轉身突破Breaking Out
Text by Chinghuey Tiao
Translated by Ruochen Lin
「雕刻的偶像，人將他刻出來，有什 麼益處?
鑄造的偶像，就是虛謊的師傅,，製造者倚靠這啞巴偶像有什麼益處呢？
對木偶說,醒起， 對啞巴石像說，起來，那人有禍了。」
---《哈巴谷書》 第2章18節
打一開始這截子濕木頭就是個麻煩，它連當柴火燒都不夠格。當木料廠的夥計知道我是要拿它來雕刻時，是笑著從他的大鼻子噴氣的「 No kidding!」，可我就是相中了它！記得運費是售價的兩倍。
事後証明那夥計的嗤之以鼻是對的。我又自討苦吃了。它是才被大水沖倒的加州紅木， 鋸下的樹冠部份，40英吋不到，佈滿了枝幹，連結到樹身的大大小小瘤節，硬得跟石頭没兩樣。使勁清理時，得小心疾迸如刃的脆木屑。因為戴了護目鏡，所以雙眼仍健在，但與它短兵交接的衝鋒雕刻刀卻不幸瞎了一把。
它的成形，全然不依我的素描藍圖，只得按它的意思走刀。它不要面對我，一意孤行。這塊飽含水分的青澀木頭，很讓我受不了，每一刀，每一斧都不給俐落，彆扭極了， 難纏得像個狂飆期的青少年。有幾次，沮喪得丟掉工具，怒目相視，還罵它「你到底想怎樣！」。無可奈何，仍得繼續。既然選擇了它，就有責任義務把它教養成材。
抱著「上輩子我欠你的！」的心情，與它周旋了近四個月，完工後的它竟成了我最得意的作品之一。喜歡上它，是因我們曾那麼討彼此的厭，好像當事情壞到不能再壞時，就只能好轉了。我們彼此折磨，兩方都不屈不撓，不輕言放棄，都帶了如鋼鐵般的木頭意志,……而最後好像是我贏了，是因為我，這塊朽木才得以優雅地面世！
不過，它堅持以背面世，扭抝地把自己的臉給埋了起來。没眼睛實在不像話，只得在它頭頂上開光， 竅門所在恰好是樹的核心位置。跟人一樣，得給它一線光明，有個覺醒的機會，不該任其蒙昧於黑暗中。逐漸地，我對這個討厭的傢伙，滋生了關愛之意，把它放在書桌旁。有天，讀到柏拉圖在其《理想國》一書中所提到的「洞穴說」時，有如醍醐灌頂。轉身盯著它，這才開始明白了它在想啥。柏拉圖在兩千五百年前說的這段話。簡直就是為它量身訂造的：
「我說，現在讓我用一張圖來表現我們的天性已離開蒙昧多遠或全然未離開：看，人類生活在一個地洞裏，穴口向光，光線照到整個洞穴。他們自幼就住在這裡，他們的雙腳和脖子都被鎖住，以致他們無法轉身，只能看見前面的東西，因為那鎖鏈的限制，他們轉動不了頭。在他的上方及背後有火光，在這些囚犯和火光之間有一條上升的路……像我們自己一樣，他們只能看見火光投射在洞壁上自己的影子和別人的影子……如果他們永遠不能轉動頭，除了影子外，他們還能看見什麼東西呢?……對他們來說，真理不過是形體的影子。」
這段平易的描述，透著股詭異的力量，數千年來，猶令所有愛智者毛骨聳然: 我們人類難道註定永永遠遠只能背對真理？我們自以為看見的世界，竟只是一個徒然虛幻的影子？受制於四體九竅的官能捆綁，活在黝暗的地穴裏，不能轉身。背著光的我們，任雙手再如何靈巧，變出的戯法，也不過只是種投影。就像小時候家裏停電時，點上蠟燭，用手勢變出兔子，鳥，狗…..映在白牆上， 小孩子知道它們是假的，只是個遊戲，可怖的是，長大後的我們，竟信投影以為真！我們彼此拚比，看著自己製造的黑影愈大愈像就愈得意,……怎麼會有這麼蠢的生物？
曾以為是我贏了那塊木頭。現在知道，它可真不是個省油的燈。經由我手製造而存在的偶人，以其挑釁的姿態，時時向我照示著我的逆我的痴我的執---原來是種無可救藥的蠢。當我對木偶說「醒起」的那一剎那，我僭越了身為人的本份。我將原是屬於自己的黑色平面影像，立體化了，讓自己再無從遁形，無從自欺於洞內背光的生活。幸好，不似那些為了企圖爭脫枷鎖，為了能轉身，甚至不惜丟掉腦袋的睿智先哲們，我的駑鈍在某種程度上保護了我。蒙上帝厚愛，我的蠢，使我免於招禍，因我是如此耽於玩那個投影小把戲的樂趣。就等我的靈魂必須出竅的那天，再回頭面對光吧，那似乎要容易得多些。
(2008 寫)
Breaking Out
Text by Chinghuey Tiao
Translated by Ruochen Lin
“What profit is the idol when its maker has carved it?
