From “Man Drawing Chalk Faces” to “Monkey Fitz”
- catarinasantos0918
- Sep 28, 2021
- 19 min read
This summer, I came across the work of Roger Ballen, thanks to the algorithms at Google that correctly figured I’d like to read some random article about some photographer I’d never known. Then, he appeared again a few days later in another article by Comunidade Cultura e Artes [1], which I follow and read at times, about how his work is currently being exhibited in Porto. On top of it all, a couple of friends who just visited the city saw the same photographic exhibition, going completely blind into it, then told me about it, unaware of this weird connection to Ballen I was already writing about! – is this the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon?
It’s been a trip, because it all comes back to one particular photograph of his, from his series “Outland”, one that stopped me in my tracks. This photograph, depicting, as the title aptly describes, «a man drawing chalk faces on a wall», looking down the barrel of the lens as if challenging you to decipher whose expressions it is he marks, simply jumped out at me. I’ll get to the why in a second.
As I then read, Ballen’s work consists of disturbing black and whites of absurdist nature or elaborate scenes depicting the “marginalized and mentally unstable South Africans"[2]. In another picture, for instance, a man holds his pet pig like one would a stuffed animal, while in another, a single light bulb hangs from a haphazardly mounted string above a man lying in bed, arms crossed over his head, pained in contemplation [3]. Now, surely there is a lot to deconstruct about his work and his exploration of the disturbed psyche and human condition – whether of his subjects’ or of his own imaginative nature.
I, however, only just introduced to the artist and far from an expert, am going to skip ahead into the why his photograph of the chalk drawings, about as old as myself, caused me such an impression: I had already seen such an unsettling scene.
And while I enjoy photography at large, this post of mine is not about a still picture by Ballen, but about a moving one that I’d seen on TV a few years ago, deeply reminiscent of the overall uncanny impression Ballen’s work itself imprints.
Something in this photograph about the single cot and bare walls only ornamented by scratched figures on the wall is reminiscent of the “tally marks trope” we often see prisoners do to mark the passage of time in stories. But when I mean I’ve already seen such a scene, I don’t just mean it reminded me of this trope. I mean that these tally marks, not simple scratches but faces with big ears and eerie expressions, led my synapses to a very specific shot of perhaps my favorite character of all time – a character whose mental journey provided some of the best twists and dramatic plot advances, as well as best character development and consistent, criminally underrated acting.
I’m talking about Leopold James Fitz, from Marvel’s “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”, played by the brilliant Iain De Caestecker.
Here is the scene in question:
Now, before you dismiss me with a potential eye-roll or raised brow, I must say a word or two about this show and about Fitz, as the character is more commonly known as. And in doing so, I can’t help but praise the collective image of an entire character arc.
People have very strong, dare I say black-and-white, opinions about Marvel. Cinephiles everywhere may fall into the elitist camp that such movies are lesser than, and that pop-entertainment like this is a cheap, action-based spectacle with no substance. Then, of those that may even look its way, some may prefer the movies over the television shows; but the thing is, for those who give any of these audiovisual adaptations the time of day, many do get enthralled by its intricately woven cinematic universe and blockbusting visual effects. All are valid opinions that can coexist.
Personally, I prefer TV>Movies in most cases, mainly because, from a storytelling point of view, it has the advantage of time and can weave more complex themes and dynamics and develop both plot and character with great detail and air to breathe, when well done. There are certain stories that require more than a 2-hour sitting to truly hit any marks well and in a way that may impact a viewer for a lifetime.
While there is a lot to be said in regard to the different Marvel TV Shows’ canonicity and worth in comparison to the Marvel Movies – which is another discussion for another day; and for those ongoing debates, I suggest hopping onto Reddit, or else I’d be here all day – MY most controversial but not unfounded opinion is this:
No other show, MCU or otherwise, can compare to bold genius that is “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” (AOS).
Writing? Fantastic.
Acting? Off. The. Charts.
Fight-Choreography? Brilliant, like dancing.
Cinematography and VFX? Admirable, given its increasingly lowered budgets.
The best way I’ve found to describe the experience of following the AOS story, without spoilers or leaving the wrongful impression that it takes seasons to get good, is this: your attention and patience will pay-off, because every build-up is intentionally and intelligently done, and the reward exceeds the promise, every. single. time. It is excellent storytelling, and more shows should strive to reach its level of nuance and creativity.
