2022
Kaohsiung Film Festival
TAIWAN FILM competition (nominated)
TAIWAN FILM competition (nominated)
Student Animation competition (nominated)
以溫柔而又沉重的方式帶我們走進來黃榮燦悲慘的人生，他被困在白色恐怖空間裡，只能幻想著本該擁有的未來，六張梨亂葬崗上的“不詳”更是提醒我們應該要記得被遺忘的生命值得被記住。
影片主角的原型應該是黃榮燦，一個1952年被處死的版畫家。但這部片真正恐怖的地方不是背後真實人物的故事，而是導演蓋住他的名字，採用「不詳」。 觀眾若從那數千個受難者名字中任意擇一填入影片標題，只要微調性別年紀外貌，這部片的內容都仍成立。而這些能被當代的觀眾填入的名字只是有幸被記得的一小部分而已，剩下的「不詳」是我們再怎麼搜集史料甚至不惜虛構，都無法想起的記憶。 以前的台灣人「害怕想起來」，但更年輕一代的台灣人面臨的是更難的問題：當我們鼓起勇氣去面對歷史時，卻發現我們已經沒有能力想起來了。 珞亦去年有一集podcast訪談過共生青年的秘書，來賓提到他有一次約了一個受難家屬的訪談，然後他在訪談前一晚接到對方過世的消息。這種「連自己失去了什麼都不知道」的無力感，就是這部片給我的感覺。
某次市政考察，彼時尚在苗博雅議員辦公室工作的黃信瑋導演首次造訪六張犁公墓。低矮的石碑散列在雜草叢生的土丘，這裡有兩百餘座墓塚屬於戒嚴時代的受難者。被眼前所見震撼的黃信瑋開始思考，如果這些被埋葬於此的受難者能活到今日，台灣是否會生長成不同的模樣？
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Those stifled thoughts, arts, and cultures once withered in the corners without a sound, only to sprout again after the darkness. Under a government warped out of shape, people find themselves enclosed in layers of fear. So is it cogito, ergo sum—I think, therefore I am—or is it only when I speak that I truly exist?
When the slogans fall silent and the crowds disperse, the events do not truly end. They remain in gravestones, letters, streets, and bodies, finding their voices again through the gaze of each new generation. Rather than closing the book on the past, these moving images ask: How do we remember those who were forced into oblivion? And in this unfinished present, how might we continue to imagine the possibility of living together?
Sometimes, you’re drawn back to the scene by an unseen force—treading carefully, almost fearfully. The crime scenes where bloodstains have long been washed away, the streets where fervent slogans have faded, and the lives forever frozen in a single moment of history—all compel creators to pick up the pen, to lift the camera, and to tell their stories in countless ways. Rooted in reality, the act of creation becomes a delicate balance. Is it a faithful record, an excavation of truth? A transformation of reality? Or a search for meaning in the present? Imagination may run wild, but what is the thread that keeps pulling him back—again and again—to the real?
“As the saying goes, in martial arts, speed is everything.” To me, short animation is more than a space for experimentation and self-training—it’s where ideas are rapidly tested within limited duration, using refined visuals and sound to cut straight to the essence of storytelling. One night, I watched several shorts in a row—dreamlike and surreal, blending the absurd with realism, tenderness, and wit. Though brief and diverse in style, they leave a lasting emotional and intellectual resonance. They convinced me that short animation is a contemporary craft of speed, precision, and impact—striking straight to the core.
Across hand-drawn animation, stop motion, and digital imagery, Taiwan’s emerging animation directors give new form to bodies, memories, and everyday life. In response to the question “Who are we?”, each filmmaker begins from their own position, allowing the island’s diverse and vital experiences to offer their own answers through moving images.