See Traditional Chinese Translation

Upon entering the Theaterhaus Gessnerallee, I was handed a sealed envelope. The colored sticker affixed did not suggest a traditional theater seating grid but instead assigned me to one of three low, rectangular platforms scattered across the dark, open floor. Each platform was furnished with cushions and varied objects such as a balloon, a spent firework casing, or a crumpled pack of cigarettes. In one corner of the room, a map spliced together—one part labeled in Simplified Chinese, one in Traditional—sat on the ground. Climbing onto my platform, I understood that I was to remain on this “island” for the duration of this evening with the RRRRRR Collective, whose six members were dispersed among the audience, sitting as quiet and still as the rest of us in the dark. I was unable to cross to the other two platforms, a prelude to more entrenched rifts.

This event was part of Open Studio, a format initiated by sound artist and scenographer Dimitri de Perrot wherein he invites others to develop new work within his own, as a shared framework. The RRRRRR Collective is six people operating from distinct geographies: artists Wen-Chi Liu (Taipei) and Keng Chen (Hangzhou and Shanghai) along with artist Dino Radoncic (St. Gallen, Switzerland), artistic duo Nathalie Stirnimann and Stefan Stojanovic (Zurich), and director and playwright Eneas Prawdzic (Zurich). Rather than collapsing the thousands of miles between them with digital tools, the members deliberately chose to inhabit the gaps, defining their process with fragmented, transborder exchanges and the refusal to work in unison. The spatial arrangement I’d entered echoed their methods.

This performance, Wen Keng We Meet?—On Connection, explored not just abstracted gaps but a specific, physical one: the narrow waterway between Kinmen, an island administered by Taiwan, and Xiamen, a city in China visible from only ten kilometers away. The two shores may be close enough to see yet geopolitics make it nearly impossible to cross freely; each side comes to know the other mostly through speculation. The work highlights the paradox that the closer two geographies sit physically, the more violently their underlying differences can manifest. This is literalized with the split map on the floor rendering cartography not merely as administrative but epistemological.

A spoken narration weaves throughout the space, following alongside but not exactly tracking with two video projections of footage cutting between the two shores but not settling on either one. Wen-Chi is shown standing on the Kinmen side of the water, peering through the kind of binoculars familiar at tourist destinations. Through the lenses we’re shown that she can clearly make out everything from the warning label printed on a discarded pack of Double Happiness (囍) cigarettes to the operating instructions etched onto the binoculars themselves. Intercut with this, Keng, Nathalie, and Stefan are seen standing at the water’s edge in Xiamen. Unable to spot Wen-Chi with the naked eye, Keng straps a balloon to her back and runs along the shoreline using it to signal back across the water toward Kinmen. But as Wen-Chi aims the lenses at Xiamen, the shore gives back nothing she can read. An online map showing their positions and a phone line connecting the whole team kept cutting out.

Philosopher Jürgen Habermas described the “ideal speech situation”: two parties communicating on equal terms without coercion or systemic distortion. But in this geography where tech glitches and locations become a blur, no such condition is offered. The RRRRRR Collective lets these failures to connect run their full course, unedited. Underneath their narration, which slips in and out of their own unscripted conversation on the shore, the field recordings were left un-scrubbed, wind and passersby’s murmurs blending in. The members’ own accents were left intact: non-native English shaped by mother tongues and Wen-Chi’s and Keng’s Mandarin diverging in accent and idiom despite sharing the language. The audio slides between English, Mandarin, and German, leaving a narrative that never quite resolves into something an audience can immediately follow.

Part of the work’s resonance lay in de Perrot’s audio-visual scenography: Sound was architecture, and a listener’s body the site through which meaning was negotiated. Each of the platforms, de Perrot explained, was scored differently. The same content reached every island, but the audio was mixed to sound either close by or more distant depending on one’s designated position. Watching from my assigned island, I found myself trying to read the postures of others in the audience—a lean forward, a held breath—wondering if they were catching more or less than I. Listening here became laborious, parsing voices versus wind noise as a form of participation that amplified this encounter itself as an event, with the artwork and physical site of reception as inseparable. This was magnified by the mirrors suspended against the ceiling facing downward above each island. When I looked up and saw myself among the others, all of us sitting cross-legged, I was reminded that I was not a participant inside the narration but a spectator. This is the performance’s provocation: If I am only watching, then everything I am taking in—the distance, the effort to connect—reaches me only through someone else’s telling.

