Singing Ink: The Indigenous Wisdom of Life

For Paelabang Danapan, writing empowers him and his fellow tribesmen to voice out their side of the story.

“Yuan Zhu Min” (or “Indigenes”) by Paelabang Danapan

TAIPEI, Taiwan — “If the indigenes had know how to put down their experiences in writing, I believe that the past 400 years of Taiwan’s history will not only be Han people’s soliloquy,” Paelabang Danapan wrote.

As in many parts of the world, Taiwan’s native inhabitants do not have its own writing system. Born as a Puyuman to the Pinaski tribe in Taitung County, Paelabang Danapan was raised in a culture where knowledge and history are transmitted through oral tradition and lived experience. Fascinated by the power of written words, Danapan has found a way to express the voices of his own, and that of his fellow Puyumans: writing.

I first learned about Danapan a few months ago at a MoCA Taipei exhibition, where I stumbled on a magazine dedicated to indigenous literature. Titled Shanhai Wenhua (“Mountain and Sea Culture”), this bi-monthly magazine, first published in 1993 by Paelabang Danapan, was committed to nurturing indigenous writers, in the hope of building an archive for Taiwan’s culturally rich indigenous population.

Better known by his Chinese name, Sun Ta-Chuan, Paelabang Danapan once served as Minister of the Council of Indigenous Peoples, and Vice President of the Control Yuan, and is currently a Senior Advisor to the President. Despite his political achievement, Danapan positions himself as a cultural activist who is determined to bring indigenous writers into Taiwan’s literary scene.

When Danapan was a child, he was told by a dying family member that he must study hard for his own people, or he’d end up as a farmer. From that day onwards, that responsibility — to perpetuate the legacy of Puyumans— has fallen on his shoulder. And he certainly didn’t let his people down. Danapan received a scholarship to complete a masters degree in Sinology at the University of Leuven in Belgium.

In the 1940s, Taiwan’s government started promoting Chinese language among indigenous population, further diluting these distinctive traditions that were on the edge of extinction. The mother tongues that once united tribesmen were replaced by a foreign language; this not only blurred the memories that had of their ancestors, but created an unimaginable gap between generations.

Danapan described the struggle of indigenous population in modern society — who were forced to enter the darkness of the night, striving to hold onto their last breath — as the “Dawn of Indigene”. And his mission was “to prepare the oil lamps to illuminate this long night,” Danapan wrote.

Many of his articles that were first printed in newspapers were later complied and published in his celebrated book, Jiujiujiu Yici (“Drink once in a while”), in 1991. Three decades have passed since then, but Danapan hasn’t given up on writing. Better still, he distilled the indigenous wisdom that runs in his blood into the art of calligraphy.

Paelabang Danapan standing next to the hanging scrolls that write “Sing with a Pen” (left) and “Once-time Drinking Lasts Forever” (right)

This September, Paelabang Danapan’s solo exhibition opened at the Huashan 1914 Creative Park. This show features a broad selection of his calligraphy written on various mediums, from Chinese handscrolls to hanging scrolls, aged wooden panels to ceramics.

Chinese calligraphy, a form of writing that was often associated with the privileged few who had access to education and knowledge, is a time-honoured tradition that has survived for more than a millennium.

Today, calligraphy is appreciated as a form of art, but its highly expressive style, coupled with the archaic choice of subject matter, poses great challenge for contemporary viewers, most of whom struggle to understand what’s been written.

But what differentiates Danapan’s ink writing from generations of calligraphers that came before him is his down-to-earth subject matter. He brilliantly tackles the “Dawn of Indigenes” with wit and humour. On the hanging scrolls, phrases such as “Never Forget to Raise Your Glass”, “There’s No Shore If You’re to Turn Back”, “Enjoy the Moment”, and “ “Drink Once in a While” shows the wisdom he’s found through adversity.

Words such as “alcohol” (jiu), “mountain” (shan), and “sea” (hai) — the stereotypes that most people would associate with Taiwan’s indigenous population — is recurrent throughout his calligraphy work.

For decades, excessive drinking has become a phenomenon associated with Taiwan’s indigenous population. While searching for self and identity in modern society, the indigenes turned to seek solace in this addictive substance that was once considered a symbol of friendship.

Danapan handled alcohol with a light touch, and interchanged the word “alcohol” with its homophone “eternity”, both pronounced as “jiu”. In a pair of hanging scrolls, Danapan paints the supposed ideals of life through the couplet: “Like Mountain and Water” and “With Alcohol and Song”.

“Mountain” is integral to the upbringing of Taiwan’s indigenous population, and holds a special place in Danapan’s heart. Born as an indigene, Danapan sees “Puyuma” as his first home. Having received his education in a society dominated by Han population, he calls “culture” his second home, and “religion” (him being a Catholic) as his third. There have been times of both peace and conflict, and the fact that he hasn’t been able to settle in any of these homes is, in his own words, the greatest torment in life.

In Chinese, the exhibition is sarcastically titled Barbarian Writes (“Fan Ren Xie Zi”) — a gentle reminder for viewers to look at how far the indigenous people have come. The Qing Empire (1644–1912) called them “Fan”, or barbarians (counterpart of the “Min”, or civilians, who were settlers from China proper). The Japanese referred to them as “Takasago”, or high mountain people. To the Chinese Nationalist Party, they were “Shanbao”, or mountain compatriots. It wasn’t until 1994 that the idea of “Indigenous” finally took shape and was written into the constitution.

“Jiu” (Alcohol) by Paelabang Danapan

The art of writing, or calligraphy, is rarely — if ever — associated with indigenous people. Without a formal training in calligraphy, Danapan modestly described his calligraphy a result of his playing with ink, or doodling, and dubbed his calligraphic style as “organic”. It is this very absence of rules and traditions that imbues a sense of freedom in Danapan’s writing.

Though written in a second language, Danapan’s calligraphy illustrates his multicultural experience. Among the exhibits on display is a hanging scroll, “Sing with a Pen”, that captures the calligrapher’s unshrinking spirit.

Danapan’s ink indeed sings for himself and his fellow tribesmen who are often among the silent majority, in the same way that his ancestors composed pieces of music for the mountains that, though never spoke a word, remain at the heart of its people. That said, perhaps the best way to enjoy Danapan’s calligraphy is not to read them, but to live in them.

Paelabang Danapan’s solo exhibition was on view from September 10 to October 10 at the Red Wine Factory in Huashan 1914 Creative Park.