“Your pride for your country should not come after your country becomes great. Your country becomes great because of your pride in it.” — Idowu Koyenikan

In 2019, Abe Orobia was one of the few artists who received a grant from the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) Gallery for its 2020 exhibition program. The NCCA Gallery annually opens to the public its “Call for Exhibition Proposals” to give young and emerging and established artists from all regions a chance to showcase their artworks, express their creative visions and explorations, and share their conceptual narratives freely without interference.

Orobia’s 2019 exhibition proposal to the NCCA Gallery tackled the plight of common folk and the struggle of the downtrodden for social justice. He was planning to include drawings of farmers, laborers, and fishermen wearing the artist’s signature motif of crumpled paper dresses depicting temporary shield and survival, symbolizing both weakness and strength, vulnerability and resiliency. “It is our culture as Filipinos to find happiness despite the adversities we face,” writes the artist on the curatorial brief he submitted. He was already preparing to execute the main pieces from the studies he made for the exhibition collection when the pandemic struck. 

Due to the alarmingly sharp rise in the number of COVID-19 cases in the Philippines, the National Government created the Inter-Agency Task Force on Emerging Infectious Diseases (IATF-EID) and imposed the first Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ) in Luzon and other islands on March 17, 2020. The ECQ is one of a series of measures restricting the movement of people and ordering them to stay at home. Among the community quarantine classifications with differing degrees of strictness, the ECQ is the strictest measure in the country. Commonly known as a total lockdown, mass public transport facilities were suspended, bars were closed, restaurant dine-ins were not allowed, mass gatherings were prohibited, classes were suspended, and strict physical distancing and home quarantine in all households were in effect during the ECQ. Only establishments providing essential activities and basic necessities were open. 

All of a sudden, the world stopped, and Abe Orobia’s life as an artist was put on hold. 

Abe Orobia, the scion

Eleazar Abraham Orobia, or Abe to the art community, comes from a family of artists. His father is impressionist painter Rogelio “Maestro” Orobia who himself hails from a family of artists in the Bicol region. His mother, Fe, is the great granddaughter of Juan Luna whose obra maestra, “The Spoliarium,” depicting dying gladiators, garnered the gold medal at Exposición Nacional de Bellas Artes in 1884. The painting currently hangs at the main gallery on the first floor of the National Museum of Fine Arts in Manila.

Abe was the youngest artist (at five years old) to join a group show of The First Filipino Good Samaritan Artists at the Philam Life Pavillion in UN Avenue in 1989 and at the age of 6, he held his first solo show titled “Ang Unang Kulay Pintang Sining ni Abe Luna Orobia” at the Makati Medical Center. 

Abe Orobia, the educator

A painting graduate at the Royal and Pontifical University of Santo Tomas (UST), Abe Orobia was cited the Gawad Beato Angelico Santomas Outstanding Faculty Member Award twice at the College of Fine Arts and Design in the same university. His national awards include two from the Parangal ng Bayan given at the Malacañang Palace.

Abe currently teaches basic drawing at the Art Room under the Summer Art Workshops Series of the Ayala Museum in Makati City. He is also an instructor and lecturer at the College of Saint Benilde – School of Design and Arts and teaching students online has admittedly been a challenge for the 37-year-old artist-educator.

Last year, all the scheduled exhibitions at the NCCA Gallery (including Orobia’s) were postponed. The vibrant pre-pandemic Philippine art scene was brought to a standstill by a situation in which all cultural activities have stopped. Adding insult to injury, artists were pushed into survival mode because art and culture were classified under “non-essential” economic operations. The pressing issue was that art, deemed non-essential, was actually someone else’s means of livelihood. Artists could not only go out to buy art materials—they ran out of resources and could not buy anything. 

With this pandemic and the onslaught of fear and helplessness, an artist not creating is unimaginable; and for Abe, to create is to exist, to create is to survive, to create is to heal.

Late last year, the NCCA Gallery contacted Orobia and informed him about the resumption of its program, including the implementation of the delayed 2020 exhibition grants. Artistic research has never been more relevant for him not only in terms of knowledge in audience development under the “new normal” but also of the community’s conduct towards art and culture in times of crisis. He agrees that COVID-19 accelerated the digital transformation and while creative and cultural work is people-oriented (which requires observation), we all had to learn how to create experiences digitally and to a certain degree, this both saddened and challenged him.

Orobia took advantage of the added knowledge with technology while boxed-in in a work-from-home environment. He continued his art through sketching and drawing and documented the process via videos, adapted to an alternative teaching modality, eventually telling his students to bear in mind that “what is happening at home can still have an impact on our art and culture consumption.”

Abe Orobia, the artist

In the midst of the pandemic, Abe Orobia developed “hope muscles” and learned to find opportunities from these painful experiences. He now shares them with the public in this exhibition titled “Images of Our Nation” at the NCCA Gallery. His presentation of works of felt tip on watercolor paper and white ink on black paper are accompanied by his narratives written in prose. His documentation and archival videos are also showcased as part of the exhibit.

In the beginning, Abe did not want to be political about the images in this collection and the exhibition itself. Though with what was happening (the number of COVID-19-related deaths, the slow vaccine rollout, the agricultural crisis, the unemployment, the food pantries, the red tagging, and the infamous “lugawincident”), to not use his art as an expression of social relevance and an instrument for reform in the midst of social inequality and injustice, would be both unnecessary fiction and tragedy.

Abe Orobia, the messenger

Orobia says he is proud to be a descendant of two notable painters and that the name Luna is attached to his, but clarifies that it does not give him a free ticket to being an excellent artist. He further expounds that he may have the talent or the gift to create beautiful artworks but if it lacked content and failed to send a message to his audience, then the artistry of his creations had not been manifested.

