李津称他走的道路，是一条家常主义的道路。

　　艺术家讲究造型，很少有人像李津这样，如此大大咧咧蹲下来，摆个随意的蹲姿，告诉我们：我不擅长思考，我家常。

　　如果这不是一种闪避，便是一种承担。在我看来，有一些承担确实蹲着为宜。很多无畏或勇气，也都是在某种闪避的姿势中被识别出来的。

　　谈论李津，有必要收拢那些所谓宽广与深邃的口径，把嘴巴变小，试着从创作出发，抵达创作本身。或者我们干脆承认，李津的创作，难以寻找任何非家常的话题。我们只能诚实并且谨慎地探讨，一个以传统的中国笔墨为生的艺术家，今天如何经营他的笔墨。

　　“前人的笔墨是文化的积累，也是负担。”李津在他的《家常主义》一文中曾经如此感叹。很多艺术家其实都面临同样的困境，感恩中国画伟大的历史之光，被这光所笼罩，所滋养，却不甘心做这光的奴隶，因此，他们面临的功课，其实是如何卸除传统的负担，成为新时代的发光体。

　　李津的笔墨是去诗意化的，甚至是反智的。它们大多指向饮食男女，是仿日记，记录私生活的流水账，是穿衣服或不穿衣服的自画像。他所谓的“家常主义”，貌似不属于普罗大众，是“我自己的家常”。仔细看，李津所有作品中最精彩的，都是“我自己”的形象。很多时候，“我”与美女美食在一起，“我”不是在享乐，便是在去享乐的路上。“我”不在享受美色，便在享用美食，或者，食色一并享用。李津的作品中有随心所欲的画外音：食色即性！食色即生活！食色即主义！食色即艺术！怎么样？你们认为怎么样？这画外音是淘气的，放肆的，恶作剧风格的，但它也有宣言式的严肃和尖锐，充满革命者的勇气。细细分析，这其实是一张深思熟虑的路线图，从“传统”的肩头跳下，钻过“传统”的胯下，从而绕过“传统”庞大而沉重的身体。这条路线取少舍多，不要山水松林，不要渔翁牧童，不要花卉禽鸟，传统规定的“诗意”必然是要被颠覆的，李津对水墨的革命，大概就是从所谓的“诗意”开始的。李津的水墨主题，其实是“我自己”。它是私人化的，纪实性的，更是鲜润的，活色生香的，因为忠实于自己，自我贬抑，或自我炫耀，其色彩线条无比生动，会稍息，也会裸奔。李津是那种执意描绘气味的画家。食物的气味，女人的气味，更重要的是他自己的气味，它们闻起来怎么样？你可以有自己的选项，无论有多少选项，我请大家注意，不要忽略那种“疲惫”的气味。

　　那种疲惫的气味难以名状，隐隐地让人心动，或者，干脆是让人心酸。它从饮食男女欢乐或茫然的肉体上散发，穿越肉体本身，让精神裸露。我们看到，肉体还在高歌，而精神困倦了。这不是画中男女的处境，也许恰恰是大众的处境。现代人的肉体与精神，往往是分离的，这样的分离，已经被大多数人所适应。不必强行为它辩护，为它升华，更不必为此哀悼，关注这样的分离，其实是关注了自由。而自由，其实是“家常主义”的心理基础和道德基础，自由之所以称之为自由，是因为自由的轨迹不分方向。从某种意义上说，所有艺术的轨迹，都是沿着自由的轨迹前行。

　　我总是被李津作品中男主人公的仿猪鼻所吸引。不知为什么，我不仅把它视为一个视觉符号，还愿意把它理解为一个精致的隐喻，揶揄的，自嘲的，还有一丝傲慢的幽默感：看吧，看我的鼻子，我用猪鼻闻到了人生的滋味。

　　Li Jin calls the path he has travelled the path of domestic trivia.

　　Artists care about configurations. Few would be like Li Jin, who squats sluggishly, adopts a casual pose, and tells us that he is not good at thinking. He is just being domestic.

　　Suppose he is not avoiding anything, we see a responsiveness, or responsibility. So far as I am concerned, it is not a bad idea to take responsibility while squatting. Likewise, it is in shunning gestures that we detect sparks of courage.

　　While discussing Li Jin, it is necessary to pick up a modest category. Don't aspire toward range and depth. Narrow your mouth. Try to begin with his artistic creation and ends there too. Or, we may simply admit that we can find no topic other than domestic life in Li Jin's art. Honestly and assiduously, we have to discuss how an artist, who still lives with the traditional Chinese style of art, manages his brush and ink in today's world.

　　"Brush and ink of the previous generations are both cultural heritage and burden." Li Jin thus sighed in his article "Domesticism." This is the dilemma for many other artists as well. They are grateful to the historical glories of Chinese paintings. Sheltered and nourished by this great tradition, they are nonetheless reluctant to be enslaved. Hence, their job is to shake off the burden of tradition and become luminaries for the new age.

　　Li Jin's artistic style is de-poetic and even anti-intellectual. His brushes capture men and women engaged in eating and drinking. His paintings are pseudo-diaries, recording the banal lists of personal lives, or self-portraits with the protagonist suited up or undressed. His domesticism does not seem to belong to the proletarian masses. For him, it is "my private domesticism." Oftentimes the "I" takes delight in the company of pretty girls and yammy food. I am either having fun or on the way to fun. I am either enjoying sex, or relishing food, or both. There is a carefree voice haunting Li Jin's pieces: Food and sex! This is nature, life, -ism, and art! So what? What do you think? This voice is naughty, daring, and joking. However, it is also serious and sharp, manifesto-like, filled with the guts of a revolutionary. If we analyze it carefully, what Li Jin has proposed is a thoughtful itinerary. Jump off from the shoulder of "tradition," slide through between its legs, so as to avoid its gigantic and ponderous torso. This itinerary is ready to let go. Let go of the landscape and pine groves, let go of fishers and cowherds, let go of blossoms and plumages. The lyrical spirit defined by "tradition" has to be debunked. The revolution that Li Jin has started against ink painting started at dissolving the lyrical spirit. The theme of Li Jin's ink paintings is "I myself." It is personal and realistic, but not without its lustre and fleshiness. Because he is faithful to himself, whether practicing self-effacement or self-aggrandization, his colors and lines are incredibly alive. They may stand at east. They may also run naked. Li Jin as an artist is obsessed with depicting scents, scents of food, of women, and more importantly, of himself. How do they smell like? You could have your options. However, no matter how many options you have come up with, I remind you of the scent of tiredness. Don't ignore it.

　　The scent of tiredness is hard to describe and yet quick to touch the heart. Or, it makes us nostalgic. This particular scent arises from the exited or numb bodies of men and women busy eating and drinking. It goes through those bodies and reaches toward the naked spirit. We can see that while the body is singing, the spirit has already been tired. This is the situation not of men and women in paintings but for the masses. Modern people suffer the separation of body and spirit. Most of us have been accustomed to this separation. We are not compelled to defend it, to uplift it, or to bemoan over it. However, once we attend to this separation, we are paying attention to freedom. Freedom, as it were, turns out to be the very psychological and moral foundation for "domesticism." What makes freedom free is its directionless trajectory. In some sense, all possible trajectories of art follow the trajectory of freedom.

　　I am always attracted to the snoot that marks the male protagonist in Li Jin's art. I don't know why. I think it as not only a visual sign but also a subtle metaphor. It is teasing, mocking, with a rather arrogant sense of humor: Look, look at my snoot; with the nose of a pig, I smell the scent of human life.

作者：苏童