This is one of my spontaneous plan for a holiday afternoon. Or, actually, I have been nurturing this idea since long — from the moment I started waking up at 5am to study English when aged 13. Limited are chances for newcomers in translation field — but it is what it is everywhere. So I just grab whatever I have on the plate, and patch and merge into a last-minute-application.
The step goes:
- Land on this page: Emerging Writer Mentor Program
- Start filling out the form: https://alta.submittable.com/submit with your CV, proposal, and a translation sample.
So I will share my CV here, which is a last-minute patch — thankfully I did translate something properly before.
1.CV(sadly it is not a one-page CV)
2. Proposal
Project Proposal: Translating Above Flames by Wu Ming-Yi
Author: Tsai-Hsuan Stasy Hsieh
Project Title: Above Flames (浮光) by Wu Ming-Yi
Introduction
I propose to translate Above Flames (浮光), a reflective work by acclaimed Taiwanese author Wu Ming-Yi. This project, under the ALTA Emerging Translator Mentorship Program, aims to introduce English-speaking readers to Wu’s profound exploration of photography, beauty, and memory. The book is a meditation on art, the passage of time, and our emotional connection to the world. Translating this work will bring Wu’s nuanced voice to a broader global conversation about art and nature.
About the Author
Wu Ming-Yi is one of Taiwan’s foremost contemporary authors, known for blending philosophy and environmental themes in his works. Longlisted for the Booker Prize for The Stolen Bicycle, Wu’s writing traverses fiction, philosophy, and nature. In Above Flames, he explores photography through metaphors of “positive” and “negative” film — examining the visible world and hidden emotional layers that are often left unseen.
Importance of the Source Text
Above Flames is unique in Taiwanese literature, offering deep reflections on photography and its role in preserving fleeting moments. The work mirrors ideas from Susan Sontag and John Berger, blending visual and philosophical reflections. During a conversation with my American supervisor, an avid reader, I realized the scarcity of translated Taiwanese literature. When asked for recommendations, I could only name three, and Above Flames — one of my favorites — was missing from the list. Motivated by this, I personally approached Wu Ming-Yi to request permission to translate this profound work.
This translation will not only introduce international readers to Wu’s thoughts on art but will also highlight Taiwan’s contributions to global literature. The book’s environmental and philosophical resonance speaks to universal concerns about nature, beauty, and memory.
How the Emerging Translator Would Benefit from Mentorship
Mentorship under Lin King will provide essential guidance in navigating Wu’s poetic language and complex metaphors. Above Flames combines technical discussions of photography with philosophical reflections, presenting challenges in maintaining both the lyrical and intellectual depth of the text. Lin King’s experience in translating Taiwanese literature, along with her ability to balance cultural specificity and international readability, makes her an ideal mentor for this project.
Additionally, Lin King’s work across genres, from graphic novels to literary fiction, aligns with the multi-genre nature of Above Flames. Her mentorship will help me navigate the book’s shifts between art and philosophy, ensuring the translation remains cohesive and accessible while preserving its authenticity.
The Importance of Mentorship with Lin King for Translating Above Flames
Working with Lin King is crucial for the success of this translation project due to her deep experience in translating Taiwanese literature into English, particularly with works that blend cultural specificity and universal themes. Lin has successfully translated texts that traverse both fiction and non-fiction, such as Taiwan Travelogue, a work rich in cultural and environmental history, similar in tone and subject matter to Above Flames. Her ability to balance the intricate cultural references in Taiwanese literature with readability for a global audience aligns perfectly with the challenges presented in Above Flames, where Wu Ming-Yi’s exploration of memory and photography is deeply rooted in Taiwanese culture. Additionally, Lin’s cross-genre translation experience — ranging from graphic novels to literary fiction — will guide me through translating Wu’s complex metaphors and philosophical musings while maintaining the poetic integrity of the text. Her expertise ensures that the lyrical beauty of Wu’s writing can resonate with English readers while preserving its original depth and nuance.
Project Timeline and Scope
I plan to translate key sections of Above Flames within the one-year mentorship period, focusing on passages that explore the book’s central philosophical themes. The included sample (8–10 pages) introduces Wu’s metaphor of “positive” and “negative” film, laying the foundation for the book’s deeper reflections on art and memory.
