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東冬．侯溫
( Don Don Hounwu )
台灣 (太魯閣族)
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東冬．侯溫，太魯閣 (Truku) 族，出生於台灣花蓮縣秀林鄉銅門 (Donmong) 部落，「東冬」意指可愛的孩童，是部落文化發展中，新穎且特別的名字，「侯溫」則是源於父親的古老名字，象徵銳利的刀鋒。「東冬‧侯溫」是當代與傳統的結合，也體現出他幽默性格及嚴肅創作態度的對比，矛盾的元素不斷撞擊揉和。東冬曾說：「期待淬鍊出來的刀，是把可以守護孩童純真心靈的刀，是把足以開創璀璨未來的刀。」
近年來，東冬結合錄像、裝置、行為展演等藝術形式，深度傳達真實生命經驗，尤其透過語言的轉化連結後，再思索當代的意義。東冬想回顧過去，以當時人們看待生活及自然的方式，來探討與現今價值觀的差異，並思考完美與破敗的平衡。
Dondon Hounwu was born to the Donmong Community of the Truku Tribe in Xiulin Township, Hualien County, Taiwan. The name “Dondon” means a lovely child and is a novel and unique name in the development of tribal culture. The family name “Hounwu” is an ancient name originating from the father, which symbolizes the sharp edge of a knife. “Dondon Hounwu” is a combination of the contemporary and the traditional and reflects the contrast of his humorous character and serious creative attitude, as well as the constant collision and blending of contradictory elements. Dondon Hounwu said, “I expect that the quenched knife is a knife that can guard children’s innocent hearts and a knife that can create a bright future.”
Dondon Hounwu in recent years has combined video, devices, behavioral exhibition, and other art forms to convey real life experiences in-depth and to reflect upon contemporary significance, especially through the transformation and links of language. Dondon Hounwu looks back on the past to explore the differences between the way people looked at life and nature at that time and the values of the contemporary time, as well as to reflect on the balance between perfection and decay.
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BBRBAR－波波跋（太魯閣語：那些碎的聲音）BBRBAR (meaning “those broken sounds” in Truku language)
跋山涉水的遷徙，燃燒竹木的薪火，跟隨溪流的方向，順著山巒的脈動，是哪ㄧ群人，從萬古的自然裡，流轉漂流到，這個急速複製變化的空間，如同虛幻的光影。
我們，只聽見殘存的，細小破碎的聲音，卻看不到，任何移動的過程，像是ㄧ片海水上，幾近淹沒的島，聲波靜止了，如同被灰燼覆蓋的山丘，線條被彰顯著，唯一的念想，刻印在象徵家族繁衍的鍋，在寂滅之前，閃娑著曾經美麗的圖紋，究竟是失了顏色，還是，原本就沒有。
何方破敗呀，何方完美呢！
Migrating across mountains and rivers, with firewood burning bamboos and wood, following the direction of streams, along the pulses of mountains, who are the people drifting from the ancient nature to this rapidly replicating and changing space, like illusory shadows?
We can only hear the shredded, slight and fragmented sound, but cannot see any movement. It is just like a nearly submerged island floating on the sea in tranquility and like ash-covered hills with highlighted lines. The only impression is the pot symbolizing family inheritance, flashing with the once beautiful patterns before quiescence. Is it the fading of the color, or was there no color at all?
What is dilapidated? What is perfect?
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