When I was four years old, my dad taught me the Taos Pueblo Hoop Dance, a traditional dance born hundreds of years ago in Southwestern USA. A series of hoops are created out of willow wood, and they're threaded together to create formations of the natural world, showing the many beauties of life. In this dance, you're circling in a constant spin, mimicking the movement of the Sun and the passage of time. Watching this dance was magic to me. Like with a time capsule, I was taking a look through a cultural window to the past. I felt a deeper connection to how my ancestors used to look at the world around them.
﻿我四岁的时候， 爸爸教我跳陶斯印第安部落圈舞， 一种美国西南部的传统舞蹈， 有数百年的历史。 用柳木制作一系列的圆环， 并且把它们穿在一起 来创造出自然世界的形态， 展现了生命的多姿多彩。 在舞蹈中，要不断的旋转， 模仿太阳的运行， 和时间的流逝。  观赏这个舞蹈时， 我感到非常神奇。 好像在一个时间胶囊中， 正从一个文化窗口回望过去。 我感受到了一种
Since then, I've always been obsessed with time capsules. They take on many forms, but the common thread is that they're uncontrollably fascinating to us as human beings, because they're portals to a memory, and they hold the important power of keeping stories alive. As a filmmaker and composer, it's been my journey to find my voice, reclaim the stories of my heritage and the past and infuse them into music and film time capsules to share.
与祖先们如何看待 周围世界之间的更深的联系。
To tell you a bit about how I found my voice, I'd like to share a bit about how I grew up. In Southern California, I grew up in a multigenerational home, meaning I lived under the same roof as my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents. My mother is Dutch-Indonesian and Chinese with immigrant parents, and my father is Ojibwe and an enrolled tribal member of the Prairie Band's Potawatomi Tribe in Northeastern Kansas. So one weekend I'd be learning how to fold dumplings, and the next, I'd be traditional-style dancing at a powwow, immersed in the powerful sounds of drums and singers. Being surrounded by many cultures was the norm, but also a very confusing experience. It was really hard for me to find my voice, because I never felt I was enough -- never Chinese, Dutch-Indonesian or Native enough. Because I never felt I was a part of any community, I sought to learn the stories of my heritage and connect them together to rediscover my own.
从那时起，我一直都 迷恋时间胶囊。 它采用了多种形式， 但无法控制的迷人是贯穿始终的， 令我们人类难以自拔， 因为它们是记忆的门户， 拥有保持故事鲜活的重要力量。 作为一名电影导演和作曲家， 我的个人旅程就是 去寻找自己的声音， 重温我的家族传统和过去， 并将这一切倾注到以音乐和电影 为载体的时光胶囊中，与众人分享。
The first medium I felt gave me a voice was music. With layers of sounds and multiple instruments, I could create soundscapes and worlds that were much bigger than my own. Through music, I'm inviting you into a sonic portal of my memories and emotions, and I'm holding up a mirror to yours. One of my favorite instruments to play is the guzheng zither, a Chinese harp-like instrument. While the hoop dance is hundreds of years old, the guzheng has more than 2,000 years of history. I'm playing the styles that greatly influence me today, like electronic music, with an instrument that was used to play traditional folk music long ago. And I noticed an interesting connection: the zither is tuned to the pentatonic scale, a scale that is universally known in so many parts of music around the world, including Native American folk songs. In both Chinese and Native folk, I sense this inherent sound of longing and holding onto the past, an emotion that greatly drives the music I create today.
关于我是怎样找回自己的声音， 我先分享一下我的成长经历。 我成长在加利福尼亚南部 一个多代同堂的家庭里， 这意味着我与 父母，姑姨叔伯，及祖父母 在同一屋檐下一起生活。 我的母亲是荷兰 - 印尼与华裔的 混血儿，父母都是美国移民， 父亲是奥杰布瓦人（印第安人）， 也是位于堪萨斯东北部 草原带的波塔瓦托米瓦部落的成员。 所以，这个周末我会学习包饺子， 下个周末，我会学习帕瓦仪式中的 传统舞蹈， 沉醉于强劲的鼓声与歌声中。 经常处于多元文化之中， 也是一种非常令人困惑的体验。 我很难从中找到自我的声音， 因为我始终搞不清自己的种族归属， 是中国人，荷兰 - 印尼人 还是原住居民。 正因为我感到自己不属于任何社区， 我曾试图去了解我血统的故事， 并将它们连结在一起 重新发现自己的归属。
At the time, I wondered if I could make this feeling of immersion even more powerful, by layering visuals and music -- visuals and images on top of the music. So I turned to internet tutorials to learn editing software, went to community college to save money and created films.
