Stories behind the brushstrokes
“The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.” — Auguste Rodin
While there are many things that bring us joy, one cannot deny that beauty, creativity and the deep mystery that constitute the origins of visual art stir our many emotions. In this year’s Art Fair Philippines, the second of what we hope will be a continuous and ever-growing show of great local contemporary art, we felt it all.
I attended the opening day’s affairs, but made it a point to go back on the quieter Sunday, when there were lesser people and I could fully immerse myself in the remarkable pieces of local art.
Daniel de la Cruz’s metalwork sculpture depicting surreal fairy-tale scenarios are a work in detail: mixed metals of polished copper, copper patina, aluminum and stainless steel come together into various depictions of an Alice in Wonderland journey. The fine stenciled textures gave the pieces both detail and depth. I stared, wondering how long it must have taken to properly assemble all the little parts into each work of stunning art. What captivated me is his “Which Way Do I Go”—a child’s head reaching up to a wolf up a tree, in query—with her arms wide open and vulnerable.
In Jay Ticar’s dimensional paintings, buildings move, twist and deconstruct. The images depict a variety of unidentifiable structures precariously tilted and colored in hues that appear cheerful in contrast to the disturbing imagery of being tumbled and destroyed.
Box frames with drawings defined by the use of threads running through silk screen panels make Eugenia Alcalde’s art surreal, ethereal and original. Her earlier works that I’ve seen made use of the threads pulled taut, but some of her current pieces make use of loose and lifeless threads, adding another dimension to the visual texture of her work.
Master modernists Arturo Luz, Lor Calma and Ed Castrillo shared space and displayed expert skill in the art of minimalism. Their wall relief and sculpture showed refinement and sophistication through pared-down lines and compositions. While each of their pieces had its own stories to tell, it was as if you could create your own thoughts alongside theirs. Impressive were Luz’s various sculpture in wood, stainless steel and lacquered metal. Here, Arturo Luz stands beside his “Kyo” sculpture.
Ringo Bunoan’s linear installation of frames with the pages of selected books, their last pages that spelled “the end” brings forth “our human connection to mortality and legacy as well as the sadness of loss.” The frames sat unceremoniously on a long ledge, prompting a quick moment of reflection.
Marina Cruz revisits her home with images of dresses, dolls and the home. She explores the architecture of both space and clothing and how they collapse into folds, angles and creases. The architecture of both abode and humanity were represented by dresses, dioramas, dolls and naked mannequins. In stunning large scale, Marina returns to every little girl’s childhood through a series of large-scale paintings of blond American dolls, heads plucked from their bodies, hair pulled back, eyes rolling uncoordinated. I would have loved to hang them in my own space had they been a fraction of their overwhelming scale.
Alab Pagarigan’s suspended sculpture of a sleeping man floating among golden origami cranes had me stumped. “I Dreamt I Was Dreaming” was a much photographed work, probably because of both its medium and its composition, the position of this man’s hands and and the look on his face.
The look on people’s faces during the days of the art fair were worth looking at as well. Awed. In glee. Perplexed. Many of the young ones came too. College kids went to see. So did my nieces, my children and a few of my office staff. Others felt bad they missed out.
The interest in art is alive and well, and when our young, aspiring artists grow up, we can only hope they pick up their brushes and have their own heart-stirring and awe-inspiring stories to tell.
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