This watercolor isolates the copper-toned lantern of a lighthouse emerging from a blank, tilted white expanse—suggesting a capsized horizon or iced-over flood—against a muted gray haze, with a solitary, indistinct figure curled within the optic machinery, their presence casting a watery, inverted shadow that blurs the boundary between structure and specter.

Extending Los Carpinteros' recurrent fixation on faros as portable architectures and negations of obscurity—drawn from Havana's guiding beacons and colonial mappings—the series submerges these towers to invert their utility, confining the sentinel light to a vestigial protrusion amid envelopment, where human occupants become embedded protagonists in self-constructed isolation, echoing the trio's (later duo's) probes into labor's futility and objects' deceptive neutrality amid Cuban ideological drifts. Rodríguez's coastal origins in a faro-studded region infuse the motif with personal undertones of stalled navigation, while the collective's black humor surfaces in the absurdity of a beacon drowned yet persistent, critiquing adaptive resilience as mere entrapment in historical and material voids.