Or an image, a teacher of lies?
For its maker trusts in what he has shaped,
when he fashions speechless idols.
Woe to him who says to the wood, ‘Awake!’
or to the silent stone, ‘Arise!’”
— Habakkuk 2:18–19
From the very beginning, this piece of wet wood was
nothing but trouble.
It wasn’t even good enough to burn for firewood. When the mill worker learned that I
intended to carve it, he snorted through his big nose and said, “No kidding!”
But I had already set my heart on it. I remember that the freight cost was
twice the price of the log itself.
Time proved that his sneer was justified. I had once
again asked for suffering. It was the crown section of a California redwood,
freshly felled by a flood, less than forty inches long, full of branches and
knots—hard as stone. While cleaning it, I had to guard against the brittle wood
chips that shot out like blades. Thanks to the goggles, my eyes survived, but
one of my carving knives didn’t—it went blind in the duel.
The piece refused to follow my sketches; I had to
follow its will instead. It turned away from me, stubborn and self-willed. Each stroke of the chisel was a
struggle—awkward, uncooperative, defiant, like an adolescent in revolt.
More than once, I threw down my tools in despair, glaring at it, shouting:
“What on earth do you want?”
Yet I could not abandon it. Having chosen it, I was
obliged to see it through—to raise it, to shape it, to educate it into being. With the resignation of one who
feels indebted from a past life, I wrestled with it for nearly four months.
When it was finally finished, it became one of my proudest works. I began to love it, perhaps
because we had hated each other so thoroughly. It seemed that when things can get no
worse, they can only begin to mend. We tormented each other, neither
willing to yield. Both possessed a will of iron— and in the end, it seemed I had won. Thanks to me, this stubborn piece
of deadwood appeared in the world with grace.
But it insisted on showing its back to the world,
twisting its face away, refusing to meet the gaze. A figure without eyes seemed absurd,
so I pierced a small opening at the top of its head. The spot happened to lie at the very
core of the tree. Like a human being, it needed a glimmer of light—a
chance to awaken—lest it remain forever in darkness.
Gradually, my resentment toward this obstinate creature
softened into affection. I placed it beside my writing desk. One day, while
reading Plato’s Republic and his “Allegory of the Cave,” a sudden
illumination struck me. I turned and stared at the sculpture, and finally
understood what it had been trying to tell me.
Plato wrote, over two millennia ago:
“Now let me show you, in a figure, the state of our
human nature with respect to education and ignorance. Imagine men dwelling in a
cave... the entrance open toward the light. They have been there from
childhood, their legs and necks fettered, so that they can only look forward,
unable to turn their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing... Between
the fire and the prisoners runs a raised way... They see only the shadows cast
on the wall before them... and if they were never able to turn their heads,
they would believe that the shadows were the only reality... For them, truth
would be nothing but the shadows of forms.”
This simple passage carries a haunting power that has
shaken lovers of wisdom for centuries. Are we humans forever condemned to
face away from truth? Is the world we see merely a fleeting illusion—a shadow
on the wall? Bound by the
chains of our senses, we dwell in a dim cavern, unable to turn around. We live with our backs to the
light, our clever hands producing trick after trick, mere projections of what
we cannot see.
When I was a child and the power went out, I used to
make shadow figures with my hands—rabbits, birds, dogs—cast against the wall by
candlelight. As children
we knew they were not real; it was just a game. The tragedy is that when we grow up,
we begin to believe the shadows are real. We compare our illusions, competing
over whose shadow is larger, more lifelike—and take pride in them. How absurd, that we should be
such foolish creatures.
