我想選擇松代「農舞臺」藝廊已經啟動了兩年的「限界藝術」計畫為討論的起點，以「今日素人藝術百選展」所突顯的「限界藝術」（Marginal Art）為經緯軸線，思考這種頗能代表大地藝術祭的美學精神，綜合了街頭藝術、民間藝術、當代美術與傳統藝能的跨界表現形式，抗拒只在封閉空間給少數人欣賞的那種日本美術史。就此而言，福住廉的「今日的限界藝術」展覽中的重要行為活動，一個名為「切腹ピストルズ」（切腹Pistols）的樂團，可為代表。這個樂團在1999年的最後一天成立，口號是「回歸江戶！」，以表演傳統樂器（鉦、平太鼓、締太鼓、三味線、筱笛等），配合吟詩、民謠、落語等民俗技藝演出，他們身上穿著的服裝叫做「野良服」，是明治初期到昭和四十年代左右農山村的服裝。在大地藝術祭裡的活動，主要是從十日町徒步遊行表演到農舞臺，行走約三十公里。「切腹Pistols」樂團之所以不是一種簡單的回歸過去或是鄉愁式的回歸江戶，可以參考他們在2014年7月19日在日本東北青森縣舉行的「大MAGROCK vol.7」音樂祭，所表現的強烈反核表演，可以說是「街頭藝術、民間藝術、當代美術與傳統藝能的跨界表現形式」最佳典範之一。然而，從概念上，我們當如何思考這種在臺灣少見的、既講究傳統又集反抗於能事的美學呢？於此，我們不能不談到甫於今年7月過世的哲學家鶴見俊輔（1922–2015）。
2008年曾在臺灣出版《戰爭時期日本精神史：1931–1945》中譯本的鶴見俊輔，出身不凡，外祖父後藤新平曾於1898至1906年擔任臺灣總督府民政長官，他本身則留學哈佛大學哲學系，是美國哲學家蒯因（Willard Van Orman Quine）的第一批學生之一，因無政府思想遭美國聯邦調查局逮捕，於拘留所完成他的畢業論文。任教於京都大學的鶴見俊輔，曾在1967年出版了《限界藝術論》這本專著，更早在1954年出版過《大眾藝術》，表明他對「藝術」概念和日本美術史的批判態度。在60年代積極參與反越戰、90年代參與慰安婦求償運動、2004年與大江健三郎發起反戰的「九條會」護憲運動的背景下，我們非常好奇，將近有五十年歷史的《限界藝術論》，為何2015年大地藝術祭的參與藝術家福住廉，會再度出版《今日的限界藝術》呢？
鶴見俊輔認為，現今稱為「藝術」的作品，其實是所謂的「純粹藝術」（pure art），而對於這個純粹藝術來說俗惡的東西、非藝術的東西，就被喚作是「大眾藝術」（popular art），趨向實用、消費、空間構造、標語指示、大眾媒體或在街頭運動中產生的視覺物，然而，較諸前兩者，在一個更廣大的領域中，在藝術與生活的邊界上的作品，則可被稱為「限界藝術」。
鶴見俊輔舉出最多的具體例子，就是限界藝術研究者柳田國男、民藝評論家柳宗悅和創作者宮澤賢治。他們重視的是庶民的創作，譬如：從五千年前的阿爾塔米拉洞窟（Cave of Altamira）的壁畫以來，至民間的塗鴉、民謠、盆栽、單口多口相聲、繪馬、煙火、都々逸（三味線彈唱的一種形式）、漫畫等，都是將生活作為舞臺的人們的心之湧現、迸發、形式多變的藝術性表現，這即是限界藝術。另一方面，鶴見俊輔舉出具體的例子反對某種鄉土品味的美術館化。譬如：為了醞釀懷舊的昭和文化而使用偏濃的色彩，如今經過格式化與消費化的洗禮，已經很難看出真實。又譬如：藉由隨手塗畫以「塗鴉」的名義，在美術館展出這些塗鴉，而使之藝術化，亦偏離了塗鴉的原有脈絡。那麼，在現今，將其替換之，限界藝術的具體例子會是什麼樣的東西呢？我們不妨把越後妻有大地藝術祭，視為是從藝術祭生產過程中，即朝向「限界藝術」的總體性、批判性與扭轉性的努力。
德國藝術史家漢斯．貝爾汀（Hans Belting）在2001年出版的《影像人類學：圖畫．媒介．身體》（An Anthropology of Images: Picture, Medium, Body）一書，希望發展一種「批判的新圖像學」（critical new icono-logy），透過他的人類學取徑，提出一種更廣袤的影像論，他認為，所謂的「影像」，不論屬於藝術或非藝術的範疇，必須置於「圖畫．媒介．身體」的三角星叢之間來加以掌握。如此一來，藝術與非藝術的界限，就不會是貝爾汀真正關注的問題了。
Marginal Art: from Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennial to Religious Art Festival
───Jow-jiun Gong．Translated by Ju-chi Huang
The Art Chain: from Land Ethic to Plebeian Aesthetics
First held in 2000, Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale, which takes place every three years, staged its sixth art festival this year in 2015. The scale of the event has increased from one hundred and forty-eight artistic teams coming from thirty-two countries to three hundred and fifty groups from thirty-five countries. Works exhibited have accumulated to approximately three hundred and eighty pieces, one hundred and eighty of which were newly added this year. “I want to see the smiling faces on the grandpas and grandmas who have lived in Echigo-Tsumari for most of their lives. I want to make them happy, to feel what they feel,” a common wish shared between the founder Fram Kitagawa and others after discussion.
Believing “people are part of the nature,” Kitagawa chose to develop the deserted rural area. A two-hour High Speed Rail drive to Tokyo, the hilly mountainous area has suffered from emigration, aging, and heavy snow that covers the village in winter, and is an agricultural area where rice is cultivated in terraced paddy fields.
After seventeen years of efforts, via the “Art Chain Program,” Kitagawa finally transformed traditional community development, public art, and the urban concept of biennales, into an art exhibition that takes place at a specific site. Taking place in a rural area in Niigata that features hills, terraced paddy fields, and a covering of heavy snow, Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale is one of the biggest and sustainable art festivals in the world thanks to Kitagawa’s efforts.
