This piece “In Paris no 0483720” (2003) by Milos Sobajic, spoke to me the most for some reason. It stood solitary next to the sculpture that reaches out either towards a hug or towards something otherly, with all arteries and veins visibly pronounced, heart is so inwards that it pulsates outwardly. 

This painting is about the stepping stones, steep mechanical roads so ubiquitous in our world that lead somewhere into the subconscious where we find (then popular) shower cabins along with other tools for external hygiene. The foot is taking the steps in the speed and movement of soft triangles (which are reoccurring) in the density of enclosed space, enclosed information. We see the glimpses of the  red horizons bordering the abyss of the consciousness, it is almost gallows like at that upper corner while the other lower one is balancing everything with the firm step outside of the painted canvas. Raw shoe on a raw canvas, suggesting authenticity and hopelessness of the everything this foot is carrying