Luc Tuymans paints at a certain distance from his subject matter, rendering historical photographs or contemporary events in pale, hazy tones, as ghosts stripped of their details and essence. Me, a rare self-portrait of Tuymans, and Morning Sun, a painting of a cracked window, are meant to be shown together. Tuymans sits in a chair in an unremarkable room staring emotionless into the camera that captures him. A bit of sun hits his left shoulder, perhaps from the hole in the window represented in Morning Sun. Light typically symbolizes inspiration, enlightenment, and divine presence, yet these meanings seem to have no place here. Instead, Tuymans offers a flat encounter with an ordinary day, no more, no less.