Sharon Lee’s practice explores and questions photography as a medium. Inspired by her family life and by the everyday, the Hong Kong artist experiments with various techniques, textures and materials to mould the blurry remains of memory, poetically capturing the slippery layers of time. Her work revolves around the notions of absence and disappearance as tangible and often constructed presences.

Caroline Ha Thuc: From the start, you have explored photography in association with various modes of printing, including ceramics. Where does that come from? Sharon Lee: I use photography; meanwhile I do not conform to photography. I embrace alternative image-making as a form of negotiation, not necessarily with a single photograph but with the history, culture, art, science and technology that it carries. 

I started photography when I found myself with no resources for art making – no studio, no art supplies but a 55-sq-ft shared bedroom. I find the medium a great tool to construct a visual reality. It frames and unframes, hides and reveals simultaneously.

I was in Vienna for an academic exchange year in 2014. I only had classes in art history, but I sneaked into the art studios of another university, seizing chances to create. As a nomad, I gained access to the ceramics studio, which is open to students from all disciplines. This led me to consider ceramics and moulding in a broader sense, and built my sensitivity to materials. I also sat in a course on typography, which brought me to the printmaking studio. This is how I developed my first artwork: Genesis. 

CHT: Genesis (2016-17) was a very original project, inspired by the Bible, with abstract photographs in a book format. Was it an invitation to contemplate the origins of the world? SL: [Philosopher] Jacques Rancière in The Future of The Image (2003) raises the question: “Are some things unrepresentable?” Is a real god unrepresentable?” I grew up in a Christian family and went to Christian schools. In Protestant Christianity, there is no figurative representation of Jesus. Only an empty cross represents him. He is made visible in absence. 

In Genesis, I attempted to explore this notion of the unrepresentable. The work juxtaposes some abstract and trivial images of an egg with the Book of Genesis on how God created the universe in seven days. The images portray the transformation from formless to form. The magnification of the micro depiction of an egg projected a “universe”. The glitch between the two representation systems, the text and the image, records a trace of the unthinkable. The photo-etching printmaking transforms the images into a form of relief with high texture.

When I look back, I can still find shadows of this work in my current practice – the tactility of images, the presence of absence, a history of the future.

CHT: You explored this concept further in The Crescent Void (2019), a series of photographs featuring the imprints of found objects from grocery stores. They evoke and embody Man Lee Store, the small shop that your grandparents used to run in Chai Wan in the 70s. For this work, you combined photography and moulding, creating a constant tension between positive and negative spaces, emptiness and materiality. Is this piece a way to push this past back even further in time? SL: Yes, this is the way I attempt to negotiate with the sense of time in photography.

My process of moulding is more that of an erasure or an extraction, and also a detour. It slows down the photographic process and time. Literally, it is an “image-making” endeavour. 

The outcome of this process of rephotographing questions the image, especially when I have the image output in 1:1. Is it an image? Is it an object/sculpture? Is it a presence? Is it an absence? 

Spatial history is layered: the existing layout, structure or architecture tell you the bygone – what was there. I am drawn to absence and different forms of disappearance. My work is honest and directly presents the void. This is not a Cola. This is an absence of a Cola. All these objects point toward the absence of a space, a bygone local store.

I am trying to construct a subtle irony with the in-betweenness. The image looks familiar but distant, ancient yet futuristic. I also play with photographic time in my process of making, first by moulding the objects, then by rephotographing the mould. The process cancels out the “decisive moment” in photography. 

CHT: For your latest work, The Remnants of Yesterday (2022), you were inspired by your grandmother’s cheongsam, from which you created a mould. This time, though, you have used porcelain to produce this series of gelatine silver prints. Why did you change material? SL: The choice of the material is related to the context of the work. When I tried to revisit the place, Man Lee Store had already morphed into a run-of-the-mill concrete wall structure facing an underground train station. I created these futuristic pseudo-fossils of these mundane objects in concrete, imagining that archaeologists will find them in the future.

In both works, I used a void or traces of the object to create images. For The Crescent Void, I used a photo negative in the representation of the mould. In reversed light and shadow, the negative space is re-presented in a negative image, giving an illusion of presence.

Concrete is bulky but in fact porcelain is solid and dense even though it looks very delicate. In The Remnants of Yesterday, I regard porcelain as a material to approach memory as a vulnerable yet rigid entity.

In both east and west, there has been a long history in using porcelain as a carrier for photographs, mainly portraits. The two media embrace timelessness with a memorial purpose. I try to bridge them in an alternative and experimental way.