Phase 1: Initial Research and Translation of Key Sections (Months 1–3)
- Meet with the mentor to discuss project structure, themes, and translation expectations.
- Begin translating key opening chapters, focusing on Wu Ming-Yi’s use of “positive” and “negative” film metaphors.
- Emphasize capturing the lyrical tone and philosophical concepts.
- Seek initial mentor feedback to ensure accuracy and accessibility in the translation.
Phase 2: Midpoint Review and Refinement (Months 4–6)
- Translate sections centered on nature and memory, blending technical language with poetic descriptions.
- Conduct a midpoint review with the mentor to assess translation progress.
- Discuss and address cultural references, metaphors, and potential challenges in translating complex themes.
- Refine translations based on mentor feedback to ensure clarity and philosophical depth.
Phase 3: Completion of Translation and Final Polishing (Months 7–9)
- Complete the translation, focusing on the book’s closing sections, particularly Wu Ming-Yi’s reflections on beauty and memory.
- Conduct a full review with the mentor, ensuring consistency in tone, metaphor usage, and overall flow.
- Incorporate the mentor’s final feedback to finalize the translation and prepare it for potential publication.
Phase 4: Presentation and Publication Preparation (Months 10–12)
- Prepare a polished excerpt for submission to the ALTA First Look program.
- Work with the mentor on potential publication opportunities and strategies.
- Present selected passages at the ALTA conference to showcase the depth of Wu Ming-Yi’s work.
- Finalize and submit the full manuscript to publishers, incorporating feedback from the conference.
Conclusion
The ALTA Emerging Translator Mentorship Program offers a unique opportunity to bring Above Flames to a wider audience. With Lin King’s mentorship, I will refine my translation skills while amplifying Wu Ming-Yi’s voice on the global stage. This project will contribute to the visibility of Taiwanese literature and ensure that Wu’s reflections on art, nature, and memory resonate across cultures.
Thank you for considering my application.
3. Translation Sample(8-10 pages long, double line space as required)
This is the book I chose to translate:
Preface: As From My Window I Sometimes Glance
“Language transforms events into words, driven by the hope that they will be heard, and once heard, these events undergo judgment — whether divine or historical. Despite the distance of such judgment, language holds immediacy.”
— John Berger, Another Way of Telling
During my childhood, I had two windows in my home. One faced Zhonghua Road, offering a view of the №1 Department Store, while the other overlooked the railway and Renren Department Store.
Unfortunately, the latter window was partially obstructed by our house’s signboard, resulting in an incomplete view. It occurs to me that these two windows might have seeded my earliest photographic imagination, serving as my initial frames of reference.
When I obtained my first camera during my college years, I nurtured fantasies of becoming a photographer. Among those I admired were Zhang Zhaotang, Ruan Yizhong, and Guan Xiaorong. I remember reading an article about Guan Xiaorong where it was mentioned that, after relocating up north, he worked as a taxi driver while avidly capturing photographs everywhere. During this period, he encountered the works of photographer W. Eugene Smith through “You Works.” Driven by a desire to document the mercury poisoning incidents in Japan’s waterways (where fishermen consumed polluted wastewater from factories, leading to lifelong paralysis), Guan spent three to four years in Sodi, even facing physical threats. Nonetheless, his series of works managed to awaken something powerful.
After college, despite almost depleting my living expenses on purchasing lenses and developing photos, I grew to realize that my dream of becoming a photographer — especially one who could reshape people’s worldview through images — was no longer attainable. Confronted with real-life challenges, I lacked the courage to face them head-on with my camera.
I never fixated on photography equipment. From my college days with the FM-10 and FM-2 cameras to my current digital models, I always preferred affordable options and maintained the practice of acquiring second-hand cameras and lenses. This practice was inspired by the bird painter Liu Bole, who lent me a lens years ago for bird photography. I almost began to consider it my own. Though I thought he possessed other lenses, it turned out that he didn’t. He relied on this worn, camouflaged lens to stealthily approach and capture the mesmerizing winged creatures. For nearly a year, that lens was a constant companion. Although I had focused on the wild for quite some time, my focus shifted to the streets due to my novels a few years ago. Often, the words wouldn’t come, but images would, rekindling my interest in filmmaking and my earlier aspiration to become a photographer. However, I now approach this aspiration with a more realistic perspective. Although it’s improbable for me to become a professional photographer, I can embark on photography projects that I can fund and am eager to pursue.
