"Even when he masked humanity, Seligmann evoked its posture in a love for man's image. As he developed, his Seligmannikins flattened more and more into the surface of his canvases. Yet they retained the energy of existence, as if held up by ballooning lungs filled with air. Man's presence in the paintings was as ephemeral as life itself. The figures might exhale abruptly, and in a trice all would collapse like empty clothes falling to a closet floor." ("Dance without the Dancer," Time Magazine, January 31, 1964, vol. 83, no. 5, pp. 44 and 46)