Lambro Ahlas
Short Bio INFO

Born of Greek descent in 1927, Oakland, California, Lambro Ahlas studied at the California College of Arts and Crafts and the American Art School in New York with Artist-Professor, Raphael Soyer. In 1952, He began exhibiting his work in California. Then after visiting Europe in 1957 and establishing a new home in Athens, Greece, he returned to the United States for his first New York exhibition in 1959. He continued actively showing his work for the next 50 years in New York, New Jersey, Athens, and Cyprus. Lambro Ahlas currently resides in Athens, Greece, and his work can be found in various significant private collections and museums in Greece, Europe, and America.
Lambro Ahlas, a painter for all time
In November 1950, as a cold front from Siberia descended over North Korea’s Chosin Reservoir, the temperature plunged to −36 ° Fahrenheit. Lambro Ahlas, a 23-year-old Marine from Berkeley, California, huddled from the chill of the night. He was one of 30,000 United Nations troops being surrounded by 120,000 Chinese soldiers as they descended through the rugged mountains towards his camp.
“Lord, if I survive,” he prayed. “Please don’t take my arms.” More than anything Ahlas wanted to be able to paint again.
As the cold front turned into one of worst blizzards of the century, his unit prepared to fight their way out. The ferociousness of the ensuing battle was described as “a chain gang of zombies.” There were nearly 19,000 UN casualties from intense fighting, sometimes hand-to-hand combat, while many others fell victim to the freezing cold.
As one of the few survivors, Ahlas would be known in US military lore as a hero of the “Frozen Chosin,” yet for him the only glory of war was living through it.
His prayer had been answered, and he would go on to make his mark on the world as an artist.
For the next 70 years, he drew and painted as if each day was his last, eventually exhibiting his work throughout the United States and in Europe. His paintings and drawings have been displayed in museums, featured in prominent galleries, and are held in private collections around the globe.
Despite his success, Ahlas was driven by the belief that his art was underappreciated and that his place in art history not yet solidified.
His passing, on November 3, 2021, at the age of 94, in Athens, Greece, marks the beginning of a new chapter of his story – recognition of the timelessness of his art.
Born on August 1, 1927, in Oakland, California, to Harry and Crystal Ahlas, Lambro was raised in Berkeley, California. Discovered in his youth for his precocious drawing ability, he was admitted on a special scholarship to the California College of Arts and Crafts before attending Berkeley High School, where he would later graduate in 1945. He was further trained at New York’s American Arts school.
After the war, throughout the 1950s and 1960s, Ahlas lived in New York City before making his way to Southern Europe, painting and drawing, mostly in Italy, Greece and the Mediterranean islands, before settling in Athens, Greece. There he married his wife Helen and raised his daughter Crystal.
Along the way, he sketched people and places, landscapes and seascapes, developing a pallet fusing rich green, blue and yellow blends of intense, vivid color that became his signature. As he matured, he focused on compositions of women. His subjects would be centered on the canvas often sitting on a bed, lying down, gazing out of a window, or reclining alone. While the poses were straightforward, Ahlas’s process was slow and laborious. His canvas was often textured with thick layers of paint over which brushstrokes rendered lines – sometimes glancing sometimes firm – depicting melancholy expressions of women staring out into the world. Their delicate hands often conveyed something altogether different up close than from afar, bringing a sense of movement and fluidity to his work. No painting was ever quite finished as dates would often be crossed out next to his signature spanning five, 10 even 20 years for some of his most beloved pieces.
While the unconventional and eccentric art of Jasper Johns, Mark Rothko and Andy Warhol flourished during the mid-20th Century, Ahlas identified as a realist, always focusing on ordinary people in everyday surroundings in his work.
His friend and mentor Raphael Soyer (Dec. 25, 1899 – Nov. 4, 1987), who he trained with in Manhattan, once wrote, “Lambro Ahlas began to paint at a time when Abstract Expressionism was extolled above all other trends in art. Tradition and representation particularly began to be ignored… It was not easy for a young artist like Ahlas to start his career at such a time, for he never succumbed to the enticement of the aesthetics of abstraction, nor to the recognition awarded its practitioners. From the very beginning Ahlas’s aim was to represent and interpret the visible world – people, landscapes, still-lifes.”
Ahlas, in his earnest yet humorous way, railed against what he called “the strokes, splashes and smears” that made up the abstract art of his day, claiming the “contrivances and pyrotechnics used are the end in themselves.”
In true painting, he said, the technique is always a means to the end.
Believing firmly in a foundational set of skills with drawing at the core, Ahlas saw himself as part of a tradition of art and artists that harkened back to the ancient Greeks
Basic humanity, he insisted, has not changed.
“The profundity and eternal beauty of the classic Greek friezes, so universal and human can still be felt by all. Masaccio’s Adam and Eve is just as valid, powerful and true a representation of the many dilemmas that beset mankind today as it was in his own times,” he wrote. “The mysteries of Botticelli’s Primavera are still to be appreciated and looked upon in wonder because the mysteries of life have not yet been answered.”
Only in recent times, he maintained, have the terms ‘life’ and ‘reality’ been used in contempt in their capacity to capture the human struggle through art.
As part of the fulfillment of his prayer back at the Chosin Resevoir, Ahlas believed that his devotion to depicting the natural world would eventually be rewarded; that he would someday be recognized as a master, whether during his lifetime or beyond it.
