Jerome Choco

CHOCO’S RHAPSODIES 

By Sara Grace C. Fojas

December 30, 2019 / C-3 

Multi-talented young art­ist Jerome Choco likes to express his love for music not only through his beloved instruments but on a white canvas, with Rembrandt and Caravaggio as his bandmates. 

“Art, for me, is like a musical piece that I need to play by note and melody in order to give it a soul so that the viewers would also feel what I felt when I was creating it,” he says. “I want them to also hear my music through my art.” 

His exhibit “Transposition II,” in cooperation with Nova Art Gallery, is inspired by the Dutch painter Rem­brandt and Italian painter Caravaggio. “I carefully studied their lighting, colors, and honed my skills in creating hyperrealism in my art piece. I started with a concept in mind—minsan naiisip ko na lang bigla habang nag-paparada ang banda, nagbibisikleta, o nakasakay sa jeep (Sometimes it just occurs to me while the band is marching, while biking, or while I’m in jeep),” Choco says. “Then, it’s time for a photoshoot. After that, I will apply it on canvas. Habang ginagawa ko ito, dito lumalabas ang maraming layers at stories ng isang piyesa, ang kuwento ng isang banda, ng sarili ko, o ng society. Inspirasyon ko sa paggawa ang mga mahal ko sa buhay at ang mga pangarap ko na nakaugnay dito (While I do this, the many layers and stories of a piece come out—the story of a band, of myself, or of society. My inspiration is my loved ones and my hopes for them).” 

At 27 years old, Choco’s love to ex­pore different styles, through Google and the magic of the internet, has honed his skills as a hyperrealist. His interest in art started when he was in high school at the Regional Pilot School for the Arts in Angono, Rizal where he first learned about drawing and different art mediums. As a stu­dent who loves art and music, money was scarce and he could not afford the instruments and materials. But the generosity of his classmates and friends helped him through it. 

“I stopped studying for a year, before going to college, because of financial problems,” he says. “Dur­ing that year, I could say that I honed my skills more because I would draw and paint every day. It was also that time when I joined a contemporary art group in Angono, the Neo-Angono Artists Collective, and I joined a marching bad.” 

At the Neo-Angono Artists Col­lective, Choco met his mentor, the hyperrealist Wire Tuazon who guided him in developing his skills. “My still now varies,” he says. “I can say that I’m still in the process of experimen­tation and discovery, but my themes and concepts all have something to do with a marching band and with music, because playing instruments is one of my hobbies. I’ve started to perfect my skills in hyperrealism. Now I apply the colors of Caravaggio and Rembrandt, just like in my ‘Transposition I’ and ‘Transposition II’ exhibits at Galerie Stephanie and the Nova Art Gallery, respectively. I am able to show dif­ferent emotions in my artworks and that makes me happy.”

 

Now, Choco works in a makeshift studio in Angono—an old classroom transformed into a museum of his and his co-artists’ masterpieces. It is here where he continues de­veloping his style and, soon, his masterpieces will likeley be seen and known by more galleries in Manila. This 2020, he plans on exploring his talents even more. 

“I realized that my art evolved fast, perhaps because of my continuous exploration and experimentation with various styles. This 2020, I plan to rest from solo shows and to focus on myself. I will do first what I really like to do on a canvas and, when the time is right, I will put them out there,” he says. “I realize that I have been fortunate to have had many deadlines for various shows or galleries, but I’m even more lucky to have time to work on my own art—the kind that’s wala lang, I just want to do it because it makes me happy. I think it is here that I am able to put out what’s truly in my heart. I am looking forward to the coming years for my artworks to be even happier and freer.” 

‘Transposition II’ runs until Jan. 4 at Warehouse 12, A La Fuerza Compound, Don Chino Roces Avenue, Makati City. | 632 659 3697 

Billy Bagtas

 

MONSTERS UNDER YOUR BED 

By Terence Repelente

Billy Bagtas’ first solo exhibition is, for him, close to home. Its concept is literally about his home and family. Not really that literal, though. In “God Bless Our Home,” the young, emerging artist welcomes us to his household using artworks that depict horrific and unsettling figures. 

These cryptid-like imageries, which are present in almost all of Bagtas’ works even before the debut solo exhibition, seem like a recurring signature. According to him, this gravitation toward that dark and eerie style started when he had an unusual sickness in college. “Maraming beses sinugod ako sa ospital (I was rushed to the hospital many times), but they couldn’t accurately identify what it was. No findings at all,” he said. 

Because of this, Bagtas’ parents, who were born and raised in the countryside, resorted to faith healers. “Yung una sabi lamanlupa, ‘yung pangalawa sabi nakulam, at ‘yung huli sabi demonic attack (The first one claimed it was a gnome, the second one said it was a curse, and the third one said it was a demonic attack),” he said. Whatever it was, the weird illness represented a dark chapter in Bagtas’ life, resulting to a failed romantic relationship and even leading to him attempting to take his own life. 

But eventually, he found his way back through religious faith and, of course, art. In 2015, when he was just beginning to take art more seriously as a career, he recalled seeing Jaime de Guzman’s work Gomburza Mar-tyrs during the Pasinaya event at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. “Kinain ng work ni sir Jaime ‘yung kaluluwa ko (Sir Jaime’s work devoured my soul),” he said. “Simula noon mas naging matapang pa ako sa mga piyesa at mas naging honest (After that encounter, I became braver and more honest in my works).” 

Since then, bravery and honesty became the driving force of Bagtas’ artistic pursuits. These two elements are evident in “God Bless Our Home” as he courageously tells brutally honest stories about his life and family, including personal narratives about a surprise pregnancy, infidelity, a complicated relationship with his father, and other sensitive issues. In Sa Pag-iyak at Pagtanggap, Bagtas conjures various cryptid-like creatures, positioned as if they are posing for a family photo. 

