作品原文
铁凝 《罗丹之约》
早春的时候，差不多所有的中国人都知道罗丹作品要来中国了，他的《思想者》，他的《地狱之门》，他的《青铜时代》，他的《加莱义民》，他的《吻》……这些作品将先后在北京和上海展出。
在罗丹的国家法国，在巴黎瓦雷诺大街的罗丹博物馆，当座落在庭院内的《思想者》被一辆蓝色大吊车长长的吊臂轻轻吊离基座装进木箱时，数百名法国艺术名人默默注视着他，无数的摄像机和照相机镜头一齐对准了他的缓缓升起。他们为他送行，他们都知道，这座巨大的铜像斑驳的雕塑自1906年安放在这里以来，从未离开过故乡。现在他就要出走，而且是第一次远足。他初次远足选定的目标便是东方的中国。
把法国最伟大的青铜作品介绍到具有伟大的青铜文明的古老中国，也许是再合适不过的选择了。这又仿佛是罗丹生前的一桩心愿，因为神秘的东方艺术也曾经给过他强烈的震撼。
于是我便乘火车去北京看罗丹。
小时候我就看过罗丹，当然那只是些印刷品。其中两件作品给我的印象最深：一件是身披宽大睡袍、显出任意散漫的巴尔扎克；一件是筋肉松弛的裸体雨果。少不更事的我曾经很不明白为什么罗丹要将两位大作家弄成这样。在孩子的眼中，他对他们二位显得太随意了。成人之后才发觉罗丹是多么坦率的对待了他这两位法国朋友，而他这两位朋友又是多么坦率地要求罗丹把他们弄成这样。有本书中曾经提到，巴尔扎克认为罗丹只有把他弄成这模样，他才是真正的巴尔扎克。于是至今每当人们提及巴尔扎克和雨果时，我眼前掠过的首先不是他们的著作，而是罗丹手下的那个“他们”。我想这便是他们作为艺术家和作家的共同卓识与见地吧，是这种卓识和见地掠夺了观众的记忆。罗丹具备这种掠夺观众记忆的力量，他掠夺了我的记忆，他在我心中就日渐伟大起来；他占有了我的记忆，我的记忆里便永远有了罗丹。
春风和煦，阳光明媚，我在中国美术馆门前安静地排着队等待购买门票。长长的队伍一直保持了少有的顺和与规矩，似乎来看罗丹的人们是有约在先的，人们在一瞬间变得相互友好和理解了。
然后我首先看见了《思想者》，他被安放在美术馆庭院的正中，他正面向着熙熙攘攘的大街和一片片古老的灰瓦屋顶。他坐在岸石之上，全身赤裸，蜷曲着自己；他一手握拳抵住下颚，咬肌紧张地正陷入着沉思。这本是一个众人熟知的形象，这个几乎有点程式化了的姿式乍一看去，甚至没能唤起我的新奇之感。而当我绕到他的背后时才真地激动起来，我惊讶于罗丹在思想者脊背上所倾注的良苦用心：原来在这面宽厚、雄健的脊背上，组织明确的肌肉群如汹涌的波涛正有节律地涌动起伏，使我忽然明白了罗丹在创作之初何以能摆脱诗人但丁原型的束缚，把身着裙装、面庞清癯的苦行僧形象换成了今天的《思想者》。在这位肌肉发达、强壮雄健的思想者身上或许溶入了艺术家全部痛苦而又美好的理想吧？他渴望从雄健的身体里发生雄健的思想，或者只有如此雄健的身体才有产生雄健思想的力量？罗丹不忽略思想者的头颅，但他更倾心于支撑这头颅的躯干。于是即使思想者的一面脊背也成了表现这雄健思想不可缺少的因素。于是我在他的被观众冷淡着的脊背上初次发现了一个完整的思想者，在这面脊背上，他那紧张而痉挛着的每一个细胞都使我生出的一种全新的幸福感。我很为这一瞬间，这个我独自占有的瞬间而满足。继而又想到，面对一件伟大的作品，人们都在人云亦云时，议论的或许都是它那被观众（或读者）自己程式化了的正面吧，对于它的背面却每每会粗心地忽略过去，尽管作者曾经苦心用尽地去经营它的背面。如今一个完整的《思想者》终于给了我能够思想的力量。
能够思想着是美丽的。有力量思想的人也必是幸运的吧？
我感觉到了幸运，这幸运来自一个完整的《思想者》：我感觉到了幸运，还在于在《思想者》面前我与我的两位同行不期而遇。他们是山西作家蒋韵和李锐夫妇，他们说，他们也是专门乘火车赶来北京看罗丹的。虽然山西、河北两省相邻，我们却已有几年不见。
我们惊喜地互相注视着，眼前掠过着陌生的观众，身后有“青铜时代”、“加莱义民”和克洛代尔美丽的躯干。罗丹包围了我们，令我们忽然意识到，我们本是共同赴了罗丹之约而来，只有罗丹才有如此的魅力吸引我们从各自的城市聚到这里。
我们惊喜地互相注视着，不提罗丹，也不提他为我们创造出一切神奇。我们甚至没说什么话，我好像害怕这份奢侈的突然消失，又仿佛在罗丹面前我们无需语言，我们都已明了思想着才是美丽的。
人生的奢侈却原来是极为有限的，《思想者》们能够远涉重洋落坐于古老的北京已经不易，我能够亲眼目睹这些人类的奇迹，我还能够在这奇迹面前与久违了的外省友人相遇，这已算得上是人生的奢侈之一。要紧的不在于这奢侈转瞬即逝，要紧的在于你真的奢侈过，即使罗丹已回故乡，即使友人也离你而去。
入冬时节，蒋韵从山西打来电话又说起罗丹，她告诉我说，我们去看罗丹那天是三月十日，那天是她的生日。
我一直相信，在我们各自的心里，都深深地感谢着罗丹。是罗丹约会了我们，是共赴罗丹之约，使我们得以收获悠远而长久的思想的时光。
作品译文
Appointment with Rodin
It was early spring and almost everyone in China knew that the works of Rodin were coming to China. His “Thinker,” his “Gates of Hell,” his “Bronze Age,” his “Calais Uprising,” his “Kiss” and many more were going to be exhibited first in Beijing and then in Shanghai.
