Contemplative games with the photographic image are Petr Strouhal’s starting point for the anatomic study of obscurity. In his photos formal refinement is gnawed at by a besmirched do-it-yourself approach. Not only is humour speechless, but also for the most part with no point or message that would allow the public to laugh in relief. The photographer’s studio is a place where one can conduct experiments with hairy abstractions and the gestures of a dead hand. Afterwards in the gallery a collection of images and objects forms, from which the language of art gets tangled up in a new form that we cannot satisfactorily identify with a specific emotion.