Leap of Fate

LEAP OF FATE

By Cid Reyes

 

                What has fate in store for me? Will the fates decide? In Greek mythology, the three fates were the three goddesses, namely Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, who presided over the birth and death of humans. In their view, human lives are like a thread spun, measured, and cut: a destiny over which humanity has no control.

For the 2016 ArtFair Philippines, Galerie Anna explores the subject of The Inevitable, in a show titled “Leap of Fate.” The word is derived from the Latin fatum, which means “that which has been spoken.” Destiny is a done deal.

No more iconic image is there for the subject of fate than the open hand uplifted by CJ Tanedo for our scrutiny and curiosity. It is after all a study of Lifelines, the creases in our hands that, if we were believe, foretell the destiny of our lives.

With his “Despondency” series, Cezar Arro plunges us into (a fate worse than death?) the abyss of his self-abnegation as a painter, his chosen profession, wondering if the artist has willfully cast himself as a victim of myth: the artist manqué : someone who has not had the opportunity to do a particular job, despite having the ability to do it; having failed to become what might have been.

                A pair of works by Jun Impas, (one typically titled in Cebuano, Pagtambayayong Alang sa Kalamboan and another, in current pop lingo, Tuba Pa More), underscore by turns the dignity of labor and the hardship and harshness of living, the brawny peasants pulling together as one to haul and harness something unseen; and the latter work, a shocking and pathetic view of humankind seen not in the best of light.

                High drama attends the visually ingenuous artwork in hyper-realism by Bryan Teves, with a lofty Latin title taken from the Fabulae (Fables) written by Hyginus (2nd century AD). Thus, Vestigia Eius (In his Footsteps). The fable is about “Hercules (who) killed his children and his wife in a mad rage to him by Juno. As a punishment he is ordered by Eurystheus, king of Argos, to perform twelve difficult tasks.” The artist conflates the fable with that of the Christ, at least in one interpretation of this work based on the stunning image. Bloodied feet suggestive of a long punishing trek upon rocky terrain are seen floating up in the air, with the artwork reaching a height of its own.

                Vincent Padilla is a pilgrim journeying to the past. His large body of work devoted to the meditation of the Philippine past is an unequivocal declaration of his obsession with our Filipino ancestors whose mere existence forms the crucible of our search for a national identity. As far removed they may be from our contemporary life, with its attendant existential anxieties and turmoil, they have nonetheless taken roots in Padilla’s imagination.

                “Reverb” is the echo-suggestive title of the work by Robert Besana, an appropriation of a historical photograph of the Evil Personified, Adolf Hitler. In his commanding technique using a ballpoint pen, Besana presents his painting as a tantalizing specimen of the idiom of Appropriation, “the use of pre-existing objects or images with little or no transformation applied to them.” Besana, however, contextualizes his own work with the inclusion of the text “God is on our side.” Is it mere fate that six million Jews went to their gaseous deaths when God was seemingly not on their side?

                Two well-known American photographs are also appropriated by Toti Cerda in his paintings Anti-Virus I and 2. The first is that of workers, taking their noonday lunch, seated on a steel beam atop a vertiginous skyscraper construction in New York City (actually the RCA Building), hundreds of feet above the ground. It was used by the Rockefeller Center as a publicity stunt. Cerda re-situates the workers into a Philippine setting overlooking a poverty-stricken cityscape. Furthermore, he has stamped on it the familiar notice “Business As Usual,” heightening the ironic and sardonic quality of the works. The other more famous photograph, taken February 3, 1945, is the raising of flag by five US servicemen on the battle-scarred island of Iwo Jima. Again, the painting has been stamped with “Business As Usual” as though war were merely a workaday happening.