Humanity has been shaken by COVID-19. Suddenly, words like social distancing, health protocols, frontliners, and ayuda have become part of daily vocabulary. Some of these words are visible in the images of “Dalanging Medikal,” and “Sugod lang! Laban lang!” Physicians, nurses, and other medical personnel wear their full personal protective equipment or PPE as a temporary shield in the fight against this invisible war. 

In the 35th session of the United Nation’s Food and Agriculture Organization-Regional Conference for Asia and the Pacific, it was cited that “COVID-19 has led to widespread economic distress throughout the region. The pandemic has had profound impacts on food systems, including food security and nutrition, food and livestock production…” All industries including the agriculture sector have been pushed to swiftly adapt to the “new normal.” The crisis brought by the pandemic also came at a tough time for our farmers and fisherfolk. Even cultural heritage and indigenous communities were not spared. Abe depicts how life must go on for the average Filipino in “Daloy,” “Kinartong Pangarap,” “Nakayuko sa Lupa,” and “Lupang Tinubuan.”

Orobia also took inspiration from the bayanihan spirit which triggered the establishment of various community pantries. Tired of complaining and inaction, citizen Ana Patricia Non decided to put up the Maginhawa Community Pantry in Quezon City using a working principle from a slogan popularized by Karl Marx in his 1875 Critique of the Gotha Program: “From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” Roughly translated in Filipino, the first community pantry put a sign which read,“Magbigay ayon sa kakayahan, kumuha batay sa pangangailangan.” Since then, the community pantry has taken a life of its own and has been duplicated all over the regions. The Philippine Daily Inquirer reported that as of April 22, 2021, citizen-organized community pantries have snowballed to at least 350 throughout the country. 

Abe, too, duplicated the pantry as part of a critical narrative in his exhibition as if to say, to criticize is to care. Although Orobia may indeed seem to be critical at times, he has nothing but praises and pride for what he calls a great country and how his countrymen—the everyday Filipinos—are dealing with this pandemic. These, for him, are the images of Filipinos he wants to keep and remember.

Following the theme of succession of the rayun (summer) and the amian (winter), this exhibition underscores and explores the lives of Ivatan creatives and artists, and how they submit to the cycle of seasons much like the rest of the Ivatan people.

Most Ivatan artists do get inspiration from the enduring legacies and cultural heritage of their people, nature and the dramatic landscapes they call home.  Often, their artistic responses and contemplation center on the sublime might of an untamable environment and how their culture is derived from it.   Their artistic depictions would include vignettes of quotidian life and rural archetypes which to some appear too simple, quaint, slow and even glacial and traditional but in fact are ways of life and dynamics dictated by the changing tides, seasons and natural occurrences.    A lot of times, Ivatan art has undertones of survival and resilience and transitional and interim means they employ to thrive and survive in the changing seasons. The concerns may be as simple as the  accumulation of food for the lean season, repair and maintenance of their houses but these are subjects that are important to the Ivatans.

In terms of representation and subjects, we would normally see scenes of agriculture, fishing, stone houses, shorelines and parochial sceneries and they evoke the bucolic ways where the personal and collective would meet.  In terms of places,  the particular settings they articulate on canvas are not just sites of livelihood and the community but they also act as meeting places where sacred traditions, folklore and spiritual pursuits, indigenous cultures are practiced and kept.   

Deploying  the “seasons” as a central motif,  this exhibition is an attempt to frame the poignancy of shifting environments and the charms of a culture that is constantly affected by such predictable sequences and order in nature.    

Like the rest of the locals, the Ivatan artists while already pursuing creative work would  still oscillate and dabble into other economic activities and this show is an indirect cultural record of that.   Artists in this show make an attempt to repurpose their own culture’s images to make nuanced references to their work as artists and in their personal lives because they too work and organize themselves around the changing seasons.  They use the scenes to reflect and delicately frame the idea of seasonality and the patterns in nature that extends to their profession.  

The show emphasizes the power of nature over people and how enduring civilizations thrive in between its changing states.   It engages anticipation, rest, immersion, temporary engagements and routines. It explores the fixity and persistence of certain identities and dynamics of local life through images of landscapes and visual vignettes of Batanes life.

These artworks are replete with intimations of the sublime power of nature and how it controls us.   The artworks are a layered presentation of people, one hand the Ivatans in general and on the other, its creative community. It offers a sympathetic awareness to see the lives of artists from this side and what  it means to preserve and activate their indigenous and contemporary culture altogether. 

Hangtay Artists

They are  a group of artists formed last July 2018 carrying the identity of Raywen-Hamyan, which represents the seasons of the islands.

Eventually, in March 2019, they launched the pugad lika (creative hive) arts festival to introduce their unifying intent in developing the potentials of the younger generation of Ivatans through arts. This collaboration resulted in formally naming their group as Hangtay Artists.

Hangtay in ichbayaten (a dialect from one of the three inhabited islands of batanes) means “nest” or “cradle” it is the breeding ground of youngsters needing time to grow and mature. The team chose this term for themselves believing that as an artist, each one is going through a process of growth. Instead of becoming on their own, however, the group recognizes their need to learn from each other, and grow together. 

Hangtay artists was formed first, to nurture the creative by encouraging, training, equipping and honing their abilities. It also seeks to strengthen their foundation as Ivatan and rootedness as filipino artists. Second, its purpose is to provide an environment for that growth wherein they can introduce their works to a broader audience and sustain themselves. Finally, as they thrive in the arts, these artists aim to invest in the unreached communities through art education and creative empowerment.

Wielding the historical tradition of surrealism as an exploration of the unconscious mind, Borderline by Block Y of the University of the Philippines Diliman’s College of Fine Arts opens the doors to a timely discussion on mental health. Threats such as the pandemic, socio-economic crisis, and violent political suppression loom constantly over the collective subconscious, inflicting psychological damage on a widespread scale. And yet across different fields and industries, the work of production is still demanded from so many of us, despite the work of trying to survive the circumstances of today already being a heavy burden to shoulder.

