In the summer of 2008 to 20 14, Zhu Lanqing, a girl born after 1990, carried her camera and ran almost every inch of her hometown Dongshan Island.

She photographed the most unusual southern Fujian customs, the sea, fishermen and temples. ...

There is almost no standardized urban landscape in the photo, but only the gentlest brushwork records the daily life of a southern island as gentle as the sea breeze and the permanent sense of ceremony as tidal.

In 2008, I left Dongshan Island to study in Beijing.

In my memory, the sea breeze blows on the island all year round. The area that really belongs to the city is actually very small, and most of it is still like the countryside.

It is only in the many interlaces between that distant place and my hometown that I have seen the rapid and slow urbanization process, which is changing the landscape of Dongshan Island bit by bit.

People in small places don't like to remember road names, and they often refer to them by means of "beside a big tree", "under a banyan tree", "beside a park" and "big market". When I went home a few years later, I found that the banyan tree was gone, the park was demolished, and the big market was increasingly depressed.

The past places have become illegible, and the memories attached to these places have gradually blurred.

All this prompted me to take photos of Dongshan Island.

The only piece of land left in the village is planted with vegetables, which farmers take to the market every day.

Before shooting, I bought a map of Zhang Dongshan Island and studied its shape carefully to see if it really has the shape of a butterfly, as some introductions said.

Well, it may be similar, but the name "Butterfly Island" is still a bit far-fetched. As for the "Oriental Hawaii" depicted in travel advertisements, it is even more irrelevant.

Next to the South Gate seawall, a girl attracts tourists for a seafood stall.

Whenever I hear that I live on the island, my friends will ask, then you must go home by boat?

But in fact, you don't have to take a boat to go back to Dongshan Island. As long as I can remember, there is a bridge connecting this island, named Baqimen. Every time the bus passes through the eight-foot gate and rolls down the window, a strong smell of seafood comes to my face-I know, I'm home.

Seafood restaurant by the beach at Bachimen.

That seafood is the smell of fishing villages and seafood. It smells bad, but it can always reassure returning wanderers.

As long as you pass the eight-foot gate, the next road seems to become very fast, and home seems to be in front of you.

Dad and grandpa are sitting in the yard of their hometown in the sun, surrounded by lush flowers and plants that grandma is taking care of.

Minnan is located in the border, and Dongshan Island is at the end of the border. Perhaps because of this geographical and political marginality, many characteristics of Minnan culture have been clearly preserved.

In the fishing port outside Gongqian Village and Aojiao Village, fishing boats with the words "Fishing in East Fujian" sail to further waters amid seabirds and firecrackers every year.

It is also because people born here are struggling in the sea full of unknowns day after day and year after year. The awe of nature and gods is engraved in their genes and passed down from generation to generation.

Several fishermen are sitting on the beach to have a rest.

The village where I grew up is not big, but there are more than ten temples, large and small, including Tianhou Temple, Zhujiajian Temple, Wuguwang Temple ... and land temples scattered in the intersection and fields.

Smaller than Tugong Temple, it is a stone tablet on the roadside. Just engrave a line "There is no Amitabha in the South", and the incense can be endless.

Even a well in the village where people fetch water, wash clothes and cook, some people put a brick and two oranges as a tribute by the well.

Once I took photos in the fishing village in front of the palace and came across a small temple by the sea. There are no Buddha statues in it, but it is full of jars wrapped in red cloth.

Dabogong temple

I asked the old man at the door, what are these tanks for? The old man said that the temple belonged to the local landlord, the jar was sealed, and it was an unknown bone salvaged by fishermen in the sea.

These bones may be fishermen who died before their death. The local people worship them here and provide them with a resting place, hoping to bless the peace of this sea area.

This is, of course, a reverence for life and a mutual appreciation of each other's destiny.

Every Lantern Festival, the whole village will fill the open space in front of the ancestral temple with tributes to welcome the return of the gods. Firecrackers from different families can be set off for three hours in turn.

In most sacrificial scenes in southern Fujian, food is the protagonist. This is the best way for Minnan people to communicate with Shen Ming. Probably, nothing can't be solved by a meal.

I have a more romantic explanation for this: people give the harvested food to the gods and pray for their blessing for the next year's harvest. Food, land and gods circulated in this relationship for thousands of years. In the final analysis, what remains is the awe of nature.

Some people may question that these foods dedicated to the gods can be taken back and eaten by themselves. But my friend in my hometown once said in a trance: the food that worships God will become unpalatable because God has eaten it.

Some sacrifices, such as leeks, pineapples, pumpkins, ginger and loofah, are put in a bamboo basket.

If there is a micro hometown, it is my grandmother who grew up with me.

