I think that it is the height of thoughtlessness to say such things about works that have very obviously been thought out. There are, of course, those that threaten to spoil the delights of encountering fresh talent – the rotten tomatoes that this column is committed to identifying and throwing out. But this argument, which has been going on unabated for the last thirty years or so, desperately needs to be put to rest if we are to hope to see Philippine art move forward in our lifetime.
To do this, let me put on my Simon Cowell hat once again, and refute the opinion of the mumbling mob on the following counts:
One, cutting-edge, contemporary art is NOT easy to make. Any person who thinks otherwise and claims that he can simply fling a pot of paint at the public – a reference to Ruskin’s stinging criticism of Whistler’s work – and call it "art" needs to be asked to do the following:
Two, explain the reason behind his decision to piss on canvas – for health and art conservation concerns, metaphorically speaking of course; and, most importantly
Three, swear to live solely on such "swill" or – without even asking him to go that far – be prepared to put reputation, relationships or even religion on the line, for art’s sake.
Call it wistful or quixotic rhetoric if you will. But on a matter as important as this, I see absolutely nothing wrong with laying the idealist card on the table to call the bluff of those who would seek to put down that which they do not yet, or worse, do not wish to understand.
In any case, I really do not think it likely anyway, given our current social and economic travails, that very many would be able to take up the calling of contemporary art. But for those blessed few who have refused to fall prey to the selfishness and shortsightedness that continue to enfeeble Philippine society, leading it to fumble and stumble about aimlessly, I cannot help but commend such artists for recognizing the unique challenges and possibilities presented to them by the times.
Many years have passed since the Arte Povera, literally "poor" art, movement swept across the cultural landscape to animate the scene with non-traditional materials conjoined to create a piquant sense of irony. Yet it remains an important fountainhead for young artists today who are seeking an alternative and inexpensive source of creative media, besides being an emphatic symbol of their distaste for the commercial proclivity of the art market.
A visit to the SM Art Center to see "Cancelled Metaphors," the first of a two-part group show organized by Finale Art Gallery, shows a number of artists traversing similar object vis-à-vis site tension lines. Among them are Al Cruz with his floor-based installation of twin mirrors, one near empty, the other almost filled with photographs of open windows; and Maria Taniguchi with her paper and linoleum panel boards cut and folded to resemble castle turrets. Notwithstanding my belief that their collective effect on viewers’ mind’s-eyes would have been enhanced or better served by being displayed in more spacious quarters, they ratchet up points for provoking much thought with little means.
The same, however, cannot be said of the less sophisticated objets trouves of Kreskin Sugay whose attempts at salvaging woodwork come across as obtuse and perfunctory affairs. If for anything else, they illustrate the inherently complex terrain being navigated by the avant-garde, in particular the finely tuned confluence of material, aesthetics and space, which keeps progressive works from falling conceptually flat.
That painting had already been declared dead by critics – at least as far as contemporary visual expression is concerned – is by and large refuted in this exhibition. Here, works of striking beauty dominate, with the painstakingly prepared, traditionally layered and varnished, almost photo-realistic top-bottom diptych by Geraldine Javier, depicting bubbles floating in a field of green-brown grass over a richly-detailed (note the flower and leaf patterns embroidered onto the crisp white pillow-case) Flemish-style rendition of what appears to be an aged man in his death bed stealing the show. This is not the first time I have seen and praised, both privately and publicly, this young lady’s work, and, it pleases me to again declare that this erstwhile nurse does not fail to impress.
Other note worthies that merit more than furtive glances are Patricia Perez Eustaquio, whose enigmatically-titled Henrietta left me wondering if the luckless Charles I’s wife, Louis XIV’s sister Henrietta Maria, had anything to do to warrant this curious depiction of what appeared to be a luxuriant cascade of clothes hung in a closet; and Yasmin Sison who surprises with a semi-figurative, fairy-tale-like depiction of gossamer delicacy.
Alvin Villaruel, who is featured in a one-man exhibition at nearby West Gallery, goes to town by bringing New York abstract expressionism to outer space with his turquoise double take on Lowell’s discovery of Pluto. So too does Nona Garcia who remains, hands-down after her Asean Art Awards win, the darling of the contemporary art scene.
I applaud Garcia for not letting success go to her head as she continues to offer very affordable stuff. With the types of work that she has been doing recently however, particularly her installations, I was beginning to feel that the artist was hell bent on setting up satellite hospitals wherever she went!
Happily, this outing shows her putting to rest the wan portraits, cold vitrines, x-rays, wrapped surgical tools, and other medical references to revelation and concealment.
Or does she?
Periscope, literally a pipe abutment through a broken concrete wall, appears to be innocuous and simple enough at first; but take a few steps back and one might even begin to see a picture of a cankerous nipple. An innocent, outwardly aseptic view of reality gone awry, as Garcia is wont to do? Ingenious if you ask me.