Bathed in the late evening sun, a young man lies alone by the side of a swimming pool. Lithe and limber, with butter smooth skin and luxuriant, Louis XIV curls tumbling into the small of his back, he is a study in manicured androgeny. His expression is at once confident and sad, like the self-consumed despair of a contemporary Narcissus having just contemplated his own reflection. In his luminous colours, which feel almost too perfect, and his smooth, gleaming surface, somehow just too appealing, Schmidberger crafts a delicate beauty as attractive as it is unsettling.