The Deep Well

Overcoming an ENFP Tertiary Problem

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Rachel McKamey, June 9, 2025

For the ENFP, the extraverted intuition (Ne) function-attitude is dominant and bears many gifts. For instance, ENFPs quickly draw connections between ideas, and they have a natural ability to read the room. Yet no function is all positive. The ENFP’s gifts mean that the “inner life is subordinated to external necessity” (Jung, 1921/1971, ⁋ 563). Thus, the ENFP lives with an outwardly expectant disposition to the detriment of a clear inner voice, especially concerning the feeling function. The myriad ways that this pull towards extraversion plays out for the ENFP over a lifetime are difficult to overstate. While a combination of extraverted intuition and extraverted feeling (Fe) may enable an individual to be an exceptional waiter at an upscale restaurant by anticipating and attending to the needs of the customer, the outwardly expectant valuing of another to the detriment of oneself does not bode well for balanced careers, healthy boundaries, or happy marriages. After long term neglect of one’s deeper inner self, the subjective experience withers if not balanced by the other functions. The ENFP must find an inner voice to balance out their default mode of functioning, especially because it is experienced as a “necessity.” Eventually an equal and opposite necessity makes itself known: the desire to attend to others without compromising one’s values or silencing one’s inner voice.

Psyche, in its soulful wisdom, knows the importance of growing the inner voice, however, and the ENFP may eventually remedy this neglect through a crisis that grows the overshadowed introverted feeling function (Fi). Thomson (1998) described the challenge plainly: “When the psyche is trying to impose balance on us unconsciously, by pulling us toward our least-developed function, things tend to go wrong in a fairly predictable way” (p. 98). When a less-developed part of our personality is given the keys to the car, there are going to be dents and wheels up on the curb. Eventually however, a more skilled and confident driver will emerge.

The Tertiary Problem

Without agency from the parental second function, an individual is vulnerable to what Thomson (1998) called “the tertiary problem” (p. 96) and Beebe (2017) called the “third function crisis” (p. 139). In a tertiary problem for any type, the individual relies too heavily on the third function, failing to develop the second position, which functions as a archetypal good parent. In the second position, the good parent is usually a generative archetype, characterized by Beebe (2017) as “our way of taking care of others” (p. 201). The third function carries the archetypal qualities of playfulness, innocence, and optimism, but it can also be tyrannical, demanding, and naïve. Like a child given too much free rein, an over-functioning tertiary attempts to overrun and ignore the parent function, which in its natural state should have more authority and ability to direct the child than the other way around. This role reversal is not just difficult for the parent but disorganizing for the child as well, which in its natural state benefits from just the right amount of agency and autonomy balanced by clear structure and boundaries. Also, the eternal child function can engage in “hero worship” (Shumate, 2021, p. 181) of the dominant function, which further overshadows the second function. As a tertiary placement, the third function is often “less adapted to reality and more influenced by unconscious complexes” (Beebe, 2017, p. 205) than the first and second functions, which means we are not coming from our best selves when we operate from this position.

The tertiary problem in an ENFP type is an overshadowing of the auxiliary function of introverted feeling by the tertiary extraverted thinking (Te), as well as a common over-reliance on the dominant extraverted intuition. It is as if the functions that share the dominant extraverted attitude gang up on the introverted and less dominant second function. Introverted feeling is sensitive and quiet—these qualities might compound the challenge of establishing balance as well. The only way to overcome an ENFP’s tertiary problem is to learn to draw from an archetypal deep well of feeling within. Unfortunately, dipping into this deep well with ease feels impossible initially. Besides the common fear of the unknown—in this case my own feeling function—I had an additional sense of foreboding about what my feelings might illuminate about my life and, most dreadfully, what action I may need to take to stay aligned with my feelings once they were known.

In my own ENFP psyche, two other functions came into play during the crisis, adding both complexity and assistance: the seventh position of introverted thinking (Ti) acting as an unconscious trickster catalyst and the inferior fourth position of introverted sensation (Si) acting as an inner gauge and emissary. The inferior position brings up what is otherwise unconscious and helps to integrate unconscious material, like adding minerals to the water in a well. These additional elements allowed me to tap into an awareness in my nervous system and gauge what was coming up from the unconscious through that introverted sensation when my feeling function was stunted. I have come to think of it as a way of sensing the emotional affect or residual when direct access to feeling (or even emotion) is more difficult to make conscious. In addition, I had a sense of clarity from that sensation because it included unconscious material that was important to pay attention to in order to outsmart the overthinking Te, which in my case was prone to “purely ideal thinking” (Jung, 1921/1971, ⁋ 577).