“Yung pinapakita ko sa art ko ay laging balanse (In my art, I always show balance),” he said. “Kahit hindi kanais-nais sa mata, gusto ko pa rin malaman nila ‘yung loob ng piyesa (Even if it’s not pleasing to the eyes, I still want the viewer to explore the work).” Bagtas believes that all art has in them some sort of depth that needs to be shown and explored. Moreover, for him, the artist, in creating art, carves himself open and lets the viewer decide whether they want to go deeper or not. 

In many ways, “God Bless Our Home,” is Bagtas splitting himself wide, wide open, in visceral detail. The exhibition, however, does not just successfully draw you into the artist’s life through haunting images. It also invites you to confront your personal horrors: the ghosts of your past, the apparitions of your traumas, and the monsters under your bed. 

The exhibition does not just successfully draw you into the artist’s life. It also invites you to confront your personal demons: the ghosts of your past, the apparitions of your traumas, and the monsters under your bed. 

Randalf Dilla

 

Exorcising The Ghosts In Randalf Dilla’s Art

Published October 5, 2020

by Terrence Repelente

At its surface, Randalf Dilla’s ongoing show at the Art Cube Gallery, “Exquisite Derangements,” seems to celebrate the connection between the artist and his audience. Through meticulously rendered hyper-realistic pieces—a signature of Dilla—the exhibition purports itself as a sort of meta commentary on art spaces such as museums and galleries. In the exhibition note, these spaces are likened to “the secular temple in which people encounter works of art that move them in all sorts of ways.” Such encounters for some individuals are like religious transformations. As stated by the note author Carlomar Daona, “What are, in reality, silent, inert objects become powerful conveyors of thoughts, feelings, and ideas, enacting a powerful transference between the artist, the medium, and the viewer that transcends time itself.” 

Dilla perfectly illustrates this image of congregation in Transference, which depicts a group of people standing in front of an artwork in what seems to be an art gallery and, on the other side, an artist in his studio. Dividing the artist and the audience in the work are the frame, the smartphones, and the spatial difference. The work, according to Dilla, signifies the struggle of being an artist. “It symbolizes the attempt to pour emotion and idea into the canvas,” he says. “It symbolizes the artist’s perseverance in creating a masterpiece.”

As an artist, Dilla has indeed consistently showcased this masterful technique of transcending the conventions of realism. In fact, he calls his style “hypersurrealism,” a marriage between the extreme and accurate figurations of hyperrealism and the dreaminess of surrealism. And for Daoana, this brings out the “vital relationship between the artist and his audience, as mediated by the physical medium of art.”

There is, however, something more to this exhibition than just the typical, worn out abstraction of the artist-audience relationship. Something strange, eerie and, I would say, “hauntological,” which might explain this “struggle” Dilla speaks of. Hauntology, a neologism and concept coined by French philosopher Jacques Derrida in his book Specters of Marx, pertains to elements from the past that persistently reappear and, like a ghost, haunt our present. The late British cultural theorist Mark Fisher, who revived the term, more specifically placed hauntology as a characterization of aesthetics and culture under the dominance of late capitalism—and, by extension, neoliberalism—where individuals are confronted with a “cultural impasse: the failure of the future.” 

“More broadly, and more troublingly,” Fisher wrote, “the disappearance of the future meant the deterioration of a whole mode of social imagination: the capacity to conceive of a world radically different from the one in which we currently live. It meant the acceptance of a situation in which culture would continue without really changing, and where politics was reduced to the administration of an already established (capitalist) system.”

This is a horrifying picture of the Philippine art collecting class, the living ghosts of our backward semi-feudal and semi-colonial society, the architects of our uncertain future.

Interestingly, when asked about what being an artist means to him, Dilla is concerned with being part of human history. “As with how we currently study the artworks done in the past, in the future, our masterpieces will define our time,” he says.  

In his writings about hauntology, Fisher echoed the arguments of Derrida that the hauntological was best described by a quote from William Shakespeare’s Hamlet: “a time out of joint.” This shattered sense of time is conveyed in cultural pieces characterized by pastiche, repetition, refurbishment, and nostalgia, symptomatic of an uncertain present and a disappearing future or, as Fisher wrote, the “inability to imagine anything other than the past, the incapacity to generate forms that can engage with the present, still less the future.” In the work Visitors, which even Daoana, in his exhibition note, defines as “possessing an indescribable energy,” Dilla presents an image of two young museum-goers in contemporary clothing admiring a painting of horses that was, as Daoana observes, created decades ago, and that appears as if it was inspired by the works of 18th century English painter George Stubbs. In another work, Assimilation, Dilla directly appropriates or, should I say, takes inspiration from Christina, the muse of American painter Andrew Wyeth in Christina’s World, one of the best-known American paintings of the middle 20th century.

Following American literary critic Frederic Jameson, Fisher believes that postmodernism (or the cultural logic of late capitalism) is “characterized by a particular kind of anachronism.” One particular example toward which both theorists gravitate is The Shining. A horror film where most of the unnerving scenes and elements, Fisher argues, are derived from the foregrounding of anachronism, such as Jack, the main character, smiling from the center of a 1920s photograph. 

Similarly, albeit unconsciously, Dilla demonstrates this sort of anachronism in most of the works in the exhibition. In Unearthed, which is depicted to be set inside a museum with interiors emulating Greek architecture, he attempts to pay tribute to works from classical antiquity, which, hauntologically, “are yet to be discovered.” Here, Dilla situates a past and a nostalgia (Greek architectural elements and sculptures) that are not his and juxtaposes it with an unknown, undiscovered, or yet-to-be discovered, entity.

