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The Living Painting
A picture reveals itself. Very slowly. Curiously the portrait looks about and fixes his gaze on the audience. The observer becomes the observed. Wordlessly he chastises those with his eyes who haste by inattentively. Portraits of this very special sort have feelings, too. With pointed lips the face winks at a woman in the first row, plucks a rose from his tendriled frame and offers it to his adored. What will she do - return his advances? Disdain him?
With utter virtuosity the picture leads the spectator into the world
of nonverbal communication being nothing but a mirror of human emotions.
Slagman plays with it, subtile but immensely expressive. A show that no
one, really no one can elude.