                Eschewing his favored sculptures of dancers, Ferdie Cacnio constructs a sculptural rising mound, upon which scraggly, attenuated figures, recalling Giacometti’s Existential Man, struggle to climb up this Everest of life’s challenges. Alas, by a cruel fate, these figures, having scaled the heights and reached the top, are destined, condemned by the gods like Sisyphus, to hurl themselves down, and ceaselessly clamber and claw themselves up again in a futile and hopeless existence.

                In Mga Imortal sa Norte, Ricky Ambagan thrusts us at the discomfited view of the so-called “hanging coffins” of Sagada, like a fresh airing of perspectives on mortality and death and the indecent voyeurism of tourists for whom nothing is sacred.

                In an ecstasy of transport, Michael Munoz presents the Blessed Virgin Mary in Immaculata, destined by fate to be the Mother of God. In Saint Luke’s Gospels, the evangelist recounts the prophecy of Simeon that seven swords will pierce her heart. It was the fate of Mary to be the Sorrowing Mother.

                Ivy Floresca embraces the surrealist enigma of life in a work whose meaning she keeps tenaciously to her breast. In seemingly unrelated images, contrived to make a whole, the tension remains intrinsic to her art. She creates works always touched by the fire of mystery and a gravita that teases the mind’s appetite for the incomprehensible.

                Was it by chance or by fate that a pair of unshod feet once again hang dangling, as in another painting in this show? As are all of Gerry Joquico’s artworks, his Procrastinator and the crestfallen skull in the bowler hat (shades of Magritte!) in El Final or el Principio? Are located in limbo, in a nether region, an undetermined landscape, such that these works assume the nature of allegory, where symbolic fictional figures are embodied statements about human existence.

                Alas, death alone is our ineluctable fate.

Ying Chun Zhan

THE LINGNAN SCHOOL OF PAINTING
Art and Revolution in Modern China

The Qing dynasty closed China to maritime trade in 1757, just at the moment when European nations were expanding their international commerce. Guangzhou (Canton) was the only legal port for trade between China and the outside world until 1843. This south-eastern region, which includes modern Guangdong province, was commonly referred to as Lingnan, and produced some of the most important political thinkers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, including Kang Youwei and Liang Qichao, who advocated replacing the imperial system with a constitutional monarchy, and Sun Yat-sen, who established China’s first republic in 1911.

The development of a Cantonese manner of painting began in the nineteenth century, but did not attain national visibility and distinctive style until the first part of the twentieth century. The leader of the Lingnan School of painting was Gao Jianfu (1879-1950?), who joined the Alliance Society (Tongmeng hui), 1911 he devoted himself instead to a revolution in art. In his painting, publications, and teaching, he promoted the development of a New National Painting (xin guohua). He and his followers, most notably his younger brother GAO Qifeng, combined the local style with elements of Western and Japanese realist painting to create an art that they hoped would be more accessible to the citizenry of China’s new republic than the literati painting of the past.

This Revolution in art has not spared the culture of the overseas Chinese in Manila. The adherents to Lingnan School style of paintings in the mainland and overseas grew in such numbers. Over the years, the style has been handed down from one generation to another. Currently, the foremost authority and Teacher in the Lingnan School Tradition of Chinese Painting in Manila is Master Ceasar Cheng, who received his training from several masters both here and in China. He teaches art ath the Confucius Institute of Ateneo de Manila. Together with other Lingnan adherents Lita Gelano, Nei Nei Hui Chun, Lupicinio Ng and Myrna Rivera, Master Ceasar Cheng will highlight in this exhibit, the vivid and graceful brush strokes of paintings done in Lingnan School Style.

A Lingnan School painting is vibrant and visually pleasing. It is “more realistic as it combines realism with fluid bold expression”. It liberates the sense and touches the soul of the viewer.

HighBreed

High Breed 

Something of mixed origin or composition, such as a work whose elements are derived from different languages.

In art forms, hybridity could mean the blurring of traditional distinct noundaries between artistic media such as painting, sculpture, film, performance, architecture, and dance. It also can mean crossbreeding art-making with other disciplines, such as natural and physical science, industry, technology, literature, popular culture, or philosophy. Hybrid art forms expand the possibilities for experimentation and innovation in contemporary art. 