第一个让我感受到 自己声音的媒介就是音乐。 配合多层次的音效和不同的乐器， 我创作出的音乐是个人重大的突破， 借助音乐，我邀请你 进入我的回忆与情感中， 也会反照你们自己的感受。 我最喜欢演奏的乐器之一，就是古筝， 一种中国竖琴样的乐器。 尽管陶斯印第安部落圈舞 已经流传几百年， 古筝却有两千多年的历史。 现在的演奏风格影响我至深， 比如电子音乐， 用一种佷久之前 用来演奏传统民乐的乐器。 我觉察到一个有趣的联系： 古筝是五声音阶的乐器， 一个在全世界众多音乐中 广为人知的音阶， 包括美洲原住民的民歌。 在中国和原住民民歌中， 我感觉到了这种对过去的 渴望和坚持的内在声音， 是现今推动我进行音乐创作的原动力。
After a few years experimenting, I was 17 and had something I wanted to tell and preserve. It started with a question: What happens when a story is forgotten? I lead with this in my latest documentary film, "Smoke That Travels," which immerses people into the world of music, song, color and dance, as I explore my fear that a part of my identity, my Native heritage, will be forgotten in time.
当时我很想知道是否能够 透过视觉和音乐的结合 加强这种沉浸感—— 在音乐中加入图像及视觉的效果。 因此我通过网络课程 学习了电影剪接软件， 也去社区大学学习， 为的是省钱， 并且能创作电影。
Many indigenous languages are dying due to historically forced assimilation. From the late 1800s to the early 1970s, Natives were forced into boarding schools, where they were violently punished if they practiced traditional ways or spoke their native language, most of which were orally passed down. As of now, there are 567 federally recognized tribes in the United States, when there used to be countless more. In my father's words, "Being Native is not about wearing long hair in braids. It's not about feathers or beadwork. It's about the way we all center ourselves in the world as human beings."
经过几年的实验， 在17岁时，我有点事情 想讲述和保存下来。 这一切从一个问题开始： 当一个故事被遗忘，会发生什么事？ 我将这个主题引入到最近的纪录片 《烟雾的传播》中， 影片让人们沉浸在色彩与音乐， 歌曲和舞蹈的世界中， 我始终怀揣着一种担忧， 担心个人的身份及本土传承的文化 将会随时间的流逝而被遗忘。
After traveling with this film for over a year, I met indigenous people from around the world, from the Ainu of Japan, Sami of Scandinavia, the Maori and many more. And they were all dealing with the exact same struggle to preserve their language and culture.
由于历史上的强制同化， 许多土著语言正在歨向灭亡。 从十九世纪末到上世纪七十年代初， 原居民被迫进入寄宿学校，  倘若他们实践了传统的习俗， 或者用他们的原居民语言交流， 就会受到严厉的惩罚， 而大部分语言恰恰是口头传承的。 截至目前为止，有 567 个部落 为美国联邦政府所承认， 曾几何时，这个数字大到无法估量。 用我父亲的话说： “本土化不只是关于头上的长辫子。 也不是关于那些珠饰或羽毛， 而是关于我们如何作为 人类，生活在世界的中心。”
At this moment, I not only realize the power storytelling has to connect all of us as human beings but the responsibility that comes with this power. It can become incredibly dangerous when our stories are rewritten or ignored, because when we are denied identity, we become invisible. We're all storytellers. Reclaiming our narratives and just listening to each other's can create a portal that can transcend time itself.
我携带这部电影旅行了一年多， 遇到了来自世界各地的人， 从日本的阿伊努人、 斯堪的那维亚的萨米人、 到新西兰的毛利人， 还有很多其他原居民。 他们都有同样的挣扎， 想要维护他们的语言和文化。
Thank you.
此时此刻，我不仅体会到 讲故事的力量 可以把我们所有的人类联系在一起， 也感受到了伴随着这种力量的责任。 当自身的故事被重写或忽略时， 我们会面临险恶的考验， 因为当自己的身份被否定， 我们就变成了不可见的群体。 我们都是讲故事的人。 重申我们自己的叙述， 以及仅仅是聆听对方的声音， 就可以创建一个 超越了时间本身的门户。
(Applause)
谢谢。