2e:null 2f:["$","title",null,{"children":"The Nonexistent Work | Melodyu | Observable"}] 34:T1cb7,md` # The Nonexistent Work

Works of fiction contain a single plot, with all its imaginable permutations. ——“Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius”

1.

Herbert Ashe[1] and I met because of an art critique, back then I was an Art theory undergraduate. By chance, I found a weird piece of photograph in the journal - "*Contemporary Art Review*" Issue 26 - that he edited. The title of the piece is a location (22°20′N 114°10′E), and it’s anonymous. Herbert gave a high compliment to that piece. However, I didn't find any information about this work online. Stranger still, instead of 41 pages, there were only 40 pages in another copy I found in the library. The additional page made up for that photograph piece, and there was no other difference between the journals. (I had acquired mine at some sale from a vendor.)

That night, I couldn’t fall asleep because of this particular oddity. I woke up at midnight and sent an email to Herbert. One hour later, he wrote back and agreed to my meeting invite. We made an appointment at a café by the sea in Kennedy Town.

Then the other day, I brought my version of Issue 26 to meet Herbert. He seemed more friendly than I had imagined (his words were usually quite cold) and was happy to talk to me. I showed him the additional page, and expressed my confusion. He said to me, "This is the first printed edition, only this issue was printed twice by the magazine. I guess only the second edition is available now." And I asked him about the piece. He answered, "This is the story of a story. Some people think it’s fiction. Anyway, it took place some ten years ago, I may omit or disfigure the facts and indulge in various contradictions."

2.

“For some special considerations, the name of the artist was erased. Somehow, I might know the artist. And the story behind the photograph unfolded from the wooden floor in my college. The whole campus was made out of concrete buildings , except M5050.”

“M5050?” I asked.

“A lecture hall located beside the lift on 5th floor”, he said, “A senior once told me that the wooden floor had something to do with a student before. He liked people to call him Liang Xiu[2], so no one from the school knew his real name. Liang Xiu always said, ‘Ars longa, vita brevis. We, ourselves, should be the artwork.’ I guess at that time, perhaps other artists were placing their sights elsewhere. They felt that art needed compromise and they needed to learn expediency. I don’t think Liang Xiu was content with these thoughts. Excessive transactions were under the guise of art, which in return, lost its purity. Maybe, he wanted to be a real artist, or, he was a real maniac.

Later, Liang Xiu tried to create a noble artwork. A work that can vault to fame. He dreamed about liberating art from censorship, or rather, liberating the artists. For some reason, he had a big fight with his professor. I heard that the work was not complicated - a saw, a camera, and a tripod. Before the production, he asked for permission to use M5050. "

“So the man behind this photo is LiangXiu?” I asked.

“Sadly, I don't have a certain answer. This story ends here. People who have taught in M5050 talked about the wooden floor now and then. However, the narrative seems to be different every year. The version I heard was — one time, around five o'clock, students gradually left school. A decorator came in M5050 alone, to lay the floor. The chainsaw cut to his arm, and he lost a lot of blood. He asked for help, but no one heard it. His body was found in the early morning, and got transported away immediately. However, his blood was left on the floor and couldn't be cleaned. Only the wooden board could hide the blood.

And Liang Xiu - sometimes I even start to doubt his existence, hasn’t got any news since then, only this photo remained. Some people said he dropped out, some said he changed his name and left Hong Kong, and some said that the blood under the wooden floor of M5050 was from Liang Xiu, and he was buried in the wall. If you visit M5050, near the elevator entrance on the 5th floor, you will find some traces of artificially concealed cracks on the wall.

Sometimes, I think it is a murder that kept on plotting for a long time, and the target is the killer himself. Maybe he had experienced death and was afterward an artwork, and now is the memory of the artwork, and tomorrow, will turn into oblivion—the oblivion that awaits us all. I know I need to reserve this page for this photograph. It might be the last trace Liang Xiu left, and himself may not remain. Just like he said, ‘life is short, and art long’[3].”

I asked Herbert, “What is ‘*Purism Movement*’ mentioned in your critique?”

“It’s Liang Xiu. It can also be other similar but unknown stories. It is the start, and the end. It's like lonely flashes scattered in time. Unfortunately, the god of fate has no compassion.”

"Why does this piece only exist in the first edition of the journal?" I kept on asking.

"Maybe the whole thing is fiction." He smiled.

3.

Several years later, I came to the place mentioned by the work’s title because of some work. It is a real location - a beautiful white building. At the door of M5050, there is a pot of lush green plants. I did not find the cracks on the wall that Herbert mentioned, but the thickness of the inclined wall is exactly the thickness of a person's body. And why the wall is red, I don't know.

Another year passed, I became a teacher there. My conversation with Herbert began to fade in my head. Truth is one of the situations hidden in the memory, and the memory constantly reshuffles in time. When I teach in this classroom, I tend to mention the wooden floor. I said to my students, "One night, a student came into this classroom after the construction worker finished laying the floor..."

### Appendix:

Excerpts from the original extra page in “*Contemporary Art Review*", Issue 26 :
This is a little-known black-and-white photograph. The composition is quite simple - a tiled wooden floor- but if you look closer, you will find that the gap between the wooden boards is darker, and there are some traces of spilling liquid. The wooden floor is bent outward a bit, which seems like they had been soaked. Those who know this work call it a landmark in art history, the art of Art. In this work, *self* is no longer a given concept, the author integrates himself/herself/themselves into it. It strongly criticizes the purpose of art as pleasing, and the trend of art as a vanity fair. This work is also known as the beginning of the "Purism Movement”.

[1] Herbert Ashe, Argentinean, a well-known contemporary art critic, currently lives in Hong Kong. The long-term editor for "*Contemporary Art Review*".

[2] Liangxiu, the same name as the painter in the novel "*Portrait of Hell*". It is not clear whether he chose it deliberately.

[3] The meaning of “Ars longa, vita brevis” .

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