艺术和不可知的事物相关，在可经验的感官材料中发现“超验”的本质。在这种意义上，艺术家的所有出发点都是“中性”的，也就是重新开始对艺术这个词的本意的认识。

　　“自在之物”是康德的一个哲学概念，“自在之物”这个哲学概念困扰着人类几百年，“自在之物”是人类永恒的命题，虽然我并不理解，但我却被它深深地困扰。因为我作为一个“存在者”，在感官的表象之中努力寻找一种可能性。这种可能性也是我做艺术的动力。

　　我是个宿命主义者。思想具有多样性，我们不可能看到全部，只能看到局部，这个局部会影响你，人越活到后来，会看到更多东西；但最初，在你年轻时，当你第一次萌发想认识这个世界的想法的时候，这时看到了什么，是一个命运。你第一眼看到是的蓝天还是沟壑，对你影响是不同的，假如我最初看到不是康德而是萨特，那我一定不是现在的我，他们对世界的看法差距太大了。我们的认识是有个边界的，我的艺术是努力接近那个我不能认知的那一个部分，那个被我称之为神秘的东西。当然，作为艺术家，你也可以不寻找这个，艺术家有很多类型，这种神秘的东西只是相对于我而言是重要的。

　　我在大学二年级在康德的书读到了“自在之物”这个概念，深深影响了我，并且作为隐藏的线索，即使在今天仍然是，所以成了这次展览的主题。首先这个词对我产生困惑，我不能完全理解它，我也不能逼近它，对它所涉及的事物有种‘恐惧感’，这比‘崇敬’更准确。回忘望这30年走过的路，这种恐惧感一直贯穿着我，虽然某段时间好像忘记了，但一直是隐藏的线索。我努力想通过我的方式、我的艺术来逼近这个东西；有时我误认为我逼近它了，但实际上我发现我越来越远离它；当我越来越远离它时，这种恐惧感就越来越弥漫了。这次展览中最重要的作品也叫“自在之物”，是用麻袋做的大型装置。首先这个材料没有任何意义，但对我们每个人有很深的影响，但它不象征着什么，这和“自在之物”这个词对我构成的影响很像。20年前和朋友对谈时说了一个比喻，精神是一种塞入的产物，不具有实证性，现在仍然觉得这个词很有魅力，但是麻袋中塞入精神，是一种看不见、摸不到的，这句话本身具有神学的启示性。其中放入谷糠不能说不重要或者重要，粮食是一种很基本的东西，从“神圣的下降”的角度看，我们吃饱了可以存活；当然更深层次的描述是和“创世”相关的，神说“要有光，就有了光”，还有风、有雨、有粮食……但永远都具有不确定性，如果选择的材料太具有某种象征性，都违背了自在之物的观念。

　　有一次我和黄专他们正在探讨一些其他的问题，但是谈论到一半我说，我忽然间对那个空间有一种感觉，这个问题一直困扰着我。他说你什么感觉？我说这个空间让我想起小的时候，20岁，我下乡当知青，在粮库工作过，那种很幽暗的灯光里，有亚麻的味道，和粮食的香味混合在一起的味道，但我不知道怎么来呈现我的这种感觉。因为真实的粮仓不会是那样一个摆法，真实的粮仓不过3米，我要把粮仓给我的具体的感官的感受赋予一种抽象的意味。这个空间给我提供了的可能性，因为当一个你很熟悉的东西没有任何原因地突然变大了，它也就突然陌生了，人会因为陌生感而产生某种精神想象。黄专听了之后说你这个想法可能挺好。虽然描述这个想法本身非常有意思，但是光描述不能判断它是好还是不好，后来我说这种不能判断的感觉可能就是我想要的东西，因为我觉得称之为艺术的东西，如果你能够判断它，能够说得头头是道，无论是好或者不好，它可能都是一般的东西。而我们不能判断的事物，一定它背后有某种我们称之为形而上也好、观念也好，总之它有超验的品质。它是谈话中偶然得到的，没有理由，保持这种感觉可能就对了。