The first concept that Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale returns to is a more comprehensive “Land Ethic.” Then it emphasizes a practice that transcends regions, generations, and artistic fields, highlighting the collaboration between people and that cooperation between art projects and local residents. This naturally challenges some established concepts, such as “social movements” and “Modern Art,” transforming these ideas into an “ethical aesthetics” that incorporates the change of social relations into the process of creation. Therefore, the article will focus on how to grasp the “artistic” concept of the Art Triennial and how to step further to think about the relationship between religious art festivals and contemporary art.
I want to start by talking about the “Marginal Art” project that the field museum “Matsudai Nohbutai” has been running for two years. Then I want to talk about marginal art itself which has been highlighted in the special exhibition Selected 100 Marginal Arts of Today. With “marginal art” functioning as the guidelines for discussion, we are led to think about the aesthetic spirit which represents the art triennale. A boundary-crossing art expression that combines street art, folk art, contemporary art and traditional art, the aesthetic spirit defies the concept rooted in Japanese art history—the art appreciated only in enclosed space and catering for only a few people. The defying aesthetic spirit is presented in the activities held by a band “Seppuku Pistols”
(切腹 ピストルズ), an important element in the exhibition Selected 100
Marginal Arts of Today. Established on the last day of 1999, the band comes up with a slogan “Return to Edo!” Playing traditional instruments like shōko, flat drums, flat Taiko drums, Shime-daiko, shamisen, shinobue, along with performances of folk art like poetry reading, ballad chanting, and Rakugo, the band dressed themselves in “Nora Clothing,” a special kind of rural clothing popular around the early Meiji period (1870s) to the 4th decade of Shōwa period (1955 to 1965). The band’s most important performance in the art triennale is a walking parade from Tokamachi to Matsudai Nohbuta, in which the band members walk about thirty kilometers performing on the way. “Seppuku Pistols” does not just present a simple return to the past or a nostalgic return to the Edo period. Proofs can be found in their performance on July 19, 2014, in the “Big MAGROCK vol. 7” musical festival in Aomori Prefecture in northeastern Japan. In the performance, the band demonstrated strong anti-nuclear sentiment, and thus it could be considered the best paradigm of “a boundary-crossing expression that combines street art, folk art, contemporary art, and traditional art.” However, concept-wise, how do we reflect on the aesthetics rarely seen in Taiwan, an idea that pays particular attention to the tradition yet has rebellion as its strength? To explore the topic, we cannot but refer to Shunsuke Tsurumi (1922–2015), a philosopher just passed away this July.
