Nicholas de Piro's speech;

Ladies and Gentlemen, Let us take a deep breath and stop to think. What is actually good and what isn’t? Ah! If we all knew the answer, we would have no trouble with choosing our pictures. We would not worry about whether we have made a good decision in parting with our money or a great big booby. Perhaps we should all play it safe and be buying into antiquity. But then why is a relatively modern picture by Van Gogh holding a record price greater than a much older one by none other than the great and venerated Rembrandt?

What about Picasso - one could write reams about him. By the standards of the average 20th century southern European Parish Priest who was often in a position to commission works of art for an expanding church, Picasso was hopeless – a joke.  Just imagine if he’d been commissioned to paint a church in his youth – it would be a world shrine drawing thousands of people everyday – albeit for the wrong reasons vis-à-vis the function of the building.

I have tried to read and understand taste. The Economics of Taste, three volumes by Gerald Reitlinger, gives us changing taste over a long period of years from those heady days when some of Europe’s great royal collections were being formed, with agents vying with each other to get the best pictures in France, in Italy and in Germany until more recent times when you could buy – perhaps a de Chirico and then a Lowry for a few hundred pounds.

I do not know all the answers. I do have a set of rules though. I can hear you say, “Artists don’t need rules!” Perhaps they do not, but judgement does need rules and judgement often gets it wrong. There are so many laments, “After all so-and-so never sold a picture in all his life and see what they’re worth now!” 

With all of this in mind let us try to judge. I’m looking for one thing only. I do not care about the subject matter or the style. I am not concerned with whether the result is dramatic, pretty, decorative, sad, charming or boring. So what am I looking for? Originality perhaps? The word almost frightens me: too many artists have over-invested in originality and produced little more than a path to nowhere. 

I am looking for something which can be defined in one word, and the word is ‘quality’. I think I can (what presumption) see it sometimes, can you? Do not reassure yourselves – your wife will disagree with you – so will your husband or whoever you ask. You will probably end up settling for something which perhaps neither of you liked best. 

People who know nothing about art, what a fresh thought if that were possible! But of course those people claim that they do – they love calling Kenneth a naïve artist. He is not. He may be a lot of thing, but he is not naïve. He is sophisticated. Moreso than a number of abstract and purportedly modernist artists who are painting in Malta today. If we must categorise him we must assess his knowledge and access his ideas. He is well read; he has a superior understanding of music. He has visited countless museums and seen a great deal of watercolour, oil on canvas and sculpture. He understands form and fabric; he is conscious of texture and his botany is not bad at all. Look at his trees and shrubs, look at his flowers and observe his cunning in the creating of scenes and perspectives.  

Over the years, he has progressed. His technique has improved. His shading is better; his figures are better; his scenery is better. He is now a full-time professional artist. What we best associate Kenneth with is the treatment of his subject matter – we all know it now – and how he magnifies it to blow our subconscious out of its lethargy. Yes indeed, there is Aunt Teresina, look, ghara,  x-pretensioni is-Sliemisi. The maid wearing uniform even on her head is wearing flip-flops. Ghara il Louis Quinze furniture – il curtains tad damask, is-sopraporti bil Majolica. Il Libsa ta Manfré. There are endless triggers stimulating our minds to look at ourselves reminding us of our quaintness and our characteristics and making us wonder if and whether we fit in to any of it. Whether we are old or new money, whether we are grand or humble or ordinary or special, we are all special whether te fif kikra or te fit-tazza, Kenneth observes the lot and puts us all together in what we could even call a great abstract of post-modern realism. 

This is where I think Kenneth is good.  His architecture; his invented niche; his Church piazza; his palazzina, his balconies and always us, his Maltese people with their dogs and their cats and sometimes with their loved ones.

Kenneth accuses me of having suggested the expression ecclesiastical haute couture – whatever – perhaps I got it from Fellini – the fact remains that Kenneth’s revival of the wonderful ceremonial of the Church with all the pomp and panoply of gem-studded mitres; buskins, purple capes; hats and dangles; lace and candles and baroque organ lofts blasting some stirring antifona - the incense and style and, of course the acolytes, has been like a flood of unexpected fresh air pouring in after all the self-effacing that has become the unattractive norm today. 

If he tries to bring make-belief into our lives, he is skating on this ice. It is not easy, and many an artist has fallen onto his face trying to do so. If he pulls it off, and Kenneth does, then he gives us bliss, rapture and elation, a good ride, full of visual thrills and often delicious excitement.