The hundreds of various acts that REGNER offers in his paintings could almost be a series of somewhat fantastic fables, but while fables lead to a moral conclusion, REGNER's work holds us suspended in the false and precarious balance of a present for the time being held in the midst of an anxious questioning. .

He does not give us the answer but involves us in a situation that we feel would be resolved, irremediably, (diabolically we might even say), in the immediate future. The pendulum, for a second, stops; his characters, not very frightening, and sometimes suffused with a sort of mocking joviality, attend to their own business.

At first, we gaze at their stratagems and find them amusing, but slowly, gently, a nameless anxiety creeps in. The scene appears to be imbued with a sort of warm comfort, dressed up with enchanting colors and the monster-actors themselves seem well-matched with the innocent female figures in a world temporarily harmonious.

And yet, we feel that the slightest movement of a line or the slightest gesture would start the motion of the pendulum and the monsters would bare their fangs and claws to tear us apart... or would secrete a slimy and urticant substance capable of digesting us... or they would simply melt our inner personalities as if they'd used Nessus's tunic.