It’s not just a campy, monster-of-the-week excuse for action within the MCU’s periphery as it may seem in the first few episodes – but it’s only the first few, and for a reason. For it to have lasted 7 seasons without cancellation (but close...because screw us fans, I guess) like “Agent Carter” or “Jessica Jones” or so many others’ ill-fated demise, I assure you there’s more to AOS than that. Despite the implied dislike from MCU head-runners and its unfounded irrelevance to the movies, this first MCU television show ever ran for as long as it did, not just because of its strong and dedicated fan base, but because it truly was that great. To dismiss it so early or to ignore it altogether is a great loss. Whether tied to the rest of the MCU’s canon or viewed as a standalone spy-sci-fi-superhero piece, it champions phenomenal storytelling.
So, if you’re googling it now, the story is not just about Phil Coulson (Clark Gregg), who literally survived thanks to the hashtag #CoulsonLives that gave origin to the show (“Welcome to Level 7”). It’s also not just about “Skye” (Chloe Bennet) and this Avenger-level powerful Inhuman’s origin story. It’s about the whole team, their humanity and complexity, loyalty and love, even when dealing with other-worldly affairs. Ask yourself what they are fighting for. And in that, the beginning is imperative to understand how far these characters will come, of course. So, give it a chance. Because the show’s greatest asset is exactly that: the character development. It is the pivotal captivating point, and it is fantastically intriguing, heartbreaking and complex.
And so, I return to Fitz, and the connection to Ballen’s photographs.
(Spoilers Ahead!)
Fitz grows and changes exponentially throughout the run of the show and is a prime example of a deep and complex character done right. Though at first, he may seem like a tried-and-true character-type – your stereotypical nerdy and awkward scientist with little social skills, pining for a girl but incapable of telling her how he feels at the right time – Fitz reveals far more darkness and heart than words can properly describe. He feels like a real person to me, in part due to the phenomenal writing that dug rhythmically through his psyche, and in part due to what I consider criminally underrated, award-worthy acting by De Caestecker.
(Fitz in Season 1, "Pilot")
Fitz suffers trauma after trauma, physically and mentally, and goes from a dorky and sweet genius young man to a brave but dangerous, mad scientist with a lot of love, hurt, and moral ambiguities. As you watch along, you may both feel like you know him in his entirety, as you would a friend; like a true Scotsman he likes to poke fun at the English (which love-interest Jemma Simmons, played by Elizabeth Henstridge, is) and watch football, plus he LOVES monkeys, and he’s always been a bit of a loner on account of his intelligence, thus making him innocently awkward at times.
But, you may also be sometimes surprised by his behavior, like you would real person, because we are all complex, contradictory, and at times, unpredictable, especially when times are testing. And for him and the entire team throughout the story, times are always testing. That nuance is achieved – and I can’t repeat it enough – thanks to the brilliant paring of writers who understood the assignment and De Caestecker’s body-and-soul delivery.
To give a few examples, Fitz’s reaction to Skye’s (-err, Daisy’s) Inhuman transformation in Season 2 shows a deep sense of empathy and compassion, since he too knows, more so in that moment than ever before, what it feels like to change and struggle with self-control. This scene, protecting her and saying «You’re just different now. You’re different now, and there’s nothing wrong with that» is a real demonstration of the heart steadily portrayed a full season before, as well as is an excellent reminder for himself.
However, at the exact same time, a betrayed and literally brain-damaged Fitz confronts traitor Ward and goes so far as to remove the oxygen from his smart cell; a payback for the pain he’s experienced at Ward’s hands. It is a great scene depicting the thematic sense of justice vs. revenge, at times brought up in this show, as well as foreshadows the lengths Fitz can go. This is a scene that surprised many precisely because, at first glance, an unhardened Season 1 Fitz straight out of the SHIELD Academy hadn’t yet experienced a stomach-turning betrayal as deep as Ward’s, neither had he been presented with such hard choices or soul-crushing experiences quite like these in his lifetime. Although, a more attentive fan can note that sprinkled across the first season we do see him have a couple of fits of rage, as well as put up a brave front everyone clearly underestimated – a foreshadowing of what would come. Nevertheless, as such, his character development kept escalating to greater depths, as he eventually had to get his hands dirtier and dirtier by being an agent in the field.
