<h1 class="pgc-h-center-line" data-track="1" > autumn music</h1>
Wen / Feng Jicai
Don't forget to bring music every time you go on the road, as long as there is music in your ears, your feelings about the scenery along the way will completely change. It is no longer far away, indifferent, while the music stirs your heart, but also makes the scenery outside the window susceptible and emotional. The rich inner emotions that you are aroused by the various melodies and sounds, these scenes are also all sensed by God, and it also wonderfully recreates itself with your emotions. You cheer it up, you calm it warm, you feel sad about it, and perhaps at the same time add a little sweetness to life' comfort, which is the conversation of true friends and hearts... River bends, mountain foothills, smoke, clouds, grass and trees, all the details are thickly soaked with your emotions that flow with the music, and even everything is deforming for you, changing the picture of the depths of your soul one after another. It makes you suddenly see the feelings that are not concrete, unformed, hazy or obliterated by time in your heart, so you fall deeper into the vortex of being moved, enjoying the special feeling of the picture, the music and your own soul being integrated...
"Into the Golden Yellow" Feng Jicai, 1994
In the autumn of October, I loosely put on a thick-threaded sweater and carried a large satchel on my back to daxinganling in the far north of the country. On the way to the train station, I suddenly realized that I only had a tape recorder, but I forgot the music tape at home, and happened to pass by a friend's residence, he was a music fan, so he ran in and borrowed it from him. He gave me a disk that he said was newly ripped, all "background music". I asked him what kind of song it was, and he looked at me and said:
"Autumn music."
He mostly said casually and prevaricating me. The title of the song may have been inspired by the fact that he saw my hair loose and fluttering by the autumn wind.
As soon as the train left Shanhaiguan, I put on my headphones and listened to the music of this autumn. The opening melody seemed familiar, and before I could doubt whether it really described autumn, the chin lazily rubbed the neckline of the coarse sweater; the two hands rubbed together, so that the back of the dry cool hand rubbed and rubbed comfortably against the wet hot palm, and the whole body and mind entered a strange warm and sweet feeling that only autumn had.
"Autumn Colors", Feng Jicai, 2013
I pressed my cheek against the window pane, it was quite cold, and with a longing for enjoyment, I looked out the car window, and the autumn nature unfolded a brilliant scene. The sun shines like a piano on this harvested field, and the whole earth is like a mother who has given birth to a baby, happily stretching out under the open clear sky, lying down, plump and flexible body! The thick reddish-brown color that emerges from the stubble is the muscular complexion of Mother Earth; all the woods have inflated their energies to the end in the competition of the hot summer, stretching their graceful branches freely at the moment; all the golden leaves are its fruits, and the autumn wind stirs, and the glory boasts of the riches of autumn. True richness belongs to the creator; the true creator has this dashing and leisurely demeanor... A bird took off with a gentle violin melody, and it led me to the infinitely pure sky. Any emotion that enters the sky dissolves into a vast silence. The bigger the sky looks, the greater the head of a great philosopher, and the white clouds are his thoughts. Sometimes when the wind and clouds meet, a light of wisdom will flash and a philosophy that warns the world will be heard. At this time, the philosophers were also tired, immersed in the relaxation of autumn. It is lofty, peaceful, and mysterious. Large and small, loose clouds are fragments of his thoughts, and fragments are the most beautiful, whether thoughts or emotions... These thousands of exquisite fragments, accompanied by ethereal sounds, flowed before my eyes, still white and dazzling in the sun. The bird riding the violin melody kept drilling into the clouds, getting taller and smaller, and finally turned into a tiny black dot, suddenly "poofing" into a huge, fluffy, shiny cloud...
"Autumn Whispers", Feng Jicai, 2013
I suddenly remembered a sentence:
"As soon as I pounced on you, I felt infinite tenderness."
I also remembered a quote from me:
"I sleep in your dreams."
It was a clear morning, and when I woke up after a solid night's sleep, I saw your hazy, fragrant face next to the pillow. You smile, like a faint flower quietly opening in the lotus pond, in the rain, in the fog.
