Revisiting my Relationships Series

relationships series painting - two men nude on a bed, looking separate ways

Relationships Series – Starting Again

How well can we truly know another person? Even in our most intimate moments, an invisible, palpable distance remains. This question has always been at the very heart of my artistic practice, and it found its deepest expression in my “Relationships Series.”
For those who have followed my work, you’ll know this series began as simple figure studies back in 2010. It quickly evolved into an ongoing meditation on our relationships – about our sense of isolation and vulnerability.  It’s been several years since I last added to this body of work, but I’ve found myself persistently called back to it.

relationships series painting - man and woman on a bed

Small Lives

This series is more than just a collection of paintings; it’s the central pillar of my artistic inquiry. I’ve always been fascinated by the intricate, triangular relationship between the artist, the model and the viewer. My work seeks to explore that invisible, yet profound, truth that even in our most cherished connections, we remain distinctly separate.
After a long break, I feel a need to explore this theme again, to see how my own understanding of it has shifted with time. I have been distracted by painting about political upheaval and social injustice. But just as my frustration with the state of the world grows, I have come to realise that there is no bigger subject than our own small lives.

artist and model

Missing the Spark: The Energy of the Studio

For several years, my artistic focus shifted, and I stepped away from working regularly with models. It took me some time to realize just how much I missed that collaborative relationship—and how much my core work thrives on it.
There is an undeniable energy that a model brings to the room. The studio becomes a silent stage, charged with a quiet intensity. This collaborative energy is a catalyst for inspiration. The subtle shifts in posture, the shared silence, the vulnerability of the experience—it all feeds directly into the work, breathing life into the concepts I’m trying to capture. It’s this dynamic, in-person experience that I’m so eager to return to.

relationships series painting - two women on a bed

An Invitation to Collaborate

To resume this series, I am now seeking new collaborators. I am looking for people—individuals and couples—who are interested in posing for this work.
In my practice, the model is never just a passive subject. You become a central, active part of that artist-model-viewer triangle. Your presence is the catalyst for the entire conversation. The process of posing for this series is quiet, contemplative, and collaborative. It’s an opportunity to share a space and become a co-explorer in this meditation on connection and separation—to help make visible that “profound truth that even in our most cherished connections, we remain distinctly separate.”

If this theme resonates with you and you are interested in being part of this new body of work, I invite you to get in touch.

Please [Click Here to Contact Me] with a little about yourself and why you’re drawn to this project.

 

Ordinary People

Beyond the Gilded Frame: Finding Dignity in the Everyday

Think of a painted portrait. What comes to mind? A judge in solemn robes? A CEO in a boardroom? A forgotten monarch staring down from a dusty museum wall?

For centuries, the commissioned portrait has been a symbol of status, a privilege reserved for eminent public figures—business leaders, politicians, academics, and celebrities. They are deemed worthy of being immortalized in oil and canvas.

But this tradition reinforces a quiet, frustrating belief: that portraiture is only for the elite. It leaves me asking one question: where are the portraits of the rest of us?

Of course, cost is a significant factor. Not everyone can afford a commission. But beyond the price tag lies the assumption that a portrait must be earned through status or notable achievements. What about the great hordes of the supposedly “unworthy”? What about the people whose stories aren’t told in headlines, but in quiet, everyday moments?

portrait of Michael, a homeless person who was living in a shelter at the time I painted his portrait

This is Michael.
When I painted his portrait, he was experiencing homelessness. He and his dog, Floyd, had recently been given a space in a shelter. By society’s measure of “worth,” Michael might have been overlooked. But to me, he was a valued and trusted friend. It was an honour to share that space with him, to listen to his story, and to try and capture a flicker of his spirit on the canvas. His portrait is one of my most treasured, not because of who he was, but because of the connection we shared.

We Are All Extraordinary

I am continually frustrated by the idea that a painted portrait is the exclusive property of the elite. The BBC series “Extraordinary Portraits” says it showcases “portraits of people with incredible personal and powerful stories.” I don’t doubt their stories are powerful, but the implication is that you must be “extraordinary” to be seen.

What nonsense. We are all worthy of being seen. We all have stories to tell, if only someone would take the time to listen.

artist and model

The Project: Painting the Overlooked

In a moment of exasperation, I told a friend I was going to start a new series: portraits of ordinary people. I wanted to find individuals who could not afford a commission but who would love and appreciate a painting of themselves or a loved one.

