《生命树》以摄影为媒介，通过记录贵州苗族社区中“树”所承载的个体记忆、集体信仰与文化实践，探讨在中国城乡流动背景下，人与自然、与故乡之间精神联结的变迁与危机。本项目不仅旨在完成一组具有人类学视野的纪实影像，更希望搭建一个让人驻足回望的空间，重新审视我们共有的文化记忆与生态伦理。
我的童年始终与家乡的树缠绕在一起：爬树、摘果、抓蝉、荡秋千……它们构成了我最初的世界。承载我最多记忆的那棵龙眼树，在五年前被砍掉。当我站在那片空地上拍下照片时，才意识到树的倒下不仅是一段生活记忆的终结，更是与故乡之间某种联结的断裂。这份失落促使我追问：当稳定的精神秩序被动摇，我们该如何安放与土地相连的记忆与情感？为此，我前往贵州月亮山区的苗寨——一个将树深度融入生命观的地方。在那里，孩子出生时种下“生命树”，祈福时搭设“消灾树”，成家时以树木建房，逝者坟前插上“常青树”。树木贯穿个体生命的全程，形成一套完整的、将生命轨迹锚定于土地的文化体系。
然而，这块避世桃源背后同样也有缝隙。深居山中，交通闭塞，青壮年外出务工，留守现象非常严重。被迫背井离乡外出打工，是否能真正地解决他们的问题？信息通过一个小小的手机流动得相当迅速，这种可见的不同他们是如何应对的？当年轻人不再相信树神的庇护，当“消灾树”、“生命树”的习俗逐渐被遗忘，苗族的树文化会走向哪里？树可以百年长青，但依附于树的文化呢？
我想起了老家被砍的那棵龙眼树——我们失去的不仅仅是树木本身，还有与之相连的情感和记忆。而当我们砍倒一棵树时，我们切断的，或许是一段尚未讲述的故事。我希望《生命树》能超越个人乡愁与单一文化叙事，指向一个更具普遍性的现代困境——我们与故乡、与土地的联结正变得脆弱，与之共生的记忆与精神栖息地正在消失。在快速流动的时代里，我们是否还能找到那棵属于自己、能够安放乡愁的树？当最后一棵“生命树”倒下时，我们失去的，会是什么？
My childhood was inextricably linked to trees - climbing trees, picking fruits, catching cicadas, and swinging from branches. They shaped my first world. The longan tree that held my most cherished memories was cut down five years ago. When I stood on the empty ground, I realized that its fall not just the end of a chapter in my life but the severing of a my link to hometown.
That loss compelled me to ask: The tree has disappeared from my hometown. But what about the trees where the tree is worshipped as a god? This led me to the Miao villages in the Moon Mountain region, where trees are deeply woven into life’s fabric. There, a "Tree of Life" is planted at a child's birth, a "Tree of Disaster Relief" built for for blessings, and an "Evergreen Tree" marks a final resting place. Trees accompany individuals throughout their lives, forming a comprehensive cultural system that anchors personal life paths to the land.
However, there are also cracks behind this paradise - poor transportation, scarce resources, and an exodus of young people. In the villages I visited, the working-age population was hard to find; only the elderly and children remained. Can their struggles be truly solved by being forced to go out to work? How do they cope with the visible difference in the flow of information via mobile phones? Trees may live for centuries, but what about the culture built around them? When young people no longer believe in the protection of tree gods, and when customs like the ‘tree of disaster-dispelling’ and the ‘tree of life’ fade, where will the tree culture of the Miao go?
I think of the longan tree that was cut down in my hometown - what we have lost is not only the tree itself, but also the emotions and memories tied to it. When we cut down a tree, we sever a story yet to be told. Moving beyond personal nostalgia or a singular cultural narrative, I hope the project can point to a more universal predicament that we face amidst China's urban-rural migration: our connection to hometown and earth is becoming increasingly fragile, while the memories and spiritual habitats associated with them are disappearing. In this era of rapid flux, can we still find a tree to root our longing for home? When the last "Tree of Life" falls, what will we lost?
