I started this painting without inspiration; little did I know it would change the direction of my life and make oil paintings an essential part of my future.

I didn’t like that we needed to study great masters by copying their work. My painting mentor at the Milano Painting Academy, where I had signed up thinking about developing a casual hobby after lockdown, suggested I paint Caravaggio’s Basket of Fruit.

I had painted before, but intermittently and without the dedication and seriousness that fine arts require. I had just come back from working in New York on a journalism fellowship at the Wall Street Journal, where I understood that “prestige” wasn’t providing me with the sense of internal fulfilment I was seeking. This transition into recreational art was a radical one that didn’t offer me the kind of recognition I always felt pressured to receive. Having to learn a new skill from scratch, without a promised future, and with nobody watching except your peers. In retrospect, it was the best decision I made, because it was about enjoying the process for its own sake and seeing the fruits that may bring (literally and figuratively, in this case).

When I look at this painting today, I see parts I could have improved or made differently. When I stare for too long, I feel the need to pick up a paintbrush and fix it. I decided to stop working on this painting, not because it was finished, but because I wanted to move on to creating my works of art. Da Vinci said, “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

Yet, this painting had a strong impact on how I pursued art. I was seeing the world through Caravaggio's eyes. There is something about copying someone’s work of art that I didn’t realize or appreciate before. Caravaggio also came from Milan, my city of origin. His “chiaroscuro”, the stark contrast with the lights and dark backgrounds that characterise his work, is rooted in an intense, tenebroso spirit from growing up in the gloominess that I knew too well. This painting is kept in the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, a few steps from where I live, so I had the opportunity to study it in person. I always thought Caravaggio was impossible to try to imitate. Suddenly, I felt connected to him, and that I could come somewhat close to what he painted if I put enough effort.

Painting fruit was transformative because it opened a portal of calmness into my life, which I rarely feel. It was therapeutic. To this day, I enjoy painting fruit more than anything else. Fruits provide a feeling of abundance, of suppleness, and of life. At the same time, fruits are predictable. They stay still. Yet they possess such a short life that they remind you of the passing of time and create a sense of urgency. They don’t move, yet they’re alive. You are tranquil because you can’t argue with them and still feel enriched by their presence.

Caravaggio’s Basket of Fruit has a hidden meaning. The fresh fruits, graced by drops of water, are also being eaten by worms; some leaves are bright, others are decaying, giving tangible form to the inexorable passing of time and the fleeting nature of beauty.

This is the second painting I made, inspired by the fruits of Caravaggio’s study, 50cmx70cm. Even here, there is much I would like to change. But, as the proverb goes, “Perfect is the enemy of the good”. Some adjustments made it worse, not better. Going over them again would risk causing even more trouble. My advice here is that when you go in “overkill” mode, simply leave it. Remember what Da Vinci said: Art must be abandoned. There is a peace felt in letting go of that art, even if you don’t feel it is perfectly finished.

Pomegranates are my favorite fruit because they are rich in meaning. In this painting, they were meant to symbolize conception, when human life is first given form. Perhaps my female perspective saw this as a violent act. Pomegranates, historically, represent the fruit of passion, and the seeds inside symbolize female fertility. The knife represents the stripping of tissue when life is developed, a metaphor that can be applied to our lives: Creating something new requires a rupture. And of course, I learned from Caravaggio to add his drops of water as a feeling of freshness, as well as the decaying of the fruit to symbolize their aliveness.

I used strong red and orange colors here, stronger than what Caravaggio would use, which included the heavy metal cadmium. It induced enough paranoia to book a doctor’s visit and check my toxic load of heavy metals. These are not “modern” chemical inventions; they’ve existed naturally since the dawn of oil painting. Even lead is used in a certain white to give a transparent look (though it’s been banned in many countries), and cobalt is used in some bright blues. As a general rule, in nature, what is beautiful, strong, and vivid is often also dangerous and must be managed carefully. Please wear gloves or use a stick to detach your hand from the canvas when painting with oil. Natural doesn’t always mean safe.

These fruits were intended as small paintings to gift to some special individuals in my life. They are tiny, 20cmx20cm. They say that if you can paint an apple, you can paint anything, so I became fixated with painting an apple, and in the most challenging format I could think of. It was meant as an exercise, and it was yet another calming one.

I wanted to paint live, not from a photo, because painting live is harder. It means that you’re painting in 3D, so your eyes trick you when you try to place that on a canvas. Painting from a photograph is easier because it does some of the work for you; it’s already flat, in 2D. What makes a great figurative artist is being able to convey a painting that looks 3D. The details aren’t as relevant; what is most relevant is the structure with the anatomy and the dimension of the painting through the lights and shadows, making it look like it is coming to life out of the canvas. That is what I was attempting to achieve.

I added cuts, as opposed to Caravaggio, where the damage is merely caused by the passing of time, to create an intentional one from the outside, which, to me, added character to the fruit.

I received mixed feedback on these fruit paintings in terms of what they signaled: aggression, beauty, pain, and even eroticism. I did not expect such simple fruits to transmit so many contrasting messages. That is the power of art. But these fruits, to me, represent the serenity I felt in the process.

The last small fruits were featured at the Barcelona MEAM Museum in December and are going to be exhibited at the TIAC Florence Academy of Fine Arts in May. Seeing my first paintings in a Museum was one of the most enriching experiences, and it wasn’t because I was being credentialed. But because I had the opportunity to share my work with so many artists of immense value and soak in their approaches and the lessons they had to offer. Try visiting any Museum you may be passionate about, instead of the nostalgia we are often made to feel, as if we are living merely among ruins. I guarantee you will feel a sense of vibrancy from the energy of those hands creating works of art with passion.

The Forbidden Fruit and The Sunny Fruit were also featured in The War Kitchen, my favorite culinary magazine.

Who knew such small fruits could become so appreciated? The lesson I learned is that when you start a project spontaneously, without overthinking it, you can achieve the most natural, awe-inspiring results. It’s similar to taking pictures. The first one you take naturally is often better than the ones when you are forcing a pose.

I won’t limit myself to still life, at least not for now; there is too much to express to box yourself into a narrow subject matter.

In our capitalist economy, specialization of artists means they should focus on one specific object. This is why you see countless artists on social media painting only pets, faces, or fruits, rather than being recognized for their style and the thematic expression, as well as the message behind their art (which may be less profitable).

I’d rather not participate in this commodification of art through a market economy if I can maintain creative originality. That’s why I created art patrons here who would receive artistic benefits through their support, including access to content, discounts on paintings, and me recognizing and valuing them as patrons in the signature. Seeing many of you subscribe already makes me feel enthusiastic.

Thank you. I’m thrilled to share more with you and maybe even inspire you to pick up a paintbrush with a simple fruit from your kitchen table.

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Hello, everyone.

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In Painting Life, I’ll be sharing my painting journey. You can find descriptions of my paintings, including the techniques and lessons I learn along the way.

It’s something I created instinctively to express my passion for figurative oil painting in written format. I had too much I wanted to share with you. Entering the realm of fine arts changed my life profoundly, and I’d be honored to show you how.

My paintings are inspired by what I see through my journalism, but I like to represent idealized forms of our European roots of mythology and symbology in contemporary storytelling. A reminder of who we are.

I’m an independent artist, so any support is highly appreciated as it allows me to maintain creative originality. You would be acting as my art patron. Here are the benefits I was came up with for the time being.

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Thank you.

Yours sincerely,

Alessandra

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