In Rodin’s country, France, in the courtyard of the Musee Rodin on the Rue de Varenne Paris, “The Thinker” was being carefully lifted from its base by the long, dangling arms of a large blue crane, to be placed in a wooden crate. Several hundred famous French artists quietly watched while countless movie and camera lenses were all positioned for the slow ascendency. They came to see him off. They knew that this huge bronze patina-lined sculpture, since being safely placed here in 1906, had never left its home. Now it was going, and for the first time traveling far away. The objective of this first long journey was Asia’s China.
To introduce France’s great bronze work to age-old China which possessed a great bronze culture was perhaps a decision which will never be surpassed in aptness. It also seems as if this might have been an unrealized wish of Rodin because of the tremendous impact which the mysterious art of the East had on him.
So, I got on a train going to Beijing to see Rodin.
I had seen some of Rodin when I was young. Of course, that was just some reprints of his work. Of these, two works affected me most deeply: one was a figure draped in a dressing gown, clearly recognizable as the disorganized Balzac; one was the flabby-muscle, naked Hugo. The young and inexperienced me just couldn’t understand why Rodin would portray these two great writers the way he did. In the eyes of a young girl, it seemed as if he treated these two men far too casually. Only after growing up did I realize how honestly Rodin was treating his friends and how these two friends honestly wanted Rodin to render them this way. I’ve read somewhere that Balzac felt he was his true self only as Rodin had portrayed him. Consequently, up to this day, every time people mention Balzac and Hugo, the first thing that sweeps past my eyes is not their works, but the images of them as created by Rodin’s hand. I think this is largely because they represent the insight shared by artists and writer, and it is this insight which captures a place in the viewers’ memory. Rodin possesses this kind of strength to capture the viewers’ memory; he was captured my memory.