CHT: How do you do that? There is a strong sense of materiality and craftsmanship in your work. The piece is broken and opens like a scar: when you made it, why did you keep it? SL: I directly imprint the cheongsam onto the porcelain clay slab in tracing the details of the object as a relief. The porcelain plate is so thin, only 1mm thickness; therefore it has a translucent quality. 

I used this translucent porcelain plate, like a film, for creating gelatin silver prints. When the light passes through the porcelain relief, I found interesting imagery, like an X-ray impression, unveiling the internal essence of the object. To me, it is like recasting with light. Furthermore, I experimented with the traditional darkroom technique of solarisation, as a way to create variations on the same motif in repetition.

It is a highly time-consuming, slow process. I abandoned the rapidity of camera and embrace a stubborn method. The firing process accidentally created this cracked piece, that embodies well the fragility of the story behind the work. Therefore, I decided to choose this cracked porcelain plate over all the perfect ones which took me a dozen attempts. The brokenness and the openness are complementary. I saw grandma struggling with a void in her memory. The work explores the delicate relations between the attempts to recall and the memories one can hold on to. 

My projects are often inspired by found images, from the family album or historical photographs. As soon as I found this handmade cheongsam of grandma’s featured in the first family photo, I wanted to develop a project with it. I discovered that a poetic connection between my family history and the textile industry of Hong Kong in the old days was woven into this specific object. 

CHT: The work features the cheongsam that belonged to your grandmother. For you, does this piece of clothing embody the collective memory of Hong Kong? SL: Honestly, I am quite skeptical regarding the concept of collective memory, as it sounds so coded and packaged to me. I am not interested in any empty representation of cultural symbols. I look for micro-narratives in the grand historical representation.

My grandfather owned a small textile factory in Kowloon City in the 1960 and 70s. Beautiful clothes were exported to America and worldwide, while my grandmother would use the fabric remnants to make clothes for herself and the family.

CHT: Yet you are also participating in its construction through the production of cultural images. SL: I do not intend to escape from the collective memory, as it is part of the culture. Memory is unique, even in a collective experience. 

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李卓媛是名香港藝術家，她的藝術實踐經常會探索攝影，並對這種媒介作出疑問。受家庭和日常生活的啟發，她透過各種技巧、紋理和材料塑造出恍惚的記憶，以詩歌意象捕捉時間模糊的層次。她的作品將無形和消失的事物，變成有形及常為建構出來的存在。

Caroline Ha Thuc: 為什麼你一開始會探索攝影與各種印刷方式（包括陶瓷）的關係？李卓媛：我用攝影作為媒介，但同時我亦沒有遵照攝影的原則。我視其他圖像製作為一種談判方式，不一定是針對一張照片，而是針對它所承載的歷史、文化、藝術和科技。

當時我發現自己沒有藝術創作的資源，沒有工作室，沒有藝術用品，只得一間 55 呎的共用睡房，因此我開始了攝影。我發現攝影是一件創造視覺現實的好工具，它可以同時將事物放在框框之內或之外、隱藏和揭示一些主題。

2014 年我在維也納當交換生，當時我只是要上藝術史課，但卻偷偷跑進了另一間大學的藝術工作室，把握機會創作。所有學系的學生都可以進入陶瓷工作室，所以我經常會走進去，這個經驗讓我對陶瓷和倒模有更廣闊的思考，並培養了我對材料的敏感度。我還上了排版課，讓我有機會進入版畫工作室，這就是我創作第一幅作品《序》的背景。

CHT: 《序》（2016-17年）是一件非常具原創性的作品，它的靈感來自聖經，以書籍的形式呈現出抽象的相片。你是不是想透過作品引發人們對世界起源的思考？李卓媛：[哲學家] 賈克·洪席耶在《影像的宿命》（2003年）中提出了一個問題：「世界上有無法表徵的事物嗎？真神可被表徵嗎？」我在一個基督教家庭長大，在基督教學校上學。在基督教的新教中，耶穌並沒有形象，只是由空的十字架代表，讓他在無形中可見。

在《序》中，我試圖探索這種無法表徵的概念。我將一些抽象瑣碎的雞蛋相片與講述上帝如何在七日內創造天地的《創世記》放在一起，相片描繪了從無形到有形的轉變。雞蛋的放大圖投射出一個「宇宙」，文字與相片兩種表徵系統的抗衡紀錄了一些難以想像的事物，而蝕刻版畫就將相片轉化為有質感的浮雕。

