Lia Perjovschi tests the framing of objects and subjects: her exhibitions, which usually consist of a collection, or even several collections, utilise her archives as a portable museum. These archives then become the frame of discussions, presentations and performances that focus on entire histories of contemporary art, as well as on experiential histories of contemporary artists. I had two initial, memorable encounters with the Perjovschis, which may shed light on the Romanian context. We met for the first time in 1999 in Cluj, at a public discussion held at the initiative of Lia and her husband, Dan Perjovschi, who on that day came from Bucharest. 

The discussion took place at Casa Tranzit, a former synagogue that reopened as a cultural space in 1997. A packed audience surrounded Lia, Dan and their guests: some local anti-communist dissidents, as well as three groups from the independent cultural scene of the city — from the non-commercial art gallery Studio Protokoll, the contemporary art magazine Balkon and the student-run philosophy journal and theatre group Philosophy and Stuff. I was part of the latter. The event was supposed to be an open discussion about contemporary culture and criticism, and thus an opportunity for a group portrait of the cultural field, uniting pre- and post-1989 forms of resistance and criticism. However, that frame could not hold the picture. About midway through the vociferous afternoon, one of the anti-communist dissidents accused the younger participants of being neo-communists and left the room, banging the door behind her. Meanwhile another dissident whispered in my ear that we should keep following 

our dreams but tread more carefully. The (biased) way I saw it, the younger groups were defending what