Have a daydream and let your limbs relax. In the midst of that momentary chaos, we have no means of experiencing our direct existence. The fallen proletariat permits itself the crudity of possessing daydreams and the "I have nothing" creed rejects material objects from being the core of any reasoning, form of material possession, or possession of the putrescent fluidity. Upholding art is equivalent to destroying the world and in possession of the media, possession of the incoherence of the media. In the fleeting dreamland you might realize the integrality of the odious "Utopia". One after another damnable truth, the rogue proletarian motto is always swaying upon the epitaph of the bourgeoisie - but who is the gravedigger? What size grave can accommodate this huge carcass? Some inheritance should be handed down. Embark upon a political venture! Proletariat artists have the right to take over all the rotten fruit and all the scalding nomenclature from the assembly line. A brand new puissance, an absolute mental state debased by the rotten word "cool". There are always people who undertake to bring about a brand new destruction on a brand new plane. There are always people who try to spread the idea that contemporary theory must reposition, naturally not in explanation, but rather in the secret recesses of transactions and negotiations. A genuine proletariat artist is never ashamed to camouflage the flames of pure affection of power. Art from beginning to end is a series of products of human manipulation. Artists are merely indispensable contributors in the process. Bring out some stockholder manners, choose the target of your negotiation and take possession of "yourself"; deprive yourself ownership of your person and self-vaporize in a new dismembering sense and alternating loop. Come up with a little nerve and trample upon yourself to experience a first-class aesthetic enjoyment. "Nothing is proof enough". "Imaginative strength" has been explained as merely an object of understanding of the imagination; the things understood are merely a product of the imagination of those things explained. Before understanding, you are already the prisoner of all manner of preconditions. What is art for? This is a question repeating dredged up and dragged to shore. Don't believe any longer the numbing and turbid explanations of the bourgeoisie. Art, as the quintessential weapon of the new proletariat artist, is certainly the most powerful choice to challenge and squeeze out the old order. Let the rotten get all the more rotten, let it further intensify its essence. Rob others by trickery. Get twice the result with half the effort. Spin fine and mighty words. Justify yourself. Take possession of every possible resource and sphere of influence. All artists who claim to be the devil incarnate ought to take the words and feelings they are able to claw out from the rubbish around them and throw in their art and make the entire culture become the bait in the trap, making the confused and the incorrigible all the more incorrigible. The "battle of intellects" is like a mouse who must find its way through a maze in all haste, rushing to the nearest platform, cocktail party, art museum, picture gallery and before your speech loses its effect, seize the moment where others have not yet digested your words and from desires (note: It isn't any nonsensical ideology) that come from the mad ravings, and harebrained thoughts sanctimoniously made as far as possible to appear as if there really is such a thing. Deceit and promoting deceit is the starting point of an artist's work and working process. While a successful proletariat artist's conscience is evidently established first of all on the basis of unselfishly deceiving oneself. The only logical explanation is: "people, anybody lacks the appropriate self-experience and present experience". There is no need to fear vulgarity - vulgarization exists in every camp. As a matter of fact the word "vulgarity" only displays actual coquetry in the mouths of those who boast some kind of counter-vulgarity, but it so happens that all the more amusing possibilities lie concealed in this vulgar judgmental notion and still more subversive rapture. From beginning to end, the only doctrine a proletariat artist embraces is to set to work at any possible juncture, without any formal starting point, without any object, closing the eyes and insanely strafing fire in all directions, possessing all avarice, ferociousness, paying people back in their own coin and showing prowess at discovering other peoples' shortcomings then making them ones own. Totally and resolutely implement the first principle that work load is foremost to "make something out of nothing". Guerrilla war, a war of attrition, facing the global commercial enemy armed to the teeth, everything seems suspect, even comrade artists are not to be trusted as association will inevitably create domination and the villainy of being dominated. Put an end to other peoples' breeding ideology in your head. All that you face is waiting for material to be processed. Contradiction. Duplicity. The deserved artist ought to assume the work carried out by a termite and disintegrate one's own nest in the dark, and solve other peoples' contradictions in the midst of one's own predetermined problems, without caring whether the foreword doesn't match the later writings. There is no need for self-contradiction and sophistry. At least strategically scorn all rationality provided by knowledge; tactics are another matter. Problems are always others' problems and they should never create confusion in one's own work. There is no painting problem, Photographical problem and so on, media problem, empirical problem, ideal problem, ideological problem. All the guys befuddled by their hypothetical enemy fear nothing but losing the shadows they leave upon the wall. There almost doesn't exist any rhetorical problem, problems are just an apéritif to aid the digestion of the bourgeoisie, just an excuse for being all the more screwed up and making problems a progressively duller psychological mapping. There surely isn't anyone unaware of omnipotent psychology? The reason for the world becoming all the more humorless and coarse. This is a brutal theory and art makes use of every clique and branch of psychology; it would be better said that it is exploiting others' psychological perceptions. Exploitation is inevitable; pursuit of surplus value esthetics, pursuit of primary accumulated esthetics, pursuit of unearned esthetics, pursuit of making something out of nothing esthetics, pursuit of ugly esthetics, pursuit of face value esthetics, pursuit of adhering and parasitical esthetics; pursuit of bigoted and egomaniacal esthetics, pursuit of undignified and imperfect esthetics; pursuit of offenceless and irresponsible esthetics, pursuit of the objectless contact with oil and vinegar esthetics. If you still have ideals to pursue, it proves that the new proletariat artist's daydreams are not yet thorough enough. But there is no harm in that; is not unprincipled nihilism yet another ingratiation of new proletariat artist towards the use-by-date of art? The promissory note preceding losing is to only sell the artist proper; Ensure that of artworks nothing but the consumer itself is sold, Ensure that of money nothing is sold but the benefits themselves, Ensure that of imagination nothing is sold but the illusions themselves, Ensure that of art history nothing is sold but esthetics themselves. New proletariats only bring forth their loathing for all realistic forms when they wish to become new proletariat artists themselves and they are courageous enough to acknowledge that they themselves are uncultured. Only by thrusting one's head deeply into the slime will you taste what flavor thickly permeates the air. Until the detumescence of the struggle... there will always be something that forces you to realize that trusting art is just as pathetic as trusting a whore.

Next vacation...


October 16, 2000, Hangzhou