The point, however, is not to single out Dilla. “Exquisite Derangements,” is only an example of our wider and ever-growing interest and enthusiasm to hauntingly relive our past and even the past of different cultures (which may be rooted from years of imperialist exploitation and attack on culture) than to imagine new futures. Filipino film and media critic Jeffrey Deyto writes in his essay Birthdays @ Permanent Midnight: Hallyu, Time-Travel, and Good Vibes in Dystopia: “The jouissance of reliving the time has become a general encounter of everyday lives.”  

Finally, in The Art Collector, Dilla conjures an entity scarier than any ghost, one that is still alive and among us. The work veers away from the artist-audience rhetoric and focuses on the reproduction of the patron-artist relationship. Unsurprisingly, in his exhibition note, Daoana describes the work as a “homage to the patronage of the collectors who, because of their assiduous purchases, create their own private museums for others to enjoy.” 

The Art Collector, however, is presented as an unsettling image. At a hall of a museum is a group of arms, sleeved with what looks like an expensive suit, signifying a class that is above every other figure depicted in the works, pointing fingers at different directions, unleashing a swarm of money paper planes. Below them, the floor collapses into the void. This is not a homage to the patronage of the collectors. This is a horrifying picture of the Philippine art collecting class that is composed mostly of big comprador bourgeoisie and landlords. The living ghosts of our backward semi-feudal and semi-colonial society. The architects of our uncertain future.

“Exquisite Derangements” runs until Oct. 10 at the Art Cube Gallery

Philipp Ines

 

Resurrecting Heroes

November 26, 2018 / C-3 

By Hannah Jo Uy

Acts of heroism in the face of danger, the unconquerable spirit of mankind in the midst of warfare and the neverend­ing battle between good and evil taken up by the courageous few that want to serve their country—for artist Philipp Ines, the morals and values celebrated by epic poems that tell of such stories are more valuable today than ever be­fore, with the artist lamenting the fad­ing sense of nationalism among the Filipino people today. 

Through his works, Ines unravels the hidden treasures that have been buried in modern society’s assault of the senses to put the spotlight on stories that embody the cultural. His propensity to promote the beauty of shared consciousness is even more pronounced in his latest show, “Isto- Istorya,” currently being showcased at Art Verite. In his latest collection, Ines indulged in his deep fascination for Fil­ipino myths, legends, and folklore, div­ing into the rich tapestry of stories that emulate the collective beliefs of our people. “I feel that we have a rich oral tradition,” he said. “I want to introduce the visual version of those to today’s art audience because there are still so many things to discover.” 

Speaking on the biggest driv­ing force behind the collection, Ines pointed to Biagni Lam-ang, an epic poem close to the artist’s heart having grown up in Cabugao, Ilocos Sur. Ines recalled being witness to the spirit of community in his town, hearing from elders speak of Lam-ang. “Because of that I became interested in creating visual representations of these epics so more people can know more about our heroes,” he said. Ines built upon his knowledge by reading up on similar stories such the Bicolano epic of Iba­lon and Maguindanao’s Indarapatra at Sulayman, which also highlight the value of heroism and community. “Be­cause of my knowledge of the values in these stories, I was able to compare the level of patriotism then to now. And it would seem that, little by little, our sense of nationality is fading away, we are becoming more concerned with our own selves,” he said.

 For Ines, creativity is the amalga­mation of life, with all the experiences gained and lessons learned. “As an art­ist, I take it upon myself to create my works out of what I see,” he said, “and what I imagine based on the things that are happening around me.” 

Ines’ keen eye for observation serves as his very education, and the seeds of his oeuvre. “I keep track of all my ideas,” he admitted. “I have studies, and plans on what to paint beforehand.” 

Speaking on his creative process, Ines shared that he always starts with a cup of coffee. Armed with a fresh brew, Ines steps into his work space, an in­timate womb that cultivates his latest visual creations. “I may have one piece on my easel that I am focusing on and other blank canvases which I can eas­ily reach, once I have a different idea of what to paint,” he shared.That being said, Ines manages to strike an essen­tial balance of having both a methodi­cal and a spontaneous approach. For the most part, the works of Ines reflect his personal concerns towards society, using art as a way to react to news and current events. This, for the artist, sig­nals his foray deeper into his craft. “I feel like I have evolved by dealing with serious issues ailing society, and I also managed to refine my painting tech­nique over the years,” he said. 

This ever-evolving technique is also deeply influenced by the intense and spirited approach of Jackson Pol­lock, Egon Schiele, and Claude Mo­net, which the artist credits as having had the biggest impact on his aes­thetic approach. The works of Ines echo the same vibrancy, pulsating with life, raw feelings, and emotions. It is almost of pro­found irony the medium tasked with bearing such passion is paper. It is through this medium, in all its humility, that Ines attempts to com­municate the inner workings of his mind, drawn to the flexibility that paper offers as it allows him to go as detailed as pos­sible with the work at hand.“Whether it’s an intermediate sort with the blue and red lines, or flattened cardboard that look like a box flattened out, I always use it as ground for my paint­ings,” he said, “be­cause I feel like this is an object that is uni­versal and recogniz­able to everyone.” 

Indeed, as a painter, Ines has tak­en it upon himself to resurrect heroes in the earnest desire to use his visual me­dium to underscore their importance in the formation of the Filipino conscious­ness, using epic narratives as a meta­phor to filter his message on the im­portance of bayanihan. 

“Isto-istorya” by Philipp Ines, is on display at Art Verite Galleryfrom Nov.17 to 29, 2018. 

Edwin Diamante

Edwin Diamante: Capturing The Magic Of  Nature

Text by: Hannah Jo Uy

The answer to life’s most important questions lies in nature. It is divulged to us through the voice of the winds, in the breathing waves springing from the belly of the ocean and in the plants bearing marks of the wisdom of the ages. We have just forgotten how to listen. Such is the philosophy of painter Edwin Diamante. 

Nature is teeming with life. Not simply life in the biological sense, but life in the very essence of energy, feeling and emotion. In many ways, the purity of nature in its humble existence puts our idea of living to shame. 

