Panoramas of death. Strange coffins with almost dead bodies. Grandchildren stand mourning alienated next to the coffin. A dog too. In the film, a cat in the polder that doesn’t seem to want to be photographed and disappears from view. The panorama that does not want to be a panorama because it is upright. A dress blows in front of the coffin, which has been placed on a touching pair of yellow bricks so that it stays upright.

Surely the best is the image of nothing, or of what was.

In the other half of Huis Marseille show Koos Breukels photographs of his son. Can’t stop thinking: what a brat.