I think revolution happens when you distrust anything in its current state, including yourself.
When you are a part of a world that is within an enclosed system, the biggest threat is that the loss of contact with any voice from the outside - a point of reference that is different from you - becomes habitual. The loss of this reference makes the enclosed system seem perfect. I can still feel this kind of threat today, the voice that gives legitimacy to various kinds of enclosure.
The subject of contemporary art should include a political dimension, the distrust contemporary art has towards the existing order. One manifestation of this distrust is the mechanical dichotomization between art's form and its political content; the other is the institutionalizing tendency of anti-institutionalization. We almost never resist ourselves - the part of ourselves that has been institutionalized. We have occupied the word "resistance" and have become its owner, while "resistance" has become our servant. Thus, we own "resistance" and occupy it as a position of power.
There is the specter of "realism" that is still haunting Chinese contemporary art - that art is only an instrument, an instrument to reflect society, that it must be useful for society. Also, I have noticed many Western media outlets are very insistent on understanding contemporary art in China through this kind of realist approach. Sometimes I even sense that they are intent on, as we say in China, "picking bones of politics out of an egg of art." Or perhaps they see art as merely an instrument to reflect society.
Opportunism towards knowledge is a utilitarian demand that knowledge must be immediately practical. Just like with sociology where we hope its purpose is to serve society, however, the true purpose of sociology lies in its impracticality. It cannot become practical or else it loses its meaning. Perhaps we should learn a different kind of knowledge: the knowledge to question knowledge.
I think painting is in fact a form of rehearsal expressed through different mediums.
The only legitimate interpretation of the concept of the "public" is that it's a highly heterogeneous group of people, and I cannot imagine who has the right to speak on their behalf using a "public" voice. If the multiplicity of the environment is its true nature, then my works defend this truthfulness. The greatest fairness in society is to defend the difference between each individual - the fairness and truthfulness of their inconsistency and differentiation.
When I look back on the past two decades of my journey today, I guess many people would interpret my artistic practice as a kind of cross-media attempt. I have indeed tried many different kinds of media over the past 20 years and collaborated in many different ways with people from many different fields. However, I like to understand this process as a kind of compensation for having once lost my "right of choice," an exercise of free choice and taking responsibility for any consequences that might result from it. To be honest, it's a bit of a paranoid act.
We can no longer contemplate the subject - self - of contemporary art; it has been woven into infinite relationships, replaced by social movements, national image, and financial capital. The disappearance of the construction of the self of contemporary art makes it impossible to exist in the form of a subject. The subject of contemporary art that I speak of is a kind of naming event predicated upon the multiplicity of the environment. It includes politics, should have its own way of thinking, and can be perceived.
From about age 17 to 25, a time some people describe as "beautiful youth," it was "arranged" for me to live with two different collectives. These eight years where I had absolutely no choice influenced me in two ways: firstly, I gained an understanding of "freedom." To this day, I very much respect and treasure individual choice. Secondly, I developed a suspicion towards any kind of organization, collective, movement or uniform action, as well as a rejection of any kind of power.