"Past Events", Feng Jicai, 1992
The warm chords that follow bring a sparse idyllic landscape. Autumn dissolves the green of the earth, and with its neutral tone, it uniformly adjusts all the colors. Harmonious and noble, stable and comfortable, only the harvested autumn can be so quiet and serene. A few gleaming stacks of wheat straw, a wisp of silver-blue translucent cooking smoke, a tree here and there standing comfortably on the plain, a weedy cow here and there. In the setting of the strings, a quiet and beautiful face gradually floated up in my heart. I once sketched this face with kisses, like a painter's pen: contours, eyebrows, eyes, lips... This kind of sketch is very wonderful, invisible but deeply remembered. The small swirls at the corners of your mouth, the fluttering eyelashes, the bulging brain doors, and the tiny, smooth plane on your pointed chin... The close-up scenery swept past my eyes, the distant view followed me slowly forward, the earth slowly rotated like a record, and this human pastoral song was constantly ringing in my ears.
"Autumn Pain", Feng Jicai, 1991
A dying old tree came little by little into the middle of this huge record. Its roots are like a song needle, drawing a sad tune in the depths of nature. The light in the heart and the light of the scenery turn dark together, and even if the water of the Bay River is strongly reflected, it is cold, dazzling, and desolate. All shadows turn into the melancholy of dying autumn; the sparseness of all things has lost the passion of the past and is lonely, each holding on to the loneliness of life; a small sunflower behind the fence, like the last beckoning gesture you held out in the crowd when you said goodbye, followed by the train that rumbled forward to the back... The budding, trembling, and rioting of spring, the noise, exuberance, and prosperity of summer, all disappeared and were irretrievable. No matter how brilliant it once was, how proud it was, how radiant it was, how proudly it squandered its energy and talents, after all, the past is no longer the same. Life is disposable; life is carried by time, which determines the inevitable tragedy of human beings ending in death. Who can chase yesterday and the day before yesterday, even if it is a painful farewell, it is happiness, and the childhood that has done many stupid things, the dreams of young mothers and first love, are far away from this old autumn. A thick mixture of sadness and music spread out endlessly, rendering the scenery. I suddenly wanted to shout, to make this train stop and go back!
"Autumn Reeds Like Flowers", Feng Jicai, 2007
Suddenly, an avenue rushed out vertically, and in the dusk it shone brightly, like a trumpet loudly blowing, and the sound called a large forest rising from the ground, like a golden brass band, playing a solemn music into the field of vision. It was too late to distinguish whether this was because of the music or the change of picture, and the mood suddenly changed, and the sorrow just now was swept away. When the young trees that were still lush and green in the depths of the thick forest shook by, I suddenly realized that the autumn wither was all an illusion!
It just hides life before the cold comes, buries the greenery in the ground, accumulates and condenses under the snow in winter, and waits for the next spring, once again doubling down on extravagance and extravagance! Far down the hillside, the tomb, like a pile of fire in the sunset, magical and mysterious, where is a buried corpse or a lonely soul? Since every being is departing after creating another, what is death? Is death not just a transformation of life, a change of melody, a change of picture? Then what in the world is more solemn, more sacred, more fascinating than death! What a great death to give oneself for regeneration...
The music of autumn has become like the sound of the temple; this magnificent and sublime roar has enveloped and purified all my body and mind. I was amazed to feel as transparent as glass.
"Autumn Gifts", Feng Jicai, 1992
At this time, I suddenly saw two old people sitting opposite, talking intimately. Remnant Sun sunburned their faces so red that the stripes and wrinkles were as clear as those painted on them. Autumn of Life! They dedicate their youth and all their energy to the world, and the pigment in their hair will also be exhausted, and isn't that full of silver hair the most cherished thing in the world? I looked at the way they were getting close to each other and talking softly, and I couldn't help but feel full of love, and I really wanted to say something beautiful to them. I took off my headphones, and before I could open my mouth, I heard them talking about the superiors and subordinates in the unit, which was connected to which, which was in cahoots with which, which was reliable and which was more unreliable, which was the last word and which had to be... I was so stunned that I couldn't listen anymore, so I quickly put on my headphones again, turned on the music, listened again, and looked out the window. odd! This time, the music of autumn, those feelings, was gone.
"Art is meant to deceive life."
When I returned home and gave the tape back to my friend, I told him this.
He didn't know why I came to this conclusion, and I didn't know why he said to me:
"Art actually comforts life."
1989.4.28