作者：许 江

　　罗中立寄来一大批水彩、水粉画的资料，其中有70年代末80年代初学生时代的习作，有旅欧时的颇有洋味的作品，还有近年来坚持不辍的钢笔淡彩。这些作品就如一张幽蔓的大网，把我没头没脑地罩在之后中国美术发展的悠长的记忆之中；同时也罩在自己绘画道途的浓浓的回忆之中。个人的成长历程与一个时代的公共记忆相叠合，大概是我们这一代人历史命运的特点，这其中，罗中立更是一个重要的标杆。

　　罗中立的名字是镌刻在中国当代艺术史上的。他的《父亲》，那张老实巴交的农民的面庞，悬在现当代中国的屏幕之上，成为最动人、最有代表性的视觉形象之一。1999年12月底，我和罗中立一道参加成都“世纪之门”的展览，共同接受成都传媒界的采访。罗中立不善言辞，他要求用川音作答。当他用川音言说时，马上有了农民拿锄头一样的熟练和热情。年轻的记者们好奇地向着自己的童年的记忆发问，罗中立却陷入了遥远的记忆之中，他仿佛要从记忆中挖掘什么。《父亲》的最早的创意取自四川美院旁边一位掏粪的农民。农民的肩上总压着沉重的担子，日复一日，这位农民承受着担子的重压，承受着生活长途的重压。但这位农民却总是那样温和，那样沉默，那样安命顺受。罗中立在记忆的深处说：“有一个夜晚，我从灯光下，看到了他的脸，他的牛羊般善良的目光。”在那一刻，在那个平凡的夜灯中，罗中立看到中国农民的脸庞和他那巨大深沉的苦难与自足。“只有这样，只有在巨大头像面前，才令我感到他沉重的喘息，感到他暴突的青筋和皱纹；感到他那烟叶和汗拌和的浓味；感到他皮肤的颤动和渐渐渗出的汗水，以及嘴唇深处包裹着的残牙……”罗中立如释重负，吐出这番话来，眼中闪着一份恳切和诚意。此刻，他的脸上闪着“父亲”般的神采。

　　罗中立从那掏粪农民的脸上，看到了中国农民的承受和担当，对苦难艰辛的承受和担当，对丰收劳作的承受和担当，对岁月命运的承受和担当。“父亲”在喝水，他的身后却是一片金黄，这牛一般的命运扛在农民的肩上。在那灯光照亮的一刻，曾经当过大巴山农民的罗中立，他的农民的情感、农民的精神浮现了出来。真正令罗中立遭遇农民的生动面庞的正是这份情感和精神的“灯光”。罗中立对大巴山的农民、大巴山的生活有着对“父亲”一般的感情。《父亲》创作至今已25个年头，这四分之一的世纪，沧海桑田，星移斗转，但对农民的眷恋始终没有变。罗中立坚持画农民，画大巴山；罗中立经常要回到当年插队的地方，回到“父亲们”的身边；罗中立要求以大巴山圆塔型的砖窑作为原型来建造他的房子，在里边日夜体验和保存大巴山的念想和讯息。罗中立对农民有着一种深深的爱，他承受着这份爱，通过这爱，他也承受着农民的艰辛和苦难，承受着农民的欢乐和悲伤。罗中立和大巴山彼此塑造着对方，承受着对方。

　　罗中立笔下的农民有着一份真生活:有沉重劳作的苦；有阖家围坐火塘的乐；有夫妻风雨同舟的爱；有母子舐犊殷深的情。这苦、乐、情、爱，却都有一种川味，一种麻辣辣的生活趣味。这骨头里的表情被罗中立化为一种日常性的生动叙事，一种夸张的视觉捕捉和强化，一种罗中立式的精神承受。当年凡高以他真切的悲悯，画出了矿工的苦难和命运，罗中立则以他的温和和俏皮，画活了大巴山的生趣，以他的真情承受着中国农民浓厚和泼辣的气息。

　　现在，我们在这批水彩中，看到了罗中立的底牌。这底牌不仅在于他走到哪里画到哪里，为他的创作收集了很多的素材。这底牌更让我们看到在他的眼中，在他的笔下，他是如何与生活遭遇的。在七八十年代的习作中，有对风景的直问，也有对伤逝的回眸 ；在旅欧的写生中，有着表现风味的色彩，有着浓重的文化旅者的目光；在近年的钢笔淡彩中，有对生活的贴近，有心迹疾快的直白。但最重要的是:这里始终研磨着一种农民般的质朴和执着，一种活生生的与大地、与生活的关系。这些写生仿佛是在人生的长途之上，演练着这些关系，陶养一种活生生的直观和面对，陶养一种如农民般的质朴和简括的表情。罗中立通过这些写生，来承受他在心中久远而命定的那份承受。