Today's artits are free to make art with whatever material or technique they can imagine. this freedom creating hybrids occupies much artistic work today. however, making meaning in art-whatever tools, materials, or techniques are used-remaines central to artistic practice. Ot is impportant for viewers to keep this in mind as they explore innovative art today.

This show breaks tradition and blur boundaries.

 

Tranquility, Ripples and the Absolute

ANNABELLE CADIZ: TRANQUILITY, RIPPLES, AND THE DIVINE

 

          “We are surrounded with things which we have not made and which have a life and structure different from our own: trees, flowers, grasses, rivers, hills, clouds. For centuries they have inspired us with curiosity and awe. They have been objects of delight. And we have come to think of them as contributing to an idea which we have called nature. Its rise and development is part of a cycle in which the human spirit attempted once more to create harmony with its environment.”

          Those were the opening words of Lord Kenneth Clark in his series of lectures on the subject of “Landscape into Art.” Words it would do us well to remember as we join an artist on her “travelling” exhibition.

          Currently on view at the Galerie Anna is a solo exhibition of Dra. Annabelle Cadiz titled “Tranquility, Ripples, and the Divine.” (Those who have seen Cadiz’s show previous to this one, exhibited a couple of years ago, are “in” for a surprise, for these landscape works are at a far remove. Her last show was of a different landscape; “nightscape” may be a more appropriate descriptive word. In those works, Cadiz depicted images of those who work in the night, and through, and that subtle hint should modestly suffice even to those who are more worldly-conscious.)

          This time, Cadiz has found inspiration in her many travels all over Europe, America, and Asia.  Indeed, the exhibition will unreel like a personal visual odyssey, elevating the sights beyond the merely touristy. The works are imbued with a quiet atmosphere and serenity, as if in fact, the artist were all alone when she visited the sites. And though, of course, hordes of tourists were busily snapping away with their cameras and iphones, Cadiz, the introspective soul, “owned” the views, for she sensitively observed, and absorbed, the spiritual energy of the place, and placed her retentive memory at her disposable. While photographed images have their own practical value (excellent for jogging memory!), nothing can replace the sensations one felt at a particular place, or triggered by a specific view, nor the intense emotion that swept her, provoked by the grandeur and magnificence of the vistas that emerged before her.

          At the outset, it should be said that these works have a gentility and mistiness of watercolors, though some are in fact in oils. (It was Cezanne, the forerunner of modern art from whom Picasso saw the origins of Cubism, who treated oils as though the medium were watercolors, as witness his late still lifes.) With her light, felicitous touch, Cadiz creates sensations that are both feminine, lyrical and romantic, for which reason one can call her works “Wordsworthian”, after the poet who wrote a line of poetry which every college student can still remember: I wandered lonely as a cloud…

          And so did Cadiz wander all over the world, filling her heart and mind like a diary, with each page overwhelmed by a welling of emotions. There are views that are grand and lowly: cathedrals, manor houses, and castles are awe-inspiring, the stuff of travel brochures, such classic edifices as the Notre Dame in Paris and the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, Spain. There are tableaus of mountains and meadows, beaches and streams and rivers, blossoms and vegetation. Each can be relished quietly in the spirit of tranquility and contemplation, our eyes and hearts lifted to the Divine Creator Who has brought all these into existence.

