nhận thấy hầu hết người già ở vùng nông thôn tỉnh Thiểm Tây không có máy ảnh, chưa nói đến nhiếp ảnh gia chuyên nghiệp, để chụp ảnh chân dung cho đám tang của mình, nhà báo địa phương Yang Xin đã quyết định vào cuộc.
With the closest rudimentary (thô sơ) photography store hours away from most villages, the villagers were mostly resigned (cam chịu) to not having portraits of their own. The task could not be given to their children either, as most of the younger villagers had migrated (di cư) to the cities and only spent a few days a year in their hometowns. And very few villagers have smartphones, let alone know how to operate (vận hành) the cameras on them.
But during her work trips to the countryside, Yang would hear villagers discussing their friends’ funerals and lamenting (than van) the absence (thiếu vắng) of a portrait or the quality of the photo. “In their eyes, it is a symbol of dying with dignity (phẩm giá).”
The portrait also marks their yearning (khao khát) to be remembered by their family, a “lodestone (đá nam châm)". They have worked hard to support their children their whole lives and don’t want to be forgotten.”
In Chinese culture, a portrait of the dead is a key part of a funeral. In a procession, it leads at the front of all the mourners (người đưa tang), and at the funeral itself, it is usually placed in a prominent (nổi bật) position with other ritual (nghi lễ) objects.
When Yang launched the photography project, in collaboration with local officials, she feared the sensitive undertone (ngầm) of the event would keep villagers away. Her anxiety quickly turned into astonishment (ngạc nhiên) as residents came in droves — some even walking hours from their homes.
“They are actually more enlightened (ngộ đạo) about death than we are,” said Zhao, who has worked on the project since the beginning. As the villagers wait for their turn, they would encourage each other to look more natural or happy to the camera.
source: Sixth Tone,