When meaningless became meaningful. 

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The story takes us back to the winter of 2021, a time when I was utterly unfamiliar with the concept of "contemporary art." Nevertheless, for an art assignment, I went into a Toronto antique shop and purchased a few old photographs for a handful of dollars. I brought them directly to class, where my professor inquired why I had chosen those specific photos. At a loss for words, I simply said, "They are old photos, they have a certain feeling, they're beautiful, I like them." What the professor actually sought was an explanation of my personal connection to these photographs. Unbeknownst to me, who was then completely oblivious to the notion that contemporary art thrives on verbal and intellectual justification, praising something as "beautiful" ironically contradicted the very essence of contemporary art criticism.

 

Stumbling upon these photos recently, I couldn't help but laugh. They've become genuinely intriguing, as now, each time I look at them, I'm reminded of that day in the classroom and the professor's grading of my work 40 out of 100. Well, I could still remember his face...

 

These photos have finally acquired significance, yet paradoxically, their importance has emerged from their initial lack of meaning.