旅行的藝術(shù):旅行中的特定場(chǎng)所-6

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黃昏時(shí)分，汽車(chē)沿著盤(pán)旋的公路穿行于大片森林之中。車(chē)頭燈的強(qiáng)光，不時(shí)射在路旁大片的草地和路旁的樹(shù)干上，以至于每塊樹(shù)皮和每根草莖的形貌都清晰可辨。在森林里，車(chē)燈的光線慘白、強(qiáng)烈，似乎更適用于醫(yī)院病房。汽車(chē)?yán)@過(guò)彎，車(chē)燈照在似在昏睡的路面上，這些草地和樹(shù)干又沒(méi)入一片黑暗中。

As the car slips along a winding road through the woods at dusk, its powerful headlamps momentarily light up whole sections of meadow and tree trunks, so brightly that the texture of the bark and individual stalks of grass can be made out in a clinical white light better suited to a hospital ward than woodland, and then dip them back into the undifferentiated murkiness as the car rounds the corner and the beams turn their attention to another patch of slumbering ground.

一路上很少見(jiàn)到別的車(chē)輛，偶爾碰到的，也是迎面來(lái)的，亮著車(chē)燈，像是在逃離其身后夜的黑暗。車(chē)內(nèi)昏暗，儀表板發(fā)出紫色的光。突然，在前方一塊空闊地上出現(xiàn)一片亮光——是一個(gè)加油站。這是這條公路駛?cè)脒@最茂密也是最大的一片森林之前的最后一個(gè)加油站，再往前方，一切都將落入黑夜的掌心——這就是油畫(huà)《加油站》所表現(xiàn)的場(chǎng)景。加油站的管理員離開(kāi)了房間，在油泵前檢查汽油存量。房間內(nèi)溫暖明亮，燈光強(qiáng)烈，一如正午的煦陽(yáng)正撒滿室外的大院。室內(nèi)也許還有一只收音機(jī)在開(kāi)著。管理室靠墻處，除了有糖點(diǎn)、雜志、地圖和車(chē)用窗簾，也許還整齊地?cái)[著一排油桶。

There are few other cars on the road, only an occasional set of lights moving in the opposite direction, away from the night. The car's instrument panel casts a purple glow over the darkened interior. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, a floodlit expanse appears: a petrol station, the last before the road heads off into the longest, densest stretch of forest and night completes its hold over the land-Gas (1940). The manager has left his cabin to check the level on a pump. It is warm inside and light as brilliant as that of the midday sun washes across the forecourt. A radio may be playing. There may be cans of oil neatly lined up against one wall, along with sweets, magazines, maps and window cloths.

和十三年前創(chuàng)作的《自動(dòng)販賣(mài)店》一樣，《加油站》表現(xiàn)的也是一種孤獨(dú)：一座加油站獨(dú)立于越來(lái)越濃的暮色中。在霍珀的畫(huà)筆下，這種孤獨(dú)同樣呈現(xiàn)得強(qiáng)烈深刻且令人神往。畫(huà)布右邊像霧一樣開(kāi)始蔓延的黑暗同加油站形成鮮明對(duì)照，黑暗是恐懼的信使，而加油站是安全的象征。夜幕降臨之際，在這處在原始森林邊緣的人類(lèi)最后的一個(gè)駐足點(diǎn)，應(yīng)該比白天的城市更容易讓人生出親近的感覺(jué)?？Х葯C(jī)和雜志，作為人類(lèi)小小的欲望和虛榮的象征，對(duì)應(yīng)著加油站外寬闊無(wú)垠的非人類(lèi)的世界和綿亙數(shù)英里的森林，而在這森林里，不時(shí)還可以聽(tīng)見(jiàn)熊和狐貍腳下樹(shù)枝的斷裂聲。畫(huà)作給人的暗示可謂意味深長(zhǎng)：在一份雜志的封面上，用鮮亮的粉紅色突出著今年夏天流行紫色指甲油的信息；咖啡機(jī)對(duì)我們發(fā)出無(wú)聲的呼喚：正在播散新鮮烘焙的咖啡豆的芳香。在這公路即將進(jìn)入無(wú)邊森林的最后一站，我們會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)自己同他人之間的共通性遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)超出差異性。

Like Automat , painted thirteen years before it, Gas is a picture of isolation. A petrol station stands on its own in the impending darkness. But in Hopper's hands, the isolation is once again made poignant and enticing. The darkness that spreads like a fog from the right of the canvas, a harbinger of fear, contrasts with the security of the station. Against the backdrop of night and wild woods, in this last outpost of humanity, a sense of kinship may be easier to develop than in daylight in the city. The coffee machine and magazines, tokens of small human desires and vanities, stand in opposition to the wide non-human world outside, to the miles of forest in which branches crack occasionally under the footfall of bears and foxes. There is something touching in the suggestion-made in bold pink on the cover of one magazine-that we paint our nails purple this summer and in the invocation above the coffee machine to sample the aroma of freshly roasted beans. In this last stop before the road enters the endless forest, it is what we have in common with others that looms larger than what separates us.

愛(ài)德華·霍珀：《加油站》，1940年