With the Chinese translation of his work An Intellectual History of Wartime Japan, 1931–1945 published in Taiwan in 2008, Shunsuke Tsurumi came from an extraordinary family. His maternal grandfather Shinpei Goto had served as the civilian governor of Taiwan Sotokufu from 1898 to 1906. Shunsuke Tsurumi himself studied philosophy in Harvard University and was one of the first students taught by the distinguished American philosopher Willard Van Orman Quine. Arrested by the FBI because of anarchy thinking, Tsurumi finished his thesis in a detention center. Later, teaching at Kyoto University, Tsurumi published a monograph On Marginal Art in 1967. Earlier in 1954, he published the book Public Art, showing his critical stance toward the idea “art” and the Japanese art history. In the 1960s, he actively engaged himself in anti-Vietnam War movements, then joined the campaigns for compensating comfort women in the 1990s, and launched the anti-war “Article 9 Association” to uphold the constitution with Kenzaburō Ōe in 2004. Taking these backgrounds into consideration, we wondered curiously why the book On Marginal Art, which carries a history of nearly fifty years, was revisited in Today’s Marginal Art published by Ren Fukuzumi, an artist participating in the 2015 Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale?
In the two articles “Before Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale: Preparation” and “The Concept and Background of Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale,” Fram Kitagawa reflects on Echigo-Tsumari’s natural environment, history and civilization, as well as the “conversion” in the political and economic systems under modern Japanese militarism. He also criticizes “the Japanese art history since the Meiji period.” He comments, “By now, the Japanese art still focuses on teaching, whether it is displayable, or whether an organization can be formed. Isn’t it departing from the public? I think the non-public nature of modern art, namely, the way art gets popular and the way it is imported, is problematic.” (Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale: Concept Book, page 237.) The deep structural issue leaves us no choice but to return to the concept of “marginal art” formulated by Shunsuke Tsurumi and Ren Fukuzumi.
Creation on the Borders of Art and Life
In the book An Intellectual History of Wartime Japan, 1931–1945, Shunsuke Tsurumi demonstrates an “ideological conversion” resulted from Japanese militarism in the Pacific War, organizing a research project called “Tenko” (ideological conversion in Japanese). Meanwhile, responding to the Vietnam War, Japanese citizens affiliated to no political parties launched an anti-war campaign “Beheiren” (acronym of “Citizen’s League for Peace in Vietnam” in Japanese). The social, political, and historical criticisms are sometimes presented in comic-strip format. Therefore, from the perspective of On Marginal Art, we can reexamine the related function of art or fine art in the “conversion.” But first let us have a look at the definition of “marginal art.”
Shunsuke Tsurumi thinks the “art” today is actually the so-called “pure art.” In contrast to pure art, the more vulgar, non-artistic works are called “popular art,” which tends to be practical and related to consumers, spatial structures, slogans and signs, mass media, or a visual object emerging from street protests. However, compared to the former two kinds of art, in a more extensive field, works existing on the border of art and life can be called “marginal art.”
Shunsuke Tsurumi then escaped from the two concepts “pure art” and “popular art,” extracting a third concept “marginal art.” If we try to visualize these concepts, “pure art” is provided by “professional artists” for “professional audience.” In other words, art produced and appreciated by professionals is “pure art.” Popular art is also made by “professional artists,” probably in collaboration with entrepreneurs, governments or the media. Then it is enjoyed by the ordinary people. That is to say, “popular art” is produced by professionals yet consumed by non-specialist masses. And “marginal art” is produced by “non-specialist artists” and then brings joy to “non-specialist consumers.” In brief, what produced and consumed by non-professionals is “marginal art.”