Surrealism has long been associated with accessing the creative potential of the unconscious,  dismantling the constraints of rationality to free imagination. As a movement, it raises the possibility of the subconscious mind having the power to grapple with the world’s idiosyncrasies and unspoken injustices in ways that the conscious, rational mind has been shackled from doing. This is what makes it such a potent revolutionary force. The subconscious is the site of dreams, emotions, and behaviors shaped by our surroundings in ways we may not have noticed. The exhibit makes clear that mental health is inextricable from its political context by illustrating experiences of global chaos and oppression as processed by the subconscious mind.

As a collective of young artists dedicated to exploring and pushing the boundaries of Philippine contemporary art, Block Y aims to generate discussion and awareness of issues in Filipino culture, including poverty, political oppression, and mental health. Their visual expressions of the subconscious raise the question, “What kind of art is imagined and produced by a mind under the duress of today’s conditions?” In this way, Borderline charts both psychological and sociopolitical landscapes, straddling the line between the mind and the volatile world in which it resides. As they navigate this question, the participating artists engage with multiple dichotomies, simultaneously drawing and blurring the fine lines between them.

One of such dichotomies is between art as reprieve and art as labor demanded of the artist. Many have turned to art’s capacity to heal through introspection, especially in a time of grief, fear, and isolation. However, art production as an occupation also demands time, labor, and creative rigor— things that might not be so easily given by a subconscious preoccupied with the anxieties of poverty, infection, and mortality. Among the questions raised by Borderline are inquiries after the mental health of a Filipino artist, who goes about the work of producing within a traumatic age. While art as a borderline demarcates the space between spectator and artist, it also becomes a window through which the spectator might peer into the artist’s visually expressed subconscious. The relationships between the artist, their work, and the conditions under which the artist produces the work are brought to light through the now perceptible, externalized subconscious.

The works in Borderline are essentially the result of both conscious and subconscious effort: an artist must be conscious enough to physically manipulate their materials, and at the same time tap into their subconscious to access the creative potential that resides there. The phasing conditions of the artist’s divided mind are preserved within paintings, mixed media art, and sculptures that comprise the exhibit. These serve as artifacts that tell the story of today’s historical climate, and what it did to the individual and collective psyche of Filipinos. What resides within our subconscious is notoriously difficult to access, much less articulate. At last made visible to the human eye through artistic form, these manifestations of whimsy and lunacy, of contradiction and reconciliation, open themselves to attempts at processing and understanding.

In anticipation of the 25th Anniversary of the Arte Pintura Group, NCCA Gallery presents:  SINING KATIPUNAN: ARTE PINTURA GROUP EVOLVING WITH THE TIMES featuring works by Addie Cukingnan Abelardo Pasigado, Antonio Yusi, Azor Pazcoguin, Flor Baradi, Margarita Lim, Rey Arelio, Reynaldo Ademis, Shirley Tan, Ronnie Lim, and Nena Frondoso.  These artworks will be complemented by archival material which presents snapshots of the development of the group since it was conceptualized in 1996 and established in 1997.  The exhibition attempts to look into several factors that have affected the development of the group, particularly, their roots in the “Mabini Art” tradition, the importance of mentorship and camaraderie in growing the group over time, and the importance of having new members, as well as in the evolution of the members’ styles over time.

Beginnings 

Arte Pintura Group started in 1997, when Leopoldo Pazcoquin, the owner of The Corner Gallery in Mabini, requested then frequent client Addie Cukingnan to organize an artists’ group for herself and the house artists of the gallery, namely, Reynaldo Ademis, Antonio Yusi, and Abelardo Pasigado, Jessie Martin, Oscar Yabut as well as Leopoldo’s children, Azvel and Azor Pazcoguin, and Addie’s daughter, Tisha Cukingnan, to make exhibiting with other galleries and venues easier.  Famous basketball athlete Jojo Lastimosa, who was a friend of Addie and who also loved to paint, joined the group a little later. The Corner Gallery was still focused on what has collectively been called “Mabini Art” at that time.

Mabini Art is not a precise term.  In the 1950’s it meant the largely conservative style espoused by artists who walked out from the 1955 Art Association of the Philippines Annual Competition and staged a sidewalk exhibition in the area because they felt the competition was rigged to favor the “Moderns”.  The Conservatives practiced a figurative style that leaned towards realism and their favored subjects were the Philippine landscape and idyllic vignettes of Philippine culture cumulatively called genre paintings.  Because of their very local subject matter, they became ideal souvenirs for American servicemen and tourists who wanted to take something very Filipino home.  It was also an ideal pasalubong for a homesick Filipino who was based abroad.

Because hurried tourists were the main clientele, the need to have ready artworks that were quintessentially Filipino, was a great consideration. Artists had to be able to paint consistent scenes and to paint it fast to produce a good quantity for selling in bulk; this was the favored mode of artistic production for an audience that wanted tobuy something eye catching quickly and on a limited budget. This was the context which developed a quick painting technique that favored copying figurative and even realistic subjects.  

Mabini Art had a steady clientele from the 1950’s well through the 1970’s.  The demand was great enough for many to consider painting an earning profession, as opposed to how it was perceived before the war that to be an artist was to starve.  However, due to the same strong demand, many who supplied the paintings in the 1970s onward were untrained artists, as opposed to the earlier generation of Mabini artists.  This resulted to kitsch and Mabini Art became a derisive term among the culturati. But as a whole, Mabini Artists still made a good living until the mid-1980’s.

