歷史/時代
2024 實體與數位同步
本書榮獲國家人權博物館繪本首獎,以戒嚴時期為背景,透過虛實交錯的圖像與實驗性文字,描繪威權體制下無名者的沉默與創傷。以藝術打開對人權、記憶與社會的深刻對話。
This book received the top prize from the National Human Rights Museum’s “Story of an Island” Picture Book Workshop. Set during Taiwan’s martial law era, it uses a fusion of surreal imagery and experimental narrative to depict the silence and trauma of the unnamed under authoritarian rule. Through art, it opens a space for deep reflection on human rights, memory, and society.
喜歡繪本、喜歡畫畫、喜歡顏料的味道、喜歡充滿時間感的事物、還有這塊土地,想慢慢地觀察與感受,並用畫筆畫出喜歡的故事。
Loves picture books, loves to draw, loves the smell of paint, and loves things that carry a sense of time—and this land, too. She hopes to observe and feel everything slowly, then paint the stories she loves with care.
車子什麼時候經過? 人影什麼時候出現? 聲音什麼時候不見? 那一天,沒有人發現── 也或許,是害怕發現,害怕被發現 國家人權博物館「畫話:一座島嶼的故事」人權教育繪本工作坊第三屆首獎之作,以臺灣戒嚴時期為基礎,勾勒一段似假還真的故事──關於集體的、個人的土地記憶,關於威權侵入性地在許許多多的家族史、生命史,被迫演出一段真實而荒誕的戲齣。在這之中,每一幕充斥著不能言說、深不可見的沉默、孤獨與黝黑……。 作者陳威諺透過文本與圖像的實驗,在大量的探問照路之下,試圖摸索:我們要發現什麼?我們會發現什麼?是誰害怕發現?又是誰害怕被發現?甚至是,為什麼有那麼多的迴避?以及,為什麼有那麼多的未知?而當我們直接面對,揭開了那些被封藏的生命,之後呢? 他在書中鋪陳一段看似平靜無波實則暗潮洶湧的無名氏人生戲齣,也在這段人生戲齣裡拋出一個又一個疑問;那是和讀者的對話,也是和自我的對話,更是台灣人與臺灣社會的對話──人權的價值不分年代,民主的實踐並非唾手可得,我們在這本繪本裡打開了對話的機會,一起用藝術和文學去探勘、發現過往裡,威權體制下的受難者群像和威權體制的各種戕害;看清楚威權體制留在每一個家族、每一個生命裡的傷痕有多少、深淺如何,然後我們才有機會治療這些傷痕,集體的斷裂與痛也才有機會癒合,進而記取經驗,在未來成為更好的我們。 本書特色 ★國家人權博物館「畫話:一座島嶼的故事」人權教育繪本工作坊第三屆首獎之作。 ★虛實交錯的圖像與空缺主受詞的文本實驗,跨越閱讀年齡界限,試圖觸發更多對於議題的對話機會。
"When did the car pass? When did the figure appear? When did the sound disappear? That day, no one noticed— or maybe they were afraid to notice, afraid to be noticed." This award-winning picture book is based on Taiwan’s martial law period. Through a story that blurs fiction and reality, it explores collective and personal memories, and how authoritarian power intrudes on family and life stories. Each scene is filled with silence, isolation, and shadows. Author Chen Wei-Yen experiments with fragmented text and ambiguous visuals to raise questions: What are we discovering? Who fears discovery? Why so much avoidance, so many unknowns? This book stages a quietly turbulent life and invites dialogue—with the reader, the self, and Taiwanese society—about the lingering wounds of authoritarianism, and how art and literature can begin healing and remembering.