While poring over historical image references in the library, I started to familiarize myself with pivotal figures who revolutionized human perception through the lens. Analyzing these iconic images, I silently realized that the history of visual representation harmonizes deeply with the history of human-nature interaction. Regrettably, this aspect remains relatively underrepresented in Taiwan, whether within the realms of photography research or photographic prose.
During this time, I also began reflecting on my own film history — a modest reel, yet deeply significant to me. I divided these frames into ‘positives’ and ‘negatives,’ those suited for the light of day and those meant to remain hidden, tucked away in a moisture-proof box.
Eugene Smith’s journey in photography was marked by extreme hardships. He suffered wounds in Okinawa, and in 1955, he departed from Life magazine for reasons of his own. Consequently, Smith resorted to documenting cases to earn a living. Over the years, he immersed himself in photographing Pittsburgh, utilizing over 10,000 negatives to encapsulate every facet of the city. He envisioned his work as a photographic rendition of “Ulysses.”
By 1957, Smith’s unrelenting commitment had taken a toll on his mental well-being due to his use of amphetamines to boost his energy. He settled into the top floor of an apartment at the intersection of Sixth Avenue and Twenty-eighth Street in Manhattan. This window, Smith discovered, was his sole remaining vantage point in life. The flow of passing cars, people embarking and disembarking, mail deliveries, the descent of snowflakes — these ever-changing worlds that he was intimately familiar with began to kindle his creative fervor once again. He positioned several cameras to capture the street view and rented another room downstairs. He documented the external world as seen from his window as well as the interior of his apartment, including scenes of jazz musicians practicing and interactions among other tenants. He adorned the entire building with microphones, capturing not just visual but also auditory experiences. This series of works he dubbed “As From My Window I Sometimes Glance,” although his gaze was more constant than occasional — he could sit by the window, motionless, for twenty hours, embracing the sunlight.
Photographs adorned every inch of the room and a subsequent room, eventually forming a labyrinth in arrangement. Smith eventually described this window as his “last bastion, still standing — a bastion safeguarding the mind.”
When employing a telescope outdoors, a sense of spatial astonishment arises from the apparent closeness of distant objects due to optical manipulation. However, the camera functions differently. It flattens a confined space, evolving into a type of auxiliary memory that combats the passage of time. The camera simultaneously alters our relationship with space and time in the world before us. In 1978, John Szarkowski, the director of photography at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York, curated an exhibition titled “Mirror and Window.” Ostensibly, windows represented science while mirrors symbolized the photographer’s introspection. Yet, in truth, every photograph serves as both a mirror and a window.
Jorge Luis Borges cited a quote from Saint Augustine: “What is time? If I am not asked, I know. But if I am asked, I do not know.” Borges stated that he felt the same way about poetry. After wielding a camera for over two decades, I realized I shared this sentiment about photography.
Hence, I resolved to write and share — presenting to you the images that have profoundly influenced me, alongside the more modest images I’ve produced myself. Photographer Brian Griffin was once asked how long it took him to capture a photograph. At thirty-seven years old, Griffin responded, “It took me thirty- seven years plus one-sixtieth of a second to take this picture. My mirror, my window, my fire, my light. In essence, transforming images into words is akin to seeking hope.
Thank you for stumbling upon — whether by chance or intention — a book that has spanned twenty-four years since its inaugural image.
