马奈的白

读毕，看到封面那幅马奈的画作，突然触发泪点。二十余载，他流亡海外，不知父亲生死。而他终究无法确定他父亲的死期。经过多方求证，他推测那是1996年6月29日，in the massacre of Abu Salim。那年，他父亲57岁，他25岁。那年那日，他远在伦敦，在National Gallery看到了马奈的The Execution of Maximilian:

面对如此惊人的巧合，他如是说：“It would be hard to think of a painting that better evokes the inconclusive fate of my father and the men who died in Abu Salim. Learning of the fact that my unknowing 25-year-old self was guided, whether by reason or instinct, to this picture on the same day as the massacre unnerved me and has since changed my relationship to all the works of this French artist who, somewhere in Proust’s novels, is described as the painter of countless portraits of vanished models, “models who already belonged to oblivion or to history.” ”

“Today, whenever I see a Manet, the white, his white, which is unlike any other white, cannot be a cloud, a tablecloth or a woman’s dress but will always remain the white leather belts of the firing squad in The Execution of Maximilian.”

半个月前，我初识Prof. Matar，他温柔和蔼，言谈幽默，在HMart采购也不忘捎上几支含苞待放的花束。跟着他逛the Met时，他压低着声音介绍他心爱的画作，投入得好像未出象牙塔的艺术史学生。我记得我们路过了一幅马奈，是一个年轻士兵的画像。白，马奈的白，那个士兵腰带上的白，还会让他想起他父亲的牺牲吗？一想到这里，一想到他如今的云淡风轻，我便无法将我认识的他和书中描绘的他的过去相联系。他一度写道，

“When Qaddafi took my father, he placed me in a space not much bigger than the cell Father was in. I paced back and forth, anger in one direction, hatred in the other, until I could feel my insides grow small and hard.” Because that’s how “power” works, “You make a man disappear to silence him but also to narrow the minds of those left behind, to pervert soul and limit their imagination.”

我无法想象他是如何度过那些时日的，Qaddafi之子为拉拢他，先承诺会告诉他真相，而后几个月消失不见、音讯全无。那段被动等待的岁月，那段抗争无果的岁月，那段频频幻灭的岁月，他是怎么过来的？好想安慰他，但不知从何说起。我想，他父亲的话是他的疗愈：“Work and survive.” 望向他的眼睛，温柔的底色是坚强。