Conjuring up specters
However, Cheng’s narratives are not official collective histories on a grand, national scale. Rather, they are intimate stories full of personal feelings and subjective imaginings. These revisitings enable us to feel for “others” who have been excluded from the collective memory of the Taiwanese people—that is, the ghosts of immigrants who were here a century ago, who were not born in Taiwan but who nevertheless came here to live, and died here. Cheng thus brings in the issue of identity, something in which she has long been interested. Exactly what does being “Taiwanese” mean? Are “foreigners” who have lived many years in Taiwan not “Taiwanese”? These questions lead us to reconsider the frameworks within which we construct our own identities and to challenge narratives that reinforce monolithic ideas of nationhood.
Cheng’s recent creative projects draw on archival work and field research to open up possibilities of “renarration.” She summons up specters that haunt the margins of historical documents, enabling them to speak again, and using their voices to help her audience interact physically with the street space. This “immersive somaticity” is an experience that differs significantly from Facebook “check-ins,” which are products of the “consumerist gaze.” While walking with these specters, we are able to rethink familiar things in our daily lives. Connecting with gravestones and ghosts in this way helps us resist our national amnesia. Thanks to these alternative narratives, we start to recover those precious memories that are being buried in our culture of consumerism. At the end of the tour, the oral histories will have taken root in our memories. Every time their stories are renarrated, the ghosts are called back to life in vivid detail. I was deeply impressed at how, towards the end of the tour, these spirits talked to me in a poetic way, inviting me to ponder the interpenetration of place, history, memory, the legacy of immigrants, and myself.
“Fear not. We are not actually ghosts. We exist in your consciousness. We emerge from the country’s collective consciousness to engage in this conversation. If people forget us, we begin to gradually disappear. But we verily exist. We are as real as the ground beneath your feet, or the walls you touch. We are the birdsong that you hear, the unpleasant smell that happens to be wafted to your nose. We live beneath you, above you, and inside you. Like you, we cannot own this land forever. But we, like you, belong here. We are the future you, and you are what we once were.”
A scene from TAKTH AWAY, 2021.
A Scene from TAKTH AWAY, 2021.
A Scene from TAKTH AWAY, 2021.
A Scene from TAKTH AWAY, 2021.
A Scene from TAKTH AWAY, 2021.
A visitor at TAKTH AWAY. (courtesy of Pier-2 Art Center)
A visitor at TAKTH AWAY, 2021. (photo by Huang Pei Wei)