“Nature has a lot of magic,” says Edwin Diamante, “We don’t see them, we don’t feel them, but once you come close to them, you can relate to them. They are beings like us, they have life like us, they feel. They feel much more than us.”

It is this awe-inspiring elements of nature that is the subject of Edwin Diamante’s come back exhibit entitled “The Divine Eye.” Unveiled at the Galerie Astra last December 5, 2012, the collection features sixteen works, products of Dimanete’s return to the art scene after a thirty-year hiatus.

An alumnus of University of Santo Tomas, Diamante graduated with a degree in Advertising. Being under Fine Arts, he was captivated by the canvas early on. 

 “In 1975 there was a group organized by our professor,” says Diamante,” which is the ‘Message of the Surrealist,’ I fell in love with painting during my college days because of that group. Na-ignite yung passion ko sa pagpipinta” 

The passion burned within Diamante strongly. Prolific during his early years, he spent most of his time putting together shows and working on his craft. His first solo exhibit in 1978 took place a year after he graduated. Followed by his next solo exhibit in 1980, and third in 1981. 1982 marked a new era for the life of Diamante, it was the year he got married. Taking to heart his responsibility as a husband and a father and as a result of the tumultuous times during Martial Law, he set aside his brush for the time being and went to work. 

“I had to work in advertising,” he says,” yan ang bread and butter ko. Ayaw ko magsacrifice ang painting ko. Yun yung first love ko eh, ayaw ko siya maprostitute.”

Edwin Diamante’s career in advertising continued for a few years as he built a name for himself in print ads and magazines. However in 1986, he along with his contemporaries started working with computer graphics. First starting out with two-dimensional work, he moved on to a successful career in three-dimensional design. During this time, his love for painting persisted and yet he continued to wait patiently for the proper time to create his works on his own terms rather than bear to see his creations below the standard of quality that he wants to live by. 

His career in graphic design had its abrupt end in 1995 when he found of complication in his left eye. As a result of a previous traumatic experience coupled with his constant exposure to high-resolution graphics the strain proved too great. Quitting his job, they moved from their home in San Juan to Laguna where Diamante was involved in farming. 

The natural surroundings did wonders to restore Diamantes passion for painting. His affinity for nature made him comfortable in his new home. And it is in this setting that he found himself going back to the canvas, being so close to the subject that has always been his number favorite muse. Slowly, he went back to the canvas, one painting at a time. His responsibility as a father was above his own passions, and so it wasn’t until last year upon the graduation of his youngest that he said, “Ako naman. Inantay ko talaga, sineryoso ko talaga responsibility ko sa kanila. After that last year, painting na ako, direcho na ako, binuo ko na tong mga works ko.” 

Confident that his art will no longer be compromised, he went to work creating his paintings for his exhibit at Galerie Astra. His love for nature runs deep. While this spark was reignited by his move to Laguna, it is a love affair that began even when he was a young student in the city. Even in college, he would purposely go out of town to visit mountains or other places where he is immersed in nature.  The result is a collection that reflects his philosophies and way of life, one of serenity in deep and true appreciation of nature. 

“It’s a universal mysticism, “ Diamante shares,” I practice and I meditate, living and understanding. We were trained to feel rather than think. It’s the feeling that is important. Feeling, of the moment. When you’re in the moment you feel it. We always think before we feel. Ang pure feelings wala siyang thought. We express it in the moment, doon lang siya nageexist. Ang tao kasi nagiisip at kasama na past doon.”

His works presents nature, as he believes it to be: alive, breathing and feeling, just like us. It aims to rekindle our inherent correlation with nature in reminding us to reconnect with our world, and in so doing realize the purpose of our own existence. 

One work entitled, “Maskara,” shows an eye peeking from the lush leaves of a green tree, amongst the rock formations with the blue sea on the side. His work “The Path, “ presents the horrible destruction that humanity inflicts on nature. The narrow path leading to a face formed by leaves and flowers are littered with matchsticks and other trash, an affront to the apparent paradise of trees. In imbibing his works with human elements, he makes nature more alive, a character in a story, not simply a background or a setting.

More than appreciation, his purpose is also to remind, if not warn people of the damage that society brings.

“We are always interrelated with nature, we are not separated,” he says,” Magkasama tayo, isa lang tayo. Yet we don’t understand that. We separate ourselves from nature. We cut trees, we destroy nature. Kaya nangyayari satin, kung may earthquakes or typhoons binabalik lang satin. Natural lang yan, kasi kung anong tinanim mo yan ang aanihin mo eh. This is what our country is sowing, and therefore this is what we’re reaping. But if we understand them, there is a feeling of love. We have to take care of them. If we take care of them, they take care of us.”

Catch the Edwin Diamantes,” The Divine Eye,” at Galerie Astra, LRI Design. 

Welbart Slowhands

The Whys of Slowhands

Art Has Given Welbart Slowhands His Place Under The Sun

Text by Sara Grace Fojas  

Monday, August 5, 2019 / C-3 

When Joel Rodriguez Bar­tolome was young, the teacher gave his class an assignment to draw he­roes and important personalities of history. He decided to draw a portrait of Elvis Presley. The portrait was not displayed. 

Joe, or “Welbart Slowhands” as he calls himself, has always had his own interpretation of things. He loves telling stories through the use of a brush and paint slathered on a can­vas inside his 4x7-meter studio in San Fernando, Pampanga. 

“I love to tell stories through my paintings. I’ve been doing semi-autobiographical pieces since I was young,” he says. “I remember how, at an early age, I would draw images of helicopters and fish everywhere in the house. In high school, I learned how to draw portraits. I call myself Welbart Slowhands to symbolize my journey as a self-taught art practitioner.” 