In its natural state, the ENFP believes “every cloud has a silver lining” (Shumate, 2021, p. 242). Such a mindset brings both pitfalls and possibilities. The pollyanna aspects of this potentially sentimental belief system need to be balanced by an inner connection, adding gravitas and depth so that the beliefs come from a place of possibilities instead of naïveté. ENFPs also become stressed or distressed by having to advocate for themselves and, instead, default to others. As Jung (1921/1971) explained, the extravert “gets sucked into objects and completely loses himself in them” (⁋ 565).

Aspects of Archetypal Amplifications

Ideally, these archetypal animations play their roles in a structured system that is generative. An attitude of expectation and anticipation comes naturally and easily for extraverted intuition in the hero position. The second position archetype of the good parent amplifies the nurturing and protective nature of introverted feeling, making it a “guiding light” for self and others (Shumate, 2021, p. 180). However, a third-function crisis means that when battling a quiet and introverted feeling function, the extraverted thinking child archetype counsels action instead of introspection, signaling “You are fine. This is normal. Now just work harder to make it better!” Additionally, even a reliable and well-developed hero can create trouble in a personality. The heroic extraverted intuition might have such a hard time pausing its perpetual scanning for ideas that other functions like the second position introverted feeling function might be devalued. This devaluing can cause ENFP individuals to over-rely on their extraverted intuition and “trust it when it should not be trusted” (Shumate, 2021, p. 180). In my life, extraverted intuition meant that I was so outwardly focused on my own anticipation and expectation of others that I dampened the voice from within so that it was barely a whisper with no sense of agency. I was quite adept at anticipating and meeting others’ needs and normalizing them over my own. I accepted things I should not have and lived without a sense of inner comfort or safe harbor, instead choosing to embark on boats where other people were at the helm.

If suppressed or under-developed, the good parent allows the child to run the show and does not present as the gentle authority that the child needs. The extraverted thinking child lends a quality of creative play to the ENFP and likes to take charge, even if it might not be the best idea, and is “eager to please but unreliable,” cycling between “excitement and disappointment.” Like Peter Pan’s Lost Boys, it may “refuse to grow up” (Shumate, 2021, p. 181). An ENFP operating largely from the extraverted thinking child can ignore feeling. I experienced this combination of extraverted intuition and extraverted thinking with no feeling as a flippancy or lack of emotional intimacy, which directly highlights my need for a well-functioning auxiliary: introverted feeling. The key to trust and intimacy with others is trust and intimacy with oneself first, which necessitates a deep dive into the depths of one’s psyche.

Before I could learn how to better care for others through expression of an introverted feeling function, I had to find this inward feeling function in the first place. First, I used it as an internalized parent to care for my own self more deeply, and then I tapped into this function and placement as a way to care for others. I had to germinate this inner seed before it would blossom more fully into care for others. My decision to end my marriage came after I learned what this feeling was saying, even though its voice was quiet and without authority.

The psyche operates through checks and balances. The dominating hero, the one that brings the treasure back to the community, also runs the risk of diminishing the second position dynamic. There is also an interesting dynamic when the first position hero function, the placement that concerns the “assertion of oneself” (Beebe, 2017, p. 202), is oriented outward; the assertion is then based on others and can morph into losing sight of oneself. This loss of agency is akin to a weak but still “good” parent sliding into allowing a child to run the show. For an ENFP in a third-function crisis, accessing the introverted feeling function, where “still waters run deep,” becomes a life’s work challenge (Jung, 1921/1971, ⁋ 640).

Extraverted thinking in the tertiary position has a can-do attitude and, unlike dominant Te, can easily be indiscriminate with its attention. Thus, my unconscious complex around people pleasing, deriving from a witchy extraverted feeling in the sixth position, was able to set the priority so that I struggled to have a “sense of [my] own power” (Shumate, 2021, p. 214). The more developed outward facing thinking function made an already vulnerable parental introverted feeling function almost inaccessible, like a hidden and unusable ivy-covered well. An overactive tertiary can tell us we are not doing enough, that we are being irrational, whereas introverted feeling is “wordless” (Beebe, 2017, p. 201) and carries an air of quiet though “passionate depth” (Jung, 1921/1971, ⁋ 641).

