In this artistic survey by a nonprofessional, it is not the ships, the realism, or the architectural details that matter. What is important is the recognition of the infinite possibilities—the inexhaustible resources that sea, sky, ship, and sailor provide as ingredients for a painter. To do justice to the theme requires both experience as a man of the sea and an uncommon talent to put it all together.
The successful combination of the two professions—naval officer and nautical painter—is a rare occurrence that is appreciated always by the seagoing person. When the painting is done, the response from a man of the sea is evident: “I’ve been there!” It doesn’t matter in which ship or from which country. It is to reminisce— you can see the waves crashing over the bow, feel the deck pitching and rolling beneath your feet, observe the signal flags blowing in the wind, and so much more.
It has been 15 years since I retired from the Navy. Interviewing Lieutenant Commander Guillermo Aledo and visiting his studio brought back the memories and with it the nostalgia.
The first statement Aledo made to me was this: “Above all, I’m a naval officer— a man of the sea. Then, I’m a husband, father, grandfather, and Spaniard. Finally, I’m a painter—a painter of nautical themes.” Ironically, this 69-year-old man of the sea, retired Spanish naval officer, has his studio in a beautiful home in Madrid, many miles from the sea. “After 22 years of service, I voluntarily retired in 1963,” explains Aledo. “My naval salary just was not sufficient to satisfy the voracious appetites of my seven kids.”
During the following years, he worked as an executive for the Rank Xerox company in Madrid. In 1978, he decided to make a profession of what had been a lifelong hobby—painting the sea, its ships, and its sailors.
“No one taught me how to paint,” Aledo told me. “It was in my blood, in my genes. My father was a career naval officer—a naval architect. In grade school, I found myself drawing instead of paying attention in class. Yet, I learned from everyone. Fundamentally, to paint is to observe and to capture. Every painting is a lesson. Most of all, my naval career formed the basis of my art.”
Naval history fascinated the painter. “To explore the past, to reconstruct things and scenes of hundreds and even thousands of years ago, to study those intrepid sailors and their ships ... to recreate their successes and failures ... to respond to this is an authentic challenge to the imagination of a naval painter.”
It is no surprise then that Aledo specializes in painting historical ships. His works are on permanent display in the prestigious Navy Museum of Madrid, where he was an in-resident painter for four years. They also are located in the Maritime Museum of Barcelona, the Naval and Archaeological Museums of Cartagena, the Spanish Naval Academy, the naval base at Rota, and the submarine base at Cartagena. Many are displayed in the homes or offices of other retired or active duty officials—paintings of ships they commanded or served in.
“Phoenicians Circumnavigating Africa” is one of Aledo’s paintings of nautical history. Pharaoh Neko (500 BC) chartered the Phoenicians to sail around Africa by way of the newly constructed canal joining the Nile and Gulf of Suez. This painting depicts the vessels on the last part of their three-year voyage, sailing by the Rock of Gibraltar. A horse’s head on the bow identifies the ships as Phoenician.
“One of the encouraging realities of historical maritime scenes is that the sea and skies of the past were as they are today,” notes Aledo. In “Late Afternoon the Day Before the Discovery,” Aledo captures the skies and seas that Columbus encountered. The crew knew land was not too far away; birds had been seen and heard for several days. The lights and shadows of the approaching dusk, the ships in formation, a favorable wind—all are part of the painting. Everything seems to be in order in anticipation of what was to be one of the greatest events in history.
A few years earlier, in 1805, Spanish and French naval forces joined to fight the British in the decisive sea battle of Trafalgar. The Most Holy Trinity was the Spanish hope. Built in Havana, Cuba, in 1769, she was the most powerful warship of her era. In the battle, she was soundly defeated. The British took her in tow en route to Gibraltar but she sank on the way. “The only way to keep her memory alive was to paint her,” explains the historian Aledo.
His painting shows the ship in the harbor of Cadiz, near Rota. The sea is calm. Early morning sun produces the interplay of light and shadows. The necessary rigging is in place to take advantage of whatever winds are available as the ship proceeds to her anchorage.
These three examples of historical painting illustrate what Aledo calls a declaration of principles. “A painter has to look at the present, the past, and the future as his inclinations and talent so dictate. His only concern is to be authentic with himself and respectful of others.”
Besides, he explains, nautical painting is directed preferably to those who feel a certain emotion when contemplating a ship)—one that only ships can provoke— along with a desire to know her history. “1 belong to this class of men,” Aledo says.
Lieutenant Commander Aledo began his naval career as an 18-year-old Naval Academy midshipman in 1941. His experiences with the beautiful and awe-inspiring naval school ship, Juan Sebastian Elcano, influence him professionally, as well as artistically. A contemporary of the Elcano was the El Galatea, a ship used for training petty officers. Aledo claims to have painted the ship at least a dozen times. His favorite is entitled “Tacking Into a Strong Wind.”
“I took special pains in this painting with the sea and the rigging in conformance with the sea and wind conditions existing.” Knowledge of sea and wind conditions does not just happen. In Aledo’s case, it came with three years of service in destroyers, seven years in submarines, and command of a boom defense vessel.
Aledo paints exclusively in watercolor. It is easier to use than oils and it dries rapidly. But the main advantage, remarks the painter, derives from a “consideration of pure logic and applied physics: To paint water, the natural thing to do is to use water.”
Bill Aledo has illustrated several nautical books in his career and has had many expositions, with sufficient prizes and awards. He has translated various naval books from English and German to Spanish and has authored a trilogy about his art, from which the watercolor paintings that appear with this article were extracted.1 The trilogy is much more than a collection of photographs of watercolors, however. It contains an autobiography of a naval career; a philosophy of nautical painting; a pictorial history of sailing from the Egyptian pharaohs to the warships of the 1990s; encouragement and advice to would-be painters; a method and technique of watercolor painting; and, finally, anecdotes and sea stories that any sailor anywhere will understand and appreciate.
I asked Aledo how he compared himself with other nautical painters. “All modesty aside and speaking as objectively as I can, I’m among the best in the world.”
1. Mares, Barcos, Homines (Seas, Ships, Sailors) (Madrid: Editorial Naval, 1985).
A Son de Mar (Madrid: G.F. Gestion de Fondos Editorials, 1986).
Nuestra Marina (Our Navy) (Madrid: Editorial Mundial, 1988).