The way Fitz hesitates with some words, and hyperventilates subtly and exponentially when stressed, in a phenomenal consistency throughout the show, is a testament to the actor’s embodiment of Fitz, as well as the psychological tolls the character takes on again and again, betrayal after betrayal, mistake after mistake, near-death situation after another. We viewers don’t flinch when Jemma tells him that he «does things from the genius of his mind and the goodness of his heart», later in Season 4, because there is a truth to that. We are reinforced that, and put in a place to believe, that the Team, with Fitz included, always mean good and do good. To quote Coulson and Radcliffe, Fitz is «a literal rocket scientist», a loving, loyal friend and agent, and hands-down a romantic – the kind of unflinching hero who «crosses the bloody universe to rescue Jemma», more than once. But such impressive actions and meaningful connections do often distract us from objectively noticing that a ground had been lain from the beginning where he’d struggle to navigate difficult situations. Wouldn't anyone? He’d always seemed doomed to make grey choices for a difficult-to-define sense of “greater good”, choices we can’t always, or fully, condone on their own.
That’s why, when in Season 4 we are presented with “The Doctor”, Fitz’s Framework virtual alter ego – a sociopath who tortures, probes, and kills with cold-blooded audacity, shocking even Jemma – there is only a hooking dumbfounded-ness to behold from this killer performance. And it’s shocking all around, not only because of his actions and calculated demeanor within the Framework, but because in this virtual world they’re plugged into where only one regret is removed from one’s life, Fitz is not manipulated or forced to do what he does – he is this man.
We are left to make up our minds about whether that is true or not, whether he is “programmed” by betrayal, or by his father, or by something other, more innate within him? Or, to paraphrase Simmons, “What we are is not programming. It is something way beyond that”.
As he unplugs from the alternate reality and his real life and second virtual life collide, he can barely breathe as he remembers what he did and who lost their lives because of him; he’s barely capable of uttering “I-I- I think I’m a bad person”. He’s told not to blame himself, but having perfected the technology that ensued such a nightmare and caused so much pain, it is telling how even his LMD-replica (a robot replica, for a layman’s sake) claimed earlier in the season: «I am the bad guy, no matter what». (Another god-tier scene, and episode, “Self-Control”).
One can’t help but feel a compelling identity crisis that results from such well-posited but dramatically complex situations. Who is Fitz, at his core? Is he a good person? Are any of them? Did he do the right thing? Do his intentions even matter, if the unprecedented result or manipulative uses of his genius and technology end up causing pain he’s at least partially responsible for?
Fitz in "Self Control" (S4E15)
All of this develops incredibly organically despite the suspension of disbelief you must have for this genre and kinds of worlds. It’s AOS’s super-power; besides gutsy creative obstacles all naturally interwoven in astounding plot after plot, the focus increasingly falls onto the characters’ ability to work together, but more importantly, cope, without losing themselves or their purpose.
For Fitz, though, all this built-up trauma and stress escalates with remarkable greatness, coming to a head in Season 5, where – what I’ll call “Fitz drawing monkey faces” – occurs. With barely a second to process the aftermath of the Framework and villain Aida’s defeat, how his trust with the team is or isn’t broken, whether Simmons, forgiving but hurt, can look him in the eye again, Fitz is seemingly left behind as the rest of them are forcibly taken to an apocalyptic future they must somehow prevent. Fitz is then immediately taken to a military prison, forced to answer questions he himself wants the answers to: where (or when) is the Team, and why did they leave Fitz behind?
And it’s in this sequence, from the episode “Rewind”, that we see him locked in a tiny grey military prison cell. He does sit-ups with a determined gaze. He goes ballistic at the football games he sees on the TV granted to him in exchange for his cooperation. He reads and wracks his brain for an answer in front of a picture of Jemma. He paces those four walls in deep thought. And most importantly, he marks the time by drawing little monkey faces . He is, by all means, at this point, a monkey in a cage, unstable, grasping for a clutch on reality’s bars.
Early in Season 1, his constant obsession for monkeys got him once dubbed the Team’s “little monkey”, and it is an especially pertinent callback to make in this episode and season, considering the situation he is enduring, both literally and psychologically.
