春天近了，沙尘暴也随之而来。正值“尘土飞扬”的好时机，DUSTbar开始了它的新计划：Letters漫游。

“Letter”在英文中既有字母的意思，也指代信件。在DUSTbar的“字母表”中，每个字母代表一个人，他们曾经与DUSTbar相遇，并建立了友谊。比如，A代表“阿布”，B代表“本杰明”。在Google Maps的帮助下，上面的图片展示了DUSTbar的“关系地图”。更多细节：字母表。

同时，信件往往蕴藏着寄信人与收信人之间的亲密关系。借着狂风，DUSTbar给“字母表”中的每个“字母”寄出了一封信。打开它，看看记忆和情绪在胶片与文字中留下了怎样的印迹。

“尘土”何时飞扬到你家？

Spring is approaching along with the sand storms. Now it’s exact the right time for flying dust, and DUSTbar starts its new plan: letters wandering.

“Letter” means either an alphabetic character or a mail. Here in the DUSTbar’s “Alphabet”, each letter stands for one person who has ever encountered DUSTbar and built up friendship with it. For example, A stands for “A Bu”, B stands for “Benjamin”. With the help of Google maps, the picture above shows the relation-map of DUSTbar. More details: Alphabet

Meanwhile, letters (mails) also hide the intimate relationship between two. As the sand storm blows, DUSTbar sends the letters to each letter on the “Alphabet”. Open it to see how the memories/emotions are left in photos/words.

When will the dust fly to your home? 

制作已花费了很长时间，我们一直在努力将已有的资源整合并分享，现在是收获的季节 啦：
www.homeshop.org.cn 或者 www.homeshopbeijing.org 。
由于网站包含众多内容，访问时请耐心等待…

点击链接访问家作坊的新网站之后，您可在四周活动一圈，做下伸展运动或者泡杯茶，网站正在加载中——慢工出细活——需要时间…

最后，站在兔年的尾巴上，家作坊祝大家龙年“张牙舞爪”！

It’s been a long time in the making, but here we are, an attempt to gather together and share some of what we do:
www.homeshop.org.cn or www.homeshopbeijing.org.
There’s a lot of space in-between; please visit and stick around…

Go ahead and click on the link to visit HomeShop’s brand new website, then take a small walk around the room, do some stretching exercises or make tea; this website is a work-in-progress, and—like all good things—takes time…

But don’t let that stop us from multi-tasking——Michael, 何颖雅 Elaine, Fotini, 欧阳潇 Xiao, 曲一箴 Twist, 植村 絵美 Emi and 王尘尘 Cici at HomeShop wish you all fierce flights and a happy Dragon year.

(非常感谢高源翻译的英文原版 Chinese translation of the original post in English thanks to 高源鸿!!! 谢谢!!!

几个月之前，有位在2011光州设计双年展（主题为图可图非常图）非定名设计单元工作的朋友介绍了几位她的同事给我认识。他们在对祭奠用品进行研究， 大概这些用品是他们非定名设计的研究对象。我的朋友知道，我在和附近寿衣店的邻居有交流，制作了一些纸质物件，所以她研究祭奠用品的这几个同事想知道，这些店在哪儿。我给他们发了几张我制作的纸件和研究的照片，但其实我都没有给寿衣店内部拍过照。不过，我确实故意没告诉他们这些店的具体位置（其实就在我们工作室的正对面）。

这听着有点傻，但是我想声明一下，我这么做并不是因为想独占我周边的文化资源。我只是想研究这些小店同时不影响它们的真实性。这些小店从一开始，就笼罩在一片神秘之中。一年之前，我们在准备北二条小报第一期的时候，老萧和我特地去和问过开寿衣店的山东母子，要不要在我们的报纸上打个免费广告。两人拒绝了我们的提议，理由是做这种“迷信”的广告是不吉利的。政府对这种迷信产业进行着严格的监管，而同时又垄断着殡葬业。比如， 从我们对门邻居店里购买的骨灰盒，是不能进入公墓的，因为我们的邻居没有官方的批准。我想，这可能和他们本身不稳定的处境有关。他们在回答问题时，彬彬有礼而小心谨慎。所以，我们写了一篇短文，发在北二条小报上，仅向英语读者介绍这一现象。

不过，这篇短文的标题上用中文写了“寿衣”二字。所以在我们这份杂七杂八的报纸创刊号发行的第二天，就遭到了一些邻居的责怪，认为我们不应该提及这方面的内容。从他们的反应当中我感受到的是，不仅对门寿衣店与政府的关系难以说清，连关于人们离世后的仪式也是不可轻启的话题。

11月的时候，我们看了Brendan McGetrick的演讲，他本人是“未定名设计”的馆长之一。他以让人耳目一新的方式，向我们呈现出了各种创意与作品。他运用简单质朴的日常物件，科技产品，甚至社会现象来扩展设计的定义。比如：“政治抗议手册，DNA条码，死刑执行程序，跨洲货币体系”等等。那么这些如何成为设计的范例呢？McGetrick写到：“本次展会的目的，就是对“设计”进行重新的定义。设计是满足人类需求的各种战略解决方案，不是艺术家为了标榜自我而造出的主观产物”。