In 1986, the Marcos dictatorship was overthrown after being in power for two decades. The new government was quite for the most part, unstable, and it affected the flow of tourists coming into the country.  This also affected Mabini Street businesses which were catering to tourists for several decades prior.  Many galleries closed down in the years that followed.  And despite creating new audiences, such as balik-bayans or even an export market to Japan, the demand was never as good as it was in the earlier years.It was in this context of the decline of Mabini, that the initial core group created Arte Pintura.  

The Arte Pintura Group and the Arte Pintura Gallery

Addie Cukingnan relates how difficult it was in the beginning for them to book exhibitions with the more established galleries in the Art Walk of Megamall, then the new center of art and where collectors went to, and where visibility and the foot traffic was high. The established galleries then were focused on established artists or on the budding artists who were championing contemporary art.  The group had to think of other ways to exhibit and make their presence felt.  They found the solution by approaching EDSA Shangri-la Hotel, and suggesting to the management how to convert a corridor near one of its restaurants into an exhibition space.  Bringing their own panels and lights, they creatively made the open area an exhibition space.  And it worked!  The tourists and other guests of the hotel bought all of their works! This was in 1998.

Through subsequent exhibitions at the NCCA Gallery, the Ayala Museum, and the GSIS Museum, the group became more visible to the public.  Mayor Lito Atienza, who was keen on rehabilitating the area near the Manila Bay to draw local and foreign tourists to Manila, invited the group to do regular on-the-spot painting sessions during weekends; which the group obliged. 

Looking for alternative venues and creating avenues for public interaction became the norm for the group until 2001, when the group finally opened its own gallery in Shaw Boulevard, atop the Kitaro Restaurant, which was partly owned by Addie Cukingnan.  The gallery not only exhibited their works on a regular basis, saving them the effort and time of looking for space and negotiating exhibitions, but provided art classes which also supplemented the income of the artists who became art teachers.  It was through the gallery’s art classes that the other members, Rey Aurelio, who was a teacher for the classes, and students Flor Baradi, Ronnie Lim, Nena Frondoso, Aladin Antiqueno, and Margarita Lim, became part of Arte Pintura.

Those who advanced in their classes were often invited to join the core members in outdoor painting sessions.  These provided the opportunity to travel and to bond and make the group more cohesive.  It was also at these times that the more experienced members were able to mentor the younger members for them to improve their technique.  The experienced members all had years of experience making works for the Corner Gallery, and had honed their craft to a level of mastery that while the younger members spent hours in painting the scene, the experienced among the group would take only twenty-five minutes to make something for the exhibits which followed such painting excursions.

These excursions became self-sustaining, as the group exhibited the works they created, and set aside a percentage for the next trip.  The group was able to go on two international trips, one to China and the other to Thailand, because of this.

The growth of the group and the growth of the gallery are inextricably linked.  As the gallery progressed, so did the group.  In 2010, the gallery joined the ManilArt 2010.  It was their first art fair together.  As artists, they were able to present their works alongside the best of the art scene, and measure their works against theirs.  They got feedback from collectors in the form of praise and constructive criticism.  As a gallery, they saw what worked, what was in demand, and what they had to improve on.

Time flew as the group remained active.  By 2012, the group was able to celebrate their 15th Anniversary at the prestigious Art Center in Megamall with the exhibition “Tribute”. 

In 2013, much of the responsibility is turned over to the second generation, as the old Arte Pintura Gallery closed, and the new Artepintura Gallery, Inc. is turned over to Azor Pazcoguin, Rey Aurelio and  Flor Baradi as Addie Cukingnan stayed on, but more for oversight.  The gallery moves to The Address Condominium in WackWack, Mandaluyong and joins the 2014 ManilArt once again. At ManilArt, and in the exhibitions the artist members attended in the previous years within the gallery and out, observations on the nature of having someone follow one’s artistic progress and collect the works became more apparent.  Whereas in Mabini, a buyer may buy one or two works, a follow up purchase was not rare.  The contemporary artist had a collector, and this was something that became apparent to some members of the group.  The exposure plants the seeds of change in some of the member’s styles, veering closer to contemporary art.  Some of the younger members’ works become more reflective their experience, and what are produced are more unique works.  From integrating learnings from exposure and experience, the gallery becomes even more successful and moves to a bigger space in Katipunan, Quezon City.  This is where the title of the exhibition takes inspiration from:  the bigger space, the larger gallery, the larger group that is active in the Katipunan area. 

In 2019, a plein-air session is organized at Addie Cukingnan’s home in Tanay, Rizal.  Most of the members come and the resulting works are exhibited at the gallery.  In 2020, with the onset of COVID-19, the physical gallery is closed, but the group manages to continue exhibiting in art fairs.

To reach twenty-five years is a milestone for any group.  As an Artists’ Group, Arte Pintura is successful not just in sustaining the group, but also in evolving with the times.  Having a gallery enabled them to recruit new members organically, have closer bonds, and make the individual members sustainable enough not to resort to leaving art as profession.  It also gave them various opportunities for an essential feedback loop which connected them to their audiences – both collectors and other artists alike – which helped them improve their craft as artists and for some, opened their minds to other ways of doing things, transitioning from Mabini Art to the contemporary.

As a two-fold endeavour, Fil Delacruz and Janos Delacruz propose Bahaysining as elaboration on the distinctions and synergy between Filipino contemporary artists. Through the selection of finished and in-progress paintings, an on-site mural, and other records, the father-son tandem’s works embolden and belabour the embedded syncopations and orchestration of creating art at home as a comfort, a challenge, and as lived experiences.

We commence our interest with the fact that the elder of the artists named and acknowledged the actual residence for several years as Bahaysining, founded in the twixts of the suburb Soldiers’ Hills in an area of the metro region more commonly known as South. Bahaysining then as a project extended out of the real residential building and onto public space acts as excipient to the artistic cares and responsibilities done at home. The exhibition relays the artists’ domestic factures as their immediate visual/creative responses serving current personal, professional, and socio-cultural atmospheres.

