Malang: A Legacy of Art

Spending an afternoon with Mauro Malang Santos is like whiling the time away with a roguish white-haired uncle. Despite the presence of easels and murals that carry the totemic power of the Malang signature, one is put at ease because of the sheer forthrightness and amiable nature of the man. Rather than come across as an intimidating irascible presence, Malang has taken the route of least resistance, letting his comments fly and land where they may. While some may have misunderstood or taken offence, Malang knows that as a concerned contemporary Filipino artist of stature, it behooves him to say his piece and keep at it, come what may.

Working as a cartoonist at the now defunct Manila Chronicle, it was Malang’s good fortune that the people surrounding him were the types from whom he picked up valuable lessons and allowed him, by "osmosis and intuition", to make the leap to artist.

"I even remember the days when we’d go to Bulacan and look for Botong Francisco," he recounts. "We’d spend the afternoon with him, just to get him to produce a work that we’d use as cover for our Sunday magazine. The hard to believe thing is we’d pay him 35 pesos, and after using it for the cover, it’d just lie around the office before someone would pick it up."

Blessed with four children, of whom two sons (Steve and Soler) have followed in his footsteps (or brushstrokes), Malang can now boast of having spawned two generations of artists: three grandchildren–Marc Ruiz, Isabel and Carina Santos–are also taking after Tatay (in the Santos family, "Tatay" can only refer to one person).

"I can’t really explain it. My wife would always want the newborn grandchildren to come live with us and that’s the way it’s been, all under one roof. It actually surprised me when Steve and Soler decided to be artists. In fact, with Steve, I had to sit him down and explain how he had to develop his own style, as his first paintings were very much in my style. Kawawa naman kaming dalawa if he continued in that vein.

"Mind you, I did not teach them or push them. They learned under Fernando Sena. I never had any formal education and only encouraged them to take a Fine Arts degree if they really wanted to pursue art as a profession. I have the same attitude with the grandchildren. While it’s flattering to see them pick up the brush, I remind them that the dedication, the passion, demands a lot and they can’t lose sight of how they also have to be able to fall back on careers that will be more dependable for income. It can’t be that just because of art, magugutom ka."

Soler recalls, "In truth, Tatang was always supportive. Even if he was not the one instructing us, he would buy us frames, art materials whenever the opportunity arose. His very prolific output stems from his discipline and he would take pains to instill that in us. This discipline becomes habit if developed and we love to joke and point out to him how it spreads into the rest of his life. For example, when we’re abroad and he’s alone here in Manila, without fail, he’ll have breakfast at the McDonald’s on Quezon Avenue. "

Talking about the current artistic environment, Malang avers, "Artists today are a luckier bunch. There’s a buying public that’s developed, something that didn’t really exist when I was starting. I know there are up’s and down’s to this market and we happen to be in a down period right now, but the market does exist, the galleries are there, and there is consistent interest as there never was before."

In this flourishing "garden", however. Malang notes "snakes in the grass"–the fakes that abound, the forgers who create them, and the monetary imperative that makes the "sellers (whether private individuals or establishments) persist in passing off these insults to the integrity of artists everywhere".

"Put simply," he explains, "if some bank placed a painting of Luna in their lobby or gallery and opened it to the public, I’d be very insulted if my grandchild would go to view it and it turned out the painting was a fake! When the market grew exponentially, it provided golden opportunities for the unscrupulous to cash in. It’s for the safe-guarding of the public and for the protection of the artists that I raised my voice. If some people got hurt in the process or felt alluded to, all I can say is ‘Sorry!’" And with a sheepish grin that’s vintage Malang, you know the smile and disarming manner are mere façade for a position and sentiment he takes very seriously.

A few years back, Malang became the bee in the bonnet of the genteel local artist’s community when he dished out some choice words about the private Luna collection of one collector. I wondered whether, looking back, Malang now has misgivings about the comments he made or feels that he had been misunderstood. "No. I don’t mind talking about it. I never said categorically that they were fake. These Lunas were being written about in books...and as the public was not being given a chance to view them or even have ‘experts’ examine them, I was simply stating they could be of dubious origin. What’s to stop any individual from hoisting any painting on the public and the market and claiming they were done by this or that artist? You can’t just rely on one’s reputation or standing in society. It’s easy enough to replicate the style of the established Masters; without the provenance being suitably established and authenticated, we’re leaving ourselves open to be victimized. Look what’s happened: nowadays, when I move a painting it’s not unusual for the gallery or buyer to ask me to pose with the painting for a photograph. It’s like the photograph is their way of proving that I acknowledge the painting as my own!

"Even the established international auction houses like Christie’s and Sotheby’s have had fakes pass under their noses, despite the tests they undertake before accepting a painting. With the money that’s involved, is it any wonder that someone will try to take advantage? Let’s face the facts–these two are auction houses; their core business is not collecting or authenticating, but making money off the transfer. What really scared me was how people would use the fact that this or that painting had been accepted by either of these houses as authentication in itself. Nevermind if these paintings were never sold through these houses! I’ve pushed for our lawmakers to pass laws that would help safeguard the artists and buyers, but it seems the voice of the ‘artists’ vote’ is a mere whisper, of not much weight." With a twinkle in his eyes, he adds, "Perhaps the fake artists’ vote has more weight!"

The interest in Philippine art reached its zenith a few years back, spearheaded by the sales of the likes of Amorsolo and Anita Magsaysay-Ho. While Malang fully encourages such interest and knows that what’s good for one or two artists can only redound to the benefit of all Filipino artists, he laments the fact that there still is no internationally recognized concept of Philippine art, as there is Balinese or Japanese art.

The 1940s and 50s would have to be considered as something of a Golden Era in terms of the artists who were producing at the time– Zobel, Manansala, Legaspi, Magsaysay-Ho, Ang Kiukok. Another inescapable sad fact is that we have not had a proliferation of such artists since then.

Prodded to mention names of contemporary young artists who may have a chance of making waves abroad, Malang smiled, "Jojo Legaspi is making noise; but as his paintings shock and disturb, I don’t see him becoming very popular for our local market. In the United States, there’s a Manuel Ocampo, married to an American; he’s making the rounds of the galleries there. Locally, there’s the Saling Pusa group of artists, championed by the likes of Dr. Cuanang who owns the Boston Gallery. In fact, the running joke is that the Pusas are now Tigres, as there’s a second batch that’s referred to as the new Saling Pusa group."

Pointing out that unlike such countries as France or Vietnam, there is no Ministry of Culture here. I asked Malang what hopes there were for a Filipino artist to gain global acclaim. "Difficult! There just isn’t enough support from the government. If we have to depend on private corporations, the support comes in trickles. Generally, they’re more interested in basketball teams or fashion shows and beauty pageants. Back then, it was the Zobels bringing Amorsolo to Europe and showing them how the special nature of Filipino sunlight imbued his paintings with something unique and allowed for some ground to be made. At this point, with the lack of support we get, it would really have to be the efforts of individuals to sponsor or expose a Filipino artist abroad that would help pave the way."

While an afternoon with the Master is far from enough, given his highly entertaining and opinionated personality, there was one anecdote that exemplified the artist’s predicament and Malang’s response to it. We were talking about commissioned work, and whether the integrity of the artistic process can be compromised by the commercial nature of the transaction.

"There was a bank that once approached me for a mural that would adorn their main hall. When we were discussing the painting, one of the directors mentioned that he’d like the mural to have the banking business as a motif for the work. I laughed and told him that if I knew anything about banking, I wouldn’t be a painter and we wouldn’t be there talking about a painting!"

And that pretty much sums up the Malang philosophy of being true to oneself.