While studying in the United States, I began my encounter with Buddhism. I once read a short essay by Master Sheng Yen, the essence of which was: spiritual practice is like a person climbing a transparent glass mountain barefoot. Because the mountain is steep, its surface smooth and covered in oil, one keeps slipping back down despite unceasing effort, eventually falling asleep from total exhaustion. Upon waking, the person discovers the mountain has vanished. It turns out all that effort was but a dream. There was no mountain to climb, and no such thing as "progress" to be gained. Within the dream, the mountain was real, and the climber truly existed; yet, had he not exerted himself in this impossible task—climbing that mountain—he could never have awakened from the dream. I later recounted this story alternately in Chinese and English through repeated recordings, playbacks, and live performance to create the work "I Try."
During the performance, I stand before a television set and a video rack. The screen displays an image of me in different clothing, also standing before a television rack—this "person and television" motif is layered four times. From the innermost screen to the outermost level, the narrative of the dream is repeated, alternating between English and Chinese. First, the innermost "me" begins the story in English, followed by Chinese. Then, the "me" outside that screen (the third layer) begins the English narration with a one-sentence delay, followed by the Chinese. Finally, it becomes the turn of the live "me" to recount the dream. After finishing the narration in both languages, I turn and switch off the television behind me—which is still speaking—and face the audience in a lingering silence. Ultimately, I walk toward the spectators and stand among them, leaving the question of whether the performance has truly ended in suspense.
The performance and installation of "I Try" point toward our existence as a dream—perhaps even a dream within a dream. When I switch off the television and step toward the audience into "reality," no one knows for certain if the performance has concluded. Could our "reality" itself be an image within a television? A television can be switched off; likewise, the existence of Saṃsāra can only be awakened from through enlightenment, an act akin to turning off the screen. I believe this work provides a foundational model for the cycle of life and the pursuit of truth. The seeker wanders within the ocean of birth and death, constantly striving to ascend and transcend, only to finally realize that Saṃsāra and Nirvana are interdependent—neither possesses ultimate reality. Thus, he discovers that what he experienced was neither horizontal drifting nor vertical transcendence, but the ultimate realization of the non-duality of all things.
(originally published in the artist's monograph, 2013)
我在美國唸書的時候，開始接觸佛教。有一次讀到聖嚴法師的一篇短文，大意是說，修行就像一個人赤著腳地攀爬一座透明的琉璃山，由於山勢陡峭、表面光滑又佈滿油脂，縱然持續不懈的努力上山，仍然一再地滑下來，最後筋疲力竭的睡去。醒來以後這才發現，山不見了。原來所有的努力，不過是場夢。根本沒有必要爬，也沒有所謂的進步可得。在夢裏，確實有一座山，爬山的人也確實存在，但如果他沒有盡力做這件不可能的事 － 爬上那座山，就不可能由夢中醒來。我後來以中、英文輪流講述這個故事，用多次錄製、播放及現場表演的方式，做成〈我試著〉這件作品。
在表演的現場，我站在一組電視、錄放影機立架的前面，這個電視播放著我穿著不同的衣服，同樣站在一組電視立架前，如此的「人與電視」重複了四層。從最裡層的電視到最外層的電視，逐漸交替地用英文、中文重複述說著一個夢境。首先，最裡層電視的我開始以英文述說夢境，在英文述說完成後，接著用中文述說。此時電視外的我（第三層）以一句內容的時間差，開始以英文述說夢境，然後又以中文述說。終於，由內而外地輪到現場的我述說這個夢境，在分別以英文、中文講述後，轉身關掉身後仍在述說夢境的電視，看著觀眾，現場陷入一陣靜默中。最後，我走向觀眾，與他們站在一起，留下表演是否已經結束的懸疑。
〈我試著〉的表演與裝置的形式，指向我們的存有，猶如一個夢境，甚至是夢境中的夢境。當我關掉電視，走向觀眾進入「現實」時，沒有人確實知道這個表演是否已經結束，我們的「現實」會不會也是電視中的影像？電視可以關掉，輪迴的存在只有覺悟才能醒來，有如轉身關掉電視一般。我覺得這件作品提供了輪迴生命、追尋真理的基礎模型，追尋者流浪在生死的輪迴海中，他不斷努力提升、超越，最後終於明白，輪迴與涅槃是互相依賴，二者皆不具真實性。所以，原來他經歷的既不是水平的漂泊，也不是垂直的超越，而是終究了悟一切本來平等不二的道理。
（原載於2013年作品集）
During the performance, I stand before a television set and a video rack. The screen displays an image of me in different clothing, also standing before a television rack—this "person and television" motif is layered four times. From the innermost screen to the outermost level, the narrative of the dream is repeated, alternating between English and Chinese. First, the innermost "me" begins the story in English, followed by Chinese. Then, the "me" outside that screen (the third layer) begins the English narration with a one-sentence delay, followed by the Chinese. Finally, it becomes the turn of the live "me" to recount the dream. After finishing the narration in both languages, I turn and switch off the television behind me—which is still speaking—and face the audience in a lingering silence. Ultimately, I walk toward the spectators and stand among them, leaving the question of whether the performance has truly ended in suspense.
