A Lover's Discourse. Xiaolu Guo

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СКАЧАТЬ But authorship is always an issue.

      – Didn’t Roland Barthes announce the author is dead?

      Grant settled back in his chair, and picked up one of the small figurines from his shelf. It was a dancing tribal woman and he twiddled her in his fingers. He appeared to be reflecting on something we had just discussed. He was breathing in and out heavily. This was usually a sign that he wanted to embark on a more theoretical course of conversation.

      ‘So, I’m curious, you say these workers are originally farmers without any artistic training. How did they learn to draw and to paint? I mean, what is their craftsmanship based on? If a worker makes a hand copy of a Leonardo da Vinci painting, he would need to understand perspective, anatomy, glazing, chiaroscuro and so on.’ Grant was on a roll. ‘So do they learn simply from copying? But how exactly? Do they learn the skills from their foreman?’

      My professor liked to ask questions, but didn’t seem to need my answers. He went on:

      ‘You say they are self-taught. Do they have any idea that they have been forging classical artworks and making a profit out of it?’

      ‘No. It is not forging!’ I almost laughed. ‘These artisans never claim that they are selling the original paintings. They sell reproductions. There is a huge market in the world for them – in hotels, restaurants, people’s homes.’

      I turned my head, looking around Grant’s office. There were no reproductions hanging on his walls here. But I spotted a small postcard of Hockney’s A Bigger Splash lying by his computer. I pointed to the postcard.

      ‘For example, that is a reproduction, not a forged copy.’

      ‘Yes, I understand. But authorship is always an issue,’ Grant claimed.

      ‘Didn’t Roland Barthes announce the author is dead? So what the Chinese artisans are enacting is a postmodern phenomenon. They interpret Western paintings with their own eyes and hands.’

      ‘Even if Barthes is right, that does not affect issues of intellectual property rights.’

      ‘Exactly, property rights! What a bourgeois concept!’ I found myself speaking like a little Red Guard from Mao’s time.

      Grant stared at me, with a look of irritation, and said in a slightly clipped tone:

      ‘Okay, it looks like we’ll have to agree to disagree.’

      I didn’t reply. Because I didn’t understand what he meant by we’ll have to agree to disagree.

      A Landscape Architect

      – But aren’t landscape and architecture opposite concepts?

      – No. That’s like saying love and marriage are opposite concepts.

      The hay fever season continued into the early summer. Everyone in England seemed to be red-eyed and sneezing. It was as if the whole nation was weeping out of some collective grief. The book club met again for the second and last time on a Saturday afternoon. No one wanted to talk about the book we were supposed to discuss this time either. Instead the topic of conversation was the new prime minister, who had come to power after the referendum. I listened with some interest but had nothing to contribute. And I noticed you holding the book but not engaging in the conversation. You were unshaven, but pleasing to the eye.

      I turned to you. ‘I never asked what you do for your work.’

      ‘I’m a landscape architect.’

      Oh. I thought for a moment. This was a new concept for me. I had not met a proper landscape architect before, but plenty of humble gardeners and builders in China. Then, uncertain, I said:

      ‘But aren’t landscape and architecture opposite concepts?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Architecture is invented by people who want to change the landscape. But landscape doesn’t need architects.’

      ‘No.’ Your blue-green eyes locked on to me. ‘That’s like saying love and marriage are opposite concepts.’

      Ah. But aren’t love and marriage opposite concepts? I wondered. Only fools would get married. Maybe you were a fool, I would find out.

      ‘So tell me, what does a landscape architect do?’ I asked.

      ‘Like a gardener, we design outdoor spaces, like community gardens, public parks, children’s playgrounds, with details such as where the cars park and where to locate flower beds.’

      The women from the reading group were leaving. We stood up, hugging them goodbye. Now only you and I were left on the sofa. You asked:

      ‘So what will you do after finishing your PhD?’

      What a question. The British only granted me a three-year visa. And then what? Would I find a job here? Or could I go back to China, with my non-practical qualifications? Should I talk to you about this? I wondered. We didn’t know much about each other yet. And, perhaps, you might think I was just like all those Chinese who come here purely with practical aims. Few of them show any imaginative life during their time overseas. That’s how Chinese people appear to Western people – in America, in Britain, in Italy, in Spain. Everywhere in the world. Young Chinese students study hard, while old Chinese people work hard. Faceless and voiceless. Should I talk to you about this? Was this a pressing matter for me? The truth was, I had no one to talk to in this country. This was not my country. I knew very few people here.

      In the pub, as I was about to reply, a football match started on a giant TV screen above us. Liverpool versus Arsenal? I had thought arsenal was a weapon factory, I didn’t know it was a football place too. The noise level became unbearable. I stared at the screen, and thought I could never become an English person. Let alone an English football fan.

      爱屋及乌 – ài wū jí wū

      – In Chinese we say, 爱屋及乌 – ài wū jí wū. Which means if you love your mansion you’ll love the magpie too.

      – Why? What’s the connection between mansion and magpie?

      – In Chinese ‘mansion’ and ‘magpie’ have the same ­pronounciation – wū.

      A room with a view was not my first concern. But a warm bedroom upstairs (no matter how small) with a south-facing window was my basic need in England. After a desperate period of searching, I found a top-floor flat on Richmond Road with two bedrooms. One of the flatmates had decided to go back to Spain. Apparently he was not keen to live in Brexit Britain. The rent was reasonable. I decided I would take it. The other flatmate was a post-doc student, from Italy. She didn’t mind the situation in the UK. ‘Naples is worse, so I can’t complain!’ Besides, she was writing a thesis on Swinging Sixties. ‘Thank God I got myself out from Naples. I love London. A great city,’ she said, while cooking some ravioli in the kitchen.

      There was only one bookshelf in the living room. Our books were mixed together. After a few nights, I discovered that she only took my books to read at bedtime, and I, too, took her books to read at night. We both discovered our perfect books to fall asleep with.

      Since meeting you, I had bought two books about Germany. One СКАЧАТЬ