          Yet again, we are awakened to the realization that certain joyous scenes can be gleaned by turns from the ordinary and the overlooked, the simple and the sophisticated, the homey and the humble. As Lord Kenneth Clark right observed: “In general the popular landscapes are those in which the lazy or uninterested eye is suddenly jerked into responsiveness by an unusually resonant contrast of tone or color. This is  true of the stretch of water lit by evening skies, set off by dark trees; or of the evening sun shedding an orange light on the hill-tops.” For myself, I am drawn towards the fresh appeal of often ignored sights, such as Cadiz’s “The Lady in Yellow”, where an unrecognized solitary woman is seated among white-topped tables, just like a scene at Tuileries in Paris. Another is “The Traveller” which will not really pass muster as a view, but a rather as a vignette, of a place observed and of time unrecoverable. It is merely the sight of a motorcycle parked along a wall.  In both, one feels an underlying narrative, certainly unvoiced, but nevertheless brushes against your imagination. Still another is “Same Time, Same Place”, unequivocally a transcription of an assignation. While all these do not belong in the traditionally accepted notions of landscapes (but why can’t a park not be a landscape?), we have to accept them as the products of the artist’s impartial eye. Even a work titled “The Spirit House”, such as one often sees along the streets of an Asian city, is a moving sight. A humble, makeshift contraption of a small house, laden with flowers left by devotees, awaits the arrival of the Divine.

          For all these, we have to thank the artist Annabelle Cadiz for inviting us along on her journey of discovery.

 

 

 

Reliquaries

EXHIBIT STATEMENT

 

History and geography are witnesses to the myriad funerary beliefs and practices that have arisen. The Egyptians take pride in their pyramids. The Chinese have their tombs equipped with objects deemed necessary to bring in the next life. The Romans boast of their sarcophagi with inscriptions pertaining to the deeds of the dead. The Mesopotamian royal tombs house not only the king but also include his guards and ladies of the court who are to be his companions in the afterlife. Given this variegated society at large there comes a universal chord which embraces all cultures and societies.

 

Temporal life displays giving of honor to the living as manifest in manifold awards, honors and prestige it bestows. However, after some years, if not decades, of existence in the world comes the inevitable reality. Each one has that day when sister death knocks upon his door. There may be a wide range of reactions towards this departure - fear, restlessness, optimism, hope – and yet something common remains. The same respect for the living is extended to the dead, if not greater. Tombs, pyramids, coffins, urns and reliquaries prove the veneration people have for the dead, and in turn, point out to the belief that the departed continue on living. Death signifies not the end; it is only the beginning.

 

The belief in the afterlife shows forth the reality that in a human being there is not only his physical body, but, there is a soul that animates his being. The separation of the soul from the body marks the physical death; nevertheless, the soul continues to linger on. With the belief in life beyond comes consequently the regard put in how earthly life is lived. Undeniably there is always tension and friction in life, a struggle that is persistently waged. The attraction to the good and happiness and the joys and triumphs are invariably present, but common experience tells that there is a constant battle against disorders found in deception, idleness, stagnancy, reclusion and lack of purpose. The kind of earthly life stamps itself in the soul that continues to live on.

 

            In sum, whoever man there is the place to go to after the end of life is one and same. This is depicted in “All Go to One Place” and “Limbo’s Cradle”. The remembrance of the dead is displayed in “Bouquet” and (title of Paul Eric Roca’s works). Man’s care for how he lives his life – a purposeful life – shines through in (title of Vincent Balandra’s works), “Towards a Purpose”, “Hindrance and Obstacles”, “Lady Lazarus”, “Vacant Lot”, “Holy Eucharist Parish Church, Armstrong Avenue, Moonwalk Village, Paranaque City, Metro Manila”, “Villa Sto. Nino”, and “Sacred Hurt”.

 

Reliquaries take this perspective that life and death, and death and Life are realities that are not mutually exclusive.

 

 

 

 

Ara ka sa Dughan

 

          Currently on view at Galerie Anna is an exhibition of works on paper by Negrense artist Nunelucio Alvarado, with the tender titled “Ara Ka sa Dughan”, translated as “You Are in my Heart,” affords the viewer to see an aspect of his prolific creation that is not often seen by the greater audience. Alvarado is one artist whose art aspires for greatness: certainly not in the materialistic and commercial sense of it, but in terms of ambition; again not as a  careeristic or egoistic self-promotion, but in the struggle to use his art to address themes that may seemingly be rooted in his native Negros, but translate to their universal significance and consequences.

