In the context of the ongoing project with Orlando Mohorović and Armano Jeričević, which focuses on collective art, I have been thinking about my many anonymous art projects, most of which took place in the Nineties. I started by distributing postcards with my symbols to all manner of art bookshops mainly in London and New York. But I did the same wherever I traveled. Later on, I started distributing whole books with my symbols. Some of these books looked like comics of sorts, and several of the drawings from these books turned into more postcards later on. And then I undertook to invite all and sundry to the last art show, to take place in London’s Hyde Park on the summer solstice 2001, the real end of the second millennium. This show involved artists burning their own works. Again, I started distributing postcards with the invitation to the show several years in advance. All this was anonymous. And it took quite an effort, as well as quite a bit of money. Although I cannot tell what effect all these projects ultimately had on the artists of this world, most likely it was small, and perhaps even less than that. Have I been barking up a wrong tree? Most likely. Well, almost certainly. All my anonymous art projects have been quixotic to boot. Which is why I am ever more certain that anonymity is the way to go. More, the only way to go.