Bare(ly) Naked. That was the title given to my review of Patrick Dalli’s 2008 show at St James Cavalier. And were it not for the sake of repetition, I would probably use it a second time round.

This is because the study and portrayal of nudes and figures has become a trademark of Mr Dalli. And after just eight years – since he first made his debut on the art scene – one cannot help associate the artist with masses and layers of flesh and skin and particularly with a “love” for the female form.

This exhibition is no exception and Mr Dalli is again showing a series of nudes – and a couple of portraits – this time, in the modest space of the Contemporary Hall at the National Museum of Fine Arts, South Street, Valletta.

His previous show was marked by quite an overwhelming number of paintings hung in the main hall of the Cavalier. The present collection, however, showcases a selection of large paintings which altogether dominate the space and allow for deeper individual scrutiny. Their size is also problematic, in that at times the paintings extend above and below the panels surrounding the exhibition hall. I feel this factor should have been taken into consideration, especially since a number of works were made specifically for this exhibition.

Some have commented on the sheer size and dimensions of this collection of works – the paintings, however, are not much larger than the ones shown at St James in 2008 or those shown in last year’s The Life Model exhibition (organised as part of the Malta Arts Festival programme). Two of the works on show were actually already exhibited in the festival and these two paintings already displayed a shift in the artist’s “style” and composition.

This shift is mainly seen in the abstracted backgrounds which have replaced the quasi vacuum-like settings in which Mr Dalli’s models previously existed. Moreover, his interiors, poses and compositions often mirrored the paintings of the world-famous master of hyper-realism, Lucian Freud. And yet this comparison is no longer all that obvious. Mr Dalli still appears to be studying Freud’s work closely, but I find his study is now being chiefly directed to the depiction and the palpable rendering of flesh tones

Although the change in “style” is welcome and demonstrates a notable degree of experiment and evolution, I find he has not yet struck a balance between the highly modelled figures and the flat bands of colour used for a background.

Another shift is seen in the models themselves, or rather in the stances in which they have been captured. Mr Dalli’s models, although mostly revealed in all their glory, still do not arouse viewers. Their sexuality is not apparent – they do not communicate much, other than their obvious involvement as “subjects” (or objects?). What they have gained, however, is confidence. Many of the sitters now stare overtly, unabashedly at us. And this is their only provocation. I have, perhaps mistakenly, placed Mr Dalli’s models under a collective umbrella by calling them all nudes. But at least one of these models is quite clothed. This model inhabits the one work which thoroughly stands out in this show and in whose shadow all the other paintings (and models) must unfortunately co-exist.

The “one” I am referring to is the only painting featuring a “group” of sitters, or rather three seemingly random and disassociated women somewhat slumped on a bench. The work quite literally hits you as soon as you walk into the main space, both because of its size as well as its prime location in the hall. Although it is a group painting, each of the sitters seems completely oblivious of her companions. In fact, I am quite certain that this painting was worked in three sections, in separate sittings, and not as a whole. The end result is nonetheless effective although unbelievable.

But one figure – in a bright pink flimsy frock has enough pizazz to outshine one and all. It’s funny how the most-clothed of them all is the only one to possess a cheeky grin. The off-the-shoulder strap is a lovely detail that only helps enhance her sexiness. Mr Dalli has also chosen to exhibit two portraits in this show – a self-portrait and one depicting his wife Helena – which I feel jar somewhat with the rest of the paintings. These works should have been exhibited in a separate show to flaunt his portrait skills better.

Spurred by Mr Dalli’s show as well as thoughts of The Life Model exhibition, I think it is high time that a proper study focusing on sexuality in Maltese art be seriously undertaken. Studies on the nude, and on the body in art have been published, censorship in art there is aplenty, as well as artists who have been struck by the beauty of the human figure in one or more ways. So I guess the only real problem is one of space. Maltese and foreign artists keep producing big and important works, but there is nowhere to house them. Our future generations risk looking back at this period only to find lists of complaints and good intentions. Luckily, for those passionate enough there is no amount of indifference and neglect which can burn out that fire. So, I guess Mr Dalli will just have to keep on painting, and I shall just have to keep on writing.