Shunsuke Tsurumi draws most of his concrete examples from marginal art researcher Kunio Yanagita, folk art critic Yanagi Sōetsu, and creator Kenji Miyazawa. They value laymen’s creations, ranging from the murals in Cave of Altamira, which date back to five thousand years ago, to folk art such as graffiti, ballads, pot plants, solo or multi-person crosstalk, emas (small wooden plaques hung in Shinto shrines), fireworks, Dodoitsu (都々逸, chanting poems accompanied by shamisen), and comics. All these are the emerging, bursting, and varied artistic performances coming from people who take life as their stage. These are exactly marginal art. On the other hand, Shunsuke Tsurumi gives concrete examples to oppose transforming local tastes into something belonging to art galleries. For example, darker colors are used to create a nostalgic Shōwa style. Now, however, after everything has made into formats and is related to consumer culture, it is hard to tell what is real. Another example is the graffiti. Borrowing the name of “graffiti,” which means scribbled drawings, the graffiti exhibited in art galleries deviating from their original context after being categorized as art. In that way, if we think about today’s situation and find other examples to replace the above ones, what are the concrete examples of marginal art? We might as well consider the Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale an example. It stands for the efforts made toward the totality, criticism, and conversion to “marginal art” during the preparation of an art festival.
An Art History Rooted in Psychic Geology and Religious Spirit
On October 3, 2015, in Soulangh Cultural Park, Tainan, the research team for Art Associate, Kau-Puê exhibition and I organized a seminar for art historians, contemporary artists, and temple painters. Together we discussed the topic “Kau-Puê: Near Future Gods and Contemporary Art,” preparing for the “Religious Art Festival” to be launched in early 2017.
In the dialogue, first we were faced with three inquiries about modern and contemporary Taiwan art history: Firstly, in the light of prehistorical civilization and aboriginal art expression, can the scope of Taiwan art history be totally separated from the field of anthropology? In “Taiwan Art History: Preface,” Wen-chin Hsu challenges Joan Stanley-Baker’s idea in “What is Taiwan Art History?” Baker views the Han people’s art during the transition between the Ming and the Qing Dynasties as the starting point of Taiwan art history, categorizing the aboriginal art history into the field of anthropology. She argues that the “aboriginal art” had greatly influenced how the concepts of Western modern art were formulated and therefore belongs to anthropology. Secondly, if we think about the art expression during the rule of the Dutch empire, the Spanish Empire, the Kingdom of Tungning, and the Qing Dynasty, including the fields of architecture, sculpture, crafts, painting, and calligraphy, we will find the aboriginal culture, colonial culture, the Han people’s life, religion, and culture have nothing close to the modern “pure art” except for some calligraphy and literati paintings. On the other hand, most of the artistic works, whether it is the statue of Buddha, Koji pottery, painting or calligraphy, carry a certain significance in character education, morals or religions. Judging from the concepts of folk art and marginal art, these are the media of art expression in a simple and direct plebeian society. How to convert them into something carrying the significance of contemporary art and to show the artistic features in psychic geography is of course the most critical issue of “global art history” or “world history.” Thirdly, we are confronted with questions on how Taiwan’s folk art became rich and diverse after being separated from the Mainland China in the early days of the Japanese colonial rule. And how does the educational art exhibition systems and concepts imported after 1927 criticize the “following tradition, mimicking the ancient style” art system discussed in Tu-shui Huang’s “Born in Taiwan” in 1922 and Hsiu-hsiung Wang’s Development of Taiwan art History? Through the selection and censorship of the Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition (Taiwan Exhibition) and the Taiwan Government-General Fine Arts Exhibition (Government-General Exhibition), Taiwan art system emphasized the creators’ personality and observation of nature, leading to the decline of the traditional ink wash paintings popular in the Ming and Qing Dynasties. The aesthetic values held by colonial rule suppressed the room for folk art and religious art in the plebeian society.
For a “Religious Art Festival” in preparation, if we want to bridge the gap between religious art and contemporary art, it is very likely that we cannot evade the above three inquiries into Taiwan art history during our preparation for the festival. That points to why I bring about “marginal art” and highlight Shunsuke Tsurumi’s criticism on the “art” concept in “Japanese art history.” Borrowing from Japan’s experience, we can conceive a concept totally different from the western modern “art” or “pure art.” In that way, are we coming up with an idea called “impure art history?”