We are offered a dyad of realms that may seem – at first – to be unattached and unbridled from each other. As laid out at the wider room of NCCA Gallery, the ambiance set by Fil’s artworks is an infusion of seasons that are indulged by the artist’s expanse of experiences and refinements of concerns and ideations. Janos’ enclave on the glass cube, other side of the NCCA’s ground floor meanwhile is a condensation of the opportunity of introspection-expression of the artist’s here and now. But the symbiosis between the individuals as contemporary visual artists is tangible: We can feel from their objects a mature and permissive contract to collaborate and nurture, nonetheless with the very conscious effort to be distinct in technique, theme, and iconography.

Tugon sa Panahon

With the home as a nexus of this project forwarded by the artists to the gallery, we are very much invited to think on the ‘present progressiveness’ of things and events, of how artists continually perform their occupations through their factures. As objects intended to be seen, Fil’s and Janos’ oils on canvases are filled with mnemonics and connotations if we think of them as material outputs of intentions, communication, or internalities.

Fil’s selection is comprised of the variations of a muse, who he shared as his most recent aggregated conception of a Manobo lady. Properly irrigated with the lush of flame-like protrusions and concave patterns, the poses of the woman emboss a bearable lightness. Fil’s modernist woman/women share the visual plane with checkered motifs, images of other objects that are in the brink of containing or releasing a focal figure’s utterance or inflection. The curves, rays, and spars in the score of Diwatas make flesh the suppleness, scents, and a sensuality of an image. The impressionist figurations in the foreground are flattened by the surrealist embellishments in the background. Between the two artists, the scion shared that his father is more outgoing and active. This characteristic of the elder is conducted onto his works, as figures float in ether bounded only by the physical frames of the surfaces. These works compound as his latest visual smithing of self through the constant merging of personal history, time-tested attention and expertise, and buoyant lucidity – or simply, as a status quo to living with and responding to the times.

Pag-ibig at Pighati

For the project, Janos may reverb the same intentions as his father’s: We are duly aided to think of the feel of printmaking in Janos’ oil works. Our eyes are invited to matriculate etched patterns, as if we’re looking at striations of unsheathed musculature under a microscope. Although Janos’ icons do not revolve around a particular key image, a manner of composition analogous to his father’s is exposed: The cohesion of scenes and bulk of thoughts as transposed into visual elements organically settle and take their posts in each framed plane. This temperance, regardless of higher saturation or sharper lines, is definitely not an inhibition of Janos’ foundational training at home or in the university, and in the playing fields of the art and ad worlds. As a chronicler, Janos proposed to create a mural in situ as part of his repertoire for the project, in ways that perhaps flesh out introspections of pop culture in our current times. Janos’ selection can be seen as a series of panels for a storyboard: a first meeting, a finial of a kiss, a perturbing farewell. Like his father, Janos is opening dialogics through figures and patterns, confident that a viewer may agree or be unsettled by the proposed scenes. As a subset to the idea of Bahaysining, Janos’ collection is a strip of the spectrum between love and despair. Congruent to Fil’s meditations, Janos plots or files coincidences with what might have been or what have already happened – an artist utilising ‘in progress of things’ as a visual principle to contextualization and mien.

American contemporary photographer and environmentalist Ansel Adams has been notoriously re-annotated by other budding shutterbugs and wordsmiths: “Yes, in the sense that the negative is like the composer’s score. Then, using that musical analogy, the print is the performance.” This parallel of music to photography may be used as another way to see the exhibition, as we tend to sometimes forget the actual work done on works of art whilst staring at them as sterile and inanimate objects. The exhibition may at first instance be regarded as the ‘performance’ thus the ‘end’ of creation if we think of the project only if bound by the project itself. (The ‘negative’ then would be the setting-moment of art production.) But as Bahaysining proposes: A an artist’s lifeway itself is a life’s work. With both of our artists having made their societal marks in Filipino painting and printmaking, the exhibition may tender the idea of bahay (ng) sining (house of art) as the literal list of tasks of creation done at home: ideating images, stocking for materials, preparing canvases for frames, mixing paints, dabbing a wet brush onto a surface, etching on a negative, coating and pressing, drying, packing, talking to colleagues or patrons, and so forth. The home is not just a space of shelter and repose, but forthrightly a studio for rationalising, experimenting, travailing, and manifesting for the two men, and most controlled space when they decide for private or public affairs. The larger ground area of the house nestles creativity and skill, as both lay out their day-to-day individually and collaboratively. The management of the house intersects with the caretaking of artistic progress, circulating from both artists as they learn, teach, unlearn, and learn again.

Brasileño also explores the Ilonggo identity by placing religious, indigenous, and contemporary iconographies in his paintings. In one of the paintings, a young maiden in traditional garb can be seen holding the icon of the Sto. Nino, reminiscent of the dancers seen during Iloilo City’s Dinagyang Festival. Another painting is a portrait of Nay Lucing, a chanter from Calinog who is part of the long line of kept-maidens or binukot from Panay Bukidnon, an indigenous people’s group that the artist immersed in during a research trip for a college project. Most of the portraits are of ordinary realities but in some portraits, the artist adorns the women subjects with crowns of different flowers in bloom and superimposes them in waves of fabric. The Ilonggos in Brasileño’s paintings are always preoccupied with a movement, an object, or a thought. In a self-portrait, the artist places his surrogate in the exhibition. Brasileño shifts the gaze back to him as his likeness stares at his audience, half of his face absent from the frame.  He is part of the community that he portrays.    