As the narration continues, Keng recalls her father watching Taiwanese television through a broadcast signal that happened to reach him across the strait—seeing what he could never visit, only imagine. Perhaps this was the collective’s central argument, that we can only ever approach the Other through imagination, not information, projecting stories into the distance between us. If communication is to be worked for, narrative keeps us occupied in the meantime, the same logic of Keng’s father piecing together a portrait of life on the other side of the water.

Despite efforts at nearness, the RRRRRR members on screen eventually “saw” each other from afar. The audience heard that Wen-Chi had bought fireworks in Kinmen, setting them off across the strait into the night sky. At one point, the video changed to show snowy Zurich—footage shot when all six members finally gathered in person—then, the actual performers who had been seated on three of the constructed islands stood up and formed a chorus of bird whistles. Wen-Chi’s fireworks reached the audience through the audio track while the whistling happened live alongside us. While Habermas envisioned a system where information circulates without friction and communication appears efficient, this performance suggested that something is clarity isn’t everything. Here, under conditions of noise and misalignment, true listening became possible precisely because we do not connect by overcoming interference but by remaining within it.

摩擦作為連結
RRRRRR Collective於蘇黎世蓋斯納大道劇院

走進蓋斯納大道劇院時，我收到了一份密封的信封。依據團員的指示，信封上貼著的彩色貼紙，是用以區分位置。黑暗開闊的場地中，看不見傳統劇院的座位排列，取而代之的是三座低矮的方形平台，我依據指示，找到了屬於我的那座。每座平台上都鋪著坐墊，平台間則散置著各式各樣的物件：一顆氣球、一堆使用過的煙火包裝、一包揉皺的香煙盒。房間一角的地面，放著一張拼接而成的地圖——一半標注簡體中文，一半標注繁體中文。走上我所在的平台後，我意識到自己將在這座「孤島」上與RRRRRR Collective共度整個夜晚。這個團體的六位成員分散坐在觀眾之間，與其他人一樣靜默不動地坐在黑暗裡。我無法跨越到其他兩個平台，而這一點，正預示著更根深柢固的分裂。

這場演出是「開放工作室」（Open Studio）系列的一部份。該系列由聲音藝術家兼舞台設計師迪米特里・德・佩羅（Dimitri de Perrot）發起，他邀請其他創作者在自己設計的劇院框架內共同發展新作品。RRRRRR Collective作為受邀藝術團體，由六位來自不同城市的成員組成：藝術家劉文琪（台北）、陳鏗（杭州／上海）、迪諾・拉多齊奇（Dino Radoncic，瑞士聖加侖）、藝術家雙人組娜塔利・斯蒂爾尼曼（Nathalie Stirnimann）與史蒂凡・斯托亞諾維奇（Stefan Stojanovic，蘇黎世，以及導演兼劇作家埃內亞斯・普拉德齊奇（Eneas Prawdzic，蘇黎世）。他們並未選擇使用數位工具來彌平彼此之間數千英里的距離，而是刻意適應這樣的距離，以碎片化、跨地域、非同步的交流方式，定調他們的創作過程。我所進入的劇場空間佈局，正呼應著他們的創作方法。

這場名為《Wen Keng We Meet? — On Connection》的演出，探討的不僅是抽象的距離，更是具體的地理距離。金門與廈門之間那條狹窄的水道，相隔僅有十公里。海岸兩端近得可以望見彼此，但地緣政治卻使自由往來幾近不可能；多數時候，雙方只能透過猜想來認識彼此。這件作品突顯了一個悖論：兩個地理位置實體上越接近，深層的差異有時反而表現得更為劇烈。地面上那張分裂的地圖，具象化了這點——製圖學不僅是行政上的區分，也是認知的差異