          To be sure, the viewer is more accustomed to the more bristling,  more aggressive stance of Alvarado’s art. For decades, since the Seventies, his works were associated with the historical movement known as Social Realism. It was the appropriate decade, remarkable for the fearless denunciatrion of a reigning social order that  unconscionably ignored the plight and suffering of the masses. To say that the trauma inflicted by years of Martial Law still lingers is an understatement. Indeed, the wounds of this inhuman destruction of lives remain indelibly present in the never-ending curse of poverty and persecution throughout the land. Thus artists could only take recourse to their art in order to hold up a mirror that reflects our social realities. Undoubtedly, the tension in  the works of Alvarado is one of unmitigated intensity, of  a sustained pitch that is more remarkably memorable by his distinctive handling of form which enables him to uplift his art to the level of  excellence achieved by Social Realists in other countries, specifically Mexico and  Latin America.

          It is therefore a visually refreshing and solacing experience to see Alvarado tackle themes that depart momentarily from his accustomed images. A long-running series titled “Babaye” - “Woman” –  is a refreshing take on folk genre, depicting the subject - “Inday” – as wife, mother, vendor. Still in his distinctive, characteristic style and brilliantly acidic chromatic scale, the image is redolent of the idyll. Whether selling fish, chicken, flowers, fruits and vegetables (inevitably raising visions of Manansala, Malang and Magsaysay-Ho), Alvarado’s Inday seems made of sterner stuff, of a backbone made sturdy by life’s vicissitudes, unbending to the willful neglect of destiny. Typically, these paintings are invested with brilliant prismatic and primary colors and, more enchantingly, a vibrant spread of variegated quilt-like patterns, with particular patience and persistence on their enthusiastic elaboration. Surprisingly, Alvarado works on this visual activity, traditionally regarded as feminine, being allied with domestic arts, with a total lack of self-consciousness. The prevalent use of patterning, both geometric and arabesque, engenders in the works a welcome liveliness, a dynamic rhythm, and a joyous orchestration of contrasting patterns.

          One returns to the title piece, “Ara Ka sa Dughan”, which depicts the visage and torso of a man upon which is emblazoned a heart, so diffident and disconcertingly hidden, as if quelling its palpitating torrents of love. Is this a portrait of the artist in the throes of an overwhelming emotion? For Nunelucio Alvarado, the human acknowledgment of this universal force remains at the heart of the matter.

 

They Were Among Us

“They Were Among Us”:  Vincent Padilla’s Encounter with Time Past

 

            In her book “On Photography” Susan Sontag writes: “A photograph is not just the result of an encounter between an event and a photographer; picture-taking is an event in itself, and one with even more peremptory rights --- to interfere with, to invade, or to ignore whatever is going on. The omnipresence of cameras persuasively suggests that time consists of interesting events, events worth photographing. After the event has ended, the picture will still exist.”

                                                Raising the Ante

            And if artist Vincent Padilla will have his way, his paintings based on these photographs will co-exist in time together with the images that engendered his artworks. In a series of shows devoted to the exploration of emotional and psychological connections with old photographs, Padilla keeps raising the ante. He has, after all, no choice but to do so: looming large is the legacy of National Artist BenCab’s “Larawan” works, after which paintings based on photographs would be counterproductive, redundant, lame. BenCab had, after all, already claimed the territory, and to such magnificent results.

It is to the credit, therefore, of Vincent Padilla that, despite the daunting challenge that lay ahead of him, he has redeemed himself, for he had neither scruples nor doubts,  that his own photography-based works would reveal what the original photographs never did. He would transform his own canvases as a concealed camera.