Over the years, she still maintained her own living habits. When it is hot, she uses an electric fan, and when it is cold, she adds a quilt. She wiped herself with a towel in the shower, but it was more comfortable than us young people.

The flowers in the yard are gone, and she won't break them. She just picked them up, put them on a small lamp and put them on the altar. Although the flowers are not as beautiful as when they are in full bloom, they still smell of flowers.

Grandma wears thick cloth, silver bracelets and jade bracelets all year round, and her hair is combed into a bun that has not changed for decades. This is what she looked like before she got dressed.

Grandma's bed is an old wooden bed. Grandma's room seems to be still and no longer moves with the pace of time.

In this way, my grandmother should be a conservative old man. But she showed more tolerance for many of my "out of line" behaviors than other family members.

After the college entrance examination, I wanted to buy a SLR camera, but my father objected, but my grandmother gave me my private money to support me. Although she doesn't know how to take pictures, she always won't let me point the camera at her.

I dyed my hair, permed my hair, pierced my ears and wore strange earrings. My grandmother always scolds me jokingly and follows me.

In this way, my grandmother's life experience, feelings and learning have deeply influenced me since I was a child.

There are always many flies in rural houses. Grandma hates flies so much that she keeps a lot of sticky paper at home.

Grandma has never been to school, but she is definitely a walking dictionary of life in southern Fujian. She marks the date with the lunar calendar and is familiar with every fairy's birthday or festival. No matter how uncomfortable she is, she will give them a birthday.

First move a folding table to the door, put a pot of braised rice, put some incense on the rice, add some vegetables, and finally burn gold paper.

Grandma closed her eyes with incense. She can talk to heaven and earth for a long time Her tone and speed of speech are like talking to an old friend. I know what she is asking for is not promotion and wealth, but the simplest wish.

Grandma and mom burn gold paper at home, which is the last step to worship God. It is very hot in summer, but fortunately there is an longan tree to provide shade.

You know, Minnan people are full of imagination in worshipping God. God is sometimes close at hand, and sometimes far away.

Every Mid-Autumn Festival, grandma will worship "Moon Mother". At this time, God is the moon. On this day, the table was set, second only to July and a half in terms of richness. Food appears in a symmetrical form, and dishes such as fungus and mushrooms will be added.

On this day, grandma, mom and I will put our hands together at the same time and pray for a peaceful New Year to the moon, which is 238,900 miles away from the earth.

Every New Year's Day, grandma always wears a red headdress on her bun. This traditional headdress can only be bought by an old woman standing by the market.

At the beginning of the year, we will greet the Lunar New Year with burnt-out red candles and relay gold-burning paper. Even if her energy is not as good as before, grandma will still make brown sugar rice cakes and red turtle shells by herself.

To this end, the kitchen at home has reserved an earthen stove and cauldron, which are specially used for making New Year's Eve dinner.

Make the table top of red turtle shell. This is a traditional pastry in southern Fujian. It is a kind of rice cake filled with bean paste, with a red pattern printed on the outside.

When steaming cakes, grandma will move a small bench and stay in the kitchen all day, constantly adding firewood and watching the fire.

I used to look at the freshly baked brown sugar rice cake, and it didn't take shape until I took the first bite. It was as soft and sweet as maltose. Just after eating this spoonful, you can't touch the rice cake again, and you can share it after a few days of worship.

Although you can buy rice cakes in the market, the taste is much worse than grandma's. Everyone is looking forward to this bite. Maybe grandma persisted for so many years just to satisfy us.

Grandma's red turtle shells are all neat and beautiful, and the size is the same. When steaming, she relies on this alarm clock to keep time.

However, when I grew up, I learned that in the traditional Minnan culture, the sacrificial ceremonies for the Chinese New Year and the holidays were all held by women at home.

Perhaps for rural women in grandma's time, this gender-based division of labor is to fulfill their duties to some extent, and grandma also prays for the family's good luck for decades.

However, today, many Minnan women are undertaking complicated housework and rituals while working, and tradition has become the yoke of inequality.

My mother and I intend to keep only the relatively easy part of the ceremony in the future. And the rest, just remember it as a vivid history.

With the increase of photos, I slowly began to expect it to become a woven image file.

I reconstruct my hometown with the clues of "Eight Feet Gate", "Home", "Food, Earth, God and Sea", and combine all the collected fragments of memory and reality into a readable book.

Through this form, it seems that these spaces, people and things can be condensed on these papers, covered and unfolded layer by layer ... providing a time specimen that can be paused and repeatedly touched for the faded hometown in memory.

The cover of this book was cut from an old blue cloth found in grandma's closet.

There is also a photo in the book, in which I am wearing an old-fashioned dress.

I found this old cloth in grandma's room. Grandma said that this is her sister's wedding dress, which has faded to light pink after decades.

I use this photo as the beginning of the whole book.

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