评论
打印
We learned a lot in 2020—but what, exactly, did we learn? The bromides are already flowing freely: We slowed down. We learned what was important. We played board games and did jigsaw puzzles and really talked and listened to our children. All of those are undoubtedly good things, and we nod in solemn agreement when our neighbors enumerate those little blessings. But do any of them capture the microtexture of what our lives were like this year? In our cities, when we were told we shouldn't go out at all except for occasional exercise, walks in the sunshine became the thing we hung onto. How lucky we were to be able to do that, at least! In the suburbs, our restricted routines opened new routes of creativity: we might drive out of our way to catch a spectacular sunset, or finally tackle a hiking trail we'd always meant to explore. Then came the time when it became possible to meet a friend for a takeout glass of wine—this became the summer of lukewarm and acidic rosé in a plastic cup, but it represented a privilege and a pleasure that, in earlier months, we weren't sure we'd have.
2020年我们学到了很多，但具体学到了什么呢？各种陈词滥调已经泛滥：我们慢下来了；我们知道了生命中什么东西最重要；我们一起玩棋盘游戏，拼图，和孩子们交谈，倾听他们的心声。所有这些无疑都是好事。当我们的邻居列举这些小小的祝福时，我们都会郑重地点头表示同意。但是，他们当中有人捕捉到今年生活的微观结构了吗？我们在自己的城市里，当被告知除了偶尔运动外不能外出时，在阳光下散步成了我们唯一能够坚持的事情。至少我们还能在阳光下散步，这已经非常幸运了！在郊区，备受限制的日常生活为我们的创造力开辟了新道路：我们可能会开车去欣赏壮观的日落，或者最后去探索自己一直想要探索的徒步旅行路线。之后，我们可以和朋友一起喝个外卖红酒，虽然这变成了一个不温不热的夏天和用塑料杯子盛着的酸酸的玫瑰红葡萄酒，但它代表了一种特权和快乐，之前的几个月里我们并不确定自己能够享有这种特权和快乐。
When museums finally reopened, carefully limiting capacity, we were able to reacquaint ourselves with paintings we love, with golden objects that had been placed in the tombs of kings 3,000 years ago, with vessels that our ancestors used for simple but essential tasks like toting water from here to there. To step close and examine a 400-year-old brushstroke connects you with the human who put it there. It bears remembering that the Renaissance came into being even as the Black Death decimated much of Europe. Michelangelo and Rembrandt painted in its shadow; the plague took Titian's life. Our lives may be hard—this week, this month, this year—but look at what others did during eras of hardship. The trail of vitality and beauty they left behind is enough to make us cry, and sometimes we do—we can give them that much, at least.
当博物馆终于重新开放并开始严格限流时，我们能够重新让自己熟悉自己喜爱的绘画，熟悉3000年前放置在国王墓中的黄金物品，熟悉我们的祖先用来完成简单但重要的任务的器皿，比如将水从这里运到那里。走近并查看一幅有400年历史的画作会让你联想到画这幅画的人。值得记住的是，文艺复兴运动是在黑死病肆虐欧洲大部分地区的时候开始的。米开朗基罗和伦勃朗也在黑死病的阴影下作画；瘟疫夺去了提香的生命。这周，这个月，或者今年，我们的生活可能会很艰难，但看看别人在艰难时期都做了些什么。他们留下的生机与美丽的痕迹足以让我们哭泣，有时我们确实会哭泣——至少那是我们可以给他们的。
For that reason, perhaps many of us have felt through 2020 that it's easier to connect with old art than with new. All manner of amusements have been streamed right into our homes, some of them quite wonderful. Because nearly all of our movie blockbusters and big year-end spectacles were canceled, we spent more time watching stories about human beings talking to one another rather than chasing down a bunch of magic stones from a bejeweled glove.
因为这个原因，我们中的许多人或许会觉得相比于新艺术，自己和旧艺术更容易产生共鸣。各种各样的娱乐活动源源不断涌入我们家中，其中一些还相当精彩。因为几乎所有的大片儿和大规模的年终表演都被取消了，所以我们花了更多的时间观看人与人间相互交谈的故事，而不是去追寻宝石手套上的一堆魔法石。
译文由可可原创，仅供学习交流使用，未经许可请勿转载。