Thomson (1998) offered two questions that get to the heart of the tertiary problem: “How do I stay true to myself yet honor my relationships with others?” and “Should I follow the rules or follow my heart?” (p. 96). Addressing these dilemmas facilitates breakthrough movements of consciousness, but the questions are slow to be answered and easily influenced by the unconscious. When feeling is unavailable, embodiment becomes paramount. When Logos cannot answer these important questions, Eros can. While I knew my thinking could lean towards where I felt obligated, or that which was outwardly most acceptable, my body would not lie. A critical aspect of introverted feeling for me is dialogue with my body. Does my body say “yes,” or does it say “no”? Does it relax and open, or does it contract and stiffen? Without words or text, the body makes its feeling known through its energetic response. I can befriend this body and talk to it, ask it what it needs and what it needs to say. While its truths are sometimes clear in their message, they are rarely one-sided. More often they are paradoxical. The wants of the body may not align with what is outwardly convenient. Staying in relationships simplifies outer life and, at times, can extraordinarily complicate inner life. I can sit with the tension, but the answer will never be to completely succumb to an outer convenience; that will merely intensify the extreme nature of the compensatory desire.

The Trickster’s Double Bind

My own tertiary problem was made more complex due to a cycling between the trickster and the eternal child, resulting in repetitive patterns of “expectation and disappointment” throughout a fourteen-year marriage (Shumate, 2021, p. 99). When I explored the effect that the seventh position trickster can have in a psychologically difficult but ultimately transformative process, it became apparent that to temper this trickster, I needed to check it against my introverted feeling and introverted sensation functions in order to expose its potential underhandedness. Once I was able to firmly grasp the introverted feeling dimension with help from my inferior introverted sensation, my personality and integrity seemed to grow legs and could finally walk with grace and determination. In the driver analogy, I passed my test and got my license.

We cannot assume that while one’s psyche is attempting to overcome the tertiary problem, the unconscious is inactive. In fact, Beebe (2017) adopted the term double bind to characterize the trickster’s appearance in typology and typological problems. A double bind is “a choice between two undesirable courses of action” (Oxford English Dictionary, n.d.)—with no apparent alternatives for the psyche. My double bind was relational in the sense that I had to do something (act for myself) that went against a value of mine (hurting those I love). If I chose to honor myself, I hurt them. If I chose them, I abandoned myself. I could either ignore my situation and mentally check out from my life, or I could work harder and double down on the same course. Either way, I would cling to the status quo in the hope that somehow that would make it all better. There was no way out but through the double bind.

Beebe (2017) explained that when the child function becomes overrun, tension activates in the opposing trickster position, which in the ENFP individual is introverted thinking (p. 174). When the tertiary problem becomes evident, it can be difficult to overcome, and surprisingly, only the trickster is wily enough to disrupt the status quo. In fact, the unconscious informs consciousness while operating autonomously. As such, when the trickster convinces us there is no other choice and the tension is at its greatest, something gives way. Like magic, what we see is not what there is, and a much better way opens in our lives. When my trickster introverted thinking appeared, what seemed to be insurmountable was dismantled piece by piece, like a child knocking over blocks that five minutes ago were its greatest achievement. There is a lack of psychological freedom in a double bind; it is lose-lose because it offers not so much a choice as a paradox. Yet we can learn to live with paradox as this is part of being human and, in turn, experience more depth and richness in our lives because of it.

The trickster, however, not only brings a quality of confusion and underhanded play. The trickster is the only archetype that can outsmart and get around what is creating stuckness in the psyche, “extricating oneself from snares and delusions” (Shumate, 2021, p. 184). If an ENFP cannot see the silver lining, it may be that the trickster can illuminate a way forward with its ironic and paradoxical ways. Until I connected more strongly with my introverted feeling, I could not feel that my psyche’s path was different altogether: in true Fi fashion, I needed to move more deeply into myself.

