Tension

My friend, Jonah, visited me last summer. She stayed here in Cebu for a week and we had the chance to catch up. She commissioned me for a painting, like the first one I sold. Given her time schedule, I told her I can't make one at the drop of a hat. I promised her next time she visits, I would make one for her. 

When she returned to Canada, Jonah told me her friend is going home to Cebu and would be back in August. If my schedule allows, she commissioned me for a female nude painting as a surprise for her girlfriend. 

Jonah has been one of my few friends since high school. I couldn't really say no to her. June came, I racked my brains for inspiration while arranging the transfer of my parents back to Gensan. July was ushered in, the inspiration still eluded me. When July was about to end, and news from home start to become ominous, adrenaline kicked in.

Tension

I delivered this piece to Jonah's friend, an hour before she headed to the airport. Two days later, Jonah gave this to the special woman in her life. This was received with love and fondness. 

As for me, this is my first painting to cross the