The Aura of Used Things / A Trace of Someone

文／Nick Yu

Used objects carry within them a certain allure, or dare I say, aura. This aura we speak of can be most accessibly understood through Walter Benjamin’s formulation of the “cult value” of the unique work of art that is rooted in ritual and mystery.¹ For the religious, beyond bodily remains, objects touched by saints, martyrs or deities become relics and objects of devotional worship, imbued with magical and healing powers. Such is the case for the Shroud of Turin, the Chain of St. Peter, and the Mantle of the Prophet; merely by touch, the divine has left traces on the object that make it sacred. It is not just the holy who leave traces, as our secular society places great value on personal belongings of the great and the famous, be it the Yamaha piano used by Freddie Mercury or Albert Einstein’s leather jacket. There is a whole auction and resale market that deals in these objects, some selling for millions of dollars.

Ni Hao’s Socks Series begins from a niche subset of these marketplaces, an anonymous online worn-sock platform in Taiwan, where sellers provide worn socks and often produce custom videos for buyers. Unlike the used objects of celebrities, these used socks are valued by how many days they have been worn by the seller, with accompanying videos as proof of wear. Buyers, like Ni and his studio assistant, chat with the sellers, choose the socks to be worn, and negotiate prices and the content of the proof-of-wear video. The buyer becomes the choreographer and directs how the video is shot, specifying location, objects in view, body postures and actions, and more. After the commissioning of the socks and the video, payment is made, the socks are mailed, images are transferred, and once he receives the objects, the artist transforms them into sculptures. Going beyond the function of an ordinary clothing item, these sock objects bring with them the material conditions, imprint and record of a complete social system that produces them.

Not knowing beforehand what kind of conversation he would encounter, the artist ends up finding sellers who reveal intimate biographical details, which become a most human part of the process. “A marketplace I had assumed would be narrow and impersonal had unexpectedly become a space where fantasy, commerce, anonymity, loneliness, self-invention, and the need to be heard could all appear at once,” the artist recounts. These interpersonal exchanges are weirdly intimate and cold at the same time. Soft Transcript (2025) takes these conversations as material: it records the exchange with the seller of the two pairs of socks that comprise The Bloom That Holds Her Shadow (2025), who corresponded as two sisters within one body, Rio and Ria, and who described herself as a trans woman. Signing in as either of the sisters, Rio/Ria reveals stories of bullying, abuse, and illness in the family, although she promptly deleted her account after the transaction was complete, and no one can verify whether this biography is real or role-play. Characterized by accelerated vulnerability, disembodiment and distance, these fleeting encounters bear the hallmark of digital intimacy in the post-media age.

There is more than digital intimacy in the artworks, for this relationship is anchored in an analogue object. Where Soft Transcript pulls towards disclosure, the sock sculptures withhold it in opacity, creating a deliberate tension between the two. Having been worn by the seller, the socks have literally touched their skin, bearing their sweat and scent, the imprint of their feet shaped by their unique movement, and the dirt they picked up from the floor, visible if the socks are white. It is tempting to think of Ni’s Socks Series as a study of erotic fetishism, because the socks themselves are created and circulated to serve the needs and desires of a sub-culture community of sock fetishists. Given the comparison to religious relics earlier (as both holy relics and worn socks can be the object of worship), we can complicate a purely erotic reading by asking why and how the fetishist accords this object its mythical power. “The question is not whether the work can escape the erotic reading, but how the everyday became erotic in the first place, and what it means that this can now be commissioned and priced,” the artist observes. Seen this way, fetishism is not a primitive delusion in its libidinal excess, but a very human way of creating new relationships and meaning out of ordinary things.²

The mixed-media installation consists of two components: the analogue component (the worn socks) and the digital component (the proof-of-wear video). Neither exists on its own; each is only a partial body that gains meaning through the other. Without the socks, the video is just a faceless person putting on and wearing a pair of socks. Without the video, the socks could have been worn by anyone. The video serves to authenticate the socks, while the socks are the material evidence of the action in the video. The work’s oscillation between object and screen symptomatizes our post-media social condition where subjectivity, meaning and relationality are conjured and felt on shifting ground with a lesser need for absolute veracity.

