From Mayhem to Mystics: The Art of Jaime de Guzman
MANILA, Philippines – Children of the post-EDSA generation who are familiar with modern Philippine art might know prolific masters such as Napoleon Abueva and Ang Kiukok; few, however, would be familiar with Jaime de Guzman—a celebrated painter and ceramic artist whose work had a huge impact on the art scene of the 70s. Forcefully eloquent but elusive and down to earth, Mr. de Guzman has kept a relatively low profile, but the relevance and power of his work has not been forgotten by his patrons, admirers, and friends.
He was part of the CCP's group of “Thirteen Artists:” a group, as the name implies, of thirteen masters whose works were selected as the best and most representative of the local art scene in the year 1970. On March 4, 2015—which happened to be the artist's birthday—the CCP, celebrating its history of supporting Philippine art and artists, opened the exhibit Revelations: A Jaime de Guzman Retrospective, both as a tribute to Mr. de Guzman, and a way of promoting awareness of the pioneers of Philippine art to modern audiences.
The exhibition hall, the opening of which was graced by Mr. de Guzman and four of his children, opens and ends with his four most prolific works: Metamorphosis I, II and III, and Gomburza. The four mural-sized paintings, all completed in 1970, share common features that mirrored both the artist's internal being (which he referred to as his “in-scape”), and the chaos of the world around him. Metamorphosis I, II and III is a series of paintings featuring a humanoid bird-man, reminiscent of the Egyptian god Thoth, whose mutation starts in a bleak, beige desert, ending in a glorious and grotesque transformation, set in a chaotic, dystopian world. Gomburza, a mural inspired by the same trio of heroes to whom Rizal's El Fili was dedicated, features three hooded figures under an ominous, blood-red crucifix and a trinity of skulls.
The work from this era shared common styles and motifs: a macabre expressionism with elements of the occult and the surreal; misty, dark backdrops of black, violet and red, contrasted with bold and vivid strokes of dark blue and gangrenous yellow; images of skulls, shadows, and wild fauna. This was evident in Candlelight Series # 3 – Artist's Table, which featured the image of a skull flanked by two red candles and what could be a jar of blood; his paintings from that period could pass off as illustrations from the works of Aleister Crowley.
The artist, though not politically inclined, mentioned that the Metamorphosis series was inspired by Amado Hernandez' Mga Ibong Mandaragit; it can be imagined that the spirit of his paintings reflected the social and political chaos of that era.
Another work which the members of the press praised was Sabbath of the Witches (1970)—a scene of skeletons devouring a man writhing in pain. Yet another tribute to Rizal, a silhouette of who the artist describes as Elias from El Fili looms eerily in the background. The original sketch of the painting, hastily but thoughtfully scribbled on the back of an invitation from Malacanang (attached under the painting), can be interpreted as an accidental form of artistic dissidence against what was then the prevailing social structure.
Given the retrospective nature of the exhibit, a portion was dedicated to his earlier work. Pieces from the 60s, which included a portrait of the socialite Purita Kalaw, as well as an unnamed model in Lady in Pink, exuded youthfulness and hope, done in an impressionist style.
His break from painting and foray into pottery is also well-represented; on display are unnamed ewers, pots and jars inspired by the stoneware of the North. His love for Philippine myths and mysticism can also be seen in a stoneware panel carved with the image of Malakas and Maganda springing forth from a bamboo plant.
What was most striking, however, was the radical and abrupt change of style undeniably present in his most recent work. His fondness for nature and animals—which he laments is now lacking in artists of the cyber-generation—has taken on a more verdant, lush, and pronounced quality.
Pakulba (1992), which was inspired by a witch doctor from Siquijor, does not instill fear; the artist portrayed the sorcerer as a whimsical figure surrounded by fireflies transforming into stars. Hibas (2012) and Taib (2013) are light, airy seascapes embodied by playful waves and soft shades of pastel blue and white. Unless one would look closely at the ominous shadows of helicopters ready to attack, one would not think of Patikul (1999)—another seascape featuring an unknown town with golden sand, orange clouds and a bright moon—as a commentary on the war in Mindanao.
We can only assume that the mellowing which comes with age, or the idyllic and calm surroundings of his residence in Candelaria, Quezon, have changed his style and disposition; the morbid images of the past are now spiritual symbols hinting at a certain elevation of consciousness.
Tucked in a remote corner of the hall are his two most recent works—Venus Between Heartbeats, a drawing of the morning star between what seem to be two red cliffs. Upon closer inspection, the two mountains are actually the spikes of the artist's ECG monitor. This clever imposition of different images represent, according to the artist, the connection between a person's internal existence, and the greater cosmos.
Perhaps most unique among his works is Quaternity (2014) – a ruby road on top of the deep blue sea, going off to a golden, blazing sunrise, which is a somewhat Jungian representation of the evolution of consciousness, and a symbol of the culmination of a life dedicated to art.
Revelations: A Jaime de Guzman Perspective will be open until April 26, 2015 in the CCP Main Gallery.