Furthermore, the exhibition title, Ilonggo Republic, also poses an important question. What makes an art piece Ilonggo or is there such a thing called Ilonggo art? Is there a focus on elements such as a distinct palette, a set of symbols, or the multiple layers of meanings and themes? It is an inquiry if there exists an Ilonggo aesthetic. Kristoffer Brasileño is a representative of artists whose art is rooted in the context of Iloilo, both the city and the province, as the places where he resided and the community with which he worked at different points in his art practice. However, the images he realistically renders on his canvases are not necessarily exclusive and bound by a place—in fact these images are, in a way, universal.  In this exhibition, Brasileño’s paintings posit that labels are arbitrary. What weaves the vibrant and diverse art in Iloilo are the artists who make them.   

An object in a dis-used or dead state deconstructed to a further mess or destruction before it can be salvaged and re-used in combination with other parts of other objects to then form a new structure. . . .    

In his 2019 proposal for Pharmasika 633@ Calle Heneral Luna, Reamillo brought in the memory of his 2013 show at the NCCA Gallery, titled Tinubuang Lupa, into the mix as a re-found concept. The two shows’ virtual or mental coming together meet each other’s separate contexts, destroying their separation in order to form a new conceptual structure.

But why is all this coursed through music metaphors? As explained in the catalog essay for Alwin Reamillo’s 2019 Pian o Fort e show: “The musical allusions in Reamillo’s pieces are as much personal (he comes from a piano-making family) as they are political and social. After all, as we make our daily music as a nation of voices, we cannot ignore how we have also always been a cacophonous people with a not-so-quiet history. We cannot ignore the music from the piano and the one from outside it.”      

And if the music metaphors are the music, the objects inside Reamillo’s constructs are the lyrics/libretto. For instance, in the catalog for Reamillo’s 2013 Tinubuang Lupa show, critic Antares Gomez Bartolome wrote: “Strewn across the installation are evocative objects ranging from devotional palms and memento mori to modified plaques and bamboo constructs that serve as waypoints through the intersecting furrows of history and myth that have been formed from and around the figure of Andres Bonifacio. At these junctures, Reamillo’s quick-fire mnemonics play out and render a shifting terrain . . . From here, the crooked horizon broadens and tinubuan takes on the meaning of ‘exploited,’ of tubo as profit, and digs up not only the archipelago’s persistent feudalisms but also the character of its stewards as bureaucrat capitalists; as pimps, if you will.”      

Now, one might get the impression that the mental operatic concept that connects Reamillo’s musical-historical metaphors in the two NCCA gallery shows, 2013’s Tinubuang Lupa on Andres Bonifacio and the present show on Antonio Luna, Pharmasika 633@ Heneral Luna, along with the quasi-surrealist expressions in this virtual duology’s installations that stretches from the confined/quarantined main gallery space of Tinubuang Lupa to the outdoor context of the present open gallery farmacia, leans more toward the idea of Andres Bonifacio’s fate’s tragic latency. Reamillo was even tempted to title the duology Tinubuang Lupa, Quarantined (Hidden). But that would, of course, drown out Luna’s equal presence in the mental diptych and demean his own assassination in the open.      

Sure, Philippine historiography has raised both poet-revolutionist Bonifacio and satirist-pharmacist-general Luna to the strata of Philippine top heroes, but doesn’t that itself highlight the fact that although they both solidly stand erect inside that roster, standing as stalwarts of our independence fight, our now-peaceful general acceptance of their heroism has actually not ceased to internally colonize the disease of empty hero-worship or the adulation of now-meaningless icons-qua-emblems?     

Founded in 2000, the RAHMAG visual arts group is composed of Antiqueño artists engaged in painting, sculpting, photography, engraving, graphic arts, and design. RAHMAG is from the kinaray-a word, “Ramag,” which means “light.” It is also a term used to describe flickering lights emitted by small sea creatures and flying insects like the aninipot or ipot-ipot or fireflies. This is exactly the inspiration for the group’s vision — to serve as a ‘ray of guiding light’ in the community’s collaborative efforts to preserve their culture through art and artistry in Antique.

Just like the other 2019 exhibition grant recipients from the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), RAHMAG painstakingly prepared for their group exhibit at the NCCA Gallery. It was originally scheduled in 2020 in celebration of National Heritage Month in May. The Antique-based art group received a technical assistance visit from the gallery on March 12, 2020, a few days before the national government placed the entire island of Luzon under Enhanced Community Quarantine, the strictest of all lockdowns. 

On March 16, 2020, strict home quarantine in all households was implemented, transportation was suspended, essential services and food provisions were regulated, military presence was heightened, and of course, all cultural and art-related events, including art exhibitions, were cancelled.

However, in the midst of fright and uncertainty brought by the pandemic, they found an unwavering peace and a glimmer of hope through art and fellowship. In December 2020, the group presented “Strive: Representations and Reflections on Antique.” Strive, from the Anglo-French estrif — strife,  implies struggle or fight. The artworks showcased in the said exhibition were depictions of strain and struggle in the time of COVID-19. 

Early in 2021, in collaboration with the Antique Provincial Tourism and Cultural Affairs Office and the Department of Tourism-Region VI, RAHMAG launched the exhibit “Metanoia.” This time, the message was about conversion. Whether mental, emotional, or spiritual transformation, RAHMAG was just simply telling the story of survival.

This October, in celebration of Museums and Galleries Month and National Indigenous Peoples Month, RAHMAG finally mounts “IRAYA: Beyond Limits.” Participating artists are Rey Aurelio, Ramon “Monet” De Los Santos, Jr., Christine Marie Delgado, Raz Laude, Morris Alfred Lavega, Bryan Lao, Kwesi Pearl Faith Magdato, Cezar Gregorio “Saru” Ramales, Jr., Ramuel Vego, Evan “Tibong” Veñegas, and Marienell Veñegas. 

