It is this situation that Albert Soldatov makes visible in his works. Actualizing the immobility of the digital video image, he fills the lifeless computer interiors, deprived of depth, with frozen models of objects of domestic comfort. Our gaze, slipping over their surface, loses focus and, wearied by the unbearably static nature of the space, it falls into the ironic trap of the television screen, which is transmitting amateur footage of Bayan players giving lively performances of the soundtracks of well-known blockbusters — a singular effect of the notorious silicon valley as applied to a cozy little everyday world. Saturating the room’s space, this idiotic spectacle serves as bait, it is a trap — it immobilizes and fetters those caught in it. The external is compressed, reduced to the scale of the room. The levers of control are concealed, the threads are severed. The total stasis.