By not reducing the sock to a fetish object, the artist reconfigures it as a partial body, a trace, and a commodity. The artist composes the sculpture by infusing the sock with resin and letting it harden into a plastic resin shell. By shaping the sock around an interior forming structure, the sock takes on an autonomous, voluminous form, as if arrested mid-motion. “The resin appears to preserve the garment completely, while what most directly signals bodily presence has already left it,” Ni recounts. The artist is keenly aware that while his resin preserves the visual shape and material feel of the fabric, he is irreversibly forgoing the seller’s scent traces, which are often central to the socks’ value as a commodity. Like memory, the preservation of a thing requires accepting that some details of the thing are lost forever.

The curing of the resin finds analogy in the preservation process of embalming and taxidermy, as if suspending a specimen in amber, or fossilizing it. Taking inspiration from dioramas in natural history museums, the artist sets out to create scenes to contain the socks, while restaging the living environment shown in the sellers’ videos, not as an exact copy but in abstracted or indicative form. Lovers II (Yieldpoint) (2025) features a gay couple who performed with socks in a public gym, and the artist creates a series of intersecting polished steel tubes that echo the materials of the gym equipment. Behind the Counter (2025) presents an ensemble of socks sourced from four front-desk staff who worked the same shift at a hotel, and the artist creates miniature reception desks that the socks traverse. In a more abstract gesture, in Ripened Moon (2025), the artist creates an irregular ovoid-shaped sculpture that imitates the voluptuousness of the pregnant seller, while its orange, pink and purple hues are drawn from the seller’s T-shirt and toenail polish. The artist calls them “shrines” that hold the sock sculptures and the sellers’ now absent bodies which used to inhabit them.

Crossing between presence and absence, apparition and disappearance, there and no-longer-here, the artwork series operates with a hauntological logic. This logic is reflected in the title of the exhibition, “Hysteresis”, which describes how the present is indelibly shaped by and retains traces of the past. This ghostly presence is transmitted not only by socks, the smallest unit of clothing, but also in Ni’s earlier work—the series using found shirts and the haute-couture headwear made for his 2024 collaboration with Parisian luxury fashion house Balenciaga, neither shown here—and in a newly made series which sources complete worn-clothing sets through similar online platforms, dealing with sellers from Taiwan, Japan and the United Kingdom. In this new series, the artist asks sellers to wear the complete set of clothing and document a day of moving around their environments. The resulting clothing-resin thus becomes a hollow and ghost-like shell that bears the contours of a now-absent body and the traces of the everyday surroundings of a city.

Circling back to the beginning of our inquiry when we considered the venerated traces of deities, saints, and famous personalities, a poignant question surfaces: why are some traces more valuable than others? And by extension, why are certain people’s traces more precious than others? From the painterly brushstrokes, signature and seals on paintings, to the chisel and tool marks, and signature left by sculptors (Michelangelo famously chiseled his own name prominently in the Pietà, while Rodin intentionally left visible seams and traces of his hand to emphasize his grafting technique), as students of art history we have been trained to fixate our analytical gazes onto these marks and traces left by great artists and to divine their intention and state of mind. In contemporary art, we are led to question traces left by the artists, whether they are the scattered detritus used by an artist (e.g. Tracey Emin’s My Bed) or the empty silhouette left on the landscape by the artist’s body (e.g. the photography of Ana Mendieta). Not only does the case of photography further lead us to think about image as what Barthes describes as the “that-has-been” of the body³, but its democratizing turn further raises the question about who has the right to be seen, and furthermore, whose life’s traces are entitled to be preserved.

