在原生態(tài)的村里，遙想當(dāng)年

郭聞

半年來，從他的微信里可以看到，他正自由地奔跑在中國(guó)的大地上，去敦煌拍莫高窟，去山西五臺(tái)山拍寺廟，去福建拍土樓……認(rèn)識(shí)中國(guó)文化，認(rèn)識(shí)傳統(tǒng)鄉(xiāng)村，認(rèn)識(shí)我們的鄉(xiāng)愁，認(rèn)識(shí)我們的來處與去向。

中國(guó)有句古話，叫“四十不惑”。許志偉，這個(gè)40歲出頭的杭州男人，在這個(gè)年紀(jì)找到了自己余生的方向，毅然辭去很多人眼中的“金飯碗”，用相機(jī)記錄中國(guó)的傳統(tǒng)文化。

前20年從警，守護(hù)世間平安;以后的日子，他想用自己的力量守護(hù)中國(guó)的文化傳承。

（一）

許志偉是個(gè)狠人，做事、做人都很認(rèn)真的狠人。

有一年，七月的烈日暴曬下，準(zhǔn)噶爾盆地地表溫度突破50攝氏度，空氣都因高溫而隱隱扭曲、模糊。一個(gè)男人背著幾乎遮住整個(gè)背的攝影包，往遠(yuǎn)處的一個(gè)土坡走去……

我知道，這一場(chǎng)景會(huì)成為我一輩子的回憶，不會(huì)遺忘。

15年前，我和許志偉一起去新疆采訪，路過準(zhǔn)噶爾盆地卡拉麥里保護(hù)區(qū)的時(shí)候，他看見路邊一土坡上有許多小洞，洞口隱隱出沒著旱獺的小腦袋。素來喜愛動(dòng)物攝影的他立刻要求停車去拍攝。

7月的戈壁荒漠，烈日炙烤，一覽無余，在露天喘口氣都會(huì)覺得嘴里的水分在飛速地蒸發(fā)。

我說：“不如你搖下車窗用長(zhǎng)焦拍吧，外面太熱了。”

他想了想說：“我還是下去拍吧，你在車?yán)锏任??！?/p>

于是，我躲在開著空調(diào)的車?yán)铮兄鞴?，隔著窗呆呆地看著他遠(yuǎn)去。等到他再回到車上的時(shí)候，整個(gè)人已經(jīng)曬成了紅殼蝦，撤下包，背上的衣服已浸透汗水。一坐下來一瓶水就全喝完了。吐出口氣，他郁悶地說：“沒拍到，看我走近，這些小東西全鉆進(jìn)洞里了?！?/p>

（二）

許志偉喜歡把事情做到極致。剛認(rèn)識(shí)他的時(shí)候，他正癡迷于野生鳥類攝影。但他不像別人那樣，只追珍稀動(dòng)物?？傆X得，相對(duì)于能夠拍到珍稀動(dòng)物，他更享受這種追逐拍攝的過程。

做過動(dòng)物攝影的人都知道，相比其他門類，拍動(dòng)物要艱苦許多。除了對(duì)器材要求更高外，需要攝影師有更多的耐心、更多的愛心、更強(qiáng)的體能、更鎮(zhèn)定的心理，越挫越勇的意志力……那段時(shí)間，他總喜歡和我說拍攝過程中碰到的事。

大過年的，他晃蕩在徽州山野，就為了邂逅白腿小隼——傳說中“會(huì)飛的大熊貓”。

“我跟你說啊，這種小肥鳥實(shí)在太可愛了，從表情到形象都像大熊貓。粗短的毛茸茸的腿，能想像它們會(huì)飛嗎？你看你看這一家子，小鳥在向爸爸媽媽討吃的，表情多生動(dòng)……”他手點(diǎn)著照片，絮絮叨叨地說著，就好像那一窩小鳥是他家養(yǎng)的。

所以，在新疆廣袤的戈壁奔馳的時(shí)候，他時(shí)而一指頭頂：“看，燕隼！”還沒等我從明晃晃的天空中找到芝麻般大的鳥兒，他又一指路邊：“等我，我要拍一下?！蹦鞘侵恍陆畮r蜥，它出來曬太陽(yáng)了。蜥蜴是冷血?jiǎng)游铮瑫?huì)隨著外界氣溫變化而變化體溫。戈壁早晚溫差大，這會(huì)兒是中午，它就會(huì)出洞來曬太陽(yáng)，讓體溫上升，活動(dòng)開手腳后就可以吃東西了。隨著他的解說，我看見蜥蜴抬起右腳曬了曬腳底心，隔了一會(huì)兒，又抬起左腳曬腳底。