The Deep Well

The Deep Well was an I Ching card I pulled towards the end of my discernment process, and it changed my relationship to the introverted feeling function:

The well is the symbol of that social structure which evolved by mankind meeting its most primitive needs. … We must go down to the very foundations of life. … Any merely superficial ordering of life that leaves its deepest needs unsatisfied is as ineffectual as if no attempt at order had ever been made. (Baynes, 1977)

The deep well is my image for introverted feeling, exactly what needed to be drawn forth. My connection to this profound depth of the feeling function illuminated a deep spiritual necessity to leave my marriage—although the choice to do so neither felt good nor appeared spiritual in any transcendent sense. Yet I experienced a contrasting internal peace with this outwardly tumultuous choice. Once I found that feeling, the authority naturally arose, informed from within, and then I was able to move forward. I advocated for a more gentle de-coupling, as much for me as anyone else. In this way, my parental introverted feeling function began to set the course for my life, and my tertiary extraverted thinking function took the action that feeling indicated, instead of the other way around. Further, I came to believe that the intense emotions that followed were not the introverted feeling function per se but the now free-flowing energies of many past repressions and complexes welling up from the unconscious. The energy that was now flowing properly echoed my recurring dreams of clogged toilets in unkept bathrooms that had now morphed into newly remodeled and fully functioning bathrooms. I experienced introverted feeling as clarity connected with compassion and a quality of feeling, not the emotion itself. Hillman (1971/2015) said that the “first step in the education of feeling is lifting the repression of fear” (p. 183). I first had to get over a dread of what feelings might come up and believe with a newfound psychological faith that they would be informative, not destructive.

While the trickster helped at times to provide flashes of insight, the two major turning points revolved around recruiting my inferior function, introverted sensation. I read a somatics article that advised readers not to gauge relationships on up and down emotions because they change continuously throughout a relationship (or a day even), but to observe the typical state of one’s nervous system over an extended period in a relationship. This as a guide was life-changing for me. As I practiced monitoring my inner state (something that was previously barely conscious), I came to understand that I lived in a state of stress around my then-husband—that I exhaled when he was away and became hypervigilant when he returned. These sensations taught me that our marriage lacked safety and intimacy and that I had normalized discomfort over an almost 17-year relationship. At the advice of my analyst, I carved out physical space for myself and moved into our home’s guest suite to create a space to operate more in tune with my inner sensations. This step was life-affirming from the inside out.

Initially, I did not know exactly why I felt such visceral discomfort at home, but when I allowed the sensation to inform me and began to work with it, I opened access to repressed material from many functions and they emerged into consciousness. Beginning to use my barely conscious inferior function, introverted sensation, I began to direct my drive to check and recheck accuracy toward my feelings, which helped maintain my personal integrity: “Is this true? Is what I am feeling true?” I found that what I was feeling was different from what I was thinking. For instance, I might be thinking, “Life is good; we have everything we need,” but I would be feeling, “There is something missing; there is an emptiness that I can’t explain, much less demonstrate (except through feeling).” Without developed introverted sensation to monitor my energy levels, I found it impossible to answer these questions about truth confidently. The answers appeared to morph as my psyche was “unable to find an end” of data-gathering, yet, paradoxically, I “persistently ignored important details, especially involving bodily sensations” (Shumate, 2021, p. 191). Such lack of attention complicates a process of transformation because the “ability to connect to the unconscious depends altogether upon the capacity to receive and contain what it presents, either inner moods and fantasies or outer projections and projects” (Hillman, 1971/2015, p. 169). When the undeveloped auxiliary introverted feeling is unable to receive input from the introverted sensation’s bridging to the unconscious, there is a glitch in the communication system between what wants to be known and what is known. Extraverted thinking experiences life as decisions and choices, “shoulds” and evaluations based on outward-oriented logic benefitting the most number of people, whereas introverted feeling experiences these more intimately as ethical decisions and choices and “prioritizes integrity” in order “to achieve authentic self-expression and internal tranquility” (Shumate, 2021, p. 175). Ideally they work together, but when feeling was not consulted, my values and boundaries were not consciously known. In this way, a strong tie between the fourth position Si and second position Fi is critical for an ENFP.