On one hand, monkeys often symbolize knowledge, cleverness and mischievousness – which Fitz certainly teeters between often. He is “the big, bad brain of SHIELD”, and on the front of intelligence, his primal connection to monkeys is appropriate. The man literally solved time travel – more than once! And mostly with scraps to work from! Plus, it’s also humorous and quite clever of him how, shortly after this prison cell sequence, Fitz is cleverly reaching out to former Agent Lance Hunter (Nick Blood cameo, hey-yo!) to help break him out of the prison, adding a brief comedic flair to the football of it all, through a haphazard escape only these two tricksters could pull off together (“release the ferrets!”).
But at the same time, in Chinese Buddhist lore, as far as I understand, the monkey is also a symbol for penitence and redemption – which is what Fitz seeks at this time in his arc. He is literally in a prison; it can’t get more on the nose than that! It’s almost as if each chalk monkey face he draws is an attempt to repent for all the guilt and remorse he’d built-up. Perhaps the monkey drawings are the cumulative spiral of guilt he is experiencing. Perhaps they serve as a sort of talisman to try and ward off the demons brewing inside, given we later learn that since leaving the Framework he’d been hearing The Doctor’s voice in his head, battling and repressing this dark side of his; a side that spews out in a gut-wrenching twist from one of the show’s most brilliant installments, “The Devil Complex”, 9 episodes later.
Going back to “Rewind”, as an escaped Fitz threatens Enoch with a gun to the head, Hunter looks on in the background, concerned and surprised at the extremity in Fitz’s methods and desperation to get answers. A desperation he’s shown to crumble under when times are pressing, like in the bone-chilling scene early in Season 3, screaming “DO SOMETHING” at the Monolith that took Simmons. This recurrent tumultuous emotional instability is deftly explored when Fitz later lets on to Hunter that he thinks he was left behind for being dangerous to them all. He can’t seem to accept the caring wisdom in Hunter’s “every light needs a shadow” comment – a great description of who Fitz learns to be with each new adventure: a man who uses each when needed, but is only beginning to figure out how to control.
Curiously, Ballen’s work ties into this in an unprecedented way; his photographs are an exploration of mental transformation, of repressive natures and multidimensional complexities, self-portraits revealing “the shadow” – to borrow from psychoanalyst Carl Jung. “Jung describes the shadow within us as ‘a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge’”[4]. And that is Fitz’s over-arching struggle: recognizing, accepting, and dealing with the dark aspects of his personality, his morality and ego. Ballen himself points out that “darkness in all of us that we suppress. I often think that when people react to my pictures, the darkness they see is a reflection of their own repression.” [5] Likewise, Fitz’s success as a character, in writing and on screen, works, perhaps, because we all feel for his darkness, recognizing our own. We wish him love, we wish him peace, we wish him safety in a way we all would care to instill in our lives, and for those around us. Its perhaps why he feels like such a real person, and not just any character. He is fully fleshed inside and out.
The rest of Season 5 sees him make it to the future to rescue the team and bring them back to their timeline, one they must change – but for Fitz its sprinkled with more and more extreme measures. On one hand, in the future, he proposes beautifully and passionately (the first time around) to a (temporarily) deaf and enslaved Simmons, while then posing to her capturer as a space marauder. But in this role, when she is finally allowed to hear by her enslaver, the first words she hears Fitz say could only have been a terrifying reminiscence of his Doctor persona, given he mentions how «pain is the proper motivator, in its right application». Later, as they are being chased, a trap he configured brutally slices the necks of the Kree alien soldiers following them, leaving Jemma once again horrified, saying, “that was your way out…?”; but she’s left with little time to properly dwell on his actions. And when they hurriedly but sweetly marry, though Fitz tells Jemma he is “the luckiest man on any planet”, he also emphasizes how he doesn’t deserve her. It is with this, that, after the events of his psychic split in “The Devil’s Complex” shortly after, Fitz cements the difficult grey moral ground he lies in: he continues to believe he did the right thing, he doesn’t regret it, but all the while believes he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. “Just like you don’t deserve me?”, replies Jemma.
