Spaghetti, washing powder, an invisible piece of paper. Or saliva - Tom Friedman is interested in everyday things. This is nothing new one may think but Friedman is not interested foremost in giving these objects new meanings, or even exhibiting their aesthetic qualities. He works with small means and much accuracy, e.g. a piece of paper that is so precisely cut that the podium on which it is placed is almost invisible, a snow angel performed in washing powder - these actions seem to be in themselves enough. He recently built a sculpture of 30 000 tooth picks and wrote all the words from a dictionary on a piece of paper no larger than a square metre these actions become ironic comments on everyday chores. And the objects themselves? They are no longer what they were, but neither are they anything more. So what's left then? Nothing? Or almost nothing?