延燒：火與我的創作 | Still Burning: Fire and My Practice

4/30/2026

延燒：火與我的創作 | Still Burning: Fire and My Practice

原文刊載於1993/10/3，《自由時報》

Originally published on October 3, 1993, Liberty Times

烤火

By the Fire

文◎林葆靈

By LIN Bao Ling

寒冷的晚上，在院子裡的土窯裡生起一堆火，再搬張椅子或是搬個板凳坐在火前，靜靜地看著火焰的變化，是我很喜歡的一件事。

On cold evenings, I would light a fire in the earthen kiln in our yard, then move a chair or a small stool to sit in front of it. Quietly watching the changing flames was something I loved very much.

生火少不了木材，但我們不用像古人那樣「上山砍材」，只要到附近的木材行取其廢木料即可。

Firewood is essential for making a fire, but we didn’t have to “go up the mountains to chop wood” like people in the old days. We could simply collect discarded wood from a nearby lumber shop.

大部分的小朋友，大概都喜歡玩火，但是有些住在都市的小孩都無處可玩很是無奈。想我以前也是個不折不扣的台北小孩，最喜歡停電了，因為只有那時，爸媽才會點蠟燭，，我才有小小的火苗可觀賞。幸好後來遷居鄉下，爸爸買了一棟古老的土角厝、房子前面，還有六、七十坪的院子，使我能在院子裡縱情的烤火、看火、玩火。

Most children probably enjoy playing with fire, but some kids who grow up in the city have no place to do so, which can be frustrating. I used to be a true Taipei kid myself. My favorite moments were power outages, because only then would my parents light candles, giving me a small flame to watch. Fortunately, we later moved to the countryside. My father bought an old earthen house with a spacious yard in front, which allowed me to freely make fires, watch them, and play with them.

據說，看火可以紓解壓力，如果沒有地方可以生火的話，掛張火的圖片或照片，也一樣有用，不過我是沒有什麼壓力啦，我烤火純粹好玩而已。

It is said that watching fire can relieve stress. If there’s no place to make a fire, even hanging a picture or photograph of fire can have a similar effect. As for me, I didn’t really have much stress—I simply enjoyed making fires for fun.

如果晚上有客人來訪，爸爸大都招呼他們到院子的土窯旁，生上一堆火，大家圍坐在火邊，談天說地。也可以順便烤地瓜，或烤甘蔗，或把大鐵鍋架在土窯上，煮些東西，大家一邊吃邊聊，氣氛相當不錯。

When guests visited in the evening, my father would usually invite them to gather around the earthen kiln in the yard. We would light a fire, sit around it, and chat. Sometimes we would roast sweet potatoes or sugarcane, or place a large iron pot over the kiln to cook something. Eating and talking by the fire created a wonderful atmosphere.

家中最愛烤火的就是我和爸爸了，可是愛烤火卻不會起火怎麼行呢？所以我就開始觀摩自封起火大王的爸爸起火，自己再去試驗，不久我就知道了其中的一些技巧，此後，只要是我起火一定是熊熊烈火，火焰升天。

In our family, my father and I loved making fires the most. But how could you love making fires without knowing how to start one? So I began observing my father—who considered himself a master fire-maker—and then tried it myself. Before long, I learned some of the techniques. From then on, whenever I made a fire, it would blaze vigorously, flames rising high into the air.

火在我們家扮演著不凡的角色，他幫我們燒洗澡水、幫爸爸待客、幫媽媽弄食物、幫我們清理甘蔗皮，還讓我們烤火用，所以「火」我們家佔有重要的位置。

Fire played an important role in our home. It heated bathwater, helped my father entertain guests, helped my mother prepare food, helped us deal with sugarcane peels, and of course gave us warmth. Fire held a significant place in our family.

我覺得玩火並不是壞事，但是要注意安全，謹記「星星之火，足以燎原」。

I don’t think playing with fire is necessarily a bad thing, but safety is important. One must always remember: “A single spark can start a prairie fire.”

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看到老媽幫我剪貼保存的這篇十二歲時寫的作文，勾起了許多回憶。

Seeing this essay I wrote at the age of twelve—carefully clipped and preserved by my mother—brings back many memories.

喜歡火，真的是從兒時就開始了。

My fascination with fire truly began in childhood.

最早對於火的記憶其實很模糊——好像也沒真正看到火，只有黑煙和燒焦味的印象。那是某個深夜，我們在台北住的那棟四層樓公寓地下室失火，當時我和哥哥都還很年幼，爸媽一人抱一個，趕緊下樓逃到外面。這件事並沒有讓我對火產生恐懼，只是好像是因為吸入了些煙霧，此後鼻子就有些過敏的問題——至少老媽是這樣說的。

My earliest memory of fire is actually quite blurred—I don’t recall seeing the flames themselves, only the lingering impression of thick black smoke and a burnt smell. It happened late one night when a fire broke out in the basement of our four-story apartment building in Taipei. My brother and I were still very young back then. My parents each grabbed one of us, hurried down the stairs, and escaped outside. Strangely, this event didn't leave me with a fear of fire. However, as a result of inhaling the smoke, I’ve had issues with nasal allergies ever since—at least, that’s how my mom tells it.