“What a great idea,” my friend said. “You could find some really ‘worthy’ cases, like nurses or doctors.”

With the greatest respect to our key workers—who have certainly earned our praise—that was the very idea I was pushing against. “No, no, no!” I said. “The ‘worthy’ have received their attention. I want to paint the overlooked. The cashier, the retired grandfather, the student, the street cleaner. I want to paint the ordinary.”

This series is my attempt to democratize portraiture. It’s about shining a light on those who are so often in the background. It’s about taking the time to hear the quiet voices and see the beauty in the untold stories that surround us every single day.

The Bed

Three paintings from Tracey Emin’s I Followed You to the End Exhibition

The Bed in Art: A Painter’s Perspective

What does a bed represent to you? A sanctuary for rest, a stage for intimacy, or a canvas for our most vulnerable moments?

After visiting Tracey Emin’s “I Followed You to the End” exhibition at White Cube Bermondsey, I was struck by the recurring motif of the bed in her work. It resonated with me deeply, as the bed also plays a significant role in my own Relationships Series of paintings. This inspired me to think more about how other artists have used the bed, the varied meanings it can hold, and how my own use of this powerful symbol has evolved.

Early work from my Relationships Series of paintings

A Sanctuary for the Soul: Van Gogh

The bed has long been a powerful symbol for artists. Perhaps one of the most famous examples is Vincent van Gogh’s “Bedroom in Arles” series. Painted in 1888, these works depict his simple room in the Yellow House. For van Gogh, the bed likely symbolized a sanctuary—a place of solace and personal retreat from a turbulent life. It stands as a metaphor for his search for peace and stability.

Toulouse Lautrec, In Bed

A Stage for Intimacy: Toulouse-Lautrec

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, one of my favorite artists, often used beds as a stage for themes of intimacy and human connection. In his work, the bed is not merely furniture; it is a private world where genuine connections are forged, away from the public eye. He captured snatched moments of true affection that stand in stark contrast to the superficiality of his subjects’ working lives.

Tracey Emin, My Bed

A Mirror to the Self: Tracey Emin

Tracey Emin’s use of the bed remains a powerful element in her art, building on the themes she established with her iconic 1998 piece, “My Bed.” In Emin’s work, the bed is a deeply personal and autobiographical space, reflecting her raw experiences, emotions, and vulnerabilities. For someone who has endured long-term illness, the bed can become an entire world, a theme Emin explores with unflinching honesty.

Relationships Series

Connection and Isolation: My ‘Relationships Series’

The bed in my own Relationships Series has evolved over time. Initially, the paintings were autobiographical, simple observations of the intimate space in my own relationship.

As the series progressed, I wanted the bed to take on different meanings, representing not just physical intimacy but also emotional vulnerability and the complexities of human connection. I grew particularly interested in the physical and emotional distance that can separate a couple. The bed became a symbol of both connection and isolation, exploring the profound sense of loneliness that can exist even within the most intimate relationships.

man and woman

I plan to resume work on this series soon. The direction I take will depend on finding the right subjects for my observations, whether they are people in existing relationships or two individuals brought together for a sitting. I will keep you updated.

Two professional models posed for this later Relationships Series painting.

Life drawing

  • life drawing studies by artist Peter D'Alessandri

The Life Room

The Life Room has long been a cornerstone of artistic education. It provides a dynamic environment where artists and students can engage in close observation and immediate artistic creation.
Since my first introduction to the Life Room at art school,  I have always had a love of drawing the human figure. Aside from being a useful exercise in developing your technical skills and practising new techniques,  each human figure has an intrinsic beauty and uniqueness that offers endless forms of expression.

artist drawing life model in studio

Wherever I have lived (and I’ve moved around an awful lot in the last ten years) I always tried to find somewhere I could practice my life drawing. It wasn’t easy the past year in Eastbourne. I couldn’t find anywhere suitable for when I was free.
On moving back to London last week, the first thing I did was look for a good life drawing group. A quick search on Meetup found different classes each day and evening of the week. That’s the beauty of living in a big city. It has been a while since I’ve drawn from the model, and I couldn’t wait to get started.

life drawings of male nude in graphite and chalk

Drawing has always been an essential component of my art practice. It starts with preliminary sketches, evolves into detailed renderings of each subject, and culminates in the careful planning of layout and composition on the canvas. Drawing is the indispensable tool that transforms a mere spark of an idea into a fully realized painting.