　　“何当共剪西窗烛，却话巴山夜雨时。”罗中立在画《父亲》时，想过后来的成功和影响吗？罗中立在做这些写生的时候，想到过今天的小集子吗？显然没有。那“巴山夜雨时”是真实的，是不可预演的，因此，也是最珍贵的。那是我们生命和生活的真正的承受。

　　2005年3月30日
　　于三窗阁


　　Luo Zhongli sent me a bundle of materials about wa-tercolor and gouache, including his exercises as a stu-dent at the turn of 1980s, foreign-style works from his European trip, and his pen light colors done recently. These art works resemble an extensive net, which wraps me in the memory both of China's art development since 1976 and of my road of art. It is characteristic of our generation's fate that my personal growth over-laps the public reminiscence of an era, of which Luo Zhongli is an important milestone.

　　Luo's name is inscribed in contemporary Chinese art history for his Father, an honest face of a farmer. This hangs on the screen of modern China as one of the most sentimental and representative visual images. At the end of December 1999, Mr. Luo and I partici-pated in Gate to Century art show in Chengdu and were interviewed together. He was not eloquent enough, so he begged to speak in Sichuan dialect. Af-ter that he was immediately possessed of the dexter-ity and ardency of a farmer waving a hoe. The young journalists were curious about their own childish memory, and Luo was lost in his remote memoir. He seemed to be digging from memory. Father was in-spired initially by a farmer collecting manure, who was overburdened, day in, day out, as by the long journey of life. He, however, was ever so gentle, so reticent, and so humble. As Luo said from the depth of his memory, "One night, I saw his face in lamp light, and his gaze was as meek as a sheep.?At that moment, under the uneventful lamp, Liu saw the Chinese farmer's face and his profound suffering and complacency. "Only thus, only set before this huge head, did I feel his deep breathing and see his blue veins and wrinkles standing out. I felt his mixed odor of tobacco and sweat, felt his skin trembling and sweat oozing, and perceived his remaining teeth in his mouth…? Luo was so relieved after uttering this that his sincere eyes reminded one of "father".

　　Luo discerned Chinese farmers's resigned forbearance before hard work and meager living. The 揻ather?was drinking water against a backdrop of golden fields, with buffalo-like fate on a farmer抯 shoulder. Luo had been a farmer himself in Daba Mountains and his farmer sentiment appeared before his mind抯 eye as the lamp shone. What shone on the vivid face of a farmer was just such sentiment. His attitude towards the farmers and life in Daba Mountains was affection for his 揻ather? A quarter of a century, in which tremendous changes have taken place, has passed since its creation, but his love for farmers lingers. Luo per-sists in painting farmers and the Mountains, now and then returning to his 揻athers?in the village where he settled down in 1960s. He asked to build his house with the round brick kiln there as model, so that he could communicate mentally with Daba Mountains day and night. His profound love for the farmers conveys the hardship and suffering, joys and sorrows of local people to his bosom. Luo and Daba shape each other and sus-tain each other.

　　Luo's farmers live an authentic life, with its hardship of toils, its joys of a family sitting around the fire, its conjugal love, and its affection for offspring. These emotions are expressed in Sichuan style, with its taste of hot spices. This intrinsic expression has been turned into a commonplace vivid narration, an exaggerating visual capture and consolidation, and a Luo-style spiri-tual sustenance. Van Gogh depicted the miners?hard-ship and fate with his sincere gloom and compassion, whereas Luo painted the Mountains alive with his mod-erate wit and his faithful vivacity represented the grumous pungency of Chinese farmers.

　　Now, in the present watercolors, we find Luo's cards in his hand. They not only show the raw materials he has picked up wherever he goes, but also present how he deals with life in his vision and under his brush. The exercises of 1970s-80s show his interrogation of the landscape and his review of bitter past; the European sketches contain expressive colors and the vision of a serious cultural voyager; and the recent pen paintings mean his approach to life and his outspoken mind. It is remarkable that there is always farmers?rustic inflex-ibility here, an animated rapport with the land and life. These sketches seem to be drills of this rapport on a long life journey, training a vivid perception and con-frontation as well as shaping rustic and simplified expressions. Luo thereby receives his long-cherished destiny.

　　“Let's talk about night rain in Sichuan instead of trim-ming candles at west window. ?Was Luo anticipating his success and influence when he painted Father? Did he envision this album as he sketched? Obviously no. The "night rain" is real but not predictable, therefore most precious. That is our true perception in life.
　　At Sanchuang Pavilion
　　March 30, 2005