In that vein, Ni’s Socks Series critiques the tradition of art history as a record of marks left by great artists by foregrounding the traces and partial bodies of ordinary, anonymous people. By entering into this preexisting system of exchange, engaging the sellers as ends in themselves, and staging their artefacts in imaginative shrine-like scenes, the artist returns the magical idea of touch and trace to everyone. By stretching our imagination, viewers are empowered to also see that the socks and garments that our bodies wear carry a special charge that makes them unmistakably alive and indexical of our own being. Ni’s installations of worn garments carry an ontological weight, for they beckon us to look at them and acknowledge them as autonomous beings that share a similar trace of animacy with us.

(All quotations from the artist are drawn from written correspondence with the author, 2026.)

Note：
1. Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (1935), trans. Harry Zohn, in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt (New York: Schocken Books, 1969), sections IV–V.
2. David Graeber, “Fetishism as Social Creativity: Or, Fetishes Are Gods in the Process of Construction,” Anthropological Theory 5, no. 4 (2005): 407–438.
3. Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1981). Originally published in French in 1980.

《舊物的靈光／某人的痕跡》

文／Nick Yu

用過的物件，自有一種魅力；容我大膽地說，甚至帶著某種靈光。若要理解這裡所說的靈光，最容易入手的，是華特・班雅明對獨一無二的藝術作品之「膜拜價值」的闡述：這種價值植根於儀式與神祕。¹對信仰者而言，除了身體遺骸，凡是聖徒、殉道者或神祇觸碰過的物件，也會成為聖物，受到虔誠膜拜，並被賦予神奇與療癒的力量。都靈裹屍布、聖彼得的鎖鏈、先知的斗篷，莫不如此；僅僅透過觸碰，神聖者便在物件上留下痕跡，使之成聖。留下痕跡的並不只有神聖者。在世俗社會裡，偉人與名人的私人物品同樣被賦予極高的價值，無論是佛萊迪・墨裘瑞使用過的Yamaha鋼琴，或是愛因斯坦的皮夾克。圍繞這些物件，甚至形成了一整套拍賣與轉售市場，有些成交價高達數百萬美元。

倪灝的「襪子系列」始於這類市場中的一個小眾分支：臺灣一個匿名的網路原味襪交易平臺。賣家在此提供穿過的襪子，也經常為買家製作客製影片。與名人的用過之物不同，這些襪子的價值取決於賣家穿了多少天，並以隨附的影片作為穿著證明。像倪灝與他的工作室助理這樣的買家，會與賣家聊天、挑選要穿的襪子，協商價格與穿著證明影片的內容。買家成了編舞者，指導影片如何拍攝，指定地點、畫面中的物件、身體姿勢、動作等等。襪子與影片的委託敲定後，買家付款，賣家寄出襪子、傳送影像；藝術家收到物件，再將其轉化為雕塑。這些襪子物件超越了普通衣物的功能，也攜帶著生成它們的一整套社會系統的物質條件、印記與紀錄。

藝術家事先無從知道會遇上怎樣的對話，卻在過程中碰到願意透露私密生命經歷的賣家；這也成了整個過程最具人情的一面。他回憶道：「我原以為這個市場狹隘而疏離，卻沒想到，它成了一個空間，讓幻想、商業、匿名、孤獨、自我塑造，以及被傾聽的需要，都能同時浮現。」這些人際交流奇異地既親密又冷淡。《Soft Transcript》（2025）便以這些對話為材料：它記錄了藝術家與一位賣家的往來，後者提供的兩雙襪子構成了《The Bloom That Holds Her Shadow》（2025）。這位賣家以同一身體裡的兩姊妹Rio與Ria的身分通信，並自述為跨性別女性。Rio／Ria以姊妹中任一人的身分登入，訴說霸凌、虐待與家人患病的故事；然而，交易完成後，她隨即刪除了帳號，無人能查證這段身世究竟屬實，還是角色扮演。脆弱迅速袒露，身體不在場，距離始終存在；這些短暫的相遇，鮮明地帶出後媒介時代數位親密關係的特徵。