　　最初的想法是沿着这个空间，就像是再安装一面墙，一层一层上去，垂直的。当时还没有考虑承重的问题。然后和美术馆工程部的负责人讨论，设想是用2000袋米，他说这个重量地面肯定承受不了。那我说你纯粹从结构力学角度给我拿一个解决的方案，不要管我怎么想的。过了几天他拿出来了，就是像现在这样斜着上去，一来力分散了，二来它也不容易倒下来。他给我看工程图，我看了和他开玩笑说，你的想法就是我的想法，而且你的想法更好。他这样解决以后，整个像一个漏斗，和最早的计时漏斗一样了，又赋予它时间的概念。因为这种艺术形态，原本时间的概念是很难进去的。所以这个作品一环环的，真是太神了。但事实上，最后麻袋的需求量远超出想象，最初按照计算是1200袋，然后是3000袋，3000袋已经超出一倍多了，真正往里摆的时候，3000袋上面还差好几米，最后是用5000多袋。

　　布置的时候，堆到1米还没什么感觉，快2米了，忽然有感觉了，因为2米在视觉上对人就构成了压迫感。我每天去看，感觉都完全不同，等到3米的时候，我觉得就成了。因为这个作品只有做出来，我们才能经验地感觉到它的冲击力。等升到5米的时候我就放心了，它所呈现的感觉正是我们所要的。里边那种麻袋和粮食混杂的味道非常舒服，它还不仅仅是刺激，而且令人着迷，你不会厌倦那个味道，但同时又觉得它有一种东西渗透着你。这个过程特别有魅力。在我的艺术创作中，多少年前我就谈这个概念，我说我的艺术是通过人民之手来完成的，这件作品特别能体现这一点。这些米是从很远的地方用货车拉过来的，一共20几个工人，一袋袋往里放。有工人完全不知道他们在做什么，他们的行为完全是无目的，但是这种无目的性恰恰包含着目的性。他们最后建立了一个让所有人困惑的东西，那个东西是艺术家的想象，但是艺术家的想象又是靠无数人的手实现的。

　　Art is connected to the unknowable, discovering the essence of the "transcendental" within tangible sensory materials. In this sense, all of the artist's embarkation points are "neutral," and in this way, I began to gain a new understanding of the meaning of the word art.

　　The "thing-in-itself" is a concept devised by Immanuel Kant. This philosophical concept has puzzled mankind for centuries. It is an eternal human theme, one which I do not understand, but which has nevertheless left me profoundly befuddled. That is because as an "exister," I strive to seek out a kind of possibility within sensory phenomena. This possibility is also my motivation for making art.

　　I believe in predestination. Thoughts are diverse; we cannot see the whole, only part, and this part influences you. The more you live, the more you see, but at first, when you are young, when your recognition of the world first begins to sprout, destiny determines what you see. Seeing the blue sky or seeing a ravine will have a different impact on you. If I had read Sartre first instead of Kant, then I certainly wouldn't be the person I am today. They have such different views on the world. Our understanding has boundaries, and my artistic efforts aim at approaching that part that I cannot know, that thing I call mystery. Of course, as an artist, you cannot just seek this. There are many kinds of artist, and this mysterious thing is merely important to me.

　　When I read about this concept of Kant's in my second year of college, it had a profound effect on me, becoming a hidden thread that extends to this day, which is why it has become the theme of this exhibition. First of all, this term caused me much confusion. I cannot fully understand it, and cannot approach it. Towards the things upon which it touches, I have a sense that is not so much "reverence" as "fear." Looking back over the path I have taken these past thirty years, this sense of fear has always been with me, and though at certain times it appears that I forgot it, I never really did. I strive to use my methods and my art to draw close to this thing. Sometimes I mistakenly believe I have approached it, only to discover that I am even further away from it. When I draw away from it, this fear permeates everything. The most important artwork in this exhibition is also called Thing-in-Itself. It is a large installation made from burlap sacks. This material has no particular meaning, though it has had a profound impact on all of us. It does not, however, symbolize anything. It resembles in many ways the influence that the term "thing-in-itself" has had over me. In a discussion with a friend twenty years ago, I made an analogy, saying that the spirit is a product of filling. There's no substantial evidence behind this statement, but I still find this phrasing rather enchanting. The burlap sacks are filled with spirit, something invisible and intangible. The phrase itself has a certain theological, revelatory aspect. One cannot really say that the rice placed inside is important or unimportant. Grain is a very basic thing. From the perspective of the "descent of the sacred," when we have eaten our fill, we can survive. Of course, a description on a deeper level would be connected to the "genesis," where god says "let there be light, and there was light" and wind, and rain, and grain… So there is massive room for interpretation of this material, though there will always be uncertainty. If there is too much symbolic significance in the chosen material, then it breaks with the whole concept of the thing-in-itself.

