Life has always been rolling in the metropolis. Parisian metropolitan life is not only in the concrete jungle but also in self-proclaimed civilization's art. From museums, art galleries, contemporary art centers, and galleries, this is not enough; even graffiti on the edges of the city is not spared. It sees all that the metropolis can display and all possible "ways of seeing." Whether contemporary, modern, ancient, or any other "-ism," East or West, contemporary avant-garde or civilized antiquities, everything is visible at a glance. As long as you want to see, it is right before your eyes. Is art only within these artistic institutions? What about beyond them? Does it count as art? In life, what arouses curiosity or deserves a second look? Can everything people consider or ignore be named "art"? In an era where price replaces value, after commodification, when the market becomes the indicator of the art world, value is obscured. Of course, this is not art's fault. Nor is it wrong. In this capitalist free market, nothing is without a price. Art manipulation is like stocks; what is there to object to? Those with ability dominate, and mixing fish eyes with pearls is inevitable because the drinker's heart is not in the wine. Thus, a large number of art nobles with eyes but no vision are created, "praised" well. This does not damage the essence of art. People with insight and discernment will not be confused or obscured; they will clear the clouds to see the sun, which is natural. Stepping out of the system, going to the countryside to walk, breathing fresh natural air, tasting alternative situations, purifying the mind, refreshing oneself, staying away from dust (or city) soot, to avoid infection.

Going to the countryside, high mountains and green waters, beautiful fields, embracing the lush green natural beauty, tasting the fragrance of the land, feeling grounded, the mind is refreshed. The simple countryside, with no criticism, no confusion of civilization, is just so natural, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. There seems to be nothing more magnificent than nature. Under nature, the word "art" should be civilization's humility. What is there to criticize? Under the sun, what is new? A life returning to simplicity, recovering humanity's natural face. Going to the countryside, running wild in nature, everything is so free and beautiful, enjoying sunlight and air, beautiful things and scenery are right before your eyes (this is not less exciting than art), and experiencing the farmer's (I consider myself one) "alternative aesthetics" (metropolitan civilization people somewhat overestimate the meaning of simple life). On his melon field ridge, he builds a "shack" only to shelter from wind and rain, using his many tattered work clothes and tools and objects picked up from daily life. He only hopes to have a place to sit and lean when tired from work, allowing his weary body to rest, or pretending for others (to think someone is there) so crops won't be stolen. It is not about whether it is art or not. Additionally, under betel nut trees, beside vegetable plots, he ties plastic sheets and plastic jars of various sizes collected together with ropes into a large circle to scare birds, preventing them from eating and disturbing his garden. Such a simple motive, creation under a grounded life, where is the motive for art? Does this form become a local landscape "ART"? I think so, but Mr. Farmer doesn't care about your "ART" label at all. Is this our self-proclaimed artistic eye? Who cares about my artistic viewpoint? This may be the habit of art critics. It seems I still cannot bow humbly under nature; there is still much to learn. My unexpected trip to the countryside showed me who I am? Clearly, creativity is infinite, found everywhere in every corner of society. Beauty is everywhere—but it has nothing to do with art. This is humanity's greatest energy and vitality.