Philippe Parreno conceives of his works as things that can change—that should change—depending on where and when they are exhibited. His El Sueño de una cosa (The dream of a thing, 2001), consists of a 60-second film, the white panels on which the film is projected, and the silence that follows. The moving-image element consists of brilliant postcard views of a Norwegian hillside, set to music by French composer Edgar Varèse; next to it, a glow-in-the dark label provides the work's title. The five white panels that act as a screen, revealed after the lights go up, are a replication of Robert Rauschenberg's White Painting (1951). During the 4 minutes and 33 seconds before the film starts again, viewers might imagine experiencing a sort of disembodied version of John Cage's 4-minute 33-second silent score (1962; itself inspired in part by Rauschenberg's painting). But this is just how the work is shown in a gallery context; the film component was originally conceived for movie theaters throughout Sweden in 2001, shown between advertisements and the feature films. Duplicating exactly the duration of the ads, it was an “alien” intrusion into the realm of commerce and entertainment.