Symbols and the Feminine

It is no wonder that “touching the inferior function resembles an inner breakdown at a certain crucial point of one’s life” (von Franz, 1971/2015, p. 86). The placement of the inferior function as the closest to the unconscious of the egosyntonic functions requires us to work with it mediated only through symbol. The symbol can be an actual physical entity. For example, a client of von Franz (1971/2015) tended to his pet horse “with what one could only call religious devotion” (p. 47). This tending to the horse is an outward representation of tending to the psyche. For myself, the inferior function appears in my life from within and around my body. A careful tending-to relationship with my body was key to letting symptoms speak through my physicality. I also tended to my home’s interior in the minutest of details and intentionally moved things around: my home represented the psychic vessel of my still developing feeling function. As the old adage goes, “a place for everything and everything in its place”—an apt mantra for both home and psyche. It is most helpful to keep the inferior function confined to this realm of tending to, von Franz (1971/2015) posited, because of its instinctual and even animal-like nature. When the inferior function rises, it can overtake the personality like an untamed horse.

The well is a common image for the feminine. Jung’s conception of the feminine as a quality of the feeling function evolved with Beebe’s (1992) work to include the feminine conception of how integrity is connected to typology (p. 90). Psyche and integrity of the soul are connected to one another through feeling. This quality by nature includes the feminine quality of receptivity. It is not the ego that decides what is integrity; it is the Self, and we must receive and surrender to that knowledge. Beebe (1992) noted that Jung’s “source for the idea of the constant receptivity of the anima” (p. 88) came from the Chinese Taoist-Confucian philosophy of a “gendered notion of integrity” (p. 88), so there is a direct connection between my I-Ching card, typology (my inferior function), and the feminine.The fact that the feminine framing of the feeling function is inextricably tied to integrity is fascinating considering our cultural patriarchal paradigm and its effect on women’s psychological development. In order to rise with more personal integrity, women must engage more deeply with their feeling function, not subordinate it or disassociate from it. We can immediately see the incompatibility with the cultural norms of what is acceptable for women to express (consensus and acceptance) and what is not (anger and rage). This is somehow portrayed as integrity culturally. However, Beebe (1992) explained:

When such integrity has grown rigid and inauthentic in the course of advancing psychological development…we may have to kill it off…in order to move on to an integrity that is more adequate to the stage the psyche is attempting to reach. …The higher level of integrity requires a passion that breaks free of the dampening effect of the patriarchal animus. (p. 102)

As such, the outward aspects of integrity can have the full range of affect, including rage. Indeed, the suppression of rage may be indicative of a pattern of lacking the right to exercise personal integrity that started in childhood, for “previous life experience had taught her to distrust herself” (Beebe, 1992, p. 107).

Beebe noted that von Franz believed access to the deep integrity of personality can only be gained through this primitive inferior function. How does the body experience itself in moments when personal integrity is challenged? It can be sensed as feeling “unlike oneself”; I describe it as feeling “off.” I felt “off” much of the time, but I had learned to ignore that sensation and focus on those around me. If they were not “off,” then I assumed everything was fine for me as well. If the introverted feeling is the deep well, the inferior sensation is the bucket going down to retrieve it. As Beebe (1992) explained, “Real integrity ultimately depends upon the claiming of this spine in each of us; it is the inner basis of the “uprightness” we look for in ourselves and in each other” (p. 107).

Reawakening the Auxiliary Function

Overcoming the ENFP’s tertiary problem requires rehabilitating the inferior feeling function while mitigating a perplexing, introverted thinking trickster function. As soon as this rehabilitation occurs, Thomson (1998) wrote, “we get immediate results” (p. 96). My own crisis initially involved my marriage, but the gift of the feeling function lives on in my life in myriad ways. Just this past week, I revisited von Franz’s 1968 lecture titled “C.G. Jung’s Rehabilitation of the Feeling Function in our Civilization,” in which she recalled some words from Jung that illustrate a healthy use of the feeling function:

In institutions which offer training in physiology, the moral judgment of students is deliberately impaired by their involvement in disgraceful, barbarous experiments, by a cruel torture of animals which is a mockery of all human decency. Above all, in such institutions as these, I say, we must teach that no truth obtained by such means has the moral right to exist. (as cited in von Franz, 1968/2008, p. 9)

His words showed me a rational feeling function characterized by deeply held values yet lacking in emotional extremes, and they were synchronistic with a conversation I had had the previous night when I attended a science symposium in memory of my grandfather’s contributions to the field of biochemistry. One lecturer recalled her research on mice, which she was very excited about because it led to the discovery that the anti-inflammatory effects of fish oil can reduce the healing time and achieve better outcomes for spinal cord injuries. This statement held such a noble quality that most of the audience ignored her next phrase explaining that the way they achieved the data results was by first intentionally injuring the mice to cause significant spinal cord injury to test the fish oil’s effect on the healing process. I immediately thought conversely about how one heals in depth psychology outside of the paradigm of Western science and the morality of what we have come to accept as truth in science, and I was disturbed.

