At the studio of Angel Pachamanov I was aware of the whisper of that vast reigning silence which, according to Kenneth White’s “holy man”, suggests deep thoughts and allows for outbursts of all kinds. I saw no visions, but rather simplified artistic secrets, where any fragment may stand in for all the rest.
At the studio of Angel Pachamanov I was aware of the whisper of that vast reigning silence which, according to Kenneth White’s “holy man”, suggests deep thoughts and allows for outbursts of all kinds. I saw no visions, but rather simplified artistic secrets, where any fragment may stand in for all the rest.
The perfect composition of the pictures conveys expressive movement with no past, relying entirely on the simplified gesture rather than the narrative. Each step in this world fills in the schedule of a travel in space, along earth and sky, in the reflections of flower gardens and water lilies. It is motion carried out in itself, focusing inwards, oriented towards the lines of its inner horizon, never to become a boundary for the imagination. The clear horizontal and vertical orientation of these compositions acquires impossible impulses, sweeping over long grass, fusing the flowers, or ascending abstract chunks of artistic matter.
The light and the dark in the various planes of the pictures create an impression of an environment beyond the classical metaphor of light and shadow. They outline a direction from spectator toward the internal pictorial space defining life through light. In each of this compositions one does not feel the change of seasons, but rather lives in a single day in which having chosen the perfume of lilies, one may not enjoy the scent of the meadow, or admiring the deep skies, you never see the color of the gardens. I wonder if the boundaries of real life are nearby?
Krasimir Linkov, Art Critic, Director of City Gallery of Plovdiv
Plovdiv, April '03