Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Dabawenyo artist represents RP in int'l art fellowship
COUNTLESS visual artists have come down from history. Most of them died virtually unknown. Many were barely remembered. Some of them became famous during or after their lifetimes. Few were immortalized. Among them, lesser still were those who were versatile.
One such kind of an artist who believes that the Cosmic Soul-mill did not stop creating artists in the likeness of William Blake, John Ruskin, Dante Gabriel Rosetti, Jose Rizal, and Andre Breton is Phillip Somozo. This article is about myself.
Artists are the most self-centered individuals in society. This is quite obvious among performers during performances and visual artists during exhibitions.
Beyond that, they extend their egocentrism by purposely displaying their brands of eccentricities wherever people are. So they may not have to talk themselves all the time into other people's attention, some wear fashion either fascinating or ridiculous. My teacher, the late Ibarra de la Rosa, for example, pierced his ears each time he held solo exhibit and wove a string of colorful beads up through the slits. He too popularized wearing of t-shirts inside and out, signifying what is inside of him is what you perceive on the outside-unity of the internal and external selves, in other words.
I have heard of another artist who wore underwear on his head while going to the shopping mall. Give or take a lunatic or two, the sight of artists expounding universal truths provide a worthy diversion from the humdrum of common folks, such as raucous religious fundamentalists and querulous political oppositors.
Among artists, though, uncommon that they are, is a strain rare than the rest. Such is the solitary type. He who recedes among the shadows while the many race for the limelight. When everybody talks, he is silent. When he speaks, others listen. They seek his company; but only when he seeks theirs that his association is enjoyed. And when he does so, the deserving are benefited.
My moral courage to write about myself, stems not from extraordinary accomplishment for I have none, but simply because I can do it best. Four years ago, as I modestly circulated in Davao's art community, I became aware of a growing number of homegrown talents who have either won prizes or gained recognition as finalists in the international art competitions they joined in. Mostly his or her accomplishments go unnoticed because nobody put such in context the significance of their achievements in the evolution of local art. On the other hand, many others of lesser caliber enjoyed the public's interest via media hype. No doubt there are better writers, critics, and flatterers than I am, but they seem too busy with their scrapbooks to see beyond the purview of their magnifying lenses.
For the above reason, I sacrificed a chunk of time I allotted to visual arts, dropped the brush on paint thinner in-between canvases, and tapped on computer keys to narrate my fellow artists' stories. I examined their victories like layers of paint that hide the mystery, anguish, oppression, anger, struggle, and sheer determination behind every masterpiece. Finally, their stories emerged, saw print, and gave fresher meaning to the word "artist" -- a meaning accentuated with integrity and excellence.
The following three years, I wrote dozens of feature stories, press releases, artist profiles, statements, critiques, letters, concepts, proposals, and a manifesto for my fellow artists, sometimes for a nominal fee, but mostly for free. So fired up I was in the process that I worked on sleepless nights to feed deprived egos. In the end, my computer unit broke down. Good that my wife allowed me to use her office laptop.
The momentum of these efforts peaked last February 6 when I stood in front of an American consular officer for interview concerning my application for a non-immigrant visa. I saw him peruse the bunch of feature stories I gave, and heard him say both declaratively and interrogatively, "So you are a visual artist who writes about other artists?" he said. After my brief affirmation, he softly commented "very unselfish." Moments later, he handed me a yellow sheet, signifying my visa's approval. He did not even mind the leanness of my bank account! If the reader knows the rigors of acquiring a US visa, and considering I don't have strong financial ties, he will regard the approval of my application as an accomplishment.
To me, my US visa is relevant because with it I would be able to represent the country in an international art fellowship in Vermont, USA, on March 5 to 31. It also confirmed to my mind the credibility of the institution that invited me: the Vermont Studio Center in Johnson, Vermont, USA.
I have always considered myself not a very good artist, but when VSC, through program director Kathy Black, wrote the American Consul that I have been invited "based on the merits of (my submitted) art portfolio," and with the consular office conforming by granting me a visa, I felt closer to my true self. The VSC, after all, is an award-winning artist facility that supports the making of "art as the communication of spirit through form." In the words of founder Jonathan Gregg, "As the country's largest artist's community, VSC selects 52 artists and writers as Residents each month, representing an international mix of media, experience, ages, nationalities, and cultures, to offer a wide range of exchanges with fellow professional peers, as well as interaction with seven distinguished Visiting Artists and Writers per month."
My representation to the international art community in Vermont as Filipino artist is not official. It is coincidental: a product of directed hard work for my part and goodwill from my sponsors. Neither am I the first Filipino to participate in it. Nevertheless, there is formality to it because I pledged I will complete the VSC residency in a way that will bring honor to my country as mandated by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, whose travel grant awarded to me will pay for my roundtrip ticket to the US.
Knowing that many Filipino visual artists have migrated to rich countries, would I be proud to represent the Philippines? Being a Third World artist should never be a disadvantage to the Filipino. On the contrary, our tropical country is very rich in natural colors, while Filipino social life teems with interesting subjects. Above that, I believe in the universality of Art, one's talent being a miniscule potency received from the Supreme Artist. Thus, by harnessing that potency, the artist could assimilate god-like characteristics. True-blooded artists should be granted World Citizenship because, like eagles who are Nature's balance indicator, they are society's cultural compass, deserving to be protected and their genetic continuity assured.
The Philippines suffers from negative publicity relating to political instability, corruption, and terrorism because of factors that are beyond our immediate control as individuals. Every Filipino, however, at the very least, can exercise integrity and pursue excellence at the individual level. Remember, one poor schoolgirl in Manila accidentally picked up a lost clutch bag filled with money, had it returned to its rightful owner, and taught the leaders of this greed-torn world not to possess what is not yours. Poverty did all but emphasize her integrity.
For Bisaya stories from Davao. Click here. (February 22, 2006 issue)
Write letter to the editor.Click here.
Join the Sun.Star message board.Click here. |
