Bowl

Words are magic wand. With a single stroke a thought is determined. And it can remain there for hundreds of generations.

I am lake bright mountain colour

Sounds scenic isn't it? Thanks to our old masters who molded me - a small pavilion on a hill with shady trees, a man lies down, drinks his wine and rhymes his poem. With distant hills on the other bank, a boat floats leisurely on the lake. I have been depicted this way for more than a thousand years. The masters follow the same equation to paint and repeat me, occasionally make little changes, say, add a person fishing. This has become ME! When I look around myself, I feel so disconcerted that I want to cry. Really I have already made a lot of progress. Strange cemented forests sprouting from the earth, ferries, cargo ships and cruisers sliding rulingly over the skin of my water. How is it possible that nobody notices the change?

I, lake bright mountain colour, am only an aged-old idea, a mere ghostly existence?


I am bowl

A bowl that holds rice or soup, to be precise.

Even though I came from the world famous porcelain town Jin de Zhen, I belong only to the civilian class. My clan's long and glorious history has become solely bygones. Despite the fact that I have reached the age of retirement, I am still 30 years younger than my master! Don't ask about my origin, master is a fool. She can't even figure out her own history, let alone mine. But I guess I was made around the 80's in one of the ten big porcelain factories in China called New Wind. I presume that because they seemed adept at scenic paintings. There's one thing I can be certain of, I must have belonged to the family of porcelain wares at that time exported to Europe, America, South East Asia and Hong Kong.

My present and future? Can only go along with globalization. Gone old greet new, gone east greet west. Nationalized style gone Japanese. If not for the love of master, I would have been buried in the reclamation land with other garbage. But, if I am luckier and got promoted, I might even be able to get into the museum!


My Name is little Ping

Actually I have several names, little Ping is just my infant name. The bowl you are seeing originally existed as a pair, a wedding gift from my mother for my kitchen inventory. Many bowls and dishes have broken since. I broke this bowl some twenty years ago, but reluctant to have it disposed. Seeing the bowl is like seeing my long gone mother.

The harbour where I grew up experienced no wars, revolutions nor hunger. My unwitting soul floats along historical currents unaware of soaring memories of its past and coming. The China I long for is crafted from literature, history, music and poetry. My favourite poet Du Fu (712-770 CE) once wrote, "The state broken, its mountains and rivers remain. The city turns spring, deep with plants and trees". The overwhelming change today feels like "The state remained, its mountains and rivers shattered. Wealth and lust are what people matter". China has to change. Its supersonic train will not stop racing towards the ever braver newer world. A face flips over. Hello Creator. Goodbye destroyer.


文字真像魔術棒，一下子㸃下來就凝固了一個思維，叫它好幾個世代也不能翻身。
我是湖光山色。
很風景畫，是不是？也多謝歷朝歷代的工像畫師，把我塑造成的模樣 — 山丘上有小亭，樹影婆娑。古人臥坐吃酒吟詩。對岸山脈連綿，一葉輕舟飄蕩在湖水上。千百年來，畫師依循公式重覆，或偶作改動，或加上個江人垂釣，這個便是我! 回首看看我的週圍，真迷惘得想哭。我進步神速，三合土森林從土地上長出奇葩，小輪船小氣艇大郵船洋洋灑灑在湖面滑翔。怎麼我變了也沒有人知道？我湖光山色，竟是個陳久的思維，一個魅影的存在？

我是碗。
準確一㸃説，是盛飯盛湯的那種碗。
同樣是陶瓷盛器，出自於聞名中外的景德鎮，我祇是屬於平民階級。我族類悠遠輝煌的歷史，皆成為陳年舊事。我雖然巳經到了退休的年紀，但比我的主人要年輕三十歲！別問我的來歷，主人糊塗，連她自己的歷史背景都弄不清楚，更甭說我了。不過我如此推想，我大概是生產於八零前後十大瓷廠其中之一的新風瓷廠。我這樣推測，是因為他們好像擅長於風景彩描。較可肯定的是我一定屬於當年外銷歐美、東南亞及香港的其中成員。
至於我們的現狀與未來嗎？也只可跟著全球化的時代走。去舊迎新，去東迎西。僅存的一點國風都改吹了和風。如果不是主人愛惜，我現在已經葬身填土區。假如再幸運一些經人提拔，我可能有機會擠身博物館呢！


我叫小萍。
其實我有好幾個名字，小萍祇是乳名。你現在看見這隻碗原本是一對的，是我結婚時母親給我添置的櫉具。當年很多的碗碟已經不存在，這隻碗在卄多年前打破，不捨得扔掉。看見它就好像看見已故的母親。我成長的港灣沒有經歷戰爭革命和饑餓。混混沌沌的我真的像浮萍般飄泊在歴史中的長流，並且沒有儆覺它前呼後湧的記憶。我的中國是來自文學、歷史、音樂和詩歌。國破山河在 ，城春草木深。這年頭驚天動地的變化，更像國在山河破，財色輕心。中國必然轉變，這列超音速快車是㑹義無反誨的衝往未來更勇敢的新世界。一個從摧毀者到創造者的變臉。