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    The aesthetic of pain

    Chen Chieh-jen's restaging of a historical torture scene elicits comparisons with religious eroticism and divine ecstasy

    By Susan Kendzulak
    CONTRIBUTING REPORTER
    Sunday, Dec 15, 2002, Page 19

    Scenes from Lingchi - Echos of a Historical Photograph.
    COURTESY OF CHEN CHEH-JEH
    The international exhibition of the Taipei Biennial: Great Theatre of the World is currently on view at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum until March 2, 2003. Using the theme of the world as a theatre allows for some reflections for the audience on how we are all actors in this game of life.

    One dynamic work that stands out from the rest is the film Lingchi -- Echoes of a Historical Photograph by Taiwanese artist Chen Chieh-jen (³¯¬É¤¯) who combines a fictive imagining of a real historical event with the current tragedy of local Taiwanese laborers.

    Shot using 16mm film and transferred to DVD, the silent black and white movie (approximately 20 minutes long) is beamed onto large screens with three projectors, thus creating an effect that is powerful, mystical, majestic and monumental. At times all three projections are in sync, and at other times the screens show three different images.

    The film is based on the famous 1905 photograph of a man being punished the Manchu way, by being cut into pieces for the crime of murder. His ecstatic expression is attributed to opium, which was administered to prolong the torture. Philosopher Georges Bataille discussed this photo extensively in his book The Tears of Eros and noted the correlations between the beauty of religious eroticism, divine ecstasy and the shocking horror of cruel torture.



    Chen's cinematic close-ups of the victim's face bring to mind images of blissful euphoria, homoeroticism, and religious crucifixion. Slow motion close-ups of a hand holding a knife, the grim expressions of the crowd of ponytailed bystanders, blood dripping down the crowd's legs and flowing into the ground are eerie, but surprisingly not as violent as what one might expect considering Chen's topic. The film is oddly un-sadistic, even though the content is of death by dismemberment.



    Interspliced with the staged reenactment of the torture scene are scenes where the camera slowly pans above a crowd of silent women. These women are factory workers in Taoyuan, and due to various tragic events such as occupational hazards or unemployment, they no longer are able to work. Chen links these contemporary women to the 1905 victim. Due to the women's circumstances, which are often beyond their control, they are also suffering a long torture, but without any bliss.

    Chen came to international prominence with his large computer images of similar torture scenes. However, this film is a departure from those past works. By linking the historical with the contemporary social and economic situation in Taiwan, Chen has created an extremely powerful work that links the past with the present, the fictive with the documentary. He is also specific to the local situation, while remaining universal.

    One irritating drawback to viewing Lingchi is the encroaching cacophony of sounds from other artists' installations, which dramatically shatters the silence of this overwhelmingly poetic work. However, this is not a reason to avoid seeing the work. It's a cinematic experience worth remembering.
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