回過頭看，現在我的藝術仍能找到這件作品的影子：圖像的觸感、無形的存在、未來的歷史。

CHT: 在《缺景》（2019年）一系列中，你以士多發現物的相片進一步探索了這個概念。那些物件喚起你對外公外婆在 70 年代於柴灣經營文利商店的記憶，把士多重新呈現出來。在這件作品中，你結合了攝影和倒模，在正負空間、空虛和物質之間創造了一種持續的張力。這件作品是否想將過去推得更遠？李卓媛：是的，這就是我試圖與攝影中的時間感進行談判的方式。

我倒模的過程會消除和抽取一些事物，也比較迂迴曲折，減慢攝影的過程和時間，實實在在是一種「圖像製作」的過程。這個重新拍攝的過程會對相片提出質疑，尤其是當我以 1:1 的比例輸出時，我不禁會想：這是相片嗎？抑或是一件物件/雕塑？它到底是有形還是無形的？

空間歷史是分層的：現有的佈局、結構或建築會向你訴說過去，分享那裡曾經存在過的事物。我很著迷於無形的存在和不同的消失方式。我的作品很誠實，會直接呈現出虛空——這不是可樂，而是不存在的可樂。所有物件都指向一個不存在的空間——一間已經消失的本地商店。

我試圖用中間狀態來創造一種微妙的諷刺，相片好像似曾相識卻又非常遙遠，古舊但又充滿未來感。我在製作過程中先倒模，然後重新拍攝模具，這個過程抵消了攝影中的「決定性時刻」。

CHT: 你的最新作品名為《憶》（2022年），靈感來自外婆的旗袍，你亦從中製作了一個倒模。不過這次你用了瓷器製作這一系列的銀鹽相紙，為什麼會有改變材料的舉動？李卓媛：材料的選擇與作品的背景有關。重遊文利商店時，那裡已經變成了一面面向地鐵站的普通水泥牆。我用水泥將這些平凡的物件創造成未來的假化石，想像將來考古學家會找到它們。

在這兩件作品中，我都用了物件的空隙或痕跡來製作相片。在《缺景》中，我用了底片來顯示模具。在顛倒的光影下，負空間以負圖像再現，給人一種存在的錯覺。

雖然水泥的體積龐大，但其實看起來非常精緻的瓷器實際上卻是更堅硬密實。在《憶》中，我用了瓷器呈現記憶這種脆弱又死板的存在。

中西方以瓷器承載相片（主要是人像）的歷史非常悠久，兩種媒介都給人一種永恆流傳的感覺，於是我嘗試以一種另類的實驗方式將它們聯繫起來。

CHT: 你怎樣製作呢？你的作品有強烈的物質和工藝感，瓷片已經裂開像疤痕一樣，為什麼你會選擇留著？李卓媛：我直接將旗袍印在陶瓷片上，勾畫出物件的細節。瓷片很薄，只有 1 毫米厚，因此它看起來呈半透明狀。

我將半透明的瓷片作為底片，製作銀鹽相紙。光線穿過瓷片時，我發現了有趣的圖像，就像 X 光片揭示物件的內在本質一樣。對我來說，這就如用光重鑄一般。另外我還在傳統的黑房中使用了中途曝光的手法，在反覆的過程中製造變化。

這是一個非常耗時、緩慢的過程，我捨棄了相機的速度，改用了一種固執的方式。燒製過程意外造成了裂紋，體現了作品背後故事的脆弱，所以在試了十幾次之後，我決定在所有完美的瓷片中選用這個有裂紋的。破碎和開放的程度是相輔相成的，我看過外婆面對失憶的掙扎，這件作品探討了回想和記憶之間微妙的關係。

CHT: 作品中有一件來自你外婆的旗袍，對你來說，這件衣服是否體現了香港的集體回憶？李卓媛：老實說，我不是很同意集體回憶的概念，因為這個詞聽起來很隱晦和經過包裝。我對任何文化象徵的空洞描述沒什麼興趣，只喜歡在宏大的歷史表徵中尋找小故事。

我的作品經常受到家庭相簿的相片或歷史照片的啟發，當我在第一張全家福中看到外婆這件手造旗袍時，我就想用它來創作一件作品。我發現這件物件將我的家族歷史與香港昔日紡織業聯繫了起來。