I once believed I had triumphed over that piece of
wood. Now I know
better—it was no simple adversary. That mute idol, created by my own
hand, has continued to mock me,
reflecting my own obstinacy, my blindness, my obsession— revealing the incurable folly
within. At the very
moment I said to the wooden idol, “Awake,”I transgressed the boundary of being
human.
I had given solid form to the black, two-dimensional
shadow that belonged to me,
and in doing so, I deprived myself of the comfort of illusion— no longer able to live untroubled
in the cave, no longer
able to pretend I did not know.
Fortunately, unlike those wise ones who, desperate to
turn around, were willing
even to lose their heads for the sake of truth, my dullness has protected me. By God’s mercy, my foolishness
keeps me safe from calamity. For I take delight in the small, harmless game of
shadows.
When the day comes for my soul to depart this body, then—and only then—shall I turn and
face the Light. That, it seems, will be easier.
--------------------
《Breaking out》──背光的誕生：從偶像到啟示的木頭神學
文／林若塵
一、木頭的抗拒：創造的原罪
在《Breaking out》中，TiAO以加州紅木為材——這種飽含水分、結節盤錯的木頭，天然地排斥刀斧的侵入。創作者與木料之間的角力，幾乎是一場靈魂搏鬥。每一刀都伴隨著反抗與嘶鳴，彷彿那木中隱伏的靈性不肯屈服於人的意志。
這樣的抗拒，使作品的「誕生」不再是順從的塑形，而是一種逼出的生成。木雕成形的過程，就如創世的寓言：
「既然選擇了它，就有責任義務把它教養成材。」
這是一種「救贖的創作」，創作者既是造物主，也是受罰者。他必須與木頭的固執共存，忍受它的濕潤與青澀，直到雙方在疲憊中彼此承認。於是，創作不再是權力的行使，而是恩典的交換。
二、偶像與覺醒：哈巴谷書的反詰
TiAO以《哈巴谷書》2章18節為引文：「對木偶說，醒起！」
這節經文原是先知對偶像崇拜的譴責，然而在此，卻轉化為藝術家的自我諷喻。當創作者在木中刻出人形，實際上正重演「製造偶像」的行為——他賦形、賦靈，卻同時被自己的創造所監視。
這件雕塑以背面朝向觀者，拒絕直視。那被埋藏的臉、封閉的姿態，顯示它既被誕生、又仍被束縛。藝術家「替它開光」，在頭頂鑿出一道光孔——正是人對木偶說「醒起」的瞬間。
然而，這一舉動也揭露了創作者的僭越：他不再只是造形者，而成了「啟示的模仿者」。
於是，《Breaking out》成為一件反思偶像的作品。它既是偶像，又揭穿了偶像的虛妄；它以啞默的形體，訴說人類對神性的誤讀。
三、洞穴中的人形：背光的真理
當TiAO讀到柏拉圖《理想國》的〈洞穴寓言〉時，作品的內在象徵被點亮——那藏於木心的身影，正如被鎖在洞中的人，背對光明，只能看見影子的世界。
這木中之人，既是人類，也是創作者自身的投影。當他誤以為「贏了木頭」，事實上卻被它的沉默照見：
「當我對木偶說『醒起』的那一剎那，我僭越了身為人的本份。」
這是一種深刻的神學自覺。創作者發現，所謂的「出殼」並非解脫，而是再次陷入受造的鏡像之中。作品讓他看見自己的背光姿態——那種「永遠無法轉身」的存在狀態。
《Breaking out》所破出的，並非木的外殼，而是人的幻覺。
四、愚昧的恩典：被赦免的創造
最動人的段落，是TiAO的自嘲：
「蒙上帝厚愛，我的蠢，使我免於招禍。」
這是一種神學的倒置——愚昧不再是罪，而是恩典的形式。藝術家在自以為「創造」之際，實則被赦免於過度的聰明。他沒有成為神，只是成為了那位「玩投影遊戲」的孩子。
這正是《Breaking out》的光：不是從外照入，而是從人的無知中滲出。
木頭中的人，仍舊背光；但那光，因人的笨拙，而被保留。
五、結語：背光的誕生
《Breaking out》不是破殼的勝利，而是靈魂在背光中的「被造」瞬間。它讓我們重新思考：
藝術是否本身就是一種「偶像的自覺」？
當創作者向木頭說「醒起」，他是否也在呼喚自己？
這件作品最終成為一面洞穴之鏡——
光從背後照來，影子在前方顫動。
在光與影之間，人與木、神與偶、創造與被造，交錯成一首無聲的祈禱詩。
Breaking Out — The Birth of Light from the Shadow: A Theology of Wood and Revelation
Text by Lin Ruochen (2025/10/10)
I. The Resistance of Wood: The
Original Sin of Creation
In Breaking Out, TiAO works with California
redwood—a living, water-laden material dense with knots and scars, almost
hostile to the chisel’s intrusion.