Iraya is kinaray-a for mountain. In fact, the terms kinaray-a, an Austronesian language spoken mainly in the province of Antique, and karay-a, the ethnolinguistic group of people living mostly in the said province, are from the root word iraya. It is similar to the Tagalog’s ‘ilaya’ referring to groups of people living in the uplands or mountains.

The exhibition is the group’s attempt to present what the province has been and what it is now — the union of the traditional and contemporary Antique, and finding its cultural relevance amid the province’s urbanization and modernization programs. 

In Michael Wesch’s “The Art of Being Human,” the author stresses that “all cultures are dynamic and constantly changing as individuals navigate and negotiate the beliefs, values, ideas, ideals, norms, and meaning systems that make up the cultural environment in which they live.” Although RAHMAG agrees that culture is not static, they also recognize the ability of culture to withstand and/or adapt to change through the community’s conservation initiatives.

This exhibition is a collective effort in documenting a number of their tangible and intangible heritage via the visual arts. “IRAYA: Beyond Limits” showcases folktales and spiritual healing practices, traditions in pottery and ceramic creations, loom weaving, and woodcraft. 

Many towns in Antique are known for their locally crafted products. Pottery from Tibiao, ceramics from Sibalom, bamboo ware from San Jose, handicrafts from Libertad and Pandan, sawali and salakot from Belison, and of course, the famous hand-woven patadyong or plaid barrel skirts from Bagtason in Bugasong. 

According to Mr. Mario Manzano of Bagtason Loom Weavers Association, loom weaving is a combination of hard work and dedication — a vocation. The manughabul or loom weaver starts learning to use the tiral or wooden loom at a young age, “fusing different colors of threads to capture the colors of nature.” The manughabul’s reverence for their chosen shades and hues are mirrored by the exhibition design’s overall palette. 

In essence, one may say that the patadyongs are stories from the skies, mountains, rivers, forests, or even flowers. One variety of this indigenous textile is called the pinilian (a patadyong with embroidery) and one of the most popular embroidery patterns, the Sampaguita, is actually patented. The exhibition design pays homage to this iconic symbol by making it a grand focal point on one of the NCCA Gallery’s walls. 

In the group’s research interview with Mr. Manzano which they used for this exhibit, he emphasized that the flower symbolizes oneness, purity, diligence, and perseverance; for the loom weavers, it is considered sacred. RAHMAG, too, echoes these virtues through this art presentation. 

Blown up photos of the artists also accent the back wall taking design inspiration from K-pop concert walls as if to say that despite the market gap, art from the regions should and does take up the same cultural space that you do.

In the setting of a modern-day pandemic, this group of artists has become an essential and integral part not only of art-making in their region but also of its cultural heritage preservation. 

It is the hope of the RAHMAG artists that “IRAYA: Beyond Limits” be seen as a statement of resilience through cultural evolution. 

Eros Basilio first launched Femme Series back in 2011. It was his first one-man exhibit after 33 years. It was held at Ayala Museums’ ArtistSpace. The exhibit featured different facets of women, mostly with their eyes closed, accompanied by a significant element or a scenery, leaving to the audience’s imagination the mystery behind each piece. 

After graduating from UST College of Fine Arts with the 1976 Benavides Civic Award for Outstanding Achievement in Art, Eros was forced to pursue a different path due to the untimely death of his father. Still related to graphics and design, he entered the world of advertising and later on became a Creative Director at McCann Erickson, an award winning, multinational advertising agency. He stayed in this field for decades and earned the title “Logo Master”, having known for designing logos for brands such as Ayala Center, Adobo Magazine, Isuzu Crosswind, SMX Convention Center, One E-Com Center, Ballet Philippines, Lyceum of the Philippines University, Globe Handyphone, San Mig Light Beer and many more.

In 2010, he decided to go back to his passion, his first love, —painting. His style is a mix of cubism and figurative realism, using the wash technique to achieve colour transparency in brushstrokes. Renaissance and Gothic architecture are also prominently depicted in some of his works. Later on, he tried integrating female figures as his subjects. Primarily executed in acrylic, Eros’ paintings are distinguished by his trademark colors of ‘Burnt Umber’ and ‘Hooker’s Green.’  He drew inspiration from artists Michael Cheval, Claudio Bravo, Cesar Legaspi, and Vicente Manansala.

In early 2017, Eros passed on. His only daughter, Camille, continues to make known the few works of his father that were left, to be appreciated, remembered and hopefully inspire others.

This November 2021, Eros’ paintings can be viewed at the NCCA Gallery.  There will be 2 themes, Pintados and Femme Series II. The latter is a re-exhibit of selected pieces from Femme Series back in 2011.  Pintados on the other hand, features the recent works of Eros. Here, Eros began working on bigger canvases, which produced limited pieces given his new impression and technique. It features mostly women wrapped in more intricate patterns, similar to that of tribal tattoos.  In contrast to these strong patterns, is a woman’s serene facial expression, leaving each piece more mystifying for the audience to expound.

THE ART OF FAITH-MAKING IN A PANDEMIC
By Delan Lopez Robillos  

Visual art has always been part and parcel of church history. From the creation of the catacombs to centuries after the time of Constantine, paintings, illustrations, and sculptures have been used as ecclesiastical ornamentation, and religious art was the only form of art in the early Christendom. Walls of underground cemeteries constructed by ancient Romans were filled with mosaics and paintings. Church walls, ceilings, windows, furniture, altars, and liturgical vessels were adorned with images of prophets and saints, drawing inspiration from the words of the scripture.

The church monopolized the industry of sacred art, and religious paintings thrived all throughout the Christian era until the Renaissance period.

1. H. Gombrich, author of “The Story of Art,” wrote: “From its earliest days, Christian artists favoured a certain clarity and simplicity…paintings were useful because they helped remind the congregation of the teachings they had received, and kept the memory of these sacred episodes alive.”