過沙漠的時(shí)候，耳邊總傳來蟬的鳴叫聲。我疑惑地望望地上一叢叢的梭梭草，看看遠(yuǎn)處稀落的紅柳，奇怪地問：“怎么會(huì)有蟬呢？”“那是響尾蛇尾巴發(fā)出的聲音，用于警告?！焙退鲂?，就是這么的長(zhǎng)見識(shí)。只是，見識(shí)總是不那么容易得來。

（三）

慢慢地，許志偉又開始從風(fēng)光攝影和野生動(dòng)物攝影轉(zhuǎn)向人文攝影，并且，開始成為一個(gè)堅(jiān)定的傳統(tǒng)文化的記錄者和守護(hù)者。

轉(zhuǎn)變的起因，在我看來，還是源于他一次次地去徽州地區(qū)拍小鳥、拍老房子、拍油菜花……

“你不知道啊，有一年大過年的，我在山里轉(zhuǎn)，想拍傳統(tǒng)的過年風(fēng)俗。村民碰到我的時(shí)候都很同情我，以為我有什么事想不開獨(dú)自在山里轉(zhuǎn)悠。有個(gè)老大爺硬是邀請(qǐng)我去他家過年……”

去了無數(shù)次后，他熟悉了那里的鄉(xiāng)村，找到了那兒的鄉(xiāng)野美食，也找到了流傳千百年卻漸漸沒落的耕讀傳家、田園理想。

“我去拍老房子，能找到的成片古民居，一年比一年少。心里總是擔(dān)心，下次再去，這些老房子是不是還在……”許志偉說，這些年，他拍的許多照片都成了“絕片”。與世界各地面臨的狀況一樣，那些曾經(jīng)散落在鄉(xiāng)野間的廊橋、民居、老手藝，那些漸行漸遠(yuǎn)的鄉(xiāng)土中國(guó)，那些可以把酒話桑麻，最具體、最地道的人間煙火，或是因?yàn)楹樗鹊刭|(zhì)災(zāi)害，或是因?yàn)闊o人繼承等原因，漸漸消失、失傳。

忽然有一天，他的微信上曬出了一封辭職信，脫下了穿了20年的警服，在人到中年之時(shí)，離開了自己熟悉的領(lǐng)域，任著性子去做自己喜歡的事情。在很多人眼里這是件充滿不確定性的事，但他卻說，人生的出場(chǎng)順序的確很重要，但其實(shí)只要不中途退場(chǎng)，盡管去努力好了，最壞的結(jié)果不過是大器晚成。

他從手機(jī)里翻出一張圖表，上面是中國(guó)傳統(tǒng)村落名單，足足4000多處?！拔乙呀?jīng)跑了1000多個(gè)了。”他說，如果不辭職，就需要認(rèn)真地上班，那要到幾時(shí)才能拍完這些村子呀？

（四）

在行走鄉(xiāng)村的過程中，許志偉漸漸從一個(gè)中國(guó)傳統(tǒng)文化的門外漢，進(jìn)化成為專業(yè)者。

2014年的時(shí)候，他做了個(gè)人公號(hào)“守藝”，記錄他采訪和拍攝過的古居建筑、民間手工藝、器物，上至被列入世界保護(hù)名錄的非遺項(xiàng)目，下至鄉(xiāng)野流傳千百年的鄉(xiāng)村民俗。他說，應(yīng)該致敬的是，在這個(gè)飛速發(fā)展的世界里，依然愿意聽從內(nèi)心安排的匠人們，是他們讓中國(guó)傳統(tǒng)手作中的唯一和雋永被重新認(rèn)知;也應(yīng)該感謝生活的安排，讓我們尚能遇到那些或簡(jiǎn)約清雅或錦瑟儂華的老房子。它們能幸存下來，有天意百般眷顧，有百姓拼盡人事。哪怕離家千里，數(shù)代之后，這些古建筑的存在，總能提醒我們，不忘祖宗來處，記得子孫去向。

一種文化，它展現(xiàn)出的是對(duì)生活的全方面滲透。所以，了解和傳承中國(guó)傳統(tǒng)文化，光是關(guān)注于器物建筑或是非遺的保護(hù)都是遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)不夠的。

