按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ked like a crack； it turned the building site into a battered old backdrop； a backdrop with a building site painted on it。 I began playing with the crack； filling it out； wondering what might be visible behind it。 And that's how I began my first cycle of paintings。 I called it Behind the Scenes。 Of course； I couldn't show them to anybody。 I'd have been kicked out of the Academy。 On the surface； there was always an impeccably realistic world； but underneath； behind the backdrop's cracked canvas； lurked something different； something mysterious or abstract。
After pausing for a moment； she added； On the surface； an intelligible lie； underneath； the unintelligible truth。
Tereza listened to her with the remarkable concentration that few professors ever see on the face of a student and began to perceive that all Sabina's paintings； past and present； did indeed treat the same idea； that they all featured the confluence of two themes； two worlds； that they were all double exposures； so to speak。 A landscape showing an old…fashioned table lamp shining through it。 An idyllic still life of apples； nuts； and a tiny； candle…lit Christmas tree showing a hand ripping through the canvas。
She felt a rush of admiration for Sabina； and because Sabina treated her as a friend it was an admiration free of fear and suspicion and quickly turned into friendship。
She nearly forgot she had come to take photographs。 Sabina had to remind her。 Tereza finally looked away from the paintings only to see the bed set in the middle of the room like a platform。
21
Next to the bed stood a small table； and on the table the model of a human head； the kind hairdressers put wigs on。 Sabina's wig stand sported a bowler hat rather than a wig。 It used to belong to my grandfather； she said with a smile。
It was the kind of hat—black； hard； round—that Tereza had seen only on the screen； the kind of hat Chaplin wore。 She smiled back； picked it up； and after studying it for a time； said； Would you like me to take your picture in it？
Sabina laughed for a long time at the idea。 Tereza put down the bowler hat； picked up her camera； and started taking pictures。
When she had been at it for almost an hour； she suddenly said； What would you say to some nude shots？
Nude shots？ Sabina laughed。
Yes； said Tereza； repeating her proposal more boldly； nude shots。
That calls for a drink； said Sabina； and opened a bottle of wine。
Tereza felt her body going weak； she was suddenly tongue…tied。 Sabina； meanwhile； strode back and forth； wine in hand； going on about her grandfather； who'd been the mayor of a small town； Sabina had never known him； all he'd left behind was this bowler hat and a picture showing a raised platform with several small…town dignitaries on it； one of them was Grandfather； it wasn't at all clear what they were doing up there on the platform； maybe they were officiating at some ceremony； unveiling a monument to a fellow dignitary who had also once worn a bowler hat at public ceremonies。
Sabina went on and on about the bowler hat and her grandfather until； emptying her third glass； she said I'll be right back and disappeared into the bathroom。
She came out in her bathrobe。 Tereza picked up her camera and put it to her eye。 Sabina threw open the robe。
22
The camera served Tereza as both a mechanical eye through which to observe Tomas's mistress and a veil by which to conceal her face from her。
It took Sabina some time before she could bring herself to slip out of the robe entirely。 The situation she found herself in was proving a bit more difficult than she had expected。 After several minutes of posing； she went up to Tereza and said； Now it's my turn to take your picture。 Strip！
Sabina had heard the command Strip！ so many times from Tomas that it was engraved in her memory。 Thus； Tomas's mistress had just given Tomas's command to Tomas's wife。 The two women were joined by the same magic word。 That was Tomas's way of unexpectedly turning an innocent conversation with a woman into an erotic situation。 Instead of stroking； flattering； pleading； he would issue a command； issue it abruptly； unexpectedly； softly yet firmly and authoritatively； and at a distance： at such moments he never touched the woman he was addressing。 He often used it on Tereza as well； and even though he said it softly； even though he whispered it； it was a command； and obeying never failed to arouse her。 Hearing the word now made her desire to obey even stronger； because doing a stranger's bidding is a special madness； a madness all the more heady in this case because the command came not from a man but from a woman。
Sabina took the camera from her； and Tereza took off her clothes。 There she stood before Sabina naked and disarmed。 Literally disarmed： deprived of the apparatus she had been using to cover her face and aim at Sabina like a weapon。 She was completely at the mercy of Tomas's mistress。 This beautiful submission intoxicated Tereza。 She wished that the moments she stood naked opposite Sabina would never end。
I think that Sabina； too； felt the strange enchantment of the situation： her lover's wife standing oddly compliant and timorous before her。 But after clicking the shutter two or three times； almost frightened by the enchantment and eager to dispel it； she burst into loud laughter。
Tereza followed suit； and the two of them got dressed。
23
All previous crimes of the Russian empire had been committed under the cover of a discreet shadow。 The deportation of a million Lithuanians； the murder of hundreds of thousands of Poles； the liquidation of the Crimean Tatars remain in our memory； but no photographic documentation exists； sooner or later they will therefore be proclaimed as fabrications。 Not so the 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia； of which both stills and motion pictures are stored in archives throughout the world。
Czech photographers and cameramen were acutely aware that they were the ones who could best do the only thing left to do： preserve the face of violence for the distant future。 Seven days in a row； Tereza roamed the streets； photographing Russian soldiers and officers in compromising situations。 The Russians did not know what to do。 They had been carefully briefed about how to behave if someone fired at them or threw stones； but they had received no directives about what to do when someone aimed a lens。
She shot roll after roll and gave about half of them； undeveloped； to foreign journalists （the borders were still open； and reporters passing through were grateful for any kind of document）。 Many of her photographs turned up in the Western press。 They were pictures of tanks； of threatening fists； of houses destroyed； of corpses covered with bloodstained red…white…and…blue Czech flags； of young men on motorcycles racing full speed around the tanks and waving Czech flags on long staffs； of young girls in unbelievably short skirts provoking the miserable sexually famished Russian soldiers by kissing random passersby before their eyes。 As I have said； the Russian invasion was not only a tragedy； it was a carnival of hate filled with a curious （and no longer explicable） euphoria。
24
She took some fifty prints with her to Switzerland； prints she had made h