A groundbreaking new book from Athens-based publisher Void documents one of the most extreme performance art pieces in history: Taiwanese artist Tehching Hsieh's year-long confinement in a cage from 1978 to 1979. The publication features nearly 365 nearly identical photographs of the artist, taken daily without break, showing only the gradual growth of his hair and facial hair as markers of time's passage.

Tehching Hsieh, who moved to New York in 1973 immediately after completing three years of military service in Taiwan, created what would become the first of his five celebrated One Year Performances. For an entire year, the artist willingly lived in an 11.5-by-9-by-8-foot wooden cage with nothing but a bed, sink, and bucket, relying on a friend to bring food and clothes while removing waste. The performance ran from September 30, 1978, to September 29, 1979, establishing Hsieh as one of the most celebrated practitioners of performance art.

The central theme of Hsieh's work has always been time – both its immaterial nature and the various ways humans attempt to rationalize and materialize it. "A year is a human calculation, a human philosophy," Hsieh explains. This human-constructed concept of time governs our most significant celebrations and milestones, from birthdays and anniversaries to holidays like Christmas, Eid, and New Year. To make time's passage tangible and visible, Hsieh shaved his head and face at the performance's start, wanting to demonstrate that "it's not just a performance, I live in it. It's life."

Hsieh deliberately frames his work using the common phrase "wasting time," playing with societal perceptions of value and productivity. He draws parallels to his second One Year Performance, the Time Clock Piece, where he punched a time clock every hour for an entire year. "When I punched sheets every hour, it's something that you might do for your job – I just didn't get paid to do it," Hsieh notes. "But if, for example, you punch it for every hour of every day and get paid one million dollars, of course then, you're not wasting time. You're making money."

The absurdity of his situation was amplified by his financial circumstances at the time. As an undocumented immigrant who had saved money from odd jobs like dishwashing, Hsieh describes himself as "a poor artist, not a rich artist." For the entire performance year, he had no income, making the endeavor financially costly. This economic sacrifice, whether intentional or not, serves as a critique of capitalist values and society's tendency to measure time's worth through monetary gain.

While interpretations of political and social commentary emerge from Hsieh's work, the artist deliberately avoids explaining his motivations or concepts. "I make people think, but people don't need to know what I'm thinking," he states, preferring to leave interpretation to his audience. He remains remarkably open to all responses, including negative ones, believing that "to write a good review is easy, to write a bad one is more difficult."

The performance included 17 designated viewing days when the public could observe Hsieh in his cage, in addition to opening and closing ceremonies. The book's cover features a year-long calendar with each viewing date circled. One recorded instance involved a bewildered woman approaching the cage bars and asking, "Where's the art?" Hsieh recalls this interaction with amusement rather than offense, emphasizing the importance of remaining "open to different people's points and ways of seeing my work."

Despite the book being filled with photographs, Hsieh doesn't consider himself a photographer. Using only a simple camera and tripod, he took nearly every image himself but describes his photographic skills as limited. "I'm not very good with a camera," he admits. "When I'm doing a performance piece, I don't want someone else documenting – or this idea of someone following me." Outside of his performances, Hsieh avoids photography entirely, even requesting images of his exhibitions from museums rather than taking them himself.

Hsieh prefers not to call his photographs "documentation" but rather "witnessing" or "evidence" – proof that he actually performed and spent a full year in the cage. This distinction reflects his broader philosophy about the relationship between art, life, and proof of existence. The photographs serve as concrete evidence of an otherwise ephemeral and extreme artistic statement.

The artist expresses deep appreciation for Void's beautiful publication of his work, noting the significance of its timing. "It's now 2025; in 1979, no one came to me about a book!" Hsieh reflects. "Because I was illegal, I'd been [in the US] for 14 years, and most of my work I'd done was illegal. If it had been an American artist, this book would probably have come out a few years after the performance."

This delayed recognition underscores the broader themes of Hsieh's artistic practice: time as a physical, political, and capitalist force that shapes how we live and how society values different lives and experiences. The book's publication, 45 years after the original performance, serves as a final testament to time's power over recognition, documentation, and the lasting impact of radical artistic gestures. Through his extreme commitment to exploring time's nature, Hsieh created a body of work that continues to challenge conventional notions of art, productivity, and the value of human experience.