the text and images below are posted from beijing, berlin, hong kong, new york, sado island and zürich. there are a few of us, and this is the space in between.

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一天的二十八周年 the fourth of june, 28 years old


on this day we sat in shadows, tried to learn how to play Go, and had a talk about public space, the value of symbolic acts and Zhuangzi versus Confucius’ possibilities for a society that relies on the individual.




the close of this day appears to be like any other day, where an audience crowds around at dusk to watch the daily lowering of the national flag. black and white-clad guards march in, and their commander shouts, “xia!” in a timed rhythm, releasing them one-by-one like playing pieces in stationed positions around the perimeter of tourists. Symbolism acts back upon us, and we play another game of go.


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立夏 six days after the standing, summer








20150506_BISHANlaotaitai享受“花顺” + farmer












being a tool. befriending the uncomfortable. noting discrepancies. reconstructing the possibility of a third.


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for what is not heard in one ear goes through the mouth and circles all around

2012年3月,某一日 (for mister e, come back soon. for haxi, welcome back.)

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新米节夏季末mix | new rice festival end of summer mix

24 july 2013,西湾 saiwan beach,2:00 am

24 july 2013,西湾 saiwan beach from under my tent,maybe around 6 am

02 august 2013,soundwalk in 贵阳 guiyang city,around 9:30 pm

19 august 2013,music to boost worker morale,肇兴 zhaoxing town,around 11 am

20 august 2013,芦笙 battle,肇兴 zhaoxing town,9:39 pm

“火龙果之歌 dragon fruit song”,from the forthcoming album 《在你面前很无邪 No Evil Before You 》by 孙大肆 Joy SUN

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from the 三行實驗室 three lines laboratory



工作坊之後去找我姑姐一起吃飯,她告訴了我大伯過世了。第二天她和其他阿伯去收拾大伯的屋,要準備把他30年一個人住的房子還給政府。他們回來之後給我一個老行李箱,裡面放了一些大伯的東西。其中有一個小AIWA放音機, 外殼壞了但是還能用。聽了你給我寫的三行詩,聽到在那三行之間我和你之間的距離,也許也就是這個地球上的每一個人與另外一個人的距離。

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关于一种风 about one kind of wind







啊呀 啊啊啊


——小安 2013.03.11


one kind of wind called rotary head wind

particularly much in countryside

specializing in evil

Suddenly run out from the thatch

bite someone

make him walk sideling

ah oh ahahah

jump into the pond

——Xiao An 2013.03.11


Xiao An, born in 1964, one  of the representative poets of Feifeism. Graduated from a Military Medical University, turned out to be a nurse in a local psychiatric hospital. She lives in Chengdu currently.

translation series NO.2

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大兔子病了 eldest rabbit sick

This is a nursery rhyme, this is a logical reasoning story, this is a horror case. For me, this is a poem. I don’t know who is the author, I just try to translate it to English.















Eldest rabbit sick,
2nd rabbit looked,
3rd rabbit bought medicine,
4th rabbit decocted,
5th rabbit died,
6th rabbit carried,
7th rabbit dug,
8th rabbit buried,
9th rabbit sat on the ground crying,
10th rabbit asked him why?
9th rabbit said,
5th rabbit would never come back!


translation series No.1

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notes from the yangtze (holdings), HIT, strike, limited


It all started with an image, though one that really came into a so to speak light before it even existed. One sees, firstly. Punctum as a form or attention, filter or framing device——an interruption in the act of seeing which triggers a refraction where association is the flipping upside-down of the mirror as much as a natural stream of thought. Oh. Constantly grasping at words. Try to describe flows, try to pick up words that describe people: 散文诗人, the great essayist, experimental folk maker. One is never enough, of course——artist, writer, activist——but if i could describe to you a process instead then perhaps i wouldn’t have gone through it all in quite the same way anyway. Words destroy me, time passes, and in the meanwhile we play a few games.

It all started with a seasick steadicam. It was the bane of those first few weeks of working, becoming one of those challenges that one cannot give up on simply because you’ve already wasted too much time trying and cannot bear to let go in vain. And those many hours spent walking back and forth the third floor flat tinkering with an orange handsaw arm, PET bottle caps and various metal washers came out of a whim, really, based upon a beginner’s rereading of The Politics of Disappearance and moving around in Hong Kong. Movement, restlessness, sitting at a desk overlooking noisy Shanghai Street looking for the right troubleshooting video to make the damned steadicam work as it should. Sitting as restless as distraction, the wrong videos lead to other flows, like centripetally-spinning eggs scrambled inside the shell and shanzhai effecting tilt-shift optics with video and image-editing software.

And we continue to work within that distraction, as if the Cantonese version of looking (眱) already directed our eyes askance, the Scheimpflug principle was made physical as if we were moving throughout the city while laying down. Or seeing through a viewfinder, especially when mounted on a seasick steadicam held at waist-height. Tilt-shift is a subtle change in perspective, and your weak limb makes everything feel more distant, passive but with uncertain intention like sleeping next to someone with their back turned to you. I wonder if feeling distance from these images makes one more of a subject or less of one.

He says, “I am thinking. What if the body were not important?

We keep walking along an overpass, and she comes to match our pace on my right, listening. She interrupts him at one point, and when she closes her statement with, “Maybe it’s an over-interpretation“, her body moves away from us while keeping the tempo.

Later while they are opening up the furled black banner in her arms, I say to him, “In principle, we should be free. But with the body there is possession. And with possession there is the basis for all socio-political conflict.” We stop at an intersection, in the middle of the street. Some people sit down.

It could have all started from there. He had warned me about getting arrested, but for all the supposed escalation it starts raining and traffic is restored. Everyone shoots images of everyone else. The three-man police film crew make a tilt-shift view, their camera perched on a gaffer pole above the crowd, one with his hands following gently on the shoulders of the gaffer. Everyone is in close proximity; the third is close behind.

She writes, for instance, “the Polis, properly speaking, is not the city-state in its physical location; it is the organization of the people as it arises out of acting and speaking together, and its true space lies between people living together for this purpose, no matter where they happen to be.” The “true” space then lies “between the people” which means that as much as any action takes place somewhere located, it also establishes a space which belongs properly to alliance itself.

—Judith Butler, “Bodies in Alliance and the Politics of the Street

When you look up tilt-shift photography on Wikipedia, you will find an image of Hong Kong viewed from Victoria Peak, as if that particular perspective and reference were made for that kind of displacement; distortions require further tweaking before we realise that the spaces of camaraderie encompass kilometers and the ones around them hone in the millimeters of a lens during public conflict. Focus shifts while waiting in civic procession: a boring walk, intermittent conversation, a hand-painted sign. She asks how we can change the circumstances. It is uncertain whether or not the question is real, let alone try to imagine jouissance or our own semblance. Keep on walking, they say, there’s nothing to see here.

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