Hieronymus Bosch, Procession to Calvary, ca. 1515

Crowded. Chaotic. Overflowing. Faces and figures flood the canvas of Bosch's Procession to Calvary, creating a sense of bedlam. The piece feels uncomfortable as one scans the visages, the bulging eyes and open mouths. Then, one spies Christ's face. The closed eyelids, the shut mouth, the face devoid of expression and wrinkle - they all communicate serenity and calm. A visual oasis in a desert of panic. He's welcome refuge from the movement and loudness  he stands out among the masses because he lacks the frantic, overwhelming energy of the surrounding figures. Silent and calm, his simpleness separates him.

Dante's The Inferno holds within its pages a dark parallel of this concept. In Canto XIV, while journeying through the seventh circle, Dante and Virgil come upon a massive crowd of tortured souls, stumbling naked through a desert, cracked and barren, moaning in torment as fire rains down on them. They all squirm, whimper, and rage against their eternal punishment. All except one, who lies prone on his back, staring up in unflinching defiance against God. He alone refuses to acknowledge the pain, and silently focuses his hatred upon the heavens. Unmoving and unrepentant, his inaction separates him.