A great and exciting “Deke is your/our grandson” revelation later, and with a pressing mission to change time, which Fitz once considered fixed, the “Fitzsimmons” couple get risky with their lives. Fitz’s extreme measures due to the complicated situation they face ends up rubbing off on Simmons herself, and she soon parallels Fitz in a near-psychotic experiment, this time claiming the “science is sound”, cutting it eerily close to The Doctor himself in “The Devil Complex”. As Fitz is about to cut into a forcibly restrained Daisy, he (the Doctor?) sinisterly points out how “there are always risks involved. You know that, Jemma”, and how he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t believe it could work, while Jemma is horrified and unsure. But then, in the next episode, Jemma, switching up her stance due to the gravity of the time-loop situation, and in needing Fitz out of the Team’s and his own lock-up, dangerously proves that they hadn’t changed time yet because she (and Fitz) literally can’t seem to die – Deke’s existence being further potential proof.
However, in successfully breaking the time loop and avoiding the future they’d seen at the end of Season 5, Fitz dies tragically whilst saving a child and her mother (Polly and Robin :”) when a building collapses on him, a tell-tale sign they’d successfully branched off the timeline, since he’d originally lived long enough to raise a daughter with Simmons, Deke’s mother. It’s perhaps the most heartbreaking, truly shocking, and perfectly-acted death I have ever seen. But the extra tragic part of this ordeal is this: part of Fitz’s Framework guilt was how he ordered the airstrike that made a building collapse and kill Director Mace, whilst now, a season later, Fitz himself dies due to a crumbling edifice. There’s an unfortunate karma in there somewhere, and that tragic poetic “justice” guts any viewer to a point of distracting sorrow. Bawling at “Mack… I think my leg’s broken…”, the grief over such a prominent and spectacular character’s death hits so hard that we forget he isn’t fully gone – or at least, a version of him still exists.
After all, this is the Fitz that cryogenically froze himself out on a spaceship somewhere, guarded by Enoch, back in “Rewind”, woke up 74 years later in the doomed future, saved the team there, and made the journey back. Not to break anyone’s minds due to the time-travel ploy, but there were two Fitzes alive in the world at a given point; so Simmons and all of us hadn’t lost Fitz entirely, for an earlier version of him is out there unaware he’s already solved the problem.
Season 6 kicks off with the goal to bring him back and caught up, then. But since the team now branched off into a new timeline, this Fitz has to breakout of his cryo-freeze, because he begins to be hunted across space for being a living time-paradox! He both died but is still alive! And there are some sentient alien species (Chronicoms) out there who want to know how he did it, so they can change time for their own benefit! Which is all excellent ground to continue to explore the journey of Fitz’s mind and sense of self! Like this, we return to the guy, oblivious to the events of Season 5, who is literally lost and remorseful, the same Fitz who’d drawn chalk monkeys in his prison cell for six months before having to deal with these new timey-wimey space nightmares.
Found by Simmons (et al) and trapped in a mind prison together (it’s often been joked how “psychically linked” they always were!), in yet another brilliant episode, “Inescapable” tackles head on all of Fitzsimmons’ pent-up traumas. In it, it is clear: Fitz still hears “The Doctor”, this twisted side of his, in his mind. This figure haunts him, looming in the recesses of his mind, so much so, that “The Doctor” is basically hellbent on chasing and torturing them both, nearly frying their minds in this prison. Just beforehand, in their shared memories, Jemma happens to comment on how she remembers thinking how “manic” he could be at times, “and thinking how genius is just a tick away from madness”, just as the camera pans to a panel of drawn monkey faces over the desk in his dorm, similar to the prison in “Rewind”.
But the good news? We’ve all got, to varying degrees, our own little monsters in a box. And, after the exhilarating scene that is Fitzsimmons venting about their shared traumas in the containment pod (another motif between these two, as most of their major moments revolve around a containment pod), coming to terms with their ids and egos, they realize, that together, they can withstand anything. It seems like he begins to accept the existence of his dark persona, because Simmons too has a dark “shadow self”, and each is very much into the other.
There also might be something to be said about how, jokingly, Fitz in a monkey onesie is Simmon’s “patronus” – as well as there could be an entire essay on Simmons, or the Fitzsimmons relationship as a unit; for all of AOS’s characters and brilliant actors provide a compelling nuance central to the story.
