Like Flame, Like Wind, Like Fate
2008_0409 ▶ 2008_0415
The pictures are full of the color of red. The background, the main cast, all are red.
The photographer had even depicted the medium 's five-colored garments red.
The raw power of live overwhelms the viewer.
It is not unlike the scenes in Zhang Yimou 's filmography, such as Red Sorghum, or Raise the Red Lantern.
Blood is red. Blood is life. Eternity. Strength. It resembles redness of the sun, which is the core energy.
The sacrificial bull is red with its own blood. The medium who eats the blood is also red.
Her tears also seem red. Is she trying to win the heaven 's favor, by drinking the blood of the sacrifice?
The flame which she lit burns upwards. The fire also is red. The fire that was used to cook and burn the sacrifice now soar upward.
The soul leaves this sorrowful earth, to reach heavens.
The message is cleansed by the medium 's rituals.
As if to tell us that, the photographer does not miss the innocent young boy standing right beside the medium.
The medium is the communicator between this world and the afterlife.
Carl Jung was called the great shaman in that context.
Just like shamans did, he searched the human mind in relation to the path between the world and the afterlife.
For Jung, the afterlife represented the unconscious.
The medium talks with gods in our place. She dances.
She surprises her god, pleases and appeases the god in doing that.
She dances the dance of exorcism, chasing demons wearing general 's garments and holding a sword, a spear.
The bells seem to just be in the medium 's hand, but when it rings, it emits the terrible sound that rings the years of the viewer.
She brandishes her blades, which makes the demons run in fear. Ironically, the medium of the 21th Century holds machine guns.
But we don 't think it 's funny. It 's rather sad.
The five-colored cloth that she threw comes back through the air.
It is her duty to please her god. Her inevitable fate led her to become a medium.
She never had a choice in that. It is at least as cruel as Jonah,
who was swallowed by a whale, or Sisyphus. Nonetheless, she,
the medium and the dancer, had to empty herself who was not to be emptied.
That 's why the photographer puts the five-colored cloth into the center of the picture,
while the medium 's sordid face is down at one corner.
She cries: "I hate gods! I hate humans! Yes, I will cry out again!"
But it is never fate, if she could empty it out when she wants to empty it out.
She gives her body up to her god. The god rides him, and she rides the blades, barefeet.
She is the god now, as the god rides her. She dances as a god, in her ecstatic glee.
But the party must end, and so does her fiery dance of a victor.
The trip to the bottom of the unconscious is ended, and she must thus return to the world of the consciousness.
When the party 's over, the main cast has to live, the audience has to live,
and she has to return to her less than fulfilled life.
Her stage is glorious, but that 's not a performance by any standard means.
She could never be a prima donna in her spotlight.
Her life is not a performance, rather a thorny pass she has to go right through.
We read the pages of her live, as she bursts out of laughter,
show sharp and grave eyes, and then cries her eyes out.
We all know the reality over "Unfamiliar grief,"
where she doesn 't have anywhere to ease her mind.