作品所涉及的，不只是數位親密關係，因為這段關係也繫於一件實體物件。《Soft Transcript》朝著揭露而去，襪子雕塑卻以不透明性拒絕這樣的揭露，兩者由此形成刻意的張力。襪子經賣家穿過，確實接觸過他們的肌膚，帶著汗水與氣味，留下因各自獨特的移動方式而形成的腳部印記，以及從地板沾上的髒汙；若是白襪，這些髒汙便清晰可見。人們很容易將倪灝的「襪子系列」視為對情色戀物的研究，因為這些襪子本就是為了滿足戀襪次文化社群的需要與欲望而被製作、流通。若回看前面與宗教聖物的比較，聖物與穿過的襪子都可能成為膜拜對象，那麼，只要追問戀物者為何、又如何賦予物件神話般的力量，便能讓純粹的情色解讀變得更為複雜。藝術家指出：「問題不在於作品能否擺脫情色的解讀，而在於日常最初究竟如何變得情色，以及這件事如今可以被委託、被標價，意味著什麼。」如此看來，拜物便不是力比多過剩所造成的原始妄念，而是人類透過平凡之物創造新關係與意義的一種方式。²

我們穿戴過的每件物品都會沾染上一些屬於我們的痕跡：一個腳步的形狀、一種特定的溫度、一縷在人離開之後仍縈繞不去的氣味。長久以來，博物館保存著聖人、君王與著名藝術家的痕跡：筆觸、鑿痕、用舊的隨身物件，皆作為不凡人生的證據被留存下來。倪灝的「襪子」系列則追問：當同樣的細心被給予那些痕跡鮮少進入機構紀錄的人，例如這些刻意保持匿名、自訂規則、自行決定展示什麼的賣家，會發生什麼事？為什麼有些人的痕跡被認為值得保存，有些人的卻不值得？那麼，我們自己的痕跡、我們身後留下的東西呢？

這件複合媒材裝置由兩個部分構成：實體（類比）的部分，也就是穿過的襪子；以及數位的部分，也就是穿著證明影片。兩者皆無法獨立存在，各自只是局部的身體，必須透過另一方才能獲得意義。沒有襪子，影片便只是某個看不見臉的人套上並穿著一雙襪子。沒有影片，襪子也可能是任何人穿過的。影片為襪子的真實性提供佐證，襪子則是影片中行動的物質證據。作品在物件與螢幕之間擺盪，顯露出我們所處的後媒介社會境況：主體性、意義與關係性在不斷變動的基礎上被召喚、被感知，對絕對真實性的需求也相對較低。

藝術家沒有將襪子化約為戀物對象，而是將其重新構成為局部的身體、一道痕跡，以及一件商品。他以樹脂浸潤襪子，待其硬化成樹脂外殼，藉此構築雕塑。襪子包覆著內部的成形結構而被塑形，因而取得自主、飽滿的立體形態，彷彿在動作進行到一半時凝住。倪灝說：「樹脂看似完整保存了衣物，然而，最直接標示身體在場的東西，卻早已離開。」藝術家清楚意識到，樹脂雖保存了布料的視覺形態與材質感，卻也意味著不可逆地捨棄賣家的氣味痕跡，而那往往正是襪子商品價值的核心。如同記憶，保存一件事物，也就必須接受它的某些細節將永遠失落。