His early exposure to art started inside the parish church of his father’s hometown in Paombong, Bulacan, which contains the masterpieces of the late local master Celing Marasi­gan. “I always saw them while at­tending mass,” Welbart recounts. “It was my early exposure to figurative painting. Maybe that is the reason why I love the works of Caravaggio, Diego Velazquez, and Michaelan­gelo. I am also very fascinated with how Fernando Amorsolo plays light in his paintings.” 

But Welbart’s passion and calling to art didn’t become his profession, at first. Due to financial constraints, he decided to become a nurse and accepted a 12-hour shift for a bedrid­den patient. 

“After I bathed my patient, Lola Choleng, cleaned her room, and pre­pared her medicine and food for the day, I didn't have anything else to do,” he says. “I almost read all the books and magazine in my employer’s li­brary. But my interest in art never left me so I thought of doing cross-stitch­es during my free time. Then I shifted to drawing and water color.” 

Art slowly made a comeback in Welbart’s life. He couldn’t help explor­ing different mediums and learning about new processes. Adventurous, he always tries various techniques when it comes to making his pieces. His first work, he admits, was made with the wrong process because he used mediums like acrylic, opaque, and impasto. There was also a time his first oil-on-canvas piece took almost a month to dry be­cause he used a lot of linseed oil. 

“It was trial and error but I achieved it. I frequented Na­tional Book Store Shangri-la Mall for private reading in order to learn,” he says. “I could not afford to buy expen­sive art books and this branch allows private reading.” 

He was exploring the world of art but he hid it from his employer. Little did he know that his first cli­ent would be the daughter of his pa­tient’s doctor. 

“When they discovered it, I was surprised that they really liked it,” he says. “My first portrait commission was for the daughter of my patient’s doctor. I also did portraits for my em­ployer, even after I resigned. I got lots of inspirations, tips, and advice from the senior artists I met in my business. I am so thankful to all my friends in the art industry, both the masters and the newbies.” 

Welbart was eventually able to do two solo shows about anger and despair after his fa­ther died: “You Will Be Loved and Other Lies” at the Ben­Cab Museum and “#iamhypocrite” at Altro Mondo in Aya­la Center. 

“The show in BenCab Museum was before I suffered depression,” says Welbart, “After four years in hibernation, I came out with the #iamhypocrite,” my fifth solo show. I am very grateful now. I learned to do away with all the dramas and just be happy, thanks to my fiancée, my aging mother, and my sister who is undergoing dialysis. My favorite item in my studio is a photo of me and my fiancée during my second solo show. They are my ‘whys’ to live again.” 

Inside his studio, he finds solace— with its old and new unfinished pieces, framing materials, fishing tools, art materials, and some clothes. Here, he doesn’t only make art but takes a break from the world. It’s where he does his meditation at midnight or early in the morning. And these hours of self-reflection grew into his recent­ly concluded exhibit “The Only Way Out Is In” at the Village Art Gallery in Alabang. 

“It was about how meditation and prayers helped me understand the things that burdened me before and my reflection on my recent visit to Bhutan,” Welbart says. “Creat­ing art brought me a lot of positive changes. My patience was also chal­lenged by unwanted situations that stressed me out. But I am glad that, with the help of my newfound philos­ophy, I now handle things lightly and calmly. Art has given me a special place in the sun.” 

Chrisanto Aquino

 

Power in Pain 

Chrisanto Aquino Shows Great Resolve Through Art 

By HannahJo Uy

 Monday, June 17, 2019 / C-3

Chrisanto Aquino has faced more than his fair share of hardships in his pursuit of a life in the arts. “I’ve ex¬perienced going from house to house to ask if they would like to have a portrait done,” he says. “I’ve experi¬enced walking two kilometers carry¬ing a 3x4 feet painting just so I can submit it and because I was trying to save on transportation fares.” Aquino even suffered through using tin cans of industrial paint from the hardware store, the cheapest he could find, and having to save up to buy them one by one. “I went through a lot of difficul¬ties and challenges, both financial and related to family, just so I could pursue my career and continue paint¬ing,” he recounts. Even amid the dir¬est of circumstances, however, Aqui¬no’s resolve was unquestionable, and it is the experience of overcoming these tribulations that added greater depth to his paintings. 

The artist’s admirable commit¬ment can be traced back to his early years. “At the age of six, I was already drawn to color,” he says. “I saw a tree being cut down, and saw its greenish and orange rings, its sap, and it has been ingrained in my mind ever since.” In 2007, Aquino took up Fine Arts at Tarlac State University. The early af¬finity for trees paved the way for his strong fascination toward indigenous people, as he grew to admire the deep connection tribes in the Cordilleras have with nature. “I’m also a big fan of tattoos,” he says. “For me, it’s a symbol of strength that I can draw parallels with my own life. Despite ev¬erything life threw at me, I was able to get through it, even though it was a painful process.” 

These interests were further heightened when Aquino came across Whang-od Oggay, the famed tattoo artist from Buscalan, Kalinga and largely considered the “last” and old¬est mambabatok. His earlier works fleshed out the narrative of the famed Filipina tattoo artist, celebrating her aesthetics through paintings portray¬ing physical subjects sporting tattoos in homage to traditional aesthetics. “Tattoos, especially those done by Whang Od, have a message,” he says. It was Aquino’s way of giving empha¬sis to culture, in an effort to etch its im¬portance in the consciousness of the following generation, calling Whang- od a “national trea¬sure.” This is es¬pecially evident in one work entitled “Karnabal,” where Aquino explored the discrimination that children of the tribes endure when faced with other members of society that gawk at them for their traditional tattoos. Elaborat¬ing on his process, Aquino says that there is no fixed sketch to prelude his paintings. “Ev¬ery day, I get differ¬ent ideas I want to add to the work and I develop the piece based on what I was feeling on that day,” he explains. 

