In this Brueghel or Bosch wrapped in a dress-coat of the nineteenth century, characters à la Boltanski, infinitely involved in their seemingly trivial or absurd tasks, both active (suddenly strident) and frozen in a kind of infernal eternity, meet in various parts of an unidentifiable location, here and there, like an immense expressionist stairway that leads, in spite of everything, to a luminous final irradiation.