Chapter 1. Hunting Wild Life with Camera and Flashlight
“Near the western peak of Kilimanjaro, a snow-covered mountain 19,710 feet above sea level, there is a dried and frozen carcass of a leopard. What is the leopard looking for in such an alpine place? No one can explain.” — Ernest Miller Hemingway “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”
The image critic Ian Jeffrey initiates his work “Photography: A Concise History” with the statement: “From the very beginning, the pioneers of photography found themselves facing a profound predicament — the inherent automatism of the medium they employed.” Photography, both in its early days and subsequent evolution, was perceived as an innovation, or more accurately, as a revelation of nature’s capacity to document its own imagery. The vocabulary adopted to discuss this emerging technique aptly mirrors this perspective. The image apprehended by the camera is often referred to as “sunshine painting,” a term suggesting a “natural handprint.” In contrast, artistic images are consciously crafted and purposefully constructed, while photographs carry a natural quality, reminiscent of specimens harvested from the untamed realms.”
Shortly after the invention of photography, between 1844 and 1846, William Henry Fox Talbot published the pioneering commercial book featuring photographs, titled “The Pencil of Nature.” Each photograph within was accompanied by a concise essay elucidating the method and process behind its creation. The book’s title appears to resonate with Jeffrey’s assertion. However, intriguingly, the scenes depicted in these early photographs do not solely encompass what we might narrowly define as untouched wilderness. They encompass an array of subjects, from groceries in China to bustling Paris boulevards or bustling squares. This raises a significant question — one that has lingered in my mind for years: Can all of these subjects, including those shaped by human hands, still be regarded as “natural impressions”? This question draws me back to pondering what “natural” truly signifies, both to Talbot and to myself.
When photographers embarked on capturing “nature” during the early days of photography’s invention, they encountered a significant challenge: exposure time. Early photographic techniques like the “Daguerreotype” required exposures lasting 15 to 30 minutes. As a result, what could be captured was essentially an image of light’s movement on an object over a period of time. The most artistic aspect of Daguerre’s photographs lay in the fundamental difference between these images and what the human eye perceives: they presented a positive image within a “narrow angle of view,” while the remaining angles appeared as negative images. Photography did indeed capture nature, but it wasn’t an exact replica of what the human eye sees.
Smoke, flying birds, galloping horses, flowing clouds, and even the smile of an American woman — these fleeting moments were elusive for early photography, especially with the long-exposure Daguerreotype method. The method captured only a “natural handprint” within the “narrow angle of view,” leaving the rest as negative images. It wasn’t until Frederick Scott Archer invented the Wet Collodion process that humanity could begin to capture these fleeting lights. With this new technology, in 1855, John Dillwyn Llewelyn won the Silver Medal at the World’s Fair for a series of four popular “moving” photographs featuring waves, smoke from ship funnels, and footsteps that deeply impressed sailors, fishermen, and urban wanderers alike. Photography had finally become a part of people’s memories, appearing sharper and more vivid than the mental images we carry.
Photographs freeze the perpetual motion of the natural world. Much like Linnaeus (Carl Linnaeus) summarized the attributes of living organisms with the binomial method, and Darwin’s selection of embryonic forms altered our understanding of the theory of evolution, photography reshapes nature. It halts nature’s continuous flow and offers repeated observation, transforming its fragments into a book that can be revisited.
The second difficulty in photographing “nature” is not just technical. Although the French government bought the technology of photography in 1839, and Dominique-François Arago announced the invention of photography — which declares that photography is both a science(mechanics, optics and chemistry) and an art. But through machinery, where is the artistry in replicating the essence of natural objects?
Human beings possess an inherent urge to document natural phenomena, driven by the necessities of survival — identifying pertinent information about wildlife to ensure their own wellbeing — and also fueled by religious inclinations. In the history of art, the depiction of non-human entities predates that of portraiture.
The bison and sheep etched onto the walls of France’s Lascaux Caves, the wild geese adorning the temples of ancient Egypt, and the dolphins captured in the artwork of Sandro Botticelli’s “Primavera” all exemplify this inclination. Within “Primavera,” the goddess Flora, adorned with flowers and elegantly dressed, beautifully merges human and floral imagery. Similarly, Titian’s “Bacchus and Ariadne” portrays the moment Bacchus’ sudden appearance startles mortal Ariadne, depicting her evasive motion.However, the pair of leopards locking eyes in the center of the painting is often interpreted as a metaphor for latent wild desire. Art reflects humanity’s mixture of longing, passion, and apprehension toward depicting natural subjects — these subjects constitute not just a living space, but an elusive spirit. With the advent of photography, a new facet of humanity’s desire for nature has emerged — understanding the principles governing the natural world.