During this pe¬riod, Aquino was no stranger to diffi¬culty, recalling that there were times he and his family would go hungry. “There were times I wanted to give up,” he ad¬mits. “I also expe¬rienced receiving harsh words. Some closest to me say that my paintings are trash. I was told there was no future in the arts. I un¬derstood them, be¬cause, back then, I would just paint and paint and I wasn’t earning, but I stuck through it, I knew they were wrong so I took in all their harsh words.” The hunger to achieve his dream was more powerful than the weight of the world attempting to bring him down and his resilience paid off when he started to bag the top prizes in a number of major national art compe¬titions. “When I was just starting out in the art scene, I was searching for a way to advance my career, and to support myself as an artist,” he says. “I saw the national art competitions and I kept joining. It became a training ground so I could refine my skills more.” 

Aquino’s winning streaks provided him with a slight measure of financial freedom and also helped make even the harshest critics in his life recog¬nize the value of his undying commit¬ment to the arts. “Thankfully, with art contests, I was able to survive finan¬cially,” he said. “But now I am able to provide for my family through art. I always felt it was worth it. There was a reason for everything and now, I am able to use these experiences and draw from it to create a unique mes¬sage through my pieces.” 

Aquino soon sets his sights on playing a more active role in exhibits. Initially, many of his paintings were overlooked as the themes tended to be dark, which, he felt was needed to underline the grave importance of promoting awareness on the environ¬ment, heritage, natural resources, and women empowerment. This was embodied in the characters within his narrative, which feature flora and fauna morphing with women, whose bodies are heavily inscribed with tra¬ditional patterns, alluding to a mod¬ern, moody, and more aggressive rei¬magining of Mother Nature. 

This was the narrative that un¬folded in “Wild Free,” his latest solo show at the Village Art Gallery, a cele¬bration of women’s inherent strength as a nurturer and nature’s role as a mother. In one piece, Aquino presents an almost mythical representation of the female form, with the hands of an eagle to symbolize strength and a light emanating from the heart, rep¬resentative of a mothers role as “ilaw ng tahanan.” The blood red print on the skin is a reference to the pain as¬sociated in the tattoo process and in appreciation of the cycle of life in na¬ture, from where it all begins and on which we will always depend. 

For Aquino, the main objective is to not only showcase his skills, but to relay what’s in his heart and mind. To this end, Aquino is driven by the jour¬ney of his own contemporaries who have found success despite the difficul¬ties, as well as by his own. “My experi¬ences made me the artist I am today,” he beams. “It was a struggle, but after you get past it, it gets easier. My art is the fruit of all my hardships.” 

“Wild Free” is Village Art Gal¬lery at the Alabang Town Center in Muntinlupa City. 

Aubrey Fajardo

 

THE OASIS 

Aubrey Fajardo Finds Refuge In His Art

Text by Hannah Jo Uy

April 15, 2019 C-3

For Aubrey Fajardo, painting became a way to unravel the mysteries of his own soul. Doubling as an active form of meditation, art was his way of gaining a deeper understanding of himself to triumph over the physical and mental challenges. This was celebrated in Aubrey’s most recent show called “Flourish,” which emerged following a dark period in his life. 

“The concept started when I got sick,” he explains. The bodily ailments influenced his psyche to such an extent that the constant pain also led to panic attacks. With Aubrey living in the province, as he chose to have his studio in a more rural area, and his family living in the city, he recalls having to battle his own demons in isolation. “I will have to overcome my anxieties on my own,” he recalls, saying to himself. “And in that process, I came to know more about myself.” 

Aubrey offers a quote from the exhibit writeup by Prim Paypon that he believes aptly describes how the experience became inspiration for this show: “Even without watchful eyes, Flowers bloom on their own to fulfill their purpose in the ecosystem.” Art, thus, served as an oasis amid a storm of anxieties. 

Art has been a significant part of Aubrey’s life. As a young kid, he was always drawing. “With the encouragement and support of my family, I never thought of any other profession other than the arts,” he says. 

Aesthetically, Aubrey was deeply influenced by realism, surrealism, and magical realism, drawn to how the genre opens new worlds to viewers. A self-confessed lover of classical tradition, he was also inspired by masters in the field, the likes of Van Gogh, Salvador Dali, Caravaggio, Bernini, and Rembrandt. He also admires Ronald Ventura, CJ Tanedo, Renato and Guerrero Habulan, Rey Aurelio, Yue Minjun, Zang Xaogang, and Johan Barrios.

To feed his hunger for knowledge, Aubrey also opts to actively participate in group exhibitions as a way to get to know other artists and observe current trends in the burgeoning Philippine artistic landscape. A full-time painter since 2012, Aubrey continues to challenge himself by experimenting with new techniques and studying other artist’s works to dissect various methods. This exercise in critical thinking instilled a kind of sensitivity, developing in him a nuanced understanding of both style and substance. 

This is seeping into his own works, as Aubrey has been increasingly drawn to the face as a subject matter. “I love painting faces with a just subtle hint of emotion,” he says. “It makes you guess what you yourself feel.” The subtle emotion he imparts in his work stimulates a viewer’s curiosity, looking for what it hides and what it reveals. There is an air of mystery surrounding his subjects, many of which are shrouded by flora and fauna as though peeking out from their own secluded world. Fajardo’s studies of the face challenges our notions of what we know about the very faces we interact with daily— our friends’, our family’s, and even ours. By highlighting portions of the face, Aubrey asks us to take a closer look, not only in the painting and the subject it showcases, but also in those closest to us, perhaps to gain an appreciation of the different wars every individual wages from within. 

Admittedly, Aubrey remains methodical and conscientious in his artistic approach, examining how flowers will flow throughout the composition, imbuing life and vibrancy in the lush forestry surrounding his subjects. His curiosity, of late, has also driven him to dabble in sculptures, which he has been contemplating as an evolution for his succeeding shows, inspired by the three-dimensional creations of the great classicist Bernini and modern master Ronald Ventura. 