祭奠用品的设计可谓是McGetrick理念的反义词。这些用品悉数列举了日常生活的所有物件，通常涵盖我们文化当中的奢侈商品，比如：钱、汽车、高档衣服、手机和大楼。这些用品并非照搬物品原来的样子 ，也不是按照“山寨”的理念进行的。在某种程度上说，山寨好于原装产品，有的时候山寨机还会微妙而幽默地改变原机的功能。决定祭奠用品的外形的还有另外一个实际原因：为了便于焚烧，它们是用纸做的。因为这样的最终目的，设计当中的其他元素往往不被考虑在内。制造材料一定要能够充分燃烧，这样才能尽快进入地府——虽然几乎任何材料都是可燃的。曾几何时，人们在提供祭品的时候更加慷慨。但现在人们有着当代的理解，往往选择更普通的方式祭奠过世的爱人或祖先。 现在人人都可进行祭奠活动，所以祭奠也变得不在神圣，趋于理性。但是毕竟，相比于Georges Bataille提出的，用文字寄托哀思，或Jacques Attali倡导的，寄悲情于当代音乐，烧纸钱、烧祭物，显然还是更加直接的祭奠方式。然而这些用品必须做到能物尽其用同时价格低廉。所以，与现代社会的其他产品一样，祭奠用品也是大规模的现成制品。一套九件的祭奠品仅售15元。如果钱不是问题的话，还可以定做娃娃屋大小的别墅，或者等离子电视。在北京的小店里你可以在列着上百条物件的清单上订货，然后河北的制造者就会发货过来。不过，一般来说，卖的最好的还是成捆的通胀率极高的冥币，价格十分公道。

但是让我不解的是，如果祭奠用品的意义在于让死者在地府活得体面，那为什么还用最便宜的材料给他们做各种物件的复制品呢？是因为在这“纯粹的交换”中，最普通的商品，也是最合适的替代品吗？如果可以用仿冒品的话（比如，生前死后都可使用的双SIM卡手机；印着玉皇大帝的冥币），那么为什么还要买那些卖家的赝品，而不去自己制作一些适合自己情况和价值观的用品呢？这样不是能更好的阐释我们去已故亲人的关系吗？

带着这些想法，我自己制作了一些纸件并拿到对门的寿衣店，想知道能不能卖出去。我们的邻居并不吝惜对设计本身的评价，却坦承觉得这卖不出去。我向他们说明，他们可以自己定价，卖出去的钱完全归他们所有，他们也不断地问是否真的不需要给我任何钱。我唯一的要求就是请他们告诉我人们的反应。在我们的坚持下，他们同意拿几个看看。我本以为，手工制作可能对人们更有吸引力。然而店主却说，有人倒是买了一件，不管是以什么价格出售的，此人却打算留着我做的纸件而不是用于焚烧。这对我来说有些有趣，也有些让人失望。这并不是我的预期目标，也不是我最初保密的目的。不管怎么说，我还是觉得有机会的：接下来的几周，我路过对门，发现我的彩色小车摆在他们的玻璃柜台里。过了一段时间小车不见了，我却知道原因不是卖出去了。他们就是无法再忍受我的掺合，不想摆在柜台里了。而我们也觉得很尴尬，不敢旧事重提。

对亡者的纪念全世界都有，而我所知的祭奠方式相较这种简单很多。对很多人来说，谈到死亡，往往会谈宗教；而不信教的人，在说到死亡的时候，也会谈谈宗教，因为，没人谁真的知道死亡是怎样的一种体验，只能通过宗教来解释。我还记得参加过的几次亲戚的葬礼，感觉与其他重要场合没有什么特别大的区别，只是气氛凝重些。有的人相信天堂，我并不相信。在这点上，我与很多人包括亲属朋友是不同的。（我母亲是犹太人，她的文化身份可能更明显，而我其他亲戚的观点更集中于现世，引用我一个叔叔Alex在邮件中的原话，他说“等到陨石撞了地球，一切灰飞烟灭，一切都是浮云”）。如果说我们这个例子里，还依稀可见传统的影子的话，那么最多也只是说，这些传统时不时的扰乱了迥然不同的生活。

从某种程度上说，对死者的纪念，是人们用一种宗教，或者文化的方式，对抗着对于当代社会（流于物质）的失望，这种设计，可以说是存在于我们的内心深处根深蒂固的本能，或至少是，一种行之有效的对抗方式。牧师的动作，犹太拉比的语言或者在街边烧纸钱妇女的做法在一定意义上都是他们所在的环境的设计。而对于烧纸钱的妇女来说，这种设计其实是以象征的方式，重新构建了中国传统家庭相互依靠的体系，而让这些理念不因生命的终止而结束。但其实，即使焚烧的物件可能会变，这种习俗仍是在试图同精神世界建立一种连接，虽然表现形式是物质的，但实质并不全是。

我是站在一个不了解内情的人的角度上发表的观点，很难深入从人类学、社会学或宗教理论上进行分析。也就是在此，理论和信仰似乎分裂成了自相矛盾的境地。如果我们对待鬼魂的方式如此功利，我们如何能够真正进入灵魂的世界呢？带着这样的问题，我不禁自忖，是否现在已为时太晚？围绕真正的信仰问题，各种阐释与误解将我们对待灵魂的方式定调为艺术，但何为真相，何为误解，我们的路程在发现与怀疑的相反方向上，渐行渐远。毕竟，扪心自问，我们能说，扫墓者在祭奠先人时，所希望获得的，也是我们所期待的这种近距离的心灵体验吗？这些纪念本身是否已经稀释成了一种约定俗成的仪式？那么，个人与习俗的真正关系又是什么呢，我作为外来者是否就本不应该介入呢？