後來遷居鄉下，那時大概是看了很多熱血少年漫畫，受到了些影響，某天準備生火時不巧下起了雨，但我還是與雨抗衡，在雨中奮力地把火生了起來，覺得自己很熱血。還有一次，老媽準備用土窯煮晚餐，我生好了火，她才發覺食材有缺，於是騎機車出去補買。她出外期間，我把土窯中的火控制在小火，這樣等她回來加入些較大的木材便能迅速轉為大火，提高烹煮效率。她回來後誇讚我: 「很能幹，這樣以後長大，萬一老婆跑了你生活也沒問題。」

After we moved to the countryside, I was likely influenced by the many 'hot-blooded' shonen manga I was reading at the time. I remember one day, just as I was preparing to start a fire, it unexpectedly began to rain. Instead of giving up, I battled against the rain and struggled until the flames finally took hold. In that moment, I felt a surge of that same 'hot-blooded' spirit myself. Another time, my mother was planning to cook dinner in the clay kiln, and I had already built the fire when she realized she was missing some ingredients and rode off on her scooter to buy them. While she was out, I kept the fire at a low burn, so that when she returned, adding a few larger pieces of wood would quickly bring it roaring back up — more efficient for cooking. When she got back, she praised me: “Very capable — when you grow up, even if your wife runs off, you’ll manage just fine on your own.”

後來，我們全家有機會在全台最高的寺廟——海天寺對面的松濤山莊住了幾個月。山莊位於丹大林道上，海拔高度約 2,200 公尺。在那裡，我們過著沒有電與瓦斯的原始生活，挑水、撿柴、鋸木與劈柴都是日常。

Later, my family had the opportunity to live for several months at Song-Tao Villa, located on the Danda Forest Road at an altitude of approximately 2,200 meters, right across from Hai-Tian Temple—the highest temple in Taiwan. Life there was primitive, without electricity or gas; carrying water, gathering wood, sawing, and chopping logs became our daily routine.

林葆靈（右）與母親（中），哥哥（左）與妹妹（前一）攝於海天寺，大約是1993
Lin Bao Ling (right), with his mother (center), older brother (left), and younger sister (front), photographed at Haitian Temple, circa 1993.

不同於鄉下時期仍有水電瓦斯，當時用土窯煮食只是選項；但在松濤山莊的廚房裡就只有兩口灶，每日必須生火並使用大鐵鍋炊煮。生火煮飯的工作常由我負責，木材燃燒炊出的米飯帶著微微鍋巴，香氣特別迷人。在那裡我也學會了劈柴：將長柄斧頭高舉過頭，看準目標毫不猶豫地下劈，看著木頭一分為二，感覺極其暢快。

Unlike our time in the countryside where modern utilities were available and using the earthen kiln was merely an option, the kitchen at the villa had only two hearths. Every meal required a handmade fire and a large iron wok. I was often in charge of the cooking fire. The rice, cooked over wood flames, often had a slight crust at the bottom and a unique, captivating aroma. It was there that I also learned to chop wood. Raising a long-handled axe high above my head and striking the target without hesitation—feeling the wood split perfectly in two—was an incredibly exhilarating sensation.

林葆靈（藍衣者）攝於松濤山莊，大約是1993

in Bao Ling (in blue), photographed at Songtao Villa, circa 1993.

室內的夜間照明，基本上是靠著用空牛奶罐自製的「電土燈」（利用電石加水產生可燃氣體，點燃後發出強烈白光），或是油燈與蠟燭。我想，寫下《陰翳禮讚》的谷崎潤一郎，對山莊那種神祕而幽微的夜間氛圍，應該會感到很滿意吧。

For nighttime lighting, we relied on homemade "calcium carbide lamps" crafted from empty milk tins (which generate flammable gas when water meets carbide, producing a brilliant white light upon ignition), as well as oil lamps and candles. I think Jun'ichirō Tanizaki, the author of In Praise of Shadows, would have been quite pleased with the nocturnal atmosphere of the villa.

後來去新加坡留學，生火與烤火便成了離生活極其遙遠的事。

Later, while studying abroad in Singapore, the act of starting or sitting by a fire became a distant memory.

直到返台就讀台師大美研所期間，加入了登山社，野營生火的任務常由我負責，有些隊友喜歡戲稱我為「火神」。

It wasn’t until I returned to Taiwan to pursue my MFA at NTNU that, I joined the Mountaineering Club. The task of starting the campfire during treks often fell to me, leading some teammates to jokingly nickname me the "Fire God.".

