The body lying in the atelier of the artist is caught in a daily moment of pause, it is composed lying with effeminacy, which weakens the erotic charge, conveying a sense of freshness and suspension of chronological time. The gaze is lost in thought, thinking maybe just switched from the open book, still untitled, and to a page that is shown as a metaphor for life's anonymous model. The theatricality of the setting in which it is the figure contrasts with the piling up of stands in the background. The blank canvases reflect the expectation of the artist that despite being absent is present somewhere outside the visual field.
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