A two-column grid of ten widescreen film frames in five rows, every cell edge touching its neighbour and the grid running to all four edges. Every one of the ten cells is inside acid tiled green, a lit interior where the surfaces themselves are the colour, each reaching that colour differently — a painted wall, a coloured gel, a lit sign thrown out of focus, a field of petals seen from directly above, a costume. A hand resting flat on a car roof, the paint holding the sky. Every cell takes a camera position of its own, with the camera beside the subject as they pass it, moving faster than they do, the camera stepping back to find the subject stopped and waiting, the camera tight on the hands, the rest of the body out of frame and the camera level with a surface, the subject appearing as a reflection in it among them. Level and completely still, facing the camera, the expression withheld appears in the close cells. One cell is an architectural interior at rest with nobody in it. In one cell a ceiling fan turning above the subject, and in another a green source on one side of the room and a red one on the other, meeting on the face. Black is the second colour throughout. Every cell a different lens and a different light, continuous tone, coarse grain across every surface including the flat sky, figure edges dissolving into it, a soft round halo around every bright source. A colourist's showreel, ten unrelated worlds proved to be the same colour.