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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The topics set forth during these kinds of meditative acts allow for a gentle interplay between a free flow of thought and teacherly instruction, the affectionate chastising of others’ work and the occasional bite of lovers: “You can stop talking now.” Interludes of silence are comfortable moments of concentration, the hands in motion while we think round thoughts. It was a round-a-bout way to discuss contemporary art and value creation, another chuckle over the money that we’re missing and the reverberations of Ms. Lu’s comment that Also Space² lay some far outside from “what’s going on”. But it is an understandable inconspicuousness to position oneself also, in addition, alternative, marginal. This externality to the core—-what had been a very critical moment in the historicising of Chinese contemporary art this past week—-left us feeling insecure, slight. But why? It was his premise from the beginning that these should not be hierarchical estimations, and rather, we had been discussing art and democracy, art and anarchy. Perhaps these things are not so far off from panel discussions of the sort, but we seek form from our politics, like the organisation of ever smaller grains of mud and sand. So small that they reflect light on their surfaces. Shiny mud balls. Value and importance are self-created entities, perhaps overdetermined, like the roundness of a mud ball made smooth and glossy by caring hands.

At the end of the workshop she came to treasure the imperfectness of her sphere and its mottled terrain, but its shine gave her that comparative sense of pride with which all our notions of value and capitalist competition are based. No matter. In the end she gave it up, placing it carefully it in the wire basket with all the less fortunate attempts.

photos by 何颖雅 Elaine W. Ho and Fotini Lazaridou-Hatzigoga