In 2001, I bought an unmarked black and white police car, two gray uniforms of different shades, and a video camera that I mounted to the interior of the vehicle’s passenger window. I was doing work I called “Neutral Art.” It was an idea of bridging two opposites to create something in a neutral state. I was preparing to cross the United States, and wanted to do so invisible. It occurred to me I could create a conspicuous spectacle that no one could make exact sense of. By exploiting the signifiers of authority, I became criminal and cop at once. Yet without clear identification, I could suspend judgment long enough to move forward freely in time. Few drivers or police would provide confrontation or protest. As I drove behind people they would heed way, and as I passed I could feel them trying to read me. Shielded by confusion and anonymity I moved forward without resistance, unknown until forgotten.