Among his many paintings are works that he compared to 19th and early 20th Century painters such as Edgar Degas, Impressionist painter of ballerinas, or Paul Gauguin, known for depicting local people and landscapes in French Polynesia.
“Edgar Degas would like this piece,” he once said to me, holding up one of his paintings of a blonde woman, sitting on a bed, wearing a white transparent robe. He explained how the painting “worked” even though the pose and proportions of the woman depicted defied nature. Her neck was too long, her torso unnaturally twisted, and her hands up close appeared to have seven fingers. But he was right. It looked perfectly natural from every angle. Then he would open a book from his shelf and show an example of a Degas painting depicting a child with what up-close appeared to be an irregular arm framed by a tripod with only two legs. “See,” he would say. “It works.”
Ahlas is survived by his grandson Andrew Brooks, and brother George Ahlas.







The Classic Tradition of
Lambro Ahlas
Sterling Mcilhany, America Artist Magazine, June 1960 –
The human figure, which once conveyed a wide range of meanings in art, has fallen on hard times. Even though it continues to be the focal point of public interest in the visual arts, those deeply involved in the direction of painting know that something has happene/d. Successive movements in modern painting have, with few exceptions, increasingly abandoned the traditional representation of the figure. Even among those artists-from illustrators to portrait painters- who still seek to perpetuate the form of man in art, few seem able to invest it with the vitality and life we associate with a humanistic past. We stand in reverence before the great masters because they could evoke a world of melancholy and mystery, joy and sorrow, through the human image. The contemporary painter too often replaces these subtle emotions either with pain and anguish, or-as in most conservative painting- with emptiness of expression and a weariness of gesture. This lack of faith in man, and the consequent difficulty of giving life to him through art, creates an uneasy challenge for the young painter who finds his greatest realization as an artist in the depiction of the human figure. Lambro Ahlas’ belief in the value of the human being enables him to meet the challenge. He has an enviable technical mastery of his medium. But more important, he is able to perform the most difficult of creative acts: the infusion of his work with a mood and a life that compel the onlookers to enter into his individual view of the world. The combination of self-containment, melancholy, and quiet detachment [are] evoked by his painting.
In a world littered by images that cajole, titillate, beg, leer, and plead from a million billboards and magazine pages, here was someone who had risked the almost unpardonable sin of dignifying and revealing the mystery of man rather than mocking him.
While Ahlas’ technical approach demonstrates a considerable command of his material and is in some ways unusual, it by no means fully explains the special esthetic pleasure one experiences in his paintings. Part of the pleasure derives simply from the fact that he brings to modern art a reaffirmation of the personal, romantic view of the world-a view that has long since fallen into ill-repute, thanks to the mannered poetic gymnastics of the late nineteenth century, and to contemporary preoccupation with an expressionistic interpretation of reality. On viewing Ahlas’ work, however, even in reproduction, one feels that he is less concerned with showing people in a preconceived situation, either poetic or violent, than he is with simply showing people, sometimes alone in a moment of deep introspection, sometime in groups, playing or lost in the timeless ritual of an everyday gesture, holding hands or combing hair. This quality is perhaps the greatest source of his appeal. The gentle surprise of his paintings with their technical ability and personal human meaning come as a quiet relief in a world oriented toward dynamism and display for their own sakes. We cannot help responding esthetically and intellectually to a man’s ability to express himself in vital new ways. But we are always drawn to the seemingly simple, almost child-like situations and ideas common to everyone on the human level. In their unsophisticated human dignity, these qualities make us aware of the imponderability of the most common situation or gesture. The turn of a head, an arm outstretched in play, are finally as capable of mystery as the most daring leap into new space, abstract or outer
The works of contemporary abstract painters are most often weak and inadequate because they are merely intellectual inventions and do not deal fully enough with the wonders and mysteries of the inner self or of humanity. I use the term ‘abstract’ to cover the many varied schools and ‘isms’, sometimes only vaguely related to one another that thrive in the world of art today. These works simply cannot seriously be considered within the realm of the great tradition of painting. Great painting embodies much more than stimulating or original designs or the manipulating of color and form. Sadly enough, the works of many contemporary painters do not contain even these basic and elemental things, but rely on the false power of a sensational effect or style. To say that these aforementioned artists are expressing the times is not altogether true. Nothing of any great merit has ever been expressed merely with unintelligible splashes and strokes of paint or simply with two-dimensional designs in color. Expressionism in art is nothing new. Certainly, the element of expressionism cannot be overlooked in El Greco or Tintoretto or Grunewald, for example. Expression in current abstract paintings, however, is limited to expressions of technique. The strokes, slashes, smears, and numerous contrivances and pyrotechnics used are the end in themselves. In true painting the technique is always a means to an end.
No one can escape himself or his times; it is a wholly false premise to assume that complete disassociation with past traditions is desirable in order to express present life and reality. Only in recent times have the terms ‘life’ and ‘reality’ been used in contempt. It is illogical to think that man has changed so completely in such a short time, and that art must therefore completely change too. Basically, humanity has really not changed. People everywhere still experience the many common problems and joys that have always existed. The profundity and eternal beauty of the classic Greek friezes, so universal and human, can still be felt by all. Masaccio’s Adam and Eve is just as valid, powerful, and true a representation of the many dilemmas that beset mankind today as it was in his own times. The mysteries of Botticellie’s Primavera are still to be appreciated and looked upon in wonder, because the mysteries of life have not yet been answered.