我们周边其实有很多家寿衣店。我决定去接触临近医院的一家更为“正规”的寿衣店。和我家附近的几家寿衣店差不多，这家店也是24小时开放的。毕竟，当生命走到尽头的时候，说不好什么时候，寿衣就派上用场了。一个晚上，我和陈陈一起去了这家寿衣店，他们比我想象的更愿意谈这个话题，我本以为他们会对此缄默无言。与我交谈的女士不认为寿衣店有任何不同，她也不认为所谓的私人处购买骨灰盒不可进入公墓的说法是真的。她给出的理由是，我邻居不像他们是本地人，入行时间短，所以在与当地顾客交谈时更为敏感。这位女士还对我拿去的纸件做出了批评意见。一个星期后我拿着改进过的纸件又去找她，这次纸件上有了手绘的细节。她问我，其他的像冰箱、洗衣机、衣柜床的物件在什么地方。正是她的态度导致了我的变节，让我觉得，之前的谨慎低调都是不必要的。祭奠，本是很个人的行为；但若仅仅因为质疑这一活动的纯粹性，便以此为题，公开讨论，是会让人感觉，多少有些尴尬。（你真相信灵魂吗？）说实话，对于这一精神世界的论断，我们无可稽考；而未来人们将以何种方式祭奠先人，我们也不得而知。我们把一种行为冠以“设计”之名的那一刻，其实就已经表明，这已不再是种信仰。因为，我们看到的，不再是真相，而是某个具体的物件，被赋予了具体的用途，被视作为满足人类需求而设计的一整套战略解决方案。这不禁让我想起了Vilem Flusser的名言：“设计者都是攻于心计，巧设陷阱的算计者。但如果通过讨论，我们可以获得另外一个视角，学会在思考的时候，不只局限于融合、利用、或强行引入某种文化元素，那么，也许在这时，我们可以说，自己真正实现了外国习俗与自身艺术的水乳交融。艺术作品不是人类征服精神世界的工具；不是对逝者简单粗暴的讽刺；相反，艺术作品可以是纯粹的；但真正的艺术来不得半点匆忙。

Several months ago a friend working for the “Un-Named Design” section of the 2011 Gwangju Design Biennale (titled “Design is not Design is Design”) put me in touch with some of her colleagues researching paraphernalia associated with death rituals, presumably as examples of un-named design. My friend was aware of the paper objects I have been making in dialogue with the neighborhood Shouyi, so the researchers asked where they could find these shops. I sent them some images of my objects and research, as I hadn’t even taken images of the insides of the Shouyi stores. But I deliberately refrained from telling them where our neighbors’ store is (it’s directly across from us in the alleyway).

In the summer one of our turtles stopped moving. We buried its body under the shrub by the gates. 夏天的时候，我们养的四只乌龟中有一只死了，我们将它埋在门口的灌木丛里。

This sounds silly now, but in my defense, I swear it wasn’t because I wanted to be the only cultural poacher in the neighborhood. I was simply trying to remain as true as possible to the subject I am following, which from the outset of my acquaintance seemed shrouded in secrecy. When we were preparing the first Beiertiao Leaks a year ago, Xiao and I went over to ask if the Shandong-bred mother-son business team living and working there would place an advertisement free-of-charge in our small newspaper. They refused on the grounds that it was bad luck to publicize as a profession dealing in “superstition.” They didn’t want publicity and wouldn’t allow any pictures or direct mentions of their store printed. Being a sector based on spirituality and superstition, it is kept a close eye on by authorities, and we were told that the government has a monopoly on the funerary industry. Apparently, if one were to buy an urn from our neighbors, it couldn’t be buried in an official cemetery, as they aren’t officially sanctioned. We suspected part of the issue was the instability of their own personal situation. They cagily but politely answered our inquiries, though, so we prepared a short article introducing the phenomenon only to the English-speaking readership.

The title of this brief piece had the Chinese characters “寿衣“ in it though, so the day after distributing the scrappy new copies of the first edition of Beiertiao Leaks we received reprimands from some of the neighbors for even broaching the subject. It seemed from their reactions that, aside from this little shop’s ambiguous relation to the state, as an area of human activity addressing the mysteries of what happens after you die, one shouldn’t speak openly about these rituals.

We had never given it a name, so in order to wish it well, we decided on one: 龟龟 (Gui Gui). 我们的乌龟生前没有名字，但为了祝福它，我们决定叫它龟龟。

Watching a presentation in November by Brendan McGetrick, one of the curators of “Un-Named Design,” we saw an inspiring methodology in organizing a wide range of ideas and artifacts. Toward this, there was a thoughtful attempt to broaden the definition of design to examples of rustic and simple but effective uses of everyday items, scientific innovations and even protocols of action and social situations: “a political protest manual, DNA barcodes, execution procedures, a transcontinental monetary system.” So what made these diverse examples design? McGetrick wrote: “The goal of this theme is to reframe design as a set of strategic solutions to human needs, rather than an ego-driven pursuit of subjective beauty.”

Shouyi goods draw from the design world in the most flagrant sense that McGetrick was reacting against, as they itemize the essential commodities of our lives, and more often consist of the most luxurious fetishes that our cultures share, like money, cars, fancy clothes, mobile phones, and mansions. Their production process rarely results in direct copies, of course. Neither are they really intended to function like shanzhai products, which are in a sense copies better than the original, though they often include subtle and sometimes humorous twists and references to their repurposing. A simple question of materiality determines the boxy appearance of Shouyi goods: they are made of paper and intended to be burnt. The indifference of fire determines a certain indifference of production where other definitions of design come in. The material must adequately combust, thereby expeditiously crossing from the world of the living to that of the dead—but almost anything burns. Having understood this in a peculiarly modern sense, as compared with the more elaborate offerings and sacrifices of bygone times, many people normally opt for rather indifferent forms of tribute to their deceased loved ones or ancestors. The modern sense of sacrifice is that with its democratization has come its effective desacralization and rationalization. However, the ritual of burning Shouyi goods is obviously intended more directly as sacrifice than its substitution with literature (Georges Bataille) or its resonance in all modern music forms (Jacques Attali). It fulfills its function but it must be cheap. Therefore, like all aspects of the modern world, it is conventionally mass-produced and readymade. An average full household set of the nine necessary amenities costs only 15 yuan. If money is no object, one can order the larger dollhouse-size villas or 3/4-scale plasma screens, from a catalogue of hundreds of choices, as the small shops in Beijing usually have them delivered from Hebei manufacturers on request. But logically, as money is an object, the most popular sales are bundles of extremely inflated denominations of “Hell Money,” a very good value-for-your-dollar deal.

What can a turtle do with a car, they questioned. 他们在琢磨，一直乌龟要辆车做什么呢.