Aubrey’s creative philosophy is perfectly summed up in this heartwarming quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky: “Beauty will save the world.” “With the current state of the world right now,” says Aubrey, “it needs beauty more than ever.”

“Flourish” is on display at Ysobel Gallery until April 17.

Paulo Vinluan

THE Art Of Attracting Attention

Getting lost in Paulo Vinluan’s work

Manila Bulletin 21 September 2020

By TERENCE REPELENTE

Paulo Vinluan’s life is built around art. Nestor, his father, and Liv, his sister, are both artists, as well as his late mother, who had practiced weaving and interior design. At an early age, Paulo was already exposed to the concept of art making and its world. Nestor, a respected figure in the Philippine art scene, would often make him and his siblings stand next to paintings as he photographed them before getting the works delivered to the gallery, Paulo recalls. “He [Nestor] says it was his way to also remember and document our growth as kids through the years.”As a child, the word pasyal (stroll) for Paulo did not only mean going to malls or dining out, it was also synonymous to art gallery and exhibition visits.

He was his dad’s “buntot,” (tail) Paulo says, whether to buy art materials in Chinatown or to be at Nestor’s side at gallery openings. But when he grew a bit older, Paulo eventually stopped being the kid who was always tagging along his father at shows and art events. While he has never stopped following the path laid out by his father, Paulo, a product of the University of the Philippines College of Fine Arts (2003) and the Pratt Institute in New York (2009), has since made a name for himself as an artist.

In his works, Paulo, who has a huge interest in animation as an art form, mainly attempts to address a very crucial and contemporary issue faced by everyone today in our fast-paced, digital, and image-saturated world. “We now have such a visual culture that it’s harder to hold a viewer’s attention,” Paulo says. Unlike in the past,“we now want to move on to the next image right away.”

That is why instead of introducing new concepts, his goal has always been to hold people’s attention, make time slower for them. “I want people to get a sense of being lost in the work,” he says. “I think it’s important to hold that gaze, and direct that gaze toward whatever thought or emotion the viewer is having.”

Moreover, Paulo intends to start some sort of exchange, not just passive visual consumption, between his works and his audience. “I may not know what the viewer thinks but it’s enough for me to be aware that my work makes them think of or feel something,” he says. “A collector friend of mine once told me how he would come home from work and sit in front of my painting with a glass of wine. That really made me happy.”

But instead of settling for shallow tricks in order to grab and hold a viewer’s attention, Paulo digs deep into the human psyche. He does so by taking bits of his personal experiences, incorporating them into his process, and then giving them an entirely new life and meaning as an artwork.

Stories and narratives are intrinsic in his works, which are mostly diaristic. He believes, however, that it is impossible to impose an idea, a story or give a final definition to a work. “Once you share it to the world it takes a life of its own, which is also a way for it to connect to others,” he argues. “It will never have an absolute meaning in the same way my memories aren’t everybody else’s. That is why I always like my works to have a sense of ambiguity. Spelling it out would not be interesting.”

A perfect example of this is his ongoing series of works Object for Sisyphus, two of which were included in his most recent exhibition at the Finale Art File, “Recent Works.” The works, both acrylic on gessoed solid maple wood sphere, were based on the story of Sisyphus, a figure in Greek mythology who was doomed by the gods to eternally repeat the task of rolling a giant boulder up a hill only for it to roll back down each time he came close to the top.

For Paulo, the story and concept behind the work is very personal. “In 2013, I made an animation called Block, which was inspired by the myth of Sisyphus,” he says. “At the time I was feeling the strains of moving between Manila and the US, having to navigate two time zones, and balancing a full-time job, all while also painting. It was the back and forth movement that got me interested in Sisyphus. I felt that I was the boulder being hauled up and down.”Eventually, the concept for Block transformed into a different form. “One of my favorite permanent exhibitions at the Met in New York is the collection of Greek pottery. Historically scholars considered these objects as precursors to animation,” he says. “So, I thought, what if I painted on a spherical surface instead of flat, which even made me closer to the idea of Sisyphus and have the work engage in the history of animation.”

For the audience, however, Paulo’s work—or even the story of Sisyphus itself—could mean something entirely unique. It might especially resonate with individuals who feel like they are endlessly repeating a futile task or a cyclical routine such as living through months of home quarantine, working every day under the brutal conditions of capitalism, or, as Albert Camus might put it, engaging in the futile search for meaning in an indifferent, utterly meaningless universe.

But Paulo does not really want to be all philosophical. “Just K.I.S.S., keep it simple, stupid,” he says. In the end, what he seems to repeatedly achieve through his art is the seamless presentation of the human condition using his own and other people’s experiences, familiar objects, and histories in the most ambiguous but relatable, attentionfreezing way possible, almost as if he was sentenced by the gods to do so.

Art Zamora

Solace In His Strokes

In this world of chaos, the ‘zirkular’ strokes of Art Zamora bring ease

By SC FOJAS

14 September 2020

On Jan. 7, 2002, the City of San Francisco celebrated “Art Zamora Day,” in honor of New Jersey-based Filipino painter Art Zamora who “has fostered positive community relations and through his art has greatly contributed to the people of San Francisco.” He provides free community art lessons to senior citizens and children, donates artworks to non-profit organizations to raise funds for social and public health programs, and has raised money for the Filipino Task Force on AIDS to assist in its mission of providing linguistically and culturally directed HIV prevention and care for the Filipino community.

In this age of mayhem, the whole world needs people like Art Zamora who uses his talent to help the community.

Through his “Refraction,” an exhibit with The Artologist Gallery that runs virtually until Oct 16, Art showcases how his magical touch called “Zirkular Abstraction” does not only exist on his canvas but also in the community.

A style he developed in New York, Zirkular depicts his feelings, perspectives, and ideas. Every brush stroke represents everything he went through in his life and the emotions that came along with it.

