In Good Artists, Li Jin documents his excursion to a landmark New York institution for the exhibition of international Modern art—can you tell which one? In this scene, an athletic young woman and a uniformed and bespectacled security guard—both clad in black—engage in conversation while a bearded man sporting blue jeans, Nike high-tops and a windbreaker peers through his sunglasses as this encounter unfolds. Is he watching the conversation or is he checking out the young lady or is he looking at us the viewer? We ask ourselves: Are they artists? And if so, are they “good artists”? Or are the good artists in the exhibition and by exclusion the rest of us are just not so good artists?