一段由六位成員共同完成的口述敘事貫穿整個空間，與兩組錄像投影相輔相成，又不完全同步；畫面在兩岸之間切換，卻不在任何一邊停留。錄像裡，文琪站在金門一側的水邊，透過觀光景點常見的望遠鏡向對岸遠眺。透過鏡頭，我們看到她能清楚辨認出一包被丟棄的「雙喜」煙盒上印的警示標語，乃至望遠鏡身上刻印的使用說明。與此交叉剪輯的畫面中，陳鏗、娜塔利與史蒂凡則站在廈門一側的水邊。由於肉眼無法看見文琪，陳鏗將一個氣球綁在背上，沿著海岸線奔跑，用它向金門那一側發出訊號。但當文琪將望遠鏡對準廈門時，對岸卻沒有給她任何可供辨識的回音。顯示他們各自位置的線上即時定位地圖，以及連接整個團隊的電話網絡，都不停斷線

哲學家哈伯馬斯（Jürgen Habermas）曾提出「理想言說情境」的概念。他預設在此一情境下，雙方在平等條件下進行交流，不受強制或系統性扭曲的影響。但在這個技術故障與地理位置都變得模糊不清的地方，這樣的條件並不存在。RRRRRR Collective將這些連結失敗的過程完整地、一刀未剪地呈現出來。口白之間，夾雜著他們在岸邊未經排練的對話，現場錄音也並未被過濾，風聲與路人的低語交織其中。成員們受母語影響的英文口音，以及文琪與陳鏗的普通話在口音與用語上的落差，都被原封不動地保留下來。音軌在英語、普通話與德語之間切換，使得敘事始終無法讓觀眾立刻完全跟上。

這件作品的部分感染力，還來自於德・佩羅的舞台設計：聲音即建築，聽者的身體則是意義的協商之處。德・佩羅向我說明，每座平台的聲音都經過不同的編排。所有島嶼接收到的內容都相同，但音頻的混音方式，會依據觀眾所在位置，讓聲音聽起來或近或遠。在我被分配到的孤島上觀看演出時，我總會不禁留意其他觀眾的姿態——或者前傾，或者屏息——我想知道，他們是否比我聽到了更多或者更少的聲音。傾聽在此變得費力，辨別哪些是人聲、哪些是風聲，成為一種參與的形式，使得「接收」的行為本身也被放大為事件，繼而讓作品與觀者身處現場的經驗，變得密不可分。懸掛在天花板上，朝下對著每座孤島的鏡子，進一步強化了這一點。當我抬頭看到自己與其他觀眾一同被映照在鏡中，所有人都盤腿而坐，我意識到自己並非敘事之內的參與者，而是一名旁觀者。這正是這場演出的提問所在：如果我只是在觀看，那麼我所接收到的一切——那段距離，那份嘗試連結的努力——都只是經由他人的陳述才抵達我這裡。

隨著敘事繼續，陳鏗回憶起她父親曾透過恰好能穿越海峽傳來的廣播訊號，收看台灣的電視節目。他在電視裡看見他永遠無法親自造訪的遠方，只能憑著想像去理解。這或許正是作品所要表達的核心：我們只能透過想像，而非資訊，去靠近他者，並且將腦中的故事投射到彼此之間的空隙。如果溝通需要經過努力才能達成，那麼在達成之前，敘事便成為了我們依託的憑藉，正如陳鏗的父親藉由零星片段，拼湊出海峽對岸生活的圖像。

儘管努力想要靠近彼此，RRRRRR Collective的成員們，最終還是只能在畫面中遠遠「看見」對方。透過口白，觀眾聽到文琪在金門買到了煙火，朝著海峽對岸的夜空點燃。此時，畫面切換到白雪覆蓋的蘇黎世，那是數個月後，六位成員在畫面裡終於齊聚一堂所拍下的影像。隨後，原先分別坐在三座平台上的表演者們起身，齊聲吹響鳥笛。文琪施放的煙火透過聲音傳到觀眾耳中，而口哨聲則在我們所在的現場發生。哈伯馬斯設想的是一種能讓訊息流暢而有效率傳遞的系統，這場演出卻指出了，清晰並不是溝通的唯一條件。在這裡，在噪音與錯位的阻礙下，真正的傾聽之所以成為可能，正是因為我們並非透過克服干擾，而是透過身處在干擾之中，達成了彼此的連結。