“Zirkular Abstraction refers to my complex and sophisticated strokes that symbolize a cycle of renewal, mysteriously linking human beings on the value of goodness, oneness, and unity. Recently, it turned into ‘Refraction,’ which symbolizes light but with a deeper meaning of abstraction,” says Art, adding that his art is greatly influenced by his late cousin Ibarra de la Rosa.

Art describes his creations as “contemporary abstract,” as seen in how his chaotic arrangement of shapes, lines, and movement come together so beautifully.

“There is uniqueness in the complex composition and execution of rounded squares that predominantly depicts peace, oneness, and unity with the vastness of light,” he says.

“There is uniqueness in the complex composition and execution of rounded squares that predominantly depicts peace, oneness, and unity with the vastness of light,” Art says. Throughout the years, his works have gained him recognition, including being first place in the Philadelphia Shell Club Annual Show (1998 and 2000). In 2004, his paintings were showcased by the Queensborough Public Library in the US. He was also recognized as one of the “Ambassadors of Peace” by the Inter-religious and International Federation for World Peace in New Jersey. He was a finalist at the GSIS Painting Art Competition in 2009.

On top of that, Art is the president of the Society of Philippine-American Artist Inc., in New York City. He helps organize exhibits for Filipino visual artists who are doing shows in the Big Apple. He is also a jewelry designer for Robert Maouwad, a world-renowned jeweler in New York City.

“My creativity is similar to my philosophy of art,” Art says. “My observation of my surroundings, of what goes on around me, gives meaning to everything I do—while also carrying meaning true for its time. It evolved through the years: I started as a realist-impressionist then I moved to contemporary abstraction.”

“Refraction” by Art Zamora runs until Oct. 16. at artsteps.com

Toym Imao

 

A Boy In The Midst Of War

Toym Imao channels his father’s childhood visions and talks

about the potential of artistic images to unite the country

By Terence Repelente 

November 11, 2019 / C-3 

The art in Toym Imao’s on­going exhibition at Galerie Joaquin UP Town Center, “In His Veins,” is primarily an homage to his father, Abdulmari Imao. But according to Toym, col­lectively, the works signify something beyond the late National Artist. It can also be linked to the narratives of his fierce and brave ancestors. 

In an interview with Manila Bulletin Lifestyle, Toym tells an interesting story about their last name, Imao. According to him, their original last name was Halimao, the meaning of which can be traced as “tiger.” His great grandfather’s name was Hali­mao Tunggal, who was a respected warrior. He had three sons, Abdul­rahim, Abdulmuin, and Abdulhali. “But when the Americans came and the public school system was intro­duced, these three boys were always the butt of the joke or were always in fistfights,” Toym says. “Because their last name, Halimao, sounded like halimaw, which means monster.” Eventually, an American missionary advised his father’s grand uncle to change it to “Imao.” 

Perhaps shaped by the toughness of their childhood, these three Imao brothers, who were National Artist Abdulmari Imao’s uncles, grew up to lead an armed guerilla resistance, historically called the Fighting 21, against the Japanese in Sulu during World War II. 

WAR AND DREAMS 

In the exhibit, Toym intends to play on his father’s vision as a child in a time of war. According to him, it’s interesting that, despite the horrors of war, his father went on to imagine what was beautiful. “When we were kids, he would always tell us stories about that time. I grew up with these stories, these visions, these images,” he says. In the exhibition, Toym takes his father’s childhood stories and style as an artist, and he creates something entirely new—his own way of retelling the narratives. 

In the dreamlike works in the form of paintings and sculptures, there are a lot of planes, wings, and bird-like imagery, a product of Abulmari’s early fascination with birds and airplanes. “This is a reflection of their situation during the war,” Toym says. “But he was also extremely fascinated with birds, especially colorful migratory ones. Because they were guerillas al­ways in the forest. They would trap migratory birds.” 

SARIMANOK AS AN AVATAR 

Toym’s father has always been known for incorporating, and even popularizing, the sarimanok through his works. But his father never treated it as his own, saying that he just borrowed it from the Maranao. He treated it as a story that needed to be told. This mindset shaped Toym as an artist. 

Working with film, theater, and literature, Toym doesn’t settle for a singular form to tell a story. “I treat my art as a language. I don’t want to be associated with one style. For me, these forms effectively convey the kind of stories I want,” he says. But ultimately, his works focuses on tell­ing the stories of Mindanao. 

“My roots are from Mindanao, but I cannot completely say that I am Mindanaoan. But definitely in terms of spirit, in terms of the styles of the works I do, they’re heavily rooted within the region,” he says. “And it’s only now that I’ve had the chance to slowly go back and explore that, not because I’m appropriating it, but be­cause there’s so much to tell about the region. There’s this sense of urgency, because we should let the people know how beautiful the region is besides what the headlines tell us.” 

In continuing to render sarimanok in his works, Toym believes he is continuing a visual tradition. “I’m not copying my father’s sarimanok. I’m just introducing another form, which is contextualized in my own visual perception of the myth,” he says. “It can be a necessary vessel of continuing that understanding from the South, as a visual ambassador—an avatar.”

 

The sarimanok can be interpreted in many ways, with hundreds of existing tales and origin stories in different parts, and even outside, of Mindanao. For Toym, it signifies acceptance and diversity. Next year, he plans on putting up a show that focuses on the sarimanok because its image possesses great potential in uniting the country. 

“In this age of technology, with social media, it is necessary for us to identify with powerful avatars that represent ideas or people. It can serve as a rallying point to condense big and complex ideas,” he says. “In a period of renewed bigotry against the Muslim community, we need to have a rallying symbol to represent Muslims and their culture. [The sarimanok] is something that’s deeply rooted within our culture, history-wise. This is ours, but it is also something that is derived from our cultures, a powerful avatar we can use right now.”