嚮導訓練時，也曾向社員分享生火技巧，讓我發現生火的道理，跟做人生中很多其他事情的道理頗相似：需要好的資源（乾柴），得耐心，循序漸進（添柴由細到粗），同時保留呼吸的空間（木柴不能架得太密）。

During wilderness guide training, I also shared fire-making techniques with other club members. Over time, I came to realize that the principles of building a fire are quite similar to many other things in life: you need good resources (dry wood), patience, and a gradual process (adding wood from small pieces to larger ones), while also leaving room to breathe (the wood cannot be stacked too densely).

雖說用乾柴生火事半功倍，但我也曾在濕氣深重的山林裡，用有點潮濕的木材硬是把火升起。那總令我想起兒時在雨中生火的執拗經驗，不禁莞爾。

Although using dry wood makes the task far easier, I have also stubbornly managed to raise a fire in damp mountain forests using slightly wet wood. Those moments always remind me of my childhood insistence on building fires in the rain, and I cannot help but smile.

加入山社讓我對於火，有了更多的回憶與更深的感受。在天寒地凍的時節，漆黑的深山野嶺中烤火，與在自家院子烤火相比，又多了些不同的感受——火不只是令人凝視不厭的美，也不只是溫暖身體；它還撫慰心靈、驅趕恐懼，在黑暗中予人某種近乎原始的希望。

Joining the mountaineering club gave me more memories of fire, as well as a deeper understanding of it. In the freezing cold, gathering around a fire deep within dark mountain wilderness carries feelings different from those of sitting by a fire in my family’s courtyard. Fire is not only a beauty one never tires of gazing into, nor merely a source of warmth for the body; it also comforts the mind, drives away fear, and in the darkness offers a kind of almost primordial hope.

隨著年紀漸長，不論是對於火的作用或是其象徵意義有了更多一點點的認識，像是印尼有「燒芭」（Slash-and-burn)，藉由放火燒植被來清理農地，灰燼則成為土地的肥料；但也導致嚴重的霾害。而自然發生的森林大火，可以視為是森林的新陳代謝。而象徵意義上，火常常被視為慾望與熱情；也有毀滅與危險，希望，淨化與新生的雙重性。令我很感興趣。而芥川龍之介的小說《地獄變》中那美麗又殘酷的火描寫的讓我印象深刻，感觸良多。

As I got older, I came to understand a little more about both the practical uses and symbolic meanings of fire. In Indonesia, for instance, slash-and-burn agriculture involves setting fire to vegetation to clear farmland, with the ash returning nutrients to the soil — though it also causes severe haze. Wildfires that occur naturally, on the other hand, can be seen as a kind of metabolism for the forest. Fire has always fascinated me because of its inherent duality: it represents both passion and desire, yet carries the weight of destruction and danger. It is a symbol of both purification and rebirth. This juxtaposition of beauty and cruelty is hauntingly depicted in Ryunosuke Akutagawa's Hell Screen, a story that left a lasting impression on me and profoundly influenced my perspective on the creative process.

我對火的喜愛與感受，也自然地流露在作品之中。2006 - 2007年在新加坡創作的一系列城市夜景畫，胡耀光老師（Ian Woo）在文章〈The Heroic of Painting - The illuminated Paintings of Lin Bao Ling〉中，多次以「燃燒」與「火焰」來形容那批作品：「林葆靈筆下的城市如同馬可波羅的心像，由火焰、發光寶石、亮石與破碎夢境所構成，懸浮在近似被火焚燒的狀態。有些建築看似正在燃燒，城市的粒子彷彿在火焰中殉道——如同成千上萬的聖女貞德。」

林葆靈 LIN Bao Ling
《夜曲 02072》Nocturne 02072
壓克力與亮粉於畫布 /Oil and acrylic on canvas
100 x 100 cm
2007

This love of fire, and everything I feel about it, has naturally found its way into my work. A series of urban nocturnes painted in Singapore in 2006 - 2007 prompted Ian Woo, in his essay “The Heroic of Painting - The illuminated Paintings of Lin Bao Ling,” to reach repeatedly for the language of burning and flame when describing them: “Bao Ling’s painted cities, like Polo’s mental inventions, seems to be made up of fire, glaring garnets, illuminated stones and shattered dreams, culminating a city of suspended states like that of one being burnt alive. Some of the buildings look like they are on fire and there is a fluctuating state where its particles of the city seem to be in a mist of being martyred in fire, like a thousand Joan of Arcs’.”

林葆靈 LIN Bao Ling

《夜曲 20710_》Nocturne 20710

壓克力與亮粉於畫布 /Oil and acrylic on canvas

1130 x 97 cm

2007

後來我也持續創作了一些與火相關、或在視覺上帶有燃燒感的畫作，乃至立體作品。我常想，把真正喜歡的元素與真實的情感與想法都放進作品，應該自然而然就會形成所謂的個人風格吧。

Since then, I have continued making works that involve fire directly, or carry that quality of burning in their visual energy — paintings and sculptural pieces alike. I’ve often thought: if you put the things you truly love, along with genuine feeling and thoughts, into your work, a personal voice will simply emerge on its own.