But why, I wondered, should this be logical? If Shouyi is about venerating the dead and trying to make their afterlives more dignified, then why are we satisfied with the most cheaply-produced replicas? Is it that the most generic commodities are the most ready stand-in for “pure exchange”? And yet if there is the allowance of kitsch (for instance, pagers and mobile phones that boast of dual-band SIM cards functioning both on Earth and in Heaven, or Renminbi with the face of a god in place of Mao Zedong) then why do we have to buy these sham-brand-name goods from dealers instead of making our own or customizing them to suit our personalities, affections and values? Does it say something about our relationships with our relatives?

With this line of questioning in mind, I produced some very basic paper objects and brought them over to the shop to see if they would accept them to sell. Turning them over, our neighbors commented on the design but confessed they wouldn’t be able to sell them. They were free to set the price and to keep the money, I assured them, while the mother asked dubiously again and again whether they needed to pay me. My only request was to report to us how people perceived them. On our insistence, they said they were willing to take a couple of them, though, just to see what would happen. In my mind, I thought perhaps that at least the sign of the object being made by hand might make a difference to someone. The shop owners said that in the unlikely event someone bought one of them, no matter the price, they were more likely to put them on their shelves and hold onto them rather than set fire to them. This was interesting but still a frustrating compromise; it neatly avoided the problematic desire for real engagement that is the intention of my work, and which determined the relative secrecy and modest scale of my project. In any case, the possibility was there: passing the doors for the next couple of weeks, I was pleased to see my colorful car on the glass counter. After some time it disappeared, though I know it was never sold. They had simply tolerated my meddling enough and couldn’t justify the use of space. We were awkward enough to never again address the topic.

A boy was asked by his mother where Gui Gui is now, and he pointed up toward the dark sky. 一个小男孩问他妈妈，龟龟去了哪里，于是他的妈妈指向夜空.

Rituals surrounding death are a commonality among almost all peoples of the world, though the manner in which I grew up included fairly few practices comparable to Shouyi. For many, death is where religion is concentrated or re-emerges, as it is one of the only unaccounted-for parts of humans’ experience, otherwise always supposed to be understood. I remember funerals of my relatives seeming rather like any other momentous occasion, though blacker in mood. Some believe in heaven, but I don’t. In this, I may differ from other members even of my own family or those close to me (though on my mother’s side, which is Jewish and so the more distinct cultural identity, you could say there is a thoroughly secular tendency among sections of my relatives: in my uncle Alex’s words in an email, “An asteroid will hit the earth and it will all eventually end. It’s all bullshit.”). Traditions, if they can be said, fragilely, to exist in our case, do so only insofar as they punctuate our disparate lives.

In a way, this is the design of culture if not religion, hard-wired or useful enough to withstand all the dissolutions of the modern world. The gestures of a priest, the words of a rabbi or the rites of a woman burning paper money on the street are in some ways designs of community. In the latter case, perhaps it is the design that recreates in symbolic form a familial system of interdependency and debt that structures the lives of the living in China, and acknowledges its extending beyond. The custom of burning paper replicas might be seen to re-establish connections that can never be referred to exclusively as material, even as the designs of the objects themselves are periodically updated or added to.

As I am speaking from a rather uninformed perspective, it is hard to go much further into what might be anthropological, sociological or religious theories of action and belief, and it is also here where theories and beliefs splinter into seemingly contradictory positions. How can we really commune with ghosts if we sympathize with their presence in so utilitarian a manner? This question raised, am I already too late? A whole slew of understandings and misunderstandings of what is real belief underpins its approach as art, pulling in the contradictory directions of doubt and identification. After all, how can we say for sure that this intimacy desired is something actually shared with the people who burn the paper objects for their loved ones? Has the ritual itself not become something “diluted” into expected tradition? And therefore, what is the relation of individuals to their customs; as the outsider, isn’t it simply not my place to enter?

There are in fact many Shouyi shops in our neighborhood. I decided that it was time to approach one of the more “official” shops near the hospital. Like our neighbors they are open all hours, to match the contingency of schedule that moderates the ending of a life. One evening I went over with Chenchen and found that they were much more forthcoming in discussing the topic, rather than more closed as I had assumed. The woman there didn’t think there was actually a difference in the level of legitimacy of Shouyi shops, and she dismissed the idea that urns of so-called unofficial origin wouldn’t be acceptable in official graveyards. The explanation that she instead provided for the difference between the shops was that her family, made up of Beijing natives, did not come from away and had been in the business a long time, so they could be more sensitive in their counsel to local customers. The woman gave me criticisms of the objects I brought her. I returned a week later with a new version of a paper car, this time with hand-painted details, and she asked me where the other items were, the refrigerator, washing machine, wardrobe, bed, and so on. Her attitude was what finally lead me to this betrayal, to loosen my hold on the discretion I felt necessary for real engagement. Activity that operates on rather personal levels sits awkwardly when shifted to a discussion that could be called public, as I am doing now, namely for the reason that doubts arise about the genuineness of the engagement. (Are you a real believer?) This can’t be proven either way, in the end, and the future of this engagement cannot be predicted. Classifying a practice as design is a sign of the removal of belief, as one sees the ends an object is put to, its actualization “as a set of strategic solutions to human needs,” rather than as truth itself (a suspicion that recalls Vilém Flusser’s assertion: “A designer is a cunning plotter laying his traps.”) But if opening up the discussion allows us to see another perspective and to extend the idea beyond fitting in, exploiting or imposing, then that may be when this external custom is made into our own ritual. Rather than reining in spirits for instrumental ends or liquidating everything into the irony that glazes the oblivion lying behind our modern world, artwork can make moves toward becoming authentic—it cannot arrive there too hastily.

Visibility/publicity……….可见性／公共性
Michael EDDY (问题／questions) & 麦颠 MAI Dian (回复／responses)………[节选／excerpt

Does the way in which we live have to be visualized? Of course not; but it seems that visibility is an important part of both art and activism.

