As part of M'as-tu vue?, her retrospective exhibition held at the Centre Pompidou in 2003, Sophie Calle presented Unfinished. Rooted in a series of still images from CCTV recordings of people withdrawing money from a cash machine in America, it was a project on which she had begun to work in the late 1980s and which, as its title suggests, she had struggled to bring to a satisfactory end. At first sight, and in the context of the exhibition, the significance of Unjinished appeared to lie mainly in its status as a meta-project, one which allowed Calle to reflect on her working methods. Its interest from this perspective - and therefore, ironically, its success - lay precisely in its failure as a project, and in particular in Calle's inability to find a text with which to accompany the images, and so to make them 'speak'. After all, the conjunction oftext and image is, as she puts it, her 'marque de fabrique';l but if she persists with the project in the first place, it is because of her continued fascination with the images themselves: 'il fallait trouver une idee pour accompagner ces visages que je n'avais pas oublies'.2 She is bewitched and haunted by the stream of individuals who materialise before the camera to withdraw their money, or indeed retreat empty handed: 'elles racontaient quelque chose, mais quoi? ~a parlait de surveillance, d'argent, de solitude?,l Her fascination was made manifest when the project materialised in book form two years later, under the title En jinir. The monochrome cover features the ghostly image of a bare-chested man emerging out of the shadows, fine vertical striations signifying its origins in CCTV footage. 4 If the first half of the book recaps Calle's efforts to tum the images into a meaningful project, and find a narrative into which they can be woven, the second half confronts us with stills and sequences from the original CCTV material. We see a series of unknown people living though miniscule dramas of uncertainty and anxiety as they undertake their transactions, and the camera captures a range of emotions from consternation to joy. The encounter with the cash machine seems to leave no-one impassive. At the same time, being privy to such dramas is in itself disconcerting; it feels like an invasion of the private sphere at its most intimate and vulnerable. 1. Sophie Calle, M'as-tu vue? (Paris: Editions du Centre Pompidou-Editions Xavier Barral,