樹脂的固化，可比擬為遺體防腐或剝製標本的保存過程，彷彿將標本封存於琥珀之中，或使之成為化石。藝術家從自然史博物館的情境模型汲取靈感，為襪子搭建容身的場景，同時重新呈現賣家影片中的生活環境；這並非精確複製，而是採取抽象或提示性的形式。《Lovers II (Yieldpoint)》（2025）的主角，是一對在公共健身房以襪子演出的男同志伴侶，藝術家為此製作一組相互交錯的拋光鋼管，呼應健身器材的材質。《檯後》（Behind the Counter，2025）呈現來自同一家旅館、同一班次的四位櫃臺人員的一組襪子，藝術家則製作了讓襪子穿行其間的迷你接待櫃臺。《Ripened Moon》（2025）的手法更為抽象：藝術家製作不規則的卵形雕塑，摹擬懷孕賣家的豐腴體態，並從她的T恤與腳趾甲油取用橘、粉紅與紫色。藝術家稱這些場景為「神龕」；它們安放著襪子雕塑，也安放著那些曾棲居於襪子之中、如今已不在場的賣家身體。

在在場與缺席、顯現與消失、曾在彼處與已不在此之間往返，這個作品系列依循著一種幽靈學的邏輯。這套邏輯也體現於展覽名稱「遲滯」（Hysteresis）之中：現在受到過去不可磨滅的形塑，並保留著過去的痕跡。這種幽靈般的在場，不只經由襪子這一衣物的最小單位傳遞，也見於倪灝過往以拾得襯衫製作的系列，以及他於2024年與巴黎精品時裝品牌Balenciaga合作的高級訂製頭飾，這兩者均未於本展展出；它同樣見於一個新近製作的系列，藝術家透過類似的網路平臺，向臺灣、日本與英國的賣家取得穿過的整套衣物。在這個新系列中，藝術家請賣家穿上整套衣物，記錄自己在周遭環境中走動的一天。由此形成的衣物與樹脂結合體，便成了中空、幽靈般的外殼，承載著如今已缺席的身體輪廓，以及一座城市日常環境的痕跡。

回到我們最初對神祇、聖徒與名人所留痕跡如何受到崇敬的探問，一個尖銳的問題浮現了：為什麼有些痕跡比另一些更有價值？進而，為什麼某些人留下的痕跡比其他人的更珍貴？從畫作上的筆觸、簽名與印章，到雕塑家留下的鑿痕、工具痕跡與簽名（米開朗基羅曾在《聖殤》上醒目地刻下自己的名字，羅丹則刻意保留接縫與手作痕跡，以凸顯其嫁接技法），學習藝術史的我們，一直被訓練將分析的目光緊盯著這些偉大藝術家留下的印記與痕跡，從中揣摩他們的意圖與心境。到了當代藝術，我們則被引導去追問藝術家留下的痕跡，無論是藝術家用過、散落一地的殘餘物，例如翠西・艾敏的《我的床》，或是藝術家身體留在地景中的空缺輪廓，例如安娜・曼迪耶塔的攝影作品。攝影不只進一步引導我們思考影像如何成為巴特所說的身體之「此曾在」（that-has-been）³，其民主化的轉向，也進一步提出誰有權被看見的問題；更進一步，誰的人生痕跡才有資格被保存下來？

循此思路，倪灝的「襪子系列」將平凡、匿名者的痕跡與局部身體推至前景，藉此批判將藝術史視為偉大藝術家留痕紀錄的傳統。藝術家進入這套既有的交換系統，將賣家本身視為目的，並把他們留下的物件安置於富想像力、如同神龕的場景之中，從而將觸碰與痕跡的神奇意涵交還給每一個人。當想像力被拓展，觀者也得以看見，我們身上穿著的襪子與衣物，帶著一種特殊的能量，使之確確實實地鮮活起來，並指示著我們自身的存在。倪灝以穿過的衣物構成的裝置，具有存有論上的分量：它們召喚我們注視，承認它們是自主的存在，與我們共享某種相似的生命性痕跡。

(文中所有藝術家引言，均引自藝術家與作者於2026年的書面往來。)

備註：
1. Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (1935), trans. Harry Zohn, in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt (New York: Schocken Books, 1969), sections IV–V.
2. David Graeber, “Fetishism as Social Creativity: Or, Fetishes Are Gods in the Process of Construction,” Anthropological Theory 5, no. 4 (2005): 407–438.
3. Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1981). Originally published in French in 1980.