How do both art and activism approach a public？

我们生活的方式必须被显现出来吗？当然不是；但是可见性似乎对艺术和行动主义都很重要？
艺术和行动主义如何走近公众？

我相信，传递欲求很普遍地发生在几乎每个人身上。行动主义，即便是最个人主义、无政府主义，更愿意实现一种与他人心灵感应的人也期望得到同情。这从无政府主义的自我独立表达的小册子和独立媒体可以看出来，无论其所能涉及的“公共范围”有多大。而对于其他政治色谱的大多数运动者而言，社会动员是重要手段，动员公众的支持与参与非常重要，相应的，媒体对其而言总是重要，尤其来自大众媒体的报道。假如我们将“上访”看作是一种具有中国特色的行动主义，我们就可以看到，这样的行动多么依赖于媒体，以至于将记者或知名人士/意见人士看作是人士的救命稻草，希望它们的报道与发言能够形成一种社会压力，因为，对于他们而言，这是一种可以将自己的“冤情”传达到清廉的上层的特殊途径。

同时，我想，绝对“自言自语”的艺术几乎是不存在的。一个艺术家在工作室里进行文本图像声音创作时可以在某种程度上看作是“自言自语”，但一旦作品出了工作室，那它就不得不面对公众—不管其所面对的公众数量与范围有多大。这个时候，作品甚至都“不再属于艺术家本人”了。宫廷艺术家为皇帝服务，宗教艺术家为上帝服务，那么现在呢？中国的艺术家大部分为市场服务，或者为一个值得怀疑的所谓集体名词“消费者”服务。最新的一期《新周刊》的封面主题便是艺术的“兑现主义”。这个过程中，艺术不仅不避讳，反而使劲浑身解数，要俘获“大众”：物的艺术化，艺术的物化，去政治化，“创意”产业化。

即便是一种所谓的激进的政治艺术，大家也没有想过避免大众，相反，他们也在以自己的方式解释“为人民服务”， 比如戈达尔。东湖艺术计划的被发起的目的，是因为寻求在主流媒体与本地媒体被审查的新闻与事实，能够藉由另一种语言与信息通道—艺术的语言—从审查里挣脱出来。这个信息会发散到什么程度，不会有人保证，因为艺术毕竟在某种程度上“特殊的语言”。计划的发起人之一李巨川是戈达尔的爱好者，另外一个发起人李郁也是戈达尔的爱好者。李郁自己的摄影作品，是通过对新闻再现（news representation ）的再现(representation of the news representation) 来试图反诘主流的媒体话语。他将类似的手法应用了东湖艺术作品中。对地图再现的再现（representation of map representation），不仅历史和媒体说谎，地图—-在某种程度上拥有科学的威严—同样也在说谎。那么，这种通过画面（照片+装置）展现出来的的艺术语言，会在哪些媒介上，被哪些人所接受？事实是，艺术媒体或者研讨会，讨论会。而接收者大多数是接受过专业艺术训练或者有所阅读的业余爱好者。艺术所能影响到的，可能只是一个“公众”集合中的少数人（甚至这些人具有某种专业主义倾向），更加无奈的现实是，艺术所关注的事件的直接“当事人”，比如，失地的农民，明确地告诉我们“看不懂”。

当然，看不懂的，不仅仅是艺术，即便是“我的东湖”网站上的文章（试图从各个方面去论证开发的不合理性，并揭露开放过程的野蛮性，暴力性，反民主性等等），农民也表示看不懂。所以，艺术和行动主义在如何接近“公众”的问题，面临着许多我们所谓的沟通的障碍。这沟通的障碍，不仅仅是“语言”与“言语”的问题，也与价值观、直接性、以及大家对一个“复合”问题的关注点的差异相关。对于农民而言，他们需要直接的语言，也依赖于一种最简洁的逻辑：“地被夺了，需要赔偿，赔偿需合理”（且“和平”）。

而艺术和行动主义的焦点，大多数则在“规划民主”，“环境保护”。这里存在一个巨大的断裂带：多数农民并不愿意继续耕种，保存其土地，只是希望赔偿更合理。而环保，则希望保存耕地/渔场与湿地，农民的补偿问题被弃置一边。关于“公共空间”的争论，焦点集中于“民主”，并不是“公共空间”是一个什么样的空间：公园与湿地，哪一个更“公共”？因此，艺术在这里的问题是，究竟它是进入了一个所谓的“事实”，或只是将一个“事实”作为一个政治观点的现实证据？

等等。

行动主义和艺术在某种程度上都是对媒体开放的。这是往往其通向公众的一条重要途径。当然，这里面有很多的问题会在现实中分裂出来。

Do we need to produce things—models, discourses, trains of thought, if not outright objects—because of this program of visibility?

我们需要因为可见性的要求而制造些什么东西吗？即便不是有形的东西－－－如榜样，研讨会，思想训练等？

是否需要？ 回想起过去的一些经验，我的问题可能不在于是否“需要”， 而是“如何”传递以及传递“什么”信息—-既然传递欲望是不可避免的，且现实中，我们也未曾“一概”避免。而且，这只是我们一厢情愿，从我们的角度来看这个问题。另一厢，Visibility/publicity本身也包括了其他的面向：visibility，除了所谓的亲密关系的范围，以及个人以DIY伦理自我表达，若是要面对所谓的大众媒体（无论是官方媒体还是商业媒体。中国并没有真正意义上的“公共媒体”—所以不便加以评论），那么它的“可见性/公共性”的生产机制是什么？ 大众媒体出于什么动机要报道和传递“this program”? （某）艺术又如何籍此扩展其范围？其意义是如何发生外溢的？这个过程当中是一个“有选择的过程”，其结果是选择后有特定导向的结果吗？它是抱着“启蒙”的目的？或满足一种“满足与快感”的需求，还是其中包含着两者兼有的一种所谓的曲折的策略？也许，这需要细致且谨慎地考察媒体的话语生产。

