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The power of the conductor’s baton is primarily symbolic.
Even raised with a firm grip it looks no match for the sturdy strap-ons
tied to the stool (literally, with ties). Two women crouch but seem at
ease; the conductor inclines stiffly, rigid with the effort of keeping
control, a respectable man who has just happened to stumble into a
brothel. He even wears the legion d’honneur. If the photographer were
to turn on his heel and step outside he risks being apprehended by the
police for his pretension. But here, in the closed space that he has
created, he is free. It is a telling contradiction.
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