The art scholar said paintings became a “form of writings in pictures” and that artists during the Middle Ages were given a new freedom to experiment with more complex forms of composition by returning to more simplified methods of representation. He further wrote: “Without these methods, the teachings of the Church could never have been translated into visible shapes.”

In the Philippines, Christianity is practiced by the majority. Catholicism from the Spanish colonial era has been the dominant religion—and one with strong economic and political ties.

Fiestas, processions, adornment of church altars and santos, retablos and wall-paintings or frescoes are church-based materializations of faith. A retablo in Mexican folk art is a devotional painting that is distinctly characterized by the use of iconography derived from traditional Catholic Church art. Here in the Philippines, retablos are equivalent to reredos or the retable in French, a vertical multi-tiered structure behind the altar with an elaborate frame enclosing revered objects, which may include religious paintings, sculptures, or both. Here, too, is “Dambana ni Maria,” an elaborate retablo by artist Danny Rayos del Sol. It presents the images of the Virgin Mary with eclectic elements and stronger visual components such as intensity of design and texture carved on Ostrich eggs.

A unique Elmer Borlongan piece titled “Ascension” depicts overlapping images of Christ. Shown is a regal risen Savior above the crucified King, in what seems to be a representation of sanctification through salvation—His finished work at Calvary. Interestingly, the artist uses the indigenous bamboo as golden rays that crown the head of the ascending Christ, giving it local flare.

Sculptors Michael Cacnio and Juan Sajid Imao yet again show their creative prowess in brass works. Cacnio’s work zooms in on two-faced religious hypocrites, those that teach the word of God but fail to enact the teachings themselves. “Banal na Aso, Santong Kabayo” features a praying man with what seems to be, a long devil’s tail. In an August 2021 article on the 1994 song with the same title by Filipino singer, Yano,  Rev. Fr. Nicanor Lalog talks about the timeliness of the message during this pandemic. He stressed that  “…even if we have all the soaps and alcohol to wash our hands and all the prayers to recite to stop COVID-19, the virus will persist for as long as we have no regard for the dignity of every person.”

Juan Sajid Imao’s “Trinity” on the other hand, shows the crucified Christ supported at the torso by  God the Father and the Holy Spirit. The ascending position is the same allusion to Christ’s resurrection and ascension as seen on his 2004 crucifix at the Church of the Gesù in the Loyola Campus of the Ateneo de Manila University.

The importance of Christian iconography in Philippine culture denotes not only richness in ecclesiastical art but also in historic traditions kept by the faithful. In the 2015 Kaplag International Conference in Cebu City, historian, academic, and former Chairperson of the National Historical Commission of the Philippines, Dr. Maria Serena Icasiano Diokno, gave a talk on “Agustinian Heritage in the Philippines.” She presented a very interesting insight when she said “In the Philippines, religious heritage has become historic heritage.”

Exploring contemporary concepts and assimilating modern ideas and themes into religious art without losing traditional creative expression and artistry is the exhibition brief of “Consummatum Est: Is it Finished?” Consummatum est, a phrase that often appears on inscriptions and in sacred art, were the Savior’s last words as he was dying on the cross. It literally means “it is finished” in Latin. In this exhibition, however, the title which is declarative, takes an interrogative form.

Jesus Christ’s sacrifice of carrying the sins of humanity as symbolized by the cross that he had borne is depicted in several artworks, in a multitude of styles by various participating artists. The modern-day pandemic, too, has become a symbol of burden and sacrifice for mankind. As of this writing, over 5 million people around the world have died of COVID-19. If Christ uttered the words “it is finished” as his triumph over pain and suffering, can we also say that we have conquered the dreariness that is COVID-19?

Even with the easing of quarantine and alert levels, the pandemic has already taken its toll on all of us in terms of mental stress and economic distress. The scars of COVID-19 will permanently be there—families and friends claimed by the virus are now just numbers…statistics. After almost two years of sacrifice, the burden is still heavy. Will it really be finished? Will we then ever be saved?

The artists, through this production, hopes to widen the audience’s perspective not only on Christian iconography and sacred art, but also in life and in faith. From Wilfredo Offemaria, Jr.’s combined figurations and abstractions, Anna de Leon’s surreal take on faith, to Farley del Rosario’s naif rendition of the majestic Christ, each viewer is sure to find a piece suited to their personal brand of reflection and contemplation. Other participating artists in this exhibit include Mark Dawn Arcamo, Rey Aurelio, Jojo Ballo, Kristoffer Brasileño, Jopeth Balce Buñag, Benjamin Cabrera, Eugenio Cubillo, Melvin Culaba, Addie Cukingnan, Demetrio dela Cruz, Robert Deniega, Carlos Francisco, Anthony Fermin, Jonathan Joven, Cathy Lasam, Dante Lerma, Jaime An Lim, Lei Manto, Gabi Nazareno, Emmanuel Nim, Justine Olivarez, Oliver Olivete, Abe Orobia, Vincent Padilla, Jill Arwen Posadas, Analuz Reynales, Tres Roman, Bin Samonte, Elios Santos, Aner Sebastian, Gemma Suguitan, Janelle Tang, Jaymar Valdoria, and Marienell Veñegas.

Faith has various ways of expressing itself and art, first and foremost, is a form of communication. Viewers may deem this exhibition a deconstruction of belief or an assertion of a popular religion. Bane or boon, the artists—through this offering—further hope to elicit free expression of diverse views because whether or not we agree, religion is and always will be an integral part of the cultural landscape of the Philippines. After all, with what is currently happening around us, we have nothing to lose if, through the narratives in this presentation, we are able to absorb or assimilate knowledge on mental, emotional, and spiritual survival.