Like an allegory, or a metaphor, images are able to tell stories without words. The main character yells just a few centimeters behind the canvas, where his soul and spirit are trapped, just as if it was a watermark or a secret.
At first it resembles an image, then two, then a whole lot of them, up until the point where they reveal a face, an emotion, a thought that symbolizes what takes place in the background, or even in the forefront. Upon the endless layering that comprises several connotations and interpretations, in a series of images with double meaning capable of awakening our senses.
He requires us to think, to imagine, to bring together lines and traces, to mentally uncover shapes and colours through light and shadow, in a progressive sequence, from the first to the last plane. We see ourselves partially closing our eyelids in order to have a better view, tilting our head to see if we can unveil a new perspective from a fresh point-of-view, gradually analyzing everything, compulsively exploring the composition as a whole, abiding by a desire to discover, to permanently learn and to ask him to reveal it yet again.
Shupliak channels our attention in progressive phases: "first you're going to look to this and then to that, which takes you to some other outcome, and so on"... until we reach some other conclusion, perceiving how wrong we were before. Shupliak is a master of Illusion. He's like an elixir that gives us access to a dream world without having to go through the rabbit's hole. He pulls the rabbit out of the hat and with a magic gesture he goes: Now you see it, now you don't.
Pedro Boaventura