照片裡看不見的虱目魚苗
那年五月，我每天去公館港找綠島阿嬤游泳。阿嬤告訴我，小時候她都在這裡抓虱目魚苗。魚苗非常細小，當牠們入網後，要趕緊把兩根竹子夾闔、用繩子捆緊，上岸、拿回家給爸爸。他們會養在甕裡，把魚養大一點，再賣去本島。後來，政府沿著海岸線炸石頭，興建公館港與人權公園；流麻溝上游成了水庫、下游成了下水道……總總原因，使得這裡老早就沒有魚苗了。
我聽了很困惑，虱目魚苗需要特地從綠島買？本島不是有很多漁塭、養很多虱目魚嗎？或那是在逐漸捕捉不到野生魚苗之後，才發展出的生產模式？
和阿嬤游泳的時候，總覺得我們很像在進行魚群巡邏的工作，關於今天有什麼魚聚集、或者沒有看見什麼魚。阿嬤若看到釣客，總會氣急敗壞地大喊：「這帶無魚囉！毋通繼續釣囉！」
我在閱讀游永福寫的《尋找湯姆生》一書時，發現裏面有一組1871年的照片〈Fishing in the surf, Formosa〉 ，是湯姆生剛登上福爾摩沙，站在岸邊拍下的。照片裡的人們站在海裡、戴著斗笠，使用著三角漁網，這樣的風景和90年後的綠島風景相似。這個名叫三角漁網的工具，和阿嬤幼時捕魚苗使用的工具相同。
湯姆生在四月初登陸，那正是虱目魚產卵的季節。不過湯姆生抵達的並不是綠島，而是我的家鄉高雄。
游永福以高雄的閩南語腔調寫下「lu魚栽」，綠島阿嬤以綠島的閩南語腔調說「hu魚栽」；約略150年前的打狗風景，以及60多年前的綠島風景竟然如此相像。追逐彼此的虱目魚，摻和著浪潮起伏，牠們在河水流入海水之處產卵。而沿海築居的人們，在四月至十月之間捕撈牠們的魚苗。沒被抓到的魚苗，會離開海岸線，等到交配時期，再迴游至出生地。
後來的人們帶著老照片，像迴游似的，回到攝影師給出的「第一眼」之處。他們各自懷著對歷史的好奇、對自身生命的探尋，在不同的現場，做著類似的事——再拍一張一模一樣的照片。藉由這種方法、藉由再次以鏡頭對準的行為，每個攝影師不斷踏上不曾走過的路、閱讀不曾理解的過去。為了讓觀景窗盡可能地對準，他們期待、尋找、觀察與等待，在無盡長遠的時間之中。不過，再怎麼對位，一定會有哪裡稍微不同，這是穿越時空的光顯影於底片的當下，就注定的命運。但我想，生命的迴游行為，原先為的就不是明確可見的結果，而是不可見的再回返，尋找主體在浩蕩而不明的世界裡，聽見屬於自身迴聲的時刻。
Unseen Milkfish Fry in the Photo
In May that year, I went to Gongguan Harbor every day to swim with the old granny on Green Island. The old granny told me that when she was a child, she caught milkfish fry there. The fry were very small, and as soon as they were caught in the net, she would quickly clamp two bamboo sticks together, tie them tightly with a rope, and bring them home to her father. They would raise them in a jar, let the fish grow a bit, and then sell them to the main island of Taiwan. Later, the government blasted stones along the coastline to build Gongguan Harbor and the Human Rights Park; the upstream of the Liuma Gou became a reservoir, and the downstream became a sewer... for these and many other reasons, there have been no milkfish fry here for a long time.
I was very confused when I heard this. Did people from the main island have to specially buy milkfish fry from Green Island? Didn't the main island have many fish ponds to raise many milkfish? Or was this a production mode that was developed after wild fish fry became increasingly difficult to catch?
When I went swimming with the old granny, I always felt like we were doing fish patrol work, discussing which fish were gathering today or what fish we didn't see. If the old granny saw a fisherman, she would always angrily shout, "There are no fish here! Don't bother fishing!"
I found a set of photos from 1871 called "Fishing in the Surf, Formosa," When I was reading the book "John Thomson Formosa," written by You Yongfu, which was taken by Thomson when he first arrived in Formosa. The people in the photo were standing in the sea, wearing bamboo hats, and using a triangular fishing net, a scene similar to that of Green Island 90 years later. The tool called the triangular fishing net is the same tool the old granny used to catch fish fry when she was young.
Thomson landed in early April, which was the season for milkfish spawning. However, Thomson did not arrive in Green Island but in my hometown, Kaohsiung.
You Yongfu wrote "lu fish fry" in the Minnan dialect of Kaohsiung, and the old granny from Green Island said "hu fish fry" in the Minnan dialect of Green Island. The scenery in Takao 150 years ago and Green Island 60 years ago were surprisingly similar. The milkfish chased each other, mingled with the waves, and spawned where the river flowed into the sea. Coastal residents fished for their fry between April and October. Milkfish fry that were not caught would leave the coastline and return to their birthplace during mating season.
Now, people return to the spot where the photographer took the "first glance" with their old photographs in hand, as if on a pilgrimage. Each person is driven by their own curiosity about history and exploration of their own life. At different locations, they do similar things - they take another photo that is exactly the same as the original one. Through this method and the act of pointing the lens once again, each photographer embarks on an uncharted path and reads a past that they have never understood before. They wait, observe, search, and hope to align the viewfinder as accurately as possible, over an endless period of time. However, no matter how much they align it, there will always be some slight difference - this is the inevitable destiny of the light shining through time and space onto the film. Nevertheless, I believe that the act of revisiting past locations in life is not for a clear and visible result, but for an invisible return journey, in search of the moment when the subject hears their own echo in the vast and incomprehensible world.
《後來的人寄出的風景》展出於2023年綠島人權藝術季《傾聽裂隙的迴聲》，共有五組風景明信片和故事。以下為故事連結——
"Sceneries Posted by Those Who Came Later" is exhibited at the 2023 Green Island Human Rights Arts Festival, "Listening to the Echoes of the Cracks". There are five groups of photos and stories. Below is the link to the story——
〈那座到不了的島〉That Unreachable Island
〈背上有字的石頭〉A Rock with Lettering on Its Back
〈大浪襲來的五分鐘〉Five Minutes when the Big Waves Stroke
〈再蓋一棟新民宿〉Building Another New Guesthouse
〈照片裡看不見的虱目魚苗〉Unseen Milkfish Fry in the Photo