In 1840, French bacteriologist Alfred François Donné photographed bones through a microscope camera, just as an American physician, John William Draper, captured the first photograph of the moon that same year. Although bones, teeth, or even the moon remain natural entities, seeing them this way — through the lens of a camera — transforms teeth into planet-like formations and the moon into a beautifully textured stone.
People have long believed that the hand wielding a pen is guided by both heart and mind. However, the photographic process, which mirrors the original subject so closely, prompts contemplation about whether the beauty portrayed within still stems from the divine, and whether “nature” continues its silent workings. Thus, we encounter what can be termed “positive rationality.”
On one hand, these photographed natural entities — sometimes “anonymous” or awaiting comprehension — generate a novel sense of curiosity, and photography plays a role in unraveling these mysteries. Through the “mechanical eye,” humanity gains the ability to observe the intricate biological and physiological structures and behaviors.
As John Berger posits, the camera was invented in 1839, around the time Auguste Comte finalized his positivist philosophical discourse. Since then, positivism, sociology, and photography have co-evolved, sharing a common belief: the “quantifiable variety of things recorded by scientists and experts.” In time, it is anticipated that all knowledge pertaining to nature and society will be bestowed upon humanity, empowering us to master the natural world and societal dynamics.
However, humans will gradually realize that alongside their rationality and thirst for knowledge, a romantic sentiment simmers — a sentiment akin to a yearning for love. They are unwilling to perceive merely the “shadow” of a natural object. In fact, they uncover facets beyond mere physiological structures — discoveries that might stem from intuition or serendipity.
Source text of the translated sample (as required)
序
當我偶然從窗戶瞥見As From My Window I Sometimes Glance
將事件化為語詞就等於在找尋希望，希望這些語詞可以被聽見，以及當它們被聽見之後，這些事件可以得到評判；上帝的評判或歷史的評判。不管哪一種，都是遙遠的評判；然而語言是立即的……
──約翰‧ 伯格（John Berger），《另一種影像敘事》
我的童年時光有兩扇窗戶，一扇朝向中華路這邊，面對第一百貨公司，另一扇則是朝向鐵路和人人百貨公司。後者還卡著我們家的招牌，所以視野總是被遮擋的，不完全的。我有時會想，或許是從這兩扇窗戶開啟我的攝影想像，那是我最早的觀景窗。