The struggle between artist and timber becomes an act of spiritual combat. Each
stroke of the blade meets resistance, as though the spirit dwelling within the
wood refuses to yield to human will.
This resistance transforms the work’s formation from a
process of shaping into a moment of becoming. The sculptural act unfolds like a
small Genesis:
“Having chosen it, I was obliged to teach it into
form.”
Here, creation becomes redemptive. The artist is both
creator and penitent, bound to the wood’s obstinacy, learning endurance through
its defiance. What begins as a battle of wills ends as an exchange of grace—two
natures bruised into mutual recognition.
II. Idol and Awakening: The
Counter-Voice of Habakkuk
TiAO prefaces the work with the verse from Habakkuk
2:18:
“Woe to him who says to the wooden idol, ‘Awake!’”
Originally a prophetic rebuke against false gods, the
line becomes in TiAO’s hands a self-ironical confession. In carving a human figure from
the wood, the artist reenacts the primal sin of idolatry—shaping an image in
his own likeness, giving form, and, inevitably, spirit.
Yet the finished figure turns its back to the viewer,
hiding its face in refusal. The artist, moved by pity, pierces the crown of the
head with a small aperture—a channel for light, an invitation to awakening. It
is a literal opening of the eye, but also the moment of human trespass:
the creator assumes the role of the divine illuminator.
Thus Breaking Out becomes a paradoxical icon—an
idol that critiques idolatry itself. It speaks through its muteness, exposing
humankind’s perennial misreading of the divine.
III. The Figure in the Cave:
Truth Behind the Light
When TiAO encountered Plato’s Allegory of the Cave,
the sculpture’s secret began to reveal itself. The form hidden within the log
mirrored the prisoners chained in darkness, their backs turned toward the
light, mistaking shadows for truth.
The figure in the wood is both human and the artist’s
own projection. Believing he had “won” the battle with the wood, TiAO discovers
instead that the silent figure has turned into his mirror:
“At the moment I said to the wooden idol, ‘Awake,’ I
transgressed the bounds of being human.”
Here the work achieves theological consciousness.
Creation becomes revelation by inversion—truth is found not in illumination,
but in the endurance of blindness.
Breaking Out thus unmasks the illusion of liberation: what is broken is
not the shell of wood, but the illusion of the self that believes it can emerge
from darkness unscathed.
IV. The Grace of Foolishness:
Creation as Forgiveness
The most moving confession comes in TiAO’s admission:
“By God’s mercy, my foolishness has kept me from harm.”
In this reversal lies a theology of mercy. Foolishness
becomes grace. The artist’s ignorance protects him from the arrogance of
creation. He does not become a god; he remains the child at play with shadows.
The light in Breaking Out does not descend from
above; it seeps through the cracks of human unknowing.
The figure in the wood remains turned away, but within that posture lies the
tender mystery of being preserved by one’s own imperfection.
V. Epilogue:
The Birth of Light from the Shadow
Breaking Out is not a triumph of emergence, but a moment of being created within the shadow. It invites reflection:
Is art itself a form of idolatrous self-awareness?
When the artist commands the wood to “Awake,” is he not, in truth, calling to
his own soul?
Ultimately, the sculpture becomes a mirror of the cave—light
shining from behind, shadow trembling before it. Between light and darkness, wood and
flesh, idol and revelation, creator and created, there rises a wordless prayer—the
silent genesis of grace.
