Santiago Sierra lends a hand at the lowest level of existence, in the sociotope of the slums and favelas. Where onlookers expect to see artefacts, he resorts to using human beings. A tattooed line 250 centimetres long runs like a cord across the backs of six young Cubans and holds them, their faces turned to the wall, in the same demeaning position. One would not treat a dog this way, which is precisely the comparison Sierra does not avoid when it comes to demanding a submissive 'dog-like' attitude from people who have nothing to lose, as a way of exhibiting their own worthlessness. It would be easy to accuse Sierra of being a cynical manipulator, but only when people have hit rock bottom does it become clear how much dignity they stand to lose. Sierra therefore degrades his protagonists to usable objects and pays them back with small change. Shocked, aghast, angry (and only at second sight appalled), the eye-witnesses react to the wretched individuals masturbating, living in cardboard boxes, cleaning latrines, digging their own graves, in their role of people as disposable items. They have no hope at all.