There is some fantastic art in Malta that you never get to see in the galleries of London, Paris or New York, and this work is largely hidden from the rest of the world’s view.

Since arriving in Malta, I’ve made it a point to visit galleries and the name Andrew Diacono crops up again and again. So I decided to track him down, visiting his studio in Naxxar.

You walk into Diacono’s workshop and immediately you know you’re somewhere special. Unfinished paintings and sculptures surround you everywhere.

Here, there are no frills, no cur-ator, no organisation. Everything here is where it is: raw, authentic.

Diacono depicts figures through painting and sculpture. When you see his work, you see that his characters are often too big for their surroundings – precarious.

A sculpture depicts a big, portly man who is too big for his stilts, making his way perilously through the world. A painting shows a huge man with an oversized body and legs that are too long, playing a guitar.

There’s something voluptuous and vulnerable about these characters, but at the same time there’s something funny about them.

You get the feeling that this is how Diacono sees the world. Unsafe, uncertain and trapped, his work is the manifestation of this troubled incertitude.

The result is some of the most soulful works of art I’ve ever seen, anywhere.

Diacono himself is a unique character. In many ways he’s larger than life, but he carries himself with a melancholic slowness.

He’s a big man. There’s a gloominess about him but also innocence and humour. I haven’t been so moved by an artist in a long time.

I remember when Banksy hit the press several years ago and he produced the girl, looking skywards holding onto balloons, lifted off her feet like she’s about to fly away on the wall that divides the Israelis from the Palestinians; sweetness and innocence on what is arguably the most oppressive wall on earth.

Life can be painful. I get overwhelmed. This place is where I come and express myself. I shut the door and I work

The girl and the balloons are pure black, perhaps reflecting the hopelessness of the Palestinian cause. Banksy’s canvas was the last place in the world you’d dream of producing a piece of art.

For me, the best art is about capturing the paradox of the human condition.

I get the same feeling from Diacono and his work, the way he fuses sadness, fear and humour. I immediately connect with his interpretation of life.

He grew up working with his father; now, his son is also starting to produce art.

“Why are you an artist”? I asked him.

“It’s the only thing I could ever do. The only place I felt safe. I was horrible at school. Awful with numbers and I couldn’t spell.

“This is all I know. I used to constantly feel different, like an outsider, but now that I’m getting older I feel we’re all the same. We’re all human. We all respond to fear differently. We all struggle with loneliness and solitude.

“This is how I deal with it. Life can be painful. I get overwhelmed. I’m no good with words. This place is where I come and express myself. I shut the door and I work.”

Some of the best artists never make a huge name for themselves. They are shy and reclusive. They don’t market themselves. They’re not good with people. They work because they have to. Diacono is one of those people.

In no way does that detract from the quality of his work, which is utterly unique and captivating. He’s a Maltese gem.

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