Farid Jahangir’s landscapes are empty of people. At first glance, one does not notice this lack — of people or any other living being — because the images are complete without them. These mountains are content without people; people might in fact take something away from them. The hands of an other clock are turning here; this is a time whose days and nights and yesterdays and tomorrows, in a self-same and changeless eternity, are indifferent to humans. Jahangir does not attempt to make these images any more beautiful than they are. He does not turn these mountains into an expression of his wonderment. The evaluation of this beauty is meaningful only for the observer. For the mountains themselves, beauty is meaningless. The mountains are content simply to be, whether or not they are beautiful or plain, existing at night or day, yesterday or tomorrow. The sublimity of these mountains is predicated upon this indifference.