The colour that spoke.

When I was a university student in 1996, I lived in Valletta. At that time, Caravaggio’s St. Jerome was permanently displayed in one of the aisles of St. John’s Co-Cathedral. I often visited the cathedral and would spend long moments simply sitting nearby, silently observing the painting. It captivated me—not just because it bore the name of a great master, but because of the intense power and drama it radiated. I used to wonder why I was so drawn to it, so deeply absorbed by its presence. With time—and the distance of decades—I’ve come to realise how profoundly this single work influenced me, both emotionally and artistically. It left a lasting mark on my visual sensibility and helped shape the direction of my artistic orientation.

What stood out most to me was the red garment in the painting. That singular element seemed to elevate the entire composition. It didn’t just add contrast—it heightened the drama, intensified the emotional weight, and brought a kind of sacred vitality to the scene. Looking back, I now understand that my enduring fascination with the colour red can be traced back to those quiet hours spent in the cathedral. It was there, in the presence of that powerful work, that I first became aware of how a single colour could evoke such emotion, such tension, such reverence. It was the beginning of a lifelong appreciation—both as an observer and as a creator—for the expressive power of red.