Contemporaneity of Marginal Art and Media Conversion
Publishing the book An Anthropology of Images: Picture, Medium, Body in 2001, German art historian Hans Belting expresses his hope to develop a kind of “critical new iconology.” Following his anthropology trajectory, Belting proposes a broader image theory. He believes the so-called “image,” whether belonging to the category of art or not, must be placed in the middle of the triadic constellation “picture, media, and body” so as to grasp the full idea of it. As a result, the boundary between art and non-art does not serve as Belting’s real concern.
Belting thinks images cannot be reduced to media because it takes the body to fulfill them. The argument is filled with the play in Bergson’s philosophy. Some images live in the body. For example, the images in our dreams and memories are the files stored in our brain. Some of them exist for a long time, while others disappear in just a moment. Based on the concept, the body can be taken as a special medium for images. However, when we are looking at an external medium, our body will draw on a specific visual and sensory experience, transforming the image on the external medium into a meaningful one. Evoking a connection between the image and certain memories in the past, the viewer then projects his or her desire on the image. As a result, the image comes into existence when the body and the medium are coordinating with each other. The dichotomy of subjectivity and objectivity in traditional epistemology, the dichotomy of internal and external representation of images, and the dichotomy between mental image (of the body) and physical image (of the medium) should all be eradicated.
For example, Belting noted that the aboriginal art sweeping through the European avant-garde circle had influenced many primitive artists like Picasso, who tried to capture or copy the images of Africa on his canvas. However, these primitive artists were actually transposing the convergence of their mental image and the African crafts to the context of modernism. Western artists and the audience projected their mental images onto the works imported from Africa or the Orient. It is hard to completely get rid of this acquired visual habit.
Belting also discussed a reverse example: the Aztec Empire colonized by the Spanish in the sixteenth century. Apart from spreading the physical images of Catholic Church, that is, pictures, images, and altars, the Spanish colonizers forced the Aztecs to accept and integrate the mental representation into their body and mind as well as to convert to the Catholicism. They were actually implanting a visual habit about heaven into the brains of the Aztecs. That is because the Spanish colonizers understood the conversion of images did not only happen on the walls and domes of the churches. More importantly, the conversion must take place in the head.
In this regard, the revolution in media itself does not necessarily bring about a revolution in the image. That is because no matter how violently the external media have changed, some seemingly outdated images stored in the body can always be retained with anachronistic treatments. This is especially true when it comes to something beyond our knowledge, such as death and the world after death, as well as the images of saints and the dead, the mental images of the body and the images in dreams and memories. These images hold a persistent strength that vigorously resists the other images acceleratedly reproduced by today’s media. Traversing between the media conversion and images, Belting does not romanticize or essentialize the mental-image reproducing power contained in the body. Instead, what he emphasizes is that no matter how the western modernity has changed its media and materials, images carried inside the body still hold an enormous power. Images produced in the body have a historical cohesion and resistance. The most fixed part is exactly the strength to reproduce portraits of the dead and the images about the world of gods and spirits as well as the world after death. No matter how the “new media” arise, productivity of this kind of images remains invincible. What is more, this kind of power is sure to project on the new media and materials and ultimately drives the media to transpose and convert.
It is precisely because the redeployment between the body and images that the feature Kau-Puê: Near Future Gods and Contemporary Art underlines the importance of revisiting religious images in the plebeian society and reflects on the methods, relations, and expressions of this kind of images. The redeployment transcends the art history/ anthropology dichotomy, surpasses the concepts of art imported from colonial empires, and goes beyond the knowledge and expression in modern art academia. The redeployment can be used to extract the unique resources and features from the contemporary art of Taiwan in the field of psychic geology.
In the seminar on October 3, the two less familiar faces were painters Chiu-shan Chen and Qing-zhang Liao. Although they are considered on the border or beyond the modern art academia because of their background and career, they are actually closely connected to the tradition of temple paintings and the plebeian society, echoing precisely with the marginal state of art referred by the theory “marginal art.”