The performance and installation of "I Try" point toward our existence as a dream—perhaps even a dream within a dream. When I switch off the television and step toward the audience into "reality," no one knows for certain if the performance has concluded. Could our "reality" itself be an image within a television? A television can be switched off; likewise, the existence of Saṃsāra can only be awakened from through enlightenment, an act akin to turning off the screen. I believe this work provides a foundational model for the cycle of life and the pursuit of truth. The seeker wanders within the ocean of birth and death, constantly striving to ascend and transcend, only to finally realize that Saṃsāra and Nirvana are interdependent—neither possesses ultimate reality. Thus, he discovers that what he experienced was neither horizontal drifting nor vertical transcendence, but the ultimate realization of the non-duality of all things.
(originally published in the artist's monograph, 2013)
我在美國唸書的時候，開始接觸佛教。有一次讀到聖嚴法師的一篇短文，大意是說，修行就像一個人赤著腳地攀爬一座透明的琉璃山，由於山勢陡峭、表面光滑又佈滿油脂，縱然持續不懈的努力上山，仍然一再地滑下來，最後筋疲力竭的睡去。醒來以後這才發現，山不見了。原來所有的努力，不過是場夢。根本沒有必要爬，也沒有所謂的進步可得。在夢裏，確實有一座山，爬山的人也確實存在，但如果他沒有盡力做這件不可能的事 － 爬上那座山，就不可能由夢中醒來。我後來以中、英文輪流講述這個故事，用多次錄製、播放及現場表演的方式，做成〈我試著〉這件作品。
在表演的現場，我站在一組電視、錄放影機立架的前面，這個電視播放著我穿著不同的衣服，同樣站在一組電視立架前，如此的「人與電視」重複了四層。從最裡層的電視到最外層的電視，逐漸交替地用英文、中文重複述說著一個夢境。首先，最裡層電視的我開始以英文述說夢境，在英文述說完成後，接著用中文述說。此時電視外的我（第三層）以一句內容的時間差，開始以英文述說夢境，然後又以中文述說。終於，由內而外地輪到現場的我述說這個夢境，在分別以英文、中文講述後，轉身關掉身後仍在述說夢境的電視，看著觀眾，現場陷入一陣靜默中。最後，我走向觀眾，與他們站在一起，留下表演是否已經結束的懸疑。
〈我試著〉的表演與裝置的形式，指向我們的存有，猶如一個夢境，甚至是夢境中的夢境。當我關掉電視，走向觀眾進入「現實」時，沒有人確實知道這個表演是否已經結束，我們的「現實」會不會也是電視中的影像？電視可以關掉，輪迴的存在只有覺悟才能醒來，有如轉身關掉電視一般。我覺得這件作品提供了輪迴生命、追尋真理的基礎模型，追尋者流浪在生死的輪迴海中，他不斷努力提升、超越，最後終於明白，輪迴與涅槃是互相依賴，二者皆不具真實性。所以，原來他經歷的既不是水平的漂泊，也不是垂直的超越，而是終究了悟一切本來平等不二的道理。
（原載於2013年作品集）
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I Try, 1996, 2016