那这所谓的visibility又是怎样出来的？是因为distinguishability？比如，我们这里所关注的“食物”，就其生产方面而言，它是否提供了一种对当前食物生产模式与安全危机的替代方式,甚至是现阶段一个可靠的an alternative to instead of capitalism for the future? 或者，它只是中产阶级的休闲方式，其意义和“农家餐馆”甚至“高尔夫球场”，旅游胜地并没有根本区别，它是新的fashion（就像记者总是以为的“时尚达人”，或者，通过“时尚达人”才能报道—-政治是要避免的）？

那么，这个program是怎么样被看的（how is it seen by the others, including media?） 如果你拒绝开放你的园子，另当别论。但如果你开放，那么你的生活(或者说实验)会如何被他人所解读，所阐释？你的实验可能的结果，常常被他人输入另一套（或者多套）话语模式，是不是？怎么来处理这样一种局面—当误读（misrepresentation, 且不说ignorance）?当然，这里需要往前追溯一下，即，在出发点，你打算想将你的生活方式当作一个开放的艺术品，放弃意义的所有权，对所有人开放？还是打算我应该说出我自己所想的（因为你已经在做你自己想做的）？完全的开放，可能会有危险，即所谓的“收编”。比如，被一家以lifestyle为主的媒体将你并置在咖啡馆、购物广场、美食以及美甲店或者创业成功案例的页面之间时，你的感觉是怎样的？

按照结构主义的逻辑，如果你自己不说话，那么，社会结构就会替你说话。

++++++

Does the way in which we live have to be visualized? Of course not; but it seems that visibility is an important part of both art and activism.

How do both art and activism approach a public？

I believe the desire to transmit occurs in everyone. As regards activism, even the most individualistic anarchist or the individual preferring spiritual connection long for sympathy from others. This is reflected in self-expressive anarchist brochures and independent media, regardless how large its public sphere extends. Yet for other social movement actors, social propaganda is a crucial tool, as the participation and support of the public is important, correspondence with media likewise, and especially reports from the mass media.

Viewing petitioning as a form of “activism with Chinese characteristics,” we see how much these actions rely on media. To the degree that reporters and opinion-makers become the saving straw for petitioners, hoping reporting and giving-voice can form and inform social pressure. For them this is an exceptional way of transmitting their “grievances” to the uncorrupted political upper classes.

Meanwhile an art characterized by absolute auto-discourse doesn’t exist. An artist working with text, images, sound in own his or her studio can be viewed as one involved in an auto-discourse. But once the work leaves the studio then it must face the public, again, regardless of the number or extent reached, which is out of control. The work no longer belongs just to the artist. Court artists served the emperor, religious artists serve god, and the majority of Chinese artists now serve the market, or some dubious “consumer,” an abstract collective. The newest edition of News Weekly consequently featured art’s “contractual fulfillment” on its cover. In this process, not only does art shun the taboo of the mass, on the contrary, it tries with all its might to enslave the mass: the artification of the object and the objectification of art.  De-politicization and innovative industrializing.

Even in so-called radical political art, artists don’t think about avoiding the public/mass. On contrary, they are defining “serving the people” in their own ways, for example Godard. The purpose of East Lake Project was focused on the liberation of censored contents through a different language and information channel, namely the language of art. The extent to which this information will circulate, no one will know, because art to a certain degree is a special discourse. One of the East Lake Project initiators, LI Ju Quan is a Godard fan, as is the co-initiator LI Yu, whose own photo work involves the subversion of mainstream media discourses through “representation of the news representation.” Employing similar means for East Lake Project, concerning “representation of the map representation,” showing not only history and media are lying, but also the map, which assumes the authority of science. Therefore, this art language manifests through image: what kind of media/people will find this language acceptable? In this case, photo + installation. The fact is those who accept these are art media, symposiums, seminars, workshops, in other words circulating within its own sphere. The majority of recipients received professional art training or make up amateur art readerships. Interested population more likely limited to a minority of the public. These people might have an inclination to professionalism. More disheartening are the responses of the protagonists of those events that this kind of art concentrates on, for instance the farmers who lost their land, who unambiguously and emphatically tell us they don’t understand.

Of course art isn’t the only incomprehensible thing. The articles on “My Donghu” website [wmddh.net; currently inactive] are just as incomprehensible: trying to demonstrate irrationality of the project from different angles, to reveal barbarism, violence, antidemocratic tendencies within the area’s development. So the question how art + activism approach the public while facing a so-called communication barrier is not only a matter of discourse and language but also of the value standards, immediacy and difference intrinsic to people’s opinions concerning a compact issue. The farmers, they need direct language, and the simplest logic: land is taken away, compensation is needed, such compensation should be just (also in a peaceful manner).

Yet the focus of art and activism in the main is concerned with regulative democracy/environmental protection (ie. the bigger issues), and here exists a big gap with the farmers. Most of the latter do not want to keep farming, and preserving the land is only a means or way to bargain for more compensation. Those who commit to environmental protection want to preserve arable land/ fisheries/wetlands and therefore the problem of compensation is suspended. The debate concerning “public space” is focused on democracy, not on the question of what kind of space is the public: parks and wetlands, which one is more public? Therefore the problems for art to investigate are whether art itself has become a “fact” or whether it is just using a fact as evidence for a political view. Activism and art are to a certain degree open to the media; this is a crucial path to reach the public. Of course, many singular problems will multiply into a plethora in reality.

Do we need to produce things—models, discourses, trains of thought, if not outright objects—because of this program of visibility?

