Art in the Family

In his heyday in the ’60s and ’70s, Salvador Cabrera could finish as many as ten paintings a day, which led to his being jokingly referred to as a "quick draw" artist. But his works never betrayed the speed with which he produced them, each one coming out as a thoughtful depiction of familiar scenes.

His renditions of children at play, the mother and child and other slices of everyday life were made distinctive by the wide eyes of his subjects. This trademark may have been atypically Filipino, but Cabrera made sure he infused his paintings with local flavor and color, showing youngsters flying kites and engaged in other native games or swathing them in clothes that could only be Pinoy. But it was the soulful gaze of those gaping eyes–inspired by the works of an American artist–that would be the most endearing trait of his paintings.

Among today’s generation, only a few would probably know that the late Salvador Cabrera once gained an earnest following for those works and in later years, his profusion of character studies, which were snapped up predominantly by tourists who flocked to his studio in Ermita. Cabrera, by the way, also had a thriving career as an editorial cartoonist and layout artist at the old Daily Mirror. For the Mirror Magazine, he would create a daily comic strip named after its lead character, Bindoy, whose streetsmart antics amused readers for 10 years.

This rich artistic legacy is being celebrated in a show aptly called "Remembering Salvador Cabre-ra," which opens on Oct. 22 and runs until Nov. 7 at the SM Megamall Art Center. The exhibit is being spearheaded by only daughter Carla Cabrera and is presented by the Crucible Gallery. The exhibit includes works of Salvador’s three artist sons Jojo, Ronnie and Buddy, and of his younger brother Benedicto–more popularly known as Bencab, effectively making this a family affair.

Carla had long been thinking of a tribute show for her father, who died of a heart ailment at the still relatively young age of 56 in 1986. The idea persisted, especially every time she would unexpectedly encounter her father’s works. Carla, owner of an events-management company, would see her father’s works in the course of her job. She would see his paintings during a shoot in a house and, in another instance, at the Asian Development Bank. Another time, she was having a blood test at the Makati Medical Center, and there was her dad’s work hanging in a doctor’s clinic.

"I even saw one of his paintings in a Tagalog movie," Carla enthuses. She and her siblings often discussed the possibility of holding a posthumous exhibit, but it was all idle talk until she even dreamt about it. "Maybe it was all the reminiscing that triggered the dream."

Whatever it was, Carla and the family decided it was time to do the commemorative show. But putting it all together was no easy task. Gathering information about her dad, tracking down his paintings and getting samples of his cartoons and illustrations entailed time and patience. Coincidentally, Bencab says, several people approached him to sell works of his brother which he, of course, welcomed. Some 50 works of the late artist, mostly pieces owned by the family, will be featured in the exhibit.

Despite a thirteen-year age gap, Bencab recalls bonding moments with his kuya such as being taken on trips to Luneta and to Balara. Best of all, Salvador allowed him to hang around while he was painting; Bencab says it was this early exposure that helped convince him to become an artist later on. Their shared choice of career would puzzle many as no one in the family was artistically inclined, but it was as artists that Salvador, and later Bencab, would make their living.

Carla and her artist-brothers have many fond memories of their father, whom they, along with three other siblings, would continue to visit even after their parents separated. They describe Salvador as a very generous man, not only with his money but with his talent and his time. They recall their father sharing meals with friends, coaching young artists and talking to tourists who would continuously stream into his gallery-cum-studio.

"It was like a tambayan. There were a lot of people all the time. Artists like Onib Olmedo, Lamarroza and Edgar Doctor would be there," Carla recalls.

For Jojo, going to his dad’s studio proved to be an escape. On days when he did not want to go to school, he would go there and do chores for his father. "Nagpapa-stretch siya ng canvas, nagpapabili ng kape o kaya pinapatanggal ‘yung filter ng sigarilyo niya; Pall Mall pa ang brand niya nu’n," relates Jojo.

He and his brothers would be given crayons or clay to tinker with. "Hindi siya madikta. Habang nagtatrabaho, tahimik lang siya. Pinapabayaan niya kaming gumawa ng kung anong gusto namin," notes Buddy. The only advice Buddy constantly heard from his father was to practice, for them to keep painting until they found their own style. Salvador reportedly liked to say, "Lahat ng paintings, may katapat," which echoed his belief that any artwork, if done well, would find a buyer.

Salvador, by accounts, never had a struggling-artist phase as he managed to build a clientele that patronized his works. During his most productive years, he could finish as many as five portraits a day, and each one would go for P500, a big amount in those days. His long-running success afforded him and his family practically all the luxuries in life. He had fine taste in clothes, and went for American brands such as Hush Puppies. He also loved cars and, at one point or another, owned the hottest wheels of the moment, from a Thunderbird to an Impala and then a Chevrolet.

"He lived by the day. It was the bohemian ideal," Bencab says of his brother. "He was a real artist. For him, art was his life. He pursued that career. He had a regular job, but he was also painting."

Unfortunately, Salvador’s career seemed to flounder in his later years. In the crisis decade of the ’80s, the tourists dwindled and so did the patrons of his art. With his health failing, Salvador relied on the help of his brother Ben, who by then was an established artist. Bencab says that his brother ended up being exploited by dealers, with his watercolors being sold at a measly P100 per piece. But, Bencab points out, the ever industrious Salvador would still manage to make as many as ten artworks a day. After all, this was something he loved doing.

Today, the family he has given so much to remembers him with a showcase of his career as painter, illustrator and cartoonist. It is a well-deserved tribute to a man who lived life well and to an artist who gave such passion to his craft.