The spring wind was pleasantly warm and the sun’s rays radiant. I was at the front gate of the Chinese Museum of Art lined up waiting to buy an entrance ticket. The long line of people maintained a rarely experience agreeableness and orderliness. It was as if, coming to see Rodin, they had made a pact between themselves. For that moment, they became friendly and considerate with one another.
“The Thinker” was the first to catch my eye. He had been placed in the courtyard of the Art Museum, facing the bustling thoroughfare and a scattering of traditional grey tiled rooftops. He sat on a rock, completely naked, bent over himself; one of his arms with clenched fist supported his lower jaw, his jaw muscles taut from being deep in thought. This, after all, was a figure that everybody was familiar with. At a first glance, it seemed as if the posture was too stylized, and it did not arouse any new feeling in me. It was only when I circled around to his back that I was truly stirred. I was astonished at the painstaking attention to detail which Rodin had lavished on the back of “The Thinker.” The fully articulated muscles on this broad and burly back, like turbulent waves which rhythmically rose and fell made me suddenly understand how Rodin, at the start of his work, and been able to break through the confines of his original prototype of the poet Dante, to transform the clothed and thin-faced ascetic figure into the present “Thinker.” Is it possible that the artist’s entire conception of agony and happiness has permeated this muscular, powerful body of “The Thinker”? Did he want intense contemplation to emerge from within a powerful body or was it perhaps that only a powerful figure like this had the strength to evoke intense contemplation? While Rodin did not neglect the head, he seemed even more fascinated with the torso buttering the head. The back was an essential element in expressing this intense contemplation. I discovered for the first time in this back, which museum-goers overlooked, the complete “Thinker”; every tense and convulsive muscle on his back conveyed to me a new sense of happiness. I derived a deep satisfaction from this moment, a moment which I alone experienced. It occurred to me that, confronted with great works of art, people tend to make trite comments on the front view—more often than not stereotyped by the viewer—while overlooking the back, in spite of the fact that its creator had painstakingly labored to create the back. Now it is the “Thinker” whole and complete, making me think.
It is a blessing in my awareness of the wholeness of the “Thinker”, from the fact that I met two of my colleagues while contemplating the “Thinker.” They were Jiang Yun and Li Rui, two writers from Shanxi Province. They said that they too had taken the train for Beijing to see Rodin. Although Shanxi and Hebei are neighboring provinces, we had not seen each other in years.
We gazed at each other in delightful surprise as spectators milled in front of us, while “Bronze Age,” “Calais Uprising” and the beautiful shape of Claudelle lay behind us. We were surrounded by Rodin, making us suddenly realize that we were all there in search of Rodin, and that only the appeal of Rodin drew us each from our own cities to meet here.
We gazed at each other in delighted surprise, not speaking of Rodin, nor of the miracles that he had wrought for us. We uttered few words, fearful that this precious gift would disappear, as if there was no need for words in front of Rodin; we all understood that to think was a blessing.
The luxuries of life are after all extremely limited. That the “Thinker” was able to travel across the seas to come to old Beijing was a rarity, the fact that I was able to witness these miracles of human endeavor, that I was able to meet with friends in front of these miracle, these are luxuries of life. What matters is not that these miracles will disappear, what matters is that you have had this luxury, even if Rodin is back in his native land and your friends take leave.
At the beginning of winter, Jiang Yun called me from Shanxi, and she again talked of Rodin. She said that the day we met in front of Rodin was March 10, her birthday.
I am sure that we each in our hearts are deeply grateful to Rodin. It was Rodin who beckoned us to keep the appointment with him, so that we could bask in the light of farflung and extended thinking.