大學時擁有第一台相機，當時的我曾幻想過成為攝影師。而我所崇拜的對象是張照堂、阮義忠、關曉榮……。有一回我讀到一篇關於關曉榮先生的文章，提到他北上後一面開計程車，一面四處拍照。就在彼時他接觸到了攝影家尤金．史密斯（W. Eugene Smith）的作品。史密斯為了拍攝日本水俣的汞中毒事件（漁民飲用了工廠排放的污染廢水而導致終身癱瘓），前後在當地住了三、四年，甚至遭受身體的威脅。但他的一系列作品喚醒了某些「前後在當地住了三、四年，甚至遭受身體的威脅。但他的一系列作品喚醒了某些物事。
大學以後雖然我幾乎把生活費花在買鏡頭、洗照片這件事上，但隨著年紀漸長，我明白成為一個攝影家，特別是以影像帶給人新的世界觀的攝影者，這樣的夢想是不再可能的了。我缺乏面對現實人生時，以鏡頭揮拳的勇氣。
我不是一個很著迷於攝影硬體的人。從大學時代的FM-10、FM-2 開始，直到現在我的數位相機都不是昂貴的機種，我始終維持購買二手相機與鏡頭的習慣。這個啟發來自多年前鳥類畫家劉伯樂慨然借我一支鏡頭拍鳥，有段時間我幾乎要以為那支鏡頭是我的了，我一直以為他還有別支鏡頭，但並沒有。他始終用這支有著破舊迷彩包覆的鏡頭，爬行、埋伏、追蹤、接近那些讓人心動的，長著翅膀的生物。而有將近一年的時間，這支鏡頭始終在我這裡。
很長一段時間我著迷野外，忘了街頭。幾年前我因為寫小說的關係，開始在各處街頭日夜遊蕩，許多時刻文字沒有出現，影像卻出現了。我又開始了拍電影、當攝影師的幻想。然而我已懂得更實際地面對這樣的幻想，成為一個攝影師是不可能的，但實踐一些只有我自己才做得到、願意做的攝影計畫，卻是可能的。
我一面在圖書館裡閱讀可能找到的影像史資料，開始結識那些拿著相機改變人類視野的關鍵人物，透過閱讀這些經典影像，我默默地發現，那影像史似乎也和人類與自然互動的歷史深度相關。而這部分在台灣，無論在攝影研究或攝影散文中，都較為欠缺。同一時間，我也開始面對自己的影像史：一卷不算長，卻對我來說意義深刻的膠卷。
我把這些文章分成「正片」與「負片」，值得拿到陽光下檢視的，以及放在防潮箱裡不輕易示人的。
尤金．史密斯的攝影生涯極為艱難，他曾在沖繩被炸傷，並且在一九五五年因故從《生活》雜誌離職。史密斯因而得靠接案子拍照維生。他曾在匹茲堡拍照時花了數年的時間，用一萬多張底片拍下該城的每一面。他認為自己在創作攝影版的《尤里西斯》（Ulysses）。 一九五七年致力於工作的史密斯因服用安非他命提神，而產生了一些精神上的問題，他搬進曼哈頓第六大道與二十八街交接處的一間公寓頂樓。
史密斯發現他的人生觀看角度只剩這一扇窗了，汽車駛過，人們上車下車，郵件投遞，雪花落下……一切他熟悉又每天更替的世界，又開始喚發他創作的激動。他架設了六部照相機瞄準街頭，並且承租他樓下另一個房間。他拍攝窗外看到的世界也拍攝公寓的內部，如練團的爵士樂手與其他房客。他把整幢樓裝滿麥克風，連聲音也不放過。他把這系列作品稱為「當我偶然從窗戶瞥見」（As From My Window I Sometimes Glance），當然，他並不是真的sometimes glance，他是貨真價實的凝視，他可以坐在窗戶旁二十小時不動，把沖曬出來的照片貼滿房間與另一個房間，終成迷宮。史密斯說，這扇窗終究成為他「最後一條依然堅守的壕溝，捍衛心智的壕溝」。
在野外你用望遠鏡時，會有一種遠方事物近在目前的空間震撼。那是因為光學改變了空間距離。但相機不同，它把一個有限的空間平面化，並成為輔助記憶的形式抵抗時間。相機同時改變了我們所面對世界的時空關係。一九七八年紐約現代藝術博物館（MoMA）的攝影部主任約翰‧ 札戈斯基（John Szarkowski）曾策畫一場名為「鏡與窗」的展覽，表面上看來，表面上看來，窗意味著科學上的記錄，而鏡則是攝影者自我意識的反射；但事實上，每幅照片都既是鏡也是窗。
波赫士（Jorge Luis Borges）引用過一句聖‧ 奧古斯丁（Saint Augustine）的話：「時間是什麼呢？如果別人沒問我這個問題的時候，我是知道答案的。不過如果有人問我時間是什麼的話，這我就不知道了。」波赫士說他對詩也有同樣的感覺。而拿了二十幾年的相機以後，我發現自己對攝影術也有同樣的感覺了。
所以我決意寫寫看，並且將這些影響我重大的影像，或我自己生產出的貧弱影像，在你面前展示。據說有人問攝影家布里安‧ 格里芬（Brian Griffin）花了多久拍到一張照片，當時三十七歲的格里芬說：「事實上這張照片花了我三十七年加六十分之一秒。」
我的鏡，我的窗，我的火，我的光。對我來說，將影像化為文字，也等於在尋找希望。 謝謝你偶然或刻意瞥見，這本從第一張影像開始花了我二十四年的書。
Chapter 1 : Hunting Wild Life with Camera and Flashlight
With these materials submitted, I officially claimed that I finished this task. But the real road is long—because no matter what, I will continue to translate this book until it is finished. A book that should have been disclosed to the world when it was beautifully born.
Public Privacy 