Do we need it? Let’s recollect past experiences. Our problem may not lie in whether such undertakings are needed, rather the how of transmission and its what. Since the desire of transmission is inevitable, in reality we have not altogether avoided it. Furthermore, this is just our wishful thinking. On the other hand, visibility, publicity themselves have other facets. Visibility—other than its so-called sphere of intimate relations and the self-expression through DIY—if they are to face so-called mass media, what would their production organism be? What would their visibility/publicity production mechanism be? (note: If they are to face so-called mass media, be it official or commercial, China does not have “public media” in a true sense, so we can’t comment much about that.) Out of what motive would mass media report and transmit “this program”? How can a certain art extend its sphere of influence through this, how can its significance exceed its boundaries? Of course, there is a process one could choose, yet the result is the outcome of specific channeling (manipulation). Does it possess a goal of enlightenment or satisfy a demand of fulfillment and pleasure, or maybe it is a roundabout strategy that incorporates both. Perhaps this demands a meticulous and conscious investigation of how media produces discourse. How does this visibility come about, is it because of distinguishability? For example, the food we are concerned with here, in terms of its production, has it produced an alternative for the prevalent mode of production and its consequent safety crisis? Or is it just a reliable alternative, or a form of recreation for the bourgeoisie—then its significance at bottom is not so different from “farmers’ restaurants,” and even golf courses, and other tourist sites. It is  the new fashion (which has little to do with politics).

How is it seen by others, including the media, if you refuse to open up your garden, is a different issue, but if you do, your life or experiment will be interpreted/defined by others. The result of the experiment will often be imported into another mode of discourse, no? How do you solve this state of misrepresentation let alone ignorance? Of course, we must backtrack a little, to the the point of departure, which is the question: do you want your lifestyle to be an open work of art? Thus relinquishing your authority over its meaning, or do you want to do just as you think (because you are already doing what you want to do). Absolute openness can be dangerous, danger lies in being subsumed/coopted. For example, when media who features lifestyle puts you side-by-side with coffee shops, shopping malls, cuisine and nail salons, and other cases of entrepreneurial undertakings, how does that make you feel?

According to structuralist logic, if you do not speak, then the social structure will speak for you.

Walking around the church grounds, one step after another is fluffily soft; feeling microorganisms living underneath. Someone mentioned that perhaps a graveyard is the most nutritious and healthy environment to grow plants, on which no one has spread chemical pesticides. Sometime in the 16th century, the cemetery of St. Andrews church in Coniston, England was established to accommodate the practice of burying dead bodies. No records of death were kept, and it was long before the current church was constructed in 1819. According to the vicar Mark East, the first appearance of gravestones was around this time; in order for the family of the deceased to express wealth and living history, a visualization of death was constructed and carried on as a conventional wisdom.

“There is no wealth but life,” were the words of John Ruskin, the great thinker and early pioneer of ecology, who from 1900, the year of his death, also sleeps at grave #172 at St. Andrews church. He had spent his later years in Brantwood, his house overlooking Coniston Water. During this period, he published a monthly series called “Fors Clavigera: Letters to the Workmen and Labourers of Great Britain”, which took a form equivalent to the Blog in today’s terms, predicting the effects of industrialization on the natural world, and devoting his writing to his social reform crusade.

Although the issue of social inequality was addressed to the factory workers around the time of the Industrial Revolution in Britain, it hits a sore spot in current society. Coniston presently engages with tourism on industrial scales: the town is surrounded by nature, and 40% of the local population is composed of holiday homes; sheep farmers are subsidized by the government to maintain heritage varieties; people are generally “well-off”, so consequently isolation in one’s own individual interests cuts off engagement in village culture, and it interferes in local food production and distribution. In this context, small local farmers went into bankruptcy because of the price control of multi-national corporations, better able to service the high turn-over rate of tourism. Urban agriculture and the allotment system are very popular community models elsewhere in England, but in a place like Coniston they are not the custom.

Well then, how can we (artists) revitalize the idea of village food production, and maybe thereby revitalize the village? Together with Grizedale Arts, we proposed to the Church Council of Coniston the idea of growing vegetables on John Ruskin’s grave at St. Andrews Church.

“…six feet square, if no more can be had, — nay, the size of a grave, if you will, but buy it freehold, and make a garden of it, by hand-labour ; a garden visible to all men, and cultivated for all men of that place. If absolutely nothing will grow in it, then have herbs carried there in pots…” (John Ruskin 1874).

Taking his words seriously, this project is more symbolic rather than provocative, by growing food by hand to enrich the village with a group of locals.

to be continued…

///////////////////////////////////////////////

Grizedale Arts is a residency organization based on a farm in the centre of the Lake District in England. It tries to develop the way art thinking and art practice impact on society, through projects, exhibitions and events developed through an extended community of artists and creative people associated with it. Emi Uemura is a resident artist for Grizedale Arts 2011.

ずーんとみしらぬ大きなもの。植えたことさえ忘れていたとうもろこしをみたときここにいなかった３０日分の太陽と雨と空気とかがすっかりかたちになったことに気づいた。とそんなことはおそだしで今つけたしたが。そのすぐそばには空心菜が一面を多い、おいしい実りをつけているはずの豆類は跡形もなくなっており、レタスが上に伸びてかっこう悪くなっており、シソがものすごく幅をきかしていてその影で凛としたたたずまいでオクラが３本。じゃがいもはまだ地中ですごしているようだし、トマトは大暴れの雨や風邪にひやかされながらも真っ赤な実をいくつもいくつもつけていた。雑草達はゆかいそうにきっちりとびっちりと意気投合したよう。ピーマンと辛いピーマンはみごとなもの。なすびは規格サイズくらいなものから巨人クラスのものまでさまざま。きゅうりはビールッパラの下膨れ何がどうなったらこんな形になるもんだか、きゅうりってすらっとしていぼいぼの予定だったんだけど。６月上旬にとれていたズッキーニも見当たらない。ダンミンとチンサン（畑の相棒）によるとこの夏は雨だらけ、幾度も雨。そういえば今日も寝ている間ものすごい音をたてていたかしら。そんな中でも７月の日历餐厅では新じゃがでニョッキ、バジルソース、菜園サラダ、オーブン野菜、スコーンとラズベリージャムフロムUK plus wine and teaで目もおなかもみたしながらもお天気予報お姉さんと農夫がする”天気と野菜を育てる話”に耳とこころをかたむけます。(google translate will offer no help for this article).