Born in 1933, the painter Chiu-shan Chen is influenced by Yu-shan Lin’s painting theories. To work on temple paintings, Chen had lived in a metal hut in front of the courtyard of Tachia Tsu-chi Temple in Rende, Tainan, for thirteen years. It is not until this summer that he retired to the east coastal Hualien at the advanced age of eighty-four. Features of his painting lie in nature sketches and morphing. The portraits of Baosheng Dadi (Life Protection Emperor), door gods, and animals are all based on the concept of sketches and realism, breaking with the traditional iconology, which centers on mimicking the motifs. The painter injects his own body movements into the postures of people and animals on the canvas. The dance-like crossing footwork posed by a door god particularly responds to the commonly-seen dynamic Jia Jiang Footwork. In addition to the temple in Rende, the research team visited Hui-shan Temple in Yangmei, Taoyuan, Cheng-huang Temple in Donggang, Pingtung, and Ru-yi Gong in Nanjhou, Pingtung to appreciate his door god paintings. In Nanjhou, we found art works corresponding to his work in Rende’s Tachia Tsu-chi Temple. In Tsu-chi Temple, the two gods standing beside Baosheng Dadi—Thousand Li Eye and Wind Following Ear—feature intentionally-made disproportionate muscle lumps and legs. Similarly, the door gods Shenshu and Yulu on the door panels of the second room in San Qing Altar in Nanjhou Ru-yi Gong are portrayed with exaggerated morphing body muscles and foot bones. The two door gods exhibit a wild, ghost- or spirit-like image that combines comics and sketch techniques. Of course, these portraits have interpenetrated the painter’s special personality with the images of ghosts and spirits in the plebeian society and thereby formulate a non-conventional and straightforward expression.
It is also noteworthy that Chiu-shan Chen still preserves the practice of enlarging the figures’ heads and faces, a feature that cannot be ignored while creating the door god portraits for temples. Since most of the door plates in temples are much higher than the viewers, a special upward foreshortening technique has been developed to adapt to the viewing condition in religious venues. Although he highlights the importance of sketches and nature observations, Chen does not change the “morphing perspective” designed for viewers to appreciate the portraits at a close range. Considering Chen’s creation in a religious spatial context, it seems Chen’s ideas are exactly identical with Belting’s arguments in An Anthropology of Images: Picture, Medium, Body.
The other painter Qing-zhang Liao was born in 1959. Learning from temple painter Ching-shi Ding yet committed to working on creative works, Liao was introduced and commented by Taiwanese art historian Chong-ray Hsiao with all the efforts. “Combining traditional techniques and modern aesthetics” and making good use of mind-quivering images, Liao creates new images that not only break with the stereotypes of temple painting but also transcend the modern framework.
In my opinion, the most impressive part of Liao’s creation is the gold foil heavy color paper painting. This form of painting not only breaks the limitations of the media, allowing him to create portraits of a series of deities in the size of 270×92 cm, including Wei Tuo, Qie Lan, Wang Ling-guan, Wen Zhong, Li Jing, and Yang Jian, as well as the 240×105 cm portraits of Four Heavenly Kings known as Feng Tiao Yu Shun (good climate in Mandarin). Based on science and color theory for experimenting materials, transposing portraits of these door gods onto paper also grants these images an unprecedented freedom. The audience can take a close look at them in personal collection rooms, studios, galleries and art museums. Meanwhile, the door god portraits are transposed from the context of temple religion to the field of pure art, coming into existence through exhibitions and collections. In addition, Liao has learned from many parties. Drawing on light ink wash painting and gouache for sketches and the presention of a contemporary mindset, he has fully practiced every possible contemporaneity of temple paintings in the plebeian society. Of course, “contemporaneity” here means the redeployment of religious bodies and images. That is, it refers to the moment when marginal art and media conversion take place.
Other engaging artists include Jiun-yang Li, who has worked on temple paintings, cinema billboards, and wooden puppets; Jen-hung Liang, who grew up in the temple culture of Sucuo, Tainan; Bo-liang Lin, Shu-pin Lee, and Po-i Chen, photographers dealing with diverse topics such as folk religion and temple ceremonies; Yu-hsien Su, who has won the Taishin Art Award with Hua-Shan-Qiang, a paper offering artistic work for worship rituals; Zhan Zhang-Xu, an artist coming from a family with a heritage of paper offerings; Po-hau Tseng and the band Sexy Little Young Pig, who practice the tradition of Liam-kua and Rakugo. All the artists have got rid of the strangeness that modernist art used to hold against folk art and marginal art. These artists are closer to the memories of historical images in the plebeian society, yet they are much braver to seek the redeployment of the body and images in the context. It is on them that I see, specifically, the starting point of marginal art and media conversion.