Drawing From Life

My experience during lockdown reminded me of the incredible value of drawing from life. During this time I spent each day drawing something around me, from empty wine bottles to kitchen utensils. I’ve never been one for still-life, but I found that forcing myself to study the subject, regardless of how boring it may seem, enabled me to eventually see a new level of detail. Normally after an hour of studying the subject, it felt like a veil had been lifted. I could see subtle variations in tone that I hadn’t noticed before. I find this is exactly what happens during a life drawing session, and it is why I prefer longer poses

life model sitting next to life drawings
life model sitting next to life drawings

The Human Eye vs The Camera

When you draw from life, you’re constantly translating a three-dimensional world with its rich, dynamic range onto a flat surface with limited tones. This process is part of the magic of life drawing. In contrast, when you snap a photo, the camera does all these calculations for you. However, it might interpret things differently, often missing out on a wealth of details that get lost the moment you press the shutter.
In my past experiences hiring models, I was always too conscious of their hourly rate, which led me to rush through as many poses as possible to maximize my reference photos. Reflecting on those sessions, I realize this was a mistake. Moving forward, I plan to include at least one long pose in each session. This approach also applies to portrait sittings, which is why I always aim for a three-hour sitting for a portrait commission. Even if I later work from reference photos, that initial sitting is a crucial part of the process.

teddy posing for portrait

A few notes for people who would like to try life modelling

For anyone interested in trying out life modelling, The Register of Artists’ Models has some useful resources online.

modelreg.co.uk/st_AdviceForModels

And for anyone who would like to attend a life drawing class, Candid Arts Trust has different classes (tutored and untutored) most days of the week. You can join via Zoom, or attend in person if in London.

www.candidartslondon.com

Life drawings of male and female nudes from Candid Arts long pose sessions
Life drawings from Candid Arts long pose sessions

Art and War

artist in front of his painting alleged assault on pax by mars
detail from Alleged Assault on Pax by Mars

The Disaster of War.

Art and war – can art make a difference?
Aside from my portrait practice,  war and conflict has been the subject of much of my recent artwork. The unchecked march of ISIS across Iraq and Syria in 2014 first prompted me to address this subject. The current preparations for the impending war against China reinforced my interest. The political climate that was feeding this frenzy was the inspiration behind my painting “Alleged Assault on Pax by Mars” (shown above).
With the Russian invasion of Ukraine I felt compelled to work full time on “Men Wrestling” and “The Disasters of War”.  Even though I was neglecting more commercial work, I felt it was so very important to make a statement with these paintings. Now I am wondering if it was worth it.

detail from painting men wrestling, with two naked wrestlers clinched in combat
detail from Men Wrestling

What was the point?

The Israel-Hamas war has left me feeling empty. Its brutality has shocked me, and I have been appalled by people’s reactions to it. I have no desire to pick up my paintbrushes and say anything about this war. Other than it disgusts me. I am disappointed in humanity. It seems we are no more than beasts.
So in this dark mood I heard an interview with legendary war photographer Don McCullin, where he spoke about how depressed he was with the present conflict.

‘I am slightly depressed in a way, because I think everything I’ve done concerning international conflict, everything I have contributed to showing how awful it is, I think has been a waste of time really.’

‘I’ve looked at so many wars, I’ve been in so many wars, and nothing has changed.’

The BBC interview: Acclaimed war photographer: ‘I don’t believe I ever made difference’

bombardment by philip guston
Bombardment, 1937, by Philip Guston. A reaction to the bombing of Guernica

He summed up exactly how I was thinking, and got me wondering if art really can make a difference. I’ve started looking out for paintings about war in my gallery visits. At the recent Philip Guston exhibition at the Tate I saw his painting Bombardment (photo above). It’s a reaction to the bombing of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War. I hadn’t realised that many artists responded to this event. I was only familiar with Picasso’s masterpiece. Clearly none of them made any difference at the time. Instead of significantly influencing public opinion, they instead became just another record of the atrocity.

Producing my anti-war paintings may be no more than a cathartic experience. If that is the case, what really is the point in painting them?
I suppose it’s a bit like joining a protest march. Each little voice might not make much difference, but it helps make that call for change a little louder.


You can see and read about my paintings about the Ukraine War in the posts below:
An awkward conversation about my Ukraine War painting
The Disasters of War