspended from a tree about to fall or dance away in the wind. It literally looks as if it could spread its wings, like a fairy, but it is terrifying in its scale and the texture of its surface. Winter Still Life, 2005 lies on the floor, a fallen crinkled frond, curled into itself, as if on the brink of death. That these works are as much about mortality as botany is made clear by his very newest creations, such as Last Drop of Honey, 2006 or Acupuncture of Fallen Leaves, 2006 two bronze sculptures that exude the last moment of life or even more poignant, the moment beyond revitalization. These states-of-being may be all part of the life cycle, but they are also phases beyond life that few want to think about or consider.

　　Luo Xu forces us to see these moments—the moment just before death or the moments just after death—by magnifying not only the size of his leaves, but their expressiveness. These leaves seem in excruciating pain, or are abundantly sad, almost as if they are in mourning for their lives that pass all too soon from spring into fall. Movement of Spring, 2005 combines a leaf and a caterpillar, looking as if it could crawl across the gallery floor. Summer Seaside, 2005 humorously props up two bulbous leaves, like a wealthy couple sitting side-by-side on a beach. These works are quirky, and could be seen as a bit silly, but there is something in the way that Luo Xu develops these sculptures—their textured surfaces and their unaccommodating strength—that makes them too angry and intimidating to be taken as a joke. This is work that evokes the mania and insanity of the early Surrealists, like Salvador Dalí, as well as the latest science fiction films. What mammoth trees could have produced these gigantic leaves? What chaos would ensue if these leaves came to life and took revenge on the humans who have relished their destruction?

　　In fact, though Luo Xu has been often described as a naïve or a madman, he is actually in tune with the realities of contemporary life in China. Just nearby his compound, in Kunming, he has plenty of examples of the destructiveness of urban development rapidly encroaching on the beauty of the province of Yunnan. In this way, his work could be interpreted as dire warnings against such wanton destruction of the natural world. But, on the other hand, his work basks in the deterioration of nature that comes with the phases of the seasons, where autumn inevitably follows summer, but then winter slowly evolves into spring. It is the success of this work that it could be interpreted on either level—topical or tropical—but in either case, sears the viewer’s mind with unforgettable images.

　　Surrealism allows an artist to delve deep into his own psyche even as he examines the madness of the world. Luo Xu’s earliest work is the best examples of surrealism. Here, he explored the shape of women’s legs in works that are funny and sexy, ugly and sleek. These shapely thighs and elongated calves end in the pointiness of miniscule feet, as if foot-binding was still a practice in the 21st century. But, Luo Xu reminds us that this distortion of the female form has been a liberty taken by artists since the first sculpture of a woman, the Venus of Willendorf, was created in prehistoric times. In his version, Eastern Venus, No. 2, 2001, using resin and fiberglass instead of bronze, Luo Xu creates a woman as sleek as an automobile’s hood ornament. In Eastern Venus, No. 3, the lower half of the torso practically kicks its streamlined leg into the viewer’s face. These are very provocative views of women, with sexuality blatantly displayed, yet detached from any personality or emotion of real woman. They are forms of pure fantasy. By declaring his right to create (or even imagine) such fantasies, Luo Xu allows his audience to feel free enough to come up with fantasies of their own.

　　Indeed, in both his life story and his art works, Luo Xu creates a space for personal freedom, which he then offers up as a gift to the rest of the world. He has developed as an artist, quite a bit, from the obsession with women’s legs to the broader metaphor of leaves as a commentary on all of life. His earlier work gave permission to consider sexuality; his later works now confer permission to consider mortality. Neither are issues that necessarily fit into the work ethic or upward mobility of China at the beginning of the 21st century. But, by insisting on his freedom to consider these essential and perennial aspects of life, Luo Xu confers on his viewers the freedom to be madmen or naïves themselves.