2011年7月的雨水多得超乎想象！

7月1日  雨

7月2日  中雨转小雨 收紫甘蓝，拔草，松土，两周前洒的白菜长了，不过很多叶子都烂了，因为种植太密，架不住一场雨一顿阳光，下涝上烤，自然扛不住；洒白菜籽，未浇水~回家的路上开始下雨。

7月5日  阴转阵雨

7月6日  雷阵雨转多云

7月7日  雷阵雨 趁凉去小毛驴农场，发现地里的玉米倒了一片，有好几棵都抽穗长苞了;emi的小西红柿被直接拍地上了，估计命不久长，紫甘蓝姑娘们雨淋日晒后脸现溃斑，芳华尽逝;劳作一天，深刻体会看天吃饭农民之苦。

7月11日 多云转雷阵雨

7月12日  雷阵雨转阵雨

7月13日  多云转雷阵雨 田间劳作

7月14日  阵雨转多云 入伏第一天   植村绘美同学从伦敦回京。

7月16日  多云转雷阵雨 有机农夫市集马甸集。11：00植村绘美同学在交流讲座环节跟大家分享了伦敦墓园种菜的有趣经历。

7月17日  阴转中雨 晚7：00，北苑路北，植村绘美与方丹敏讨论日历餐厅本月活动。讨论最多的是：多雨的北京，对有机生产者来说意味着什么？对有机销售者意味着什么？对有机消费者又意味着什么？

7月18日  中雨转阵雨

7月19日  阵雨

7月20日  雷阵雨转多云

7月21日  雷阵雨 下午四点，植村绘美与方丹敏在小毛驴农场，刚干了一个多小时活，开始打雷，又要下雨了。

7月22日   雷阵雨 凌晨的窗外，正在打雷下雨

7月23日  （预报）晴转雷阵雨

7月24日   （预报）中雨转阵雨 我们将在哪片有雨的云下收获蔬菜？又将在那哪有雨的云下吃饭？

七月日历餐厅活动主题，是从那湿漉漉的地里拔了新鲜的蔬菜（因为雨，有一些不太好看），让这些蔬菜传达给我们当月大自然的信息。我们其实很希望有气象达人来跟我们分享一下雨量多少与大气环境或自然环境变化的关系，让我们的眼界从小小的餐桌延展到更广阔些的地方去。我们也希望能邀请 一位在有机耕作中兼具种植与销售经验的人，给我们讲讲如何认识消费者心理的故事（这两位的活动免费，我们还会提供少量的市内交通费）。气象达人仍然在寻找 中，请大家积极艾特@哦，如果气象达人们实在都没有空，我们就自己边吃边聊吧。

我们的厨子除了植村绘美同学，本月流动厨子（moving chef）是@海花胖蜗牛厨房 的海花胖同学，她也是日历餐厅6月活动的参加者。以后我们每月都会邀请一位流动的厨子，当然，每一位前来参加活动的同学都有机会一起共做一道菜。

7月的菜单／menu

–  蔬菜沙拉, Tomato,Cucumber, Shiso（紫蘇）salad

–  意式（新鲜土豆）团子, Gnocchi (with fresh potato)

–  巴西沙司, Basil sauce

–  烤茄子，辣椒,  Roasted eggplant, green pepper

–  空心菜, Konxincai dish

–  腌紫苏（保鲜技巧）, Salted Shiso（紫蘇） (preservation technique)

–  覆盆子司康（用于做此甜点的覆盆子酱来自圣安德鲁斯大教堂，关于此果酱的故事emi已在市集介绍，没听到的同学可以餐间随时问~）Scone with cream and Raspberry Jam from St. Andrews Church

– a glass of wine and tea   一杯酒 / 茶

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活动时间：2011年7月31日 晚18：00-21：00

活动地点： 交道口北二条8号，家作坊
地图 MAP： http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF&msa=0&msid=217570249394613675179.000497a945f6f4b280f37

活动方式: 我们将邀请10位朋友，在日历餐厅以活动共享的方式，跟我们一起品尝我们种植的自然生长的有机蔬菜，交流, 互相学习, 我们可以一起做饭。请带毛巾和围裙

报名方式：评论回复微薄@日历餐厅报名即有效我们将从前往后确认到第十位，并在微薄@日历餐厅公布。如果收到确认信息因有事不能参加，请即刻联系告知，我们将及时把空出名额转到下一位。

鸣谢：小毛驴市民农园对日历餐厅活动的大力支持

“我是阿布，2011年5月9号从家作坊借了本空白的笔记，期限为两年，我想在两年之内丰富里面的内容。其中有一项是和HomeShop里的成员针对特定话题进行讨论。真实地，自由发散地，激烈地讨论内容将成为这本笔记值得珍藏的理由。呵哈。”

“I’m Abu, and on May 9th, 2011, I borrowed from HomeShop a blank white notebook for a duration of two years. In these two years I would like to fill in the contents of the notebook, a part of which will be based upon specific conversations carried out with members of HomeShop.”

在每一捆冥币完美的，脆新的，多彩的封皮下面隐藏着一些劣质的，粗糙印刷的冥币，这些下面的冥币的纸张也是不同的，由便宜的木浆和再生纸等劣质材料构成。观察这些冥币的背面，我们在混杂的物质间发现冥冥中的声音片断回应了我们。 看看下面的信息：

Under the first perfect, crisp, colorful face-note of every package of hell money hides a less perfect, roughly printed group of bills representing the appearance of that initial simulation. Even the paper of these under-notes is different, composed of the bits of cheap pulp-wood and recycled papers derived from the lowest level of materials. Inspecting the backs of these cheaper bills, we discovered in the mash of substances the fragments of a reincarnated voice communicating back to us.  See the message below…

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