外公在 60 和 70 年代於九龍城經營一間小型的紡織廠，將漂亮的衣服出口到美國以至世界各地，於是外婆就用剩下的布料為自己和家人做衣服。

CHT: 但你在生產文化相片的過程中也參與了集體回憶的建構。李卓媛：我無意逃避集體回憶，因為它是文化的一部分。記憶是獨一無二的，即使是集體經歷的亦同樣。

這件作品非常受到物質驅動，從旗袍的布料到瓷器的裂紋，外婆褪色的記憶與城市過去的工業交織在一起，兩個平行的敘述編織成更複雜的層次。

CHT: 在《末日方長》（2021年）一系列模糊的親友肖像中，你重新研究以前的針孔攝影技術，為什麼會有這個想法？李卓媛：在智能手機的時代，機械眼凌駕於人眼之上。這個系列反其道而行，放棄了相機的機制，反而採用一種更人性化的方式拍攝這些未來的肖像。我想回到這種方式的原因，是質疑相機以社會安全的名義成為了監控的代名詞。我將攝影的環境變成了權力的遊戲，顛覆了結構、關係和過程。

攝影定格了過去一些特定的時刻，系列挑戰了如羅蘭・巴特在《明室》中所指攝影中「已過去」的時間感。我的嘗試是尋求一種不是從人的過去而是從未來流露出來的再現，曝光的時間取決於關於未來的對話的長度。

CHT: 這聽起來很重要，暗示了另一種與現實的關係，是一個長期累積的過程，而不是一系列短暫的瞬間或事件。李卓媛：是的，電影攝影是由許多靜態相片後續的快速投影所創造的動態假象，相反地我在一個表徵中即時累積了許多靜止的瞬間，這種積累令主題模糊不清。

CHT: 為什麼你要把模特兒的私人物品變成相機？這對相片本身有什麼影響？李卓媛：我想描繪我所愛的人未來的肖像，尤其是當他們要永遠離家的時候。如果明天永遠不會到來，那麼今天我會努力從明天開始記住你。換句話說，我想與你一起分享未來。作品捕捉了這個時代的人共同的一些焦慮。

在這件作品中，每位模特兒都會將一件過去的物品交給我，由我把它們變成針孔相機，讓相機成為由過去捕捉未來的裝置。我故意違反針孔攝影的正常操作，所有移動的物件都不會拍到，又或者會變得模糊。如果要用針孔攝影來捕捉主體，人像攝影可能完全無用。作品就是在概念上探討這種描繪也無法把握的未來。

在這個過程中，模特兒會面向一個他們最熟悉的物件進行對話，與被鏡頭監視的感覺截然不同。

CHT: 不過他們仍然在針孔相機的鏡頭下，那麼他們如何重獲操控？ 李卓媛：v在新的攝影佈景下，模特兒與攝影師是平起平坐的。他們透過關於未來的對話獲得自主權，對話時間越長，針孔曝光的時間就會越長。在這個遊戲中，我捨棄了攝影師對相片的控制，不過你說得對，他們也沒有完全的控制權。

這件作品已經超出了人像攝影，它更提出了權力關係的問題。在後攝影時代，相片是新的武器。憑著先進的面部識別技術增強監控能力，我覺得我們的臉就是戰場。

CHT: 這就是你所說的後攝影嗎？李卓媛：我認為後攝影是一個從完美的視角回到未看過的世界、復原決定性的一刻，然後假裝再現出現實的過程。

在作品《Same River Twice》（2020年）中，我在 Google 地圖上回到了過去，重新體驗了一些沒有經歷過的事物，重新拍攝了過去的一瞬間。沒有人會踏入同一條河兩次，但透過藝術和科技或許可以。在後攝影時代，攝影變得永恆，因為它不再只連結特定的時刻。

CHT: 從早期作品中的「無形」概念到藝術研究中「消失」的文化語境，你有沒有受到其他思想家、藝術家或理論家的影響？李卓媛：托馬斯・德曼的紙模型攝影啟發了我要跳出相機以外思考。我從拍攝到製作，從相機內到外，從紀錄到虛構，多方面思考現實與表徵之間的關係。他作品中的「無形」影響了我的藝術實踐。

亞巴斯於香港主權移交時期所寫的《香港：消失的文化與政治》（1997年）也給我很大的啟發，他引用華特・班雅明的著作來說明人們擔心香港的生活方式、身份和文化會令他們消失——「所有你覺得即將不再在你身邊的東西將幻化成影像。」

在文化語境中，消失並不代表不出現、缺席或不在場，而是一種錯誤識別的形式，一種存在於文化表徵和自我表徵中的病態。最讓我感興趣的正正就是開發應對消失的文化或空間的技術策略。

CHT: 寫作和詩歌如何影響你的藝術創作？李卓媛：我在藝術作品中經常會透過詩意表達，從寫作到製作都有。視覺和語言形式的詩歌可以引起我的共鳴，寫作幫我鞏固作品的想法，我經常都會在聲音和物件中找到生動的詩意表達。