At the formal dinner that evening, I engaged in a conversation with a PhD candidate in chemistry. We were talking about the differences in our fields in terms of research, and I broached the topic of what is considered knowledge and data morally. While their field may not accept dream material as data like depth psychology does, I do not consider their data, if achieved amorally and through injuring animals, as valid either—not simply for the moral aspect but because the process of artificially injuring animals is hardly a basis for a control. How do they know what, in fact, happens metabolically in injury? How do they account for that? I felt no wiggle room to compromise my felt sense in this regard.

The next morning, I opened von Franz’s article and read her lecture. It occurred to me that the conversation the night before had never turned into an argument despite the conflict of our strongly held beliefs; there was no “flaring up” (p. 14) of emotion because there was no compensation for my inflated thinking; it was not “contaminated with emotion” (p. 16). While both the feeling and thinking functions can express judgment, speaking from the feeling function consciously without judgment of the other was an invitation to a deeper conversation that made room for yet more positive aspects of the feeling function. When introverted feeling is balanced by other functions, like thinking, the result can be a way of knowing that is not debatable in an antagonistic sense. I felt my integrity in the conversation for both holding and expressing my feeling but also in the operation of restraint in maintaining a conversation and avoiding a defensive argument.

Overcoming the tertiary problem and connecting to a distinct and differentiated introverted feeling auxiliary is empowering in a way that does not require belittling others or other ways of knowing. To be a microcosm of revaluing the feeling function and thus one of a collective of souls bringing humanity back to an ethical ground means never losing one’s fundamental truth, stemming from the Self, Jung’s archetypal image of the divine within. I underscore this insight with von Franz’s reminder that Jung felt “there can be no true ethics without a personal relationship to a living god-experience” (1986/2008, p. 15). Archetypally amplified, this alignment of the ENFP personality overcomes the tertiary problem and allows the Ne hero to bring treasures and insight to the Fi parent who, in turn, provides for, guides, and protects the Te child. The task for an ENFP is to allow the natural flow of intuitive expectancy to be mitigated by clear access to a deep well of feeling, which calls for going into the body with help from introverted sensation as a conduit for bringing the feeling to the surface so it can be helpful and wise. Through this coordination and development of personality, the ENFP can sustain integrity through the paradoxical tension of caring for both self and other.

References

Baynes, C. (Trans). (1977). The I Ching. Princeton University Press.

Beebe, J. (1992). Integrity in depth. Texas A & M University Press.

Beebe, J. (2017). Energies and patterns in psychological type. Routledge.

Hillman, J. (1971/2020). The feeling function. In M-L von Franz, & J. Hillman (Eds.), Lectures on Jung’s typology. Spring Publications.

Jung, C.G. (1897/1983). “Some thoughts on psychology.” The Zofingia Lectures, Supplementary Volume A of the Collected Works of C.G. Jung. Bollingen Series XX. Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G. (1921/1971). Psychological types. CW6. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781400850860

Oxford English Dictionary. (n.d.). Double Bind. In oed.com dictionary. Retrieved May 4, 2025, from https://www.oed.com/dictionary/double-bind_n?tab=factsheet#6164228100

Shumate, C. (2021). Projection and personality development via the eight-function model. Routledge.

Thomson, L. (1998). Personality type: An owner’s manual. Shambhala.

von Franz, M.-L. (1971/2015). The inferior function. In M.-L. von Franz, & J. Hillman (Eds.), Lectures on Jung’s typology. Spring Publications.

von Franz, M.-L. (1986/2008). C. G. Jung’s rehabilitation of the feeling function in our civilization. Jung Journal: Culture & Psyche, 2(2), 9-20.

Images

Dalí, S. (1972). Dalí from the back painting Gala from the back eternalized by six virtual corneas reflected by six real mirrors.

Immendorf, J. (1990). Society of deficiency.

Kadar, B. (1931). Lányok.

Kippenberger, M. (1992). Untitled, from the series of hand-painted pictures.

Menez (1988). Sem título.

Morais, G. (n.d.). Untitled.

Toorop, J. (1893). Oceanide.

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Images courtesy of wikiart.com

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