Diego 1953

Alberto Giacometti made this painting, Diego, with a kind of searching, tentative line that reminds me of someone feeling their way in the dark. It's all about the process, a dance between adding and subtracting, revealing and concealing. The paint is thin, almost translucent in places, allowing the ghostly image of the sitter to emerge from the shadows. Look at the way the head and hands are rendered, built up from nervous strokes that capture a sense of fragility and inner life. It's as if Giacometti is not just painting a likeness, but trying to grasp something essential about the human condition. The network of lines in the background feels like a cage or a web, trapping the figure in a state of perpetual unease. Giacometti's work shares some of the existential angst of Francis Bacon, both artists grappling with the anxieties of the 20th century. But while Bacon goes for the visceral shock, Giacometti offers a more subtle, melancholic vision, one that invites us to contemplate the mysteries of existence without offering easy answers.