Man and Woman

The Painting I Couldn’t Let Go: Revisiting “Man and Woman” a Decade Later

Some paintings are finished the moment the last brushstroke is applied. Others take a little longer. For my painting, “Man and Woman,” it took over a decade of quiet dissatisfaction before I could finally call it complete.

This piece was always deeply personal. It was the last in a series I created to honour my late partner after she passed away from a long illness. I had planned the paintings while she was still with me—taking reference photos, making sketches—but her poor health meant the canvases remained blank. After she was gone, a surge of activity propelled me into the studio to bring them to life, to record our relationship in paint.

Yet, while the other paintings in the series felt resolved, “Man and Woman” never did. For ten years, it troubled me. While it was technically faithful to the photographs I had worked from, it had failed to capture a true likeness of her. Her spirit wasn’t there.

Finally, I decided I had to rework it. What started as a plan for a small amendment quickly became a complete repainting of the entire surface.

The challenge, of course, is that an artist doesn’t stand still. My technique has evolved significantly since 2009. My palette is brighter, I use different mediums, and my approach to glazes is more restrained. In many ways, I was a different painter confronting an old ghost.

Original painting on left, with umbers and ochre dominating the palette

Interestingly, the biggest change came from something I’d lost: the original reference photos. I had to paint my late partner’s face almost entirely from memory. This would have terrified me a decade ago, but my work has grown less beholden to photographic accuracy. I’ve learned to trust my memory and my hand. Paradoxically, by letting go of the exact reference, I believe I found a much truer likeness.

Looking at the two versions side-by-side, the changes might seem subtle to some. But for me, they are monumental. The revision is finally the painting I set out to create in 2009. It was a long road to get here, but it was worth every moment to finally do her memory justice. The nagging doubts are gone, and I feel happy to share it with the world.

Edit: “Man and Woman” has since been shortlisted for the LGC Art Prize 2023
A recent post about the competition can be found here: LGC Art Prize

25/05/202317/09/2023

Learning from Rembrandt

A recent visit to the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam compelled me to rework an old painting. It was the Rembrandts that did it.
I painted my self-portrait “Halo” during a particularly difficult time in my life. I had become the carer for my terminally ill partner. People praised me for my fortitude, but I was aware of a disparity between how people saw me and how I truly felt. Deep down there was an awful darkness; a sense of despair. I tried to recreate this sense in a painting, but wasn’t completely successful.

detail from the painting halo — detail from reworked painting

Anyway, fast forward to March this year, and I had a splendid time visiting Amsterdam and studying the Rembrandts at the Rijksmuseum. Although there’s a very good selection of Rembrandts to be seen in London, I was captivated by the examples in Amsterdam – some really fine late Rembrandts. I could stare at them for hours. I marvel at the detail he could suggest in the shadows, with such economy. And there was such a sadness in those eyes.
In looking at these wonderful paintings by the great master of portraiture, I felt a desire to revisit one of my earlier self-portraits: “Halo”.

I didn’t undertake many changes. Basically I added a few more layers of glaze, but this time I was a bit looser in the application and removal. It is easy to fall into the trap of becoming too precious when applying glazes. It’s the final stage, and the underpainting might have taken many hours to complete, so there’s an obvious reluctance to mess it up with a sloppy final layers. But looking at those old Rembrandts, what struck me is the spontaneity of the most beautiful passages in his paintings. He wasn’t afraid of messing them up.

28/10/202118/09/2023

The Art of Grieving, and how art saved me

I recently came across a call for artists for The Art of Grieving exhibition in 2022. This immediately caught my attention and I sent them a photo of the above painting. When they asked for “a description of the circumstances in which it was created or the inspiration behind its creation” I sat down and wrote the following for them:

I lost my partner Veronica to a long term illness on Christmas Eve 2009. What I remember most from the period leading up to Veronica’s death, apart from the constant state of physical and mental exhaustion, was the increasing sense of loneliness, as friends called on us less frequently and we slowly withdrew from the world.
After her passing, there was just this dark void – a sense of emptiness. For a few months I felt compelled to paint her. I was trying to preserve my memory of her before it faded; I have never worked so hard. I completed three paintings, and then felt myself falling into the void again. I started this painting, but didn’t manage to finish it before I gave up painting.
It was a few years before I returned to painting, but it wasn’t until 2019 that I felt able to return to this particular painting. It only needed a few touches to finish it. It had been finished all along, it was just that I had not been able to look at it for all that time.

I was surprised at just how upset I became in trying to recall that period over ten years ago. It got me thinking about that dark time in my life; how I got through it and the life choices I made in the process.

oil painting portrait of Veronica, winner of the Frank Todman award — Veronica

The carer.
For a long while I was “the carer”. I can’t remember when this role began. It started innocently, with a friendly request by Veronica to accompany her to her hospital appointment, and then years later I had fully joined the battle. By then everything else was put aside – work, art, socialising, holidays – as Veronica and I focused on trying to get the best treatment for her illness, and monitored her declining health. And in the end, when she was less able, it was left to me alone to make all the decisions. It was scary, and very lonely.
The bereaved.
For the longest time I felt broken. After an initial frenzy of activity, where I finished those paintings that I had planned when Veronica was still alive, I then entered a prolonged period of emptiness. I lived on autopilot. I did not know what I was going to do, but I did know that I could not return to my old life pre-carer. All those things I had worked so hard for didn’t seem to matter anymore.

oil painting by peter d'alessandri. relationships series — Relationships Series No.4

The artist.
I remember the day that art saved me. A friend had offered to pose for a portrait, which had slowly stirred me from my stupor. But then, after I had gone to the trouble of buying a canvas and setting everything up, they casually said they had changed their mind. When I complained to them, they couldn’t understand why I was so upset, and just said “it’s more important to you than it is to me”. And that was the moment I realised, yes, this portrait was very important to me. Just the anticipation of it was exciting. It wasn’t just this portrait though. It was art. It gave me a purpose and made me feel alive again. Within a year I had thrown away my furniture to use my lounge as a studio, and a few years later I sold my house so that I could afford a studio.

www.artofgrieving.org.uk

28/11/202014/02/2024

Art and Death

The painting above has been selected for the “Art and Death” exhibition, organised and curated by Huunuu.
“The gallery shows artwork from 19 different artists who have all interpreted the subject of death, dying, bereavement and legacy.”
As virtual exhibitions go, this works very well. It has been well curated – There’s a nice selection of good quality artworks, which are all related to the theme. It’s well worth a visit, and can be found at huunuu.com//art-and-death

05/08/201818/09/2018

Open Studio 2018

Well, this years open studio event at Leegate House has been and gone. Many thanks to those that made the journey to this little corner of southeast London. Thankfully the heatwave abated, just for the day, and we didn’t all melt in our studios.

These open studios events are a prerequisite for studio providers to maintain their charitable status – to demonstrate they’re “engaging with the community”. In my experience, many studio providers will only make a token effort, and most artists will see it as an inconvenience.
I’m pleased to say that Bow Arts treated this event with a lot more enthusiasm than some other studio providers I’ve been involved with; as did most of the artists here in Leegate House – it was the most enjoyable open studio that I’ve taken part in. Some of the nicest conversations I had were with local people who’d seen a flyer in the local Sainsburys, and thought “I must go along to that”. I spend most of my time locked away alone in this room on the fifth floor. It’s actually quite nice opening the doors to the public once a year.