                                    Pages of History

            Currently on view at Galerie Anna is Padilla’s solo exhibition, billed as “They Were Among Us.” Padilla focuses his lens, as it were, on notable historical figures, mostly public personalities in the arts and politics, so famous that streets and avenues are named after them. Plucked from the pages of history, they deliberately lose their time-line distance and detachment from us even as we relish our connection with our sense of history, where the past participates in the present. Thus, it seems, History is just a jeepney ride away.

            Understandably, the artist in Padilla ties him, like an umbilical cord, to such luminaries as Fernando Amorsolo and Guillermo Tolentino montaged together, the pioneer professors of the Escuela de Bellas Artes (among them, Vicente Rivera y Mir, Miguel Zaragosa, Teodoro Buenaventura, and Dean Rafael Enriquez), and in one iconic photograph, Juan Luna and Felix Resurreccion Hidalgo, with Dr. Jose Rizal. History as hero-worship is accountably evident in these works.

Interestingly, Padilla has maintained his characteristic layering of manuscript writing in reverse across the pictorial space, serving much like a subtle running filmic music in this these visual discourses with history. And as the manuscripts are hardly legible, teasingly puzzling and painstakingly handwritten, they seem like forerunners of the contemporary practice of merging words and images.

Other notable historical figures assert their presence: President Manuel Quezon panning for gold, Rafael Palma leading the members of the Philippine Independence Mission, all wrapped in heavy winter overcoat; William H. Taft presiding over the Philippine Assembly (where Padilla has brazenly interposed himself in the scene, painting the proceedings), and the bandolero-hero Macario Sakay, in  characteristic  long tresses, with his band of brigands.

                        Timeless Instrument

The viewer may construe that history may vanish upon the destruction of these photographs, paper being so perishable, for only photographs may prove the existence of a past reality. Vincent Padilla proffers his paintings not merely as a more stable medium of recording the past, the act itself being a reproach to photography, but as a timeless instrument created by man and not by machine.

“They Were Among Us” is on view until October 10.

Bang and Some Other Paintings

 

BANG and some other Paintings

Nuestro’s abstract painting vocabulary take off from creating something new from the very spoils of paintings itself. Behind the entire loop, dangles, sprouting images, textured impastos, transparent veiling, mix add of snippets, prints and spillage of signs and decorative strokes, all those elements are transformed into some observations and amplifications of his personal, political and social concern.  Even the smart titling of this series of works carry his concerns.

The white grain of his paper and canvas are his playground.  Thereafter, he starts organizing familiar abstract images utilizing his cunning manipulation of his medium. The drama unfolds by combining all different familiar painting strokes from hard edge, to free flowing strokes, transparency, text, numbers, print based image making techniques and deconstructive image manipulation inspired by computer graphics.

Bob Nuestro was born in the Philippines in 1967. He received his Bachelor of Fine Arts degree major in Painting from the old Philippine College of Music & Fine Arts, an affiliate of Philippine Women’s University in 1988. 

He has exhibited his works in Manila, Chicago, New York, Singapore and Japan. 

His relevant exhibitions are as follow,   in 1999 at the Lopez Museum Gallery Pasig City Philippines, in 2001 at Cultural Center of the Philippines Pasay City Philippines and in 2008 at the White Cube Gallery, Metropolitan Museum of Manila, curated by a leading Filipino Art Critic Emmanuel Eric Torres.

From 1995 to 1999 he is one of the Artist- in Residence of the Art & Associates Gallery now Avellana Gallery and from 1999 to 2005 he is one of the exhibiting artist of The Drawing Room Contemporary and   from 2005 to 2010 he is the director of his Art Project - Artists –run Independent Art Space, at the same time he is the painting department program coordinator and Art instructor from his Alma Mater now Institute of Fine arts and design {IFAD}.

On February of 2010 he migrated from the Philippines to the United States and became an Independent artist based in Carol Stream a suburb near Chicago Illinois.