Green Wall-Outside the Window by Zhang Xiaogang, 2009; stainless steel plate, silkscreen prints, oil and silver pen, 200 x 150 cm

Green Wall: Outside the Window by Zhang Xiaogang, 2009; stainless steel plate, silkscreen prints, oil and silver pen, 200 x 150 cm

August 23rd, Sunny, a little windy

I don’t belong here, I don’t belong there, I don’t belong to the left, I don’t belong to the right, I don’t belong to the front, I don’t belong to the back. Indeed, when I drive from my home to the studio as usual and repeat the same route, I have this feeling again. I don’t belong to the North, I don’t belong to the South, I don’t belong to the East, I don’t belong to the West, I don’t belong to the past, I don’t belong to the future, I don’t belong to the above, I don’t belong to the below, I don’t belong to the center, I don’t belong to the edge, no matter I move from one city to another, no matter I move from one community to another, no matter I move from the ground floor to the top floor of a building, I would still feel this way. I don’t belong to the inside, I don’t belong to the outside, I don’t belong to the elite, I don’t belong to the outcast, I don’t belong to the mainstream, I don’t belong to the public, I don’t belong to the majority, I don’t belong to the minority, I don’t belong to the positive side, I don’t belong to the negative side, I don’t belong to the sun, I don’t belong to the darkness, I don’t belong to the comedy, I don’t belong to the tragedy, I don’t belong to the city, I don’t belong to the countryside… I don’t even belong to myself, I don’t even belong to others, I don’t even belong to my parents, I don’t even belong to my child, I don’t even belong to the family, I don’t even belong to a work union, I don’t even belong to an organization, I don’t even belong to oneself…

However, when I wake up at noon again, seeing the rays of sunlight shining through the slit made by the curtains and turned on the television, the news channel was broadcasting natural and man-made disasters, I realized, I would have to belong to a certain place, belong to a certain group, belong to a certain crowd, belong to a certain lineage, belong to a certain position, belong to a certain point of view. At this time, what did I feel? If I were an animal, I am not a horse, nor am I a donkey, I am a mule, which is the product of them both.

I am a mix-loaded can of time and destiny. There are three different types of blood floating simultaneously in my veins: A. Western, B. Eastern, C. Socialist, and there coexists three layers of memory in my brain. Whether I like it or not, willing it or not, they will tenaciously grow along with my life in this fast changing life. What kind of organism they will mutate into, we are unable to find out. I have been awoken from this depression, no longer bothered by it, no longer concerned about whether it has any value or not, no longer feeling anxious about what others think of it. Should I even feel like “rejoicing” because of it? And living positive for its rebirth and growth?

It’s just how it is.

Courtesy of Zhang Xiaogang and all rights reserved.

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