But I think, ultimately, Fitz proved in the end of the show’s run just how loyal, determined and tragically heroic he is: he willingly sacrificed his mind for the team, and humanity, time and time again. When he and Simmons alter the natural course of their lives, and he risks getting lost in a Framework world again to calculate every probability in order to change the timeline once more and save Earth in Season 7, Fitz ultimately shows the extent of his character, nature, and integrity. Sure, in that years-long “break” of theirs in a different star-system, he put his foot down for the couple to take their time and finally “just be” for a little while, surely to raise daughter Alya, who he dotingly looks at, and after, in the epic chess-move series finale. But Fitz, who ingeniously figured out how to jump time and between timelines (tying it to “End Game”, mind you!), essentially saved the day, saved the stars in his sky, as well as saved himself. His mind, to get there, went through a lot – so are the sacrifices a field agent might endure for “the greater good” – but he bids the screens farewell, finally happy, relaxed, retired, playing and picnicking with “his little monkey” Alya, in the most deserved happily ever after written in a long time.
Fitz is my favorite character, I believe, because of this mental and moral complexity. In review, he is both good and sick. He is both loving and capable of hurting. His mental journey is a brilliant dramatic obstacle to many circumstances endured as the story progresses, and – instead of being used for shock value, plot convenience, or as an exploration of mental health that other shows may want to portray and bring awareness to – for Fitz it is simply but expertly woven as his own ongoing internal conflict. It adds scars and baggage to the greater conflicts and relationships that drive this stellar boulder of a show up the metaphorical hill of fame.
The parallel between Ballen’s photograph and “Monkey Fitz” drawing these unsettling expressions, over and over, is tied in the psyche of the disturbed, but no less human and loving, depths of Man’s mind. Its extra fascinating of a connection how Ballen’s work is currently exhibited in the Centro Português de Fotografia, a building which notoriously used to be a major prison in Porto, and how the exhibit goes by the title “My Mind is a Cage”[3]. Fitz could certainly say the same.
Thus, the symbolism of the monkey, of the drawings, make it so that the eerie carvings presented to us in AOS for barely 3 seconds aren’t “just because”. No shot, in this show, for this reason, is accidental. And this monkey business gives such depth and remarkable detail to Fitz’s psyche, further illustrating how well-written of a character he is. Add a fantastic actor who effortlessly gives us perhaps the performance of his lifetime (yet!), and you’ve got genius neatly wrapped up in a Scottish accent and cardigans.
Loose threads of thought:
Which is sexier – The Doctor, Marauder Fitz, or do you prefer him in cardigans?
Fitzsimmons, as we know, literally came with their own ship name. Their love story is so tragically beautiful, I say, forget Romeo and Juliet. It is a true cosmic tragedy, in that, even with the happy ending we all demanded, all the pain to get there results in catharsis, which is the point. Best love story, hands-down.
Did I go overboard with the gifs and photos? It was so hard not to put one for every single reference and scene written about... the
I swear this show has walked so that new shows can now run. Or better, AOS ran amazingly, for its format no less, and these new streaming shows now have to sprint to catch up to its significance. “It ain’t canon”, pish-posh. Plus, I believe to have read that the director’s cut for the finale included 20min. worth of cut scenes, which I am sure doubled down on its connection to the MCU and the “snap”, but it is what it is…
All the other actors are so good too, uggh. Shout out to all of them!
It’s been inspiring to watch “Live with Lil” and recall the early SHIELD days on Youtube along with insightful industry experiences and BTS memories. Ah, how young, innocent and ever so slightly campy it all was at first – but that’s what’s remarkable to watch; how far the characters, actors, and stellar writing evolved! Plus, for those few who follow Elizabeth and Zach’s social media…. MONKEY MILES!! IT IS ALL CONNECTED. Coincidence? I think not. 🍋🍋🍋
[1] https://www.1854.photography/2019/10/the-world-according-to-roger-ballen/ [2] https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/apr/05/roger-ballen-outland-interview [3] https://www.publico.pt/2021/07/10/culturaipsilon/noticia/mente-roger-ballen-prisao-1969846 [4] https://comunidadeculturaearte.com/portugal-recebe-exposicao-inedita-de-roger-ballen-fotografo-e-conhecido-por-evocar-o-absurdo-da-condicao-humana/ [5] https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/apr/05/roger-ballen-outland-interview
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