Many curious feelings arise from the photographs in Andrea Modica’s new book, Theatrum Equorum. They emerge slowly, and sometimes surprisingly, between intentionally repetitive images of horses lying in repose, resting on beds of shredded paper, enclosed by dark, and featureless walls. It isn’t a context where we are accustomed to seeing horses. They are supposed to be outdoors, in a field, trotting off into the sunset. Still lifes made up of crude-looking surgical tools, presumably used to operate on these majestical creatures are interspersed, sometimes arranged carefully, other times in scattered, bloody piles.