The portraits are embodiments of immutability. It seems faces are controlled meticulously not to express any feelings; no grief and no delight, no aversion and no wrath. They persist in seeming apathetic; their perplexed looks, their denying faces; feels like nothing has happened. What is behind their daze and apathy? What reveals their denials? Perhaps, a bustled brush on a canvas. Colors have been boisterous and ardent to create a pictorial storm and an abstract apparatus from brush strokes and collage behind the visages, like the exhibition of the untold and the undone.
This is the other side of indolence and stagnation of the portraits; an excited, turbulent and abstract world but – perhaps – more realistic than a photographic objectivity. The little portraits, have no place in the heart of the large canvas. There is a worn seat whose sporadic and indeterminate fragments, have messed up and scratched the portraits. It is vacuous. Nobody can sit on it. Nobody can repose in it.

Amir Hossien siadat