Fluted shafts set in a wide arc at colossal scale, cropped hard by the top edge so their full height is unknowable, fluted top to bottom with the flutes running the whole height as continuous unbroken lines. The shafts run straight into a turf field, shaft directly to ground. Gathered in a loose ring beneath the arc — massed small enough to read as granular surface rather than as people. An achromatic cream form against a deep cobalt sky and a dry ochre plain, the form holding to white and bone throughout while every hue in frame sits in the sky and the ground, the colour almost entirely drained. Hard high sun from one side, an empty cobalt sky deepening to the top edge, and one long black shadow bar thrown clear across the open ground, bleached, the shadows shallow. The crowd granular and dense, the column shafts smooth and plain. Indifferent and enormous, a holiday happening at the foot of something. One slow steady push straight forward, at an even speed, the framing holding square to the end of the shot. One continuous take, held to the end, the grade and the framing staying exactly as described for the whole shot.