　　One day I was discussing some other questions with Huang Zhuan and a few others, and about halfway through, I said that I suddenly had a feel for that space. This question has always perplexed me. He asked me to tell him about my feeling for this space, and not to worry about anything else for now. I said that this space reminded me of my days as an educated youth in the countryside when I was twenty. I worked for a time in a granary, and I remember being under those dim lights with the mixed aromas of burlap and grain. I didn't, however, know how to present this feeling. That is because real granaries don't stack their grains like that. They would never stack it over three meters high. I wanted to imbue the specific sensory perceptions of the granary with certain abstract implications. This space provided me with this possibility, because when you suddenly enlarge a familiar thing for no reason, it becomes unfamiliar, and this sense of the unfamiliar leads to spiritual imaginings in people. Huang Zhuan heard this and said that my idea might turn out to be pretty good. Though the description of this idea sounded very interesting, you can't really judge if something is actually good or not through a mere description. Then I said that this very aspect of the inability to judge was just what I wanted, because I think that if what we call art can be judged and explained, no matter whether or not it's good, it is merely ordinary. The things that we cannot judge, on the other hand, certainly have something behind them, whether it is what we would call metaphysical or conceptual. It is a kind of transcendental quality, and that is what I want. It came by chance in a discussion, with no rhyme or reason; maintaining this feeling is perhaps the right thing to do.

　　The original idea was to line the edges of the space like an extra wall, stacking the bags vertically, one on top of the other. I didn't consider the problem of weight load. Then, when I was discussing the plan with the museum engineer, I said I was planning on using 2000 bags of rice, which he said would be too heavy for the floor to bear. I told him to come up with a solution purely from the angle of structural mechanics, and not to worry what I thought about it. He came back with a solution a few days later, which was to stack the backs with a slope, which would dissipate the load while also preventing the sacks from falling down. When he showed me the diagram, I joked with him that his idea was my idea, and that his idea was better. With this recessive slope, the space came to resemble a funnel, which bestowed it with a notion of time. It is very difficult for time to enter into such an artistic form. This work, however, consists of a series of loops, which is fantastic. In the end, however, it required many more burlap sacks than I had anticipated. The original plan called for 1200 sacks, but it soon ballooned to 3000, which was more than double. When we actually stacked them, the 3000 sacks fell a few meters short of the ceiling, and we ended up using over 5000 sacks.

　　When installing the artwork, there wasn't much of a feeling when the stack reached one meter, but when it approached two meters, the feeling suddenly emerged, because at that height, it produces a visual sense of constriction. I went to see it every day, and each time it felt different. When it reached three meters, I felt it was there. For this artwork, only when you've made it can you really experience and feel its impact. When it reached five meters, my heart was at ease, because the feeling it presented was exactly what we wanted. The mixed aromas of burlap and grain felt great in that room, not overpowering but alluring. You don't grow tired of that smell, but something about it penetrates you. This process is quite enchanting. In my artistic creation, I talked about this concept many years ago. I said that my art is made by the hands of the people, and this artwork particularly embodies that. The rice was trucked in from very far away, and stacked up by two dozen workers, sack by sack. Some of the workers had no idea what they were doing, and their actions lacked any direction, but this lack of direction happened to encompass a direction. In the end, they constructed a puzzling thing, a thing that is the imagination of the artist, but this imagination required countless people to make a reality.

作者：王广义