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Feltus describes his images as “about many things and at the same time about nothing but painting itself.” Indeed, to me they seem to suggest rainy Sunday afternoon reflection, swirling thoughts in time suspended. For Deborah Slater, whose expressive dancers gasp and contract violently, hurling themselves at and over each other, the paintings must represent the calm eyes of melodramatic storms. Her title refers to an architectural term for the path people take, rather than the path the designer intended. I cannot help but feel that this refers to the choreography as well, with Slater inclined toward anguish and turmoil in spite of Feltus’s understated art.