他還是個(gè)吃貨，他曾經(jīng)一臉夸張地跟我說：帶你去徽州，吃最地道的徽菜，看最原生態(tài)的村子，遙想當(dāng)年風(fēng)物，山水如斯，伊人不改。

是的，他有資本說這句話。春天的時(shí)候，他去鄉(xiāng)野采風(fēng)給我捎來一捆臘筍，燉肉吃后怎么形容呢？就一個(gè)字：香。

半年來，我從他的微信看到，他正自由地奔跑在中國(guó)的大地上，去敦煌拍莫高窟，去山西五臺(tái)山拍寺廟，去福建拍土樓……

如果你有他的微信，你會(huì)在他的微信上認(rèn)識(shí)中國(guó)文化，認(rèn)識(shí)傳統(tǒng)鄉(xiāng)村，認(rèn)識(shí)我們的鄉(xiāng)愁、認(rèn)識(shí)我們的來處與去向。

（本文圖片由許志偉拍攝）

I have known photographer Xu Zhiwei for many years. hard working is his most outstanding aspect of his personality as testified by a scene of fifteen years ago I remember so clearly. Xu and I were on an assignment in Xinjiang. We were driving past the Kalamaili Nature Reserve at the edge of East Junggar Basin when we spotted some marmots peeping out at us from a row of small holes in a slope not very far from the highway. It was July and it was scorching. Xu wanted to photograph these lovely rodents. He turned down my suggestion that he stay in the car and take shots through the car window. He stepped out and walked slowly toward the slope. He carried a huge backpack inside which were his camera and other equipment. When he came back into the car， he looked sunburned. His back was all drenched with sweat. He drank a whole bottle of water without a stop. He said disappointedly he had not taken a single shot. The marmots disappeared inside the holes and stayed unseen after seeing him approach.

When I first met Xu Zhiwei， he was a policeman， but he neither patrolled streets nor cracked crime cases. He did a desk job. It was his hobby to take nature photos. Back then he spent a lot of time photographing wild birds. He says what he likes most about outdoor journeys is not the photos he can show. He likes the process. He says a wildlife photographer needs patience， courage， a strong body and a calm psyche. I have learned a lot about his trips and about wildlife.

However， Xu Zhiwei shifted his attention from nature and wildlife to culture a few years now. Part of his attention now focuses on villages that are disappearing. The first step he took in this shifting occurred in the southern Anhui Province some years ago. It was during the Spring Festival time. He was journeying thorough a mountain in a bid to photograph how local people celebrated the traditional Chinese New Year. Villagers he encountered at first looked at him with sympathy， thinking he was wandering aimlessly simply because he had run into some difficulties in life. A grandpa even forced him into home to take part in some Spring Festival festivities. After numerous visits to the region， he became intimately acquainted with local lifestyle. He fell in love with the lyrical rural landscape.

To his alarm， he noticed that it was becoming more and more difficult to photograph complete rows of old houses as they were dismantled at a fast rate. Some old villages he photographed have disappeared or deserted. Many of his village photos are the only ones of their kind in this world. Some photos are the only visual records of the villages that have vanished. He isnt happy about these photos. “Id rather I didnt have them. They had been there for hundreds of years even before the invention of photography. Why cant they continue to exist？ If we cant foresee what lies ahead， we need to understand where we came from，” Xu thinks.

Xu Zhiwei has long since become a specialist of Chinese culture. In 2014， he started a public account on a social media where he regularly publishes photos of ancient villages， folk arts and crafts， and objects from rural life.

After working at the police department for 20 years， he made up his mind in the middle of a meeting in August 2019 to resign in order to devote himself to his mission. In his mobile phone is a list of about 4，000 traditional villages across China. He has visited about 1，000. He aims to visit them all. “How could I photograph them all if I hadnt resigned？” He is racing against time， for he has learned from somewhere that averagely 1.6 villages disappear per day in China. With these villages disappearing at this rate， he knows that he wouldnt have the time to cover them all. He hopes to do what he can. Of course， what he wants to photograph is more than these villages. He has a lot to catch up as a full-time photographer. Even before his resignation， he did not have time to photograph some big historical places such as Dunhuang.

Over the past six months， I have followed his journeys across the country. I marvel at what he sees and experiences. Of all the thoughts I have about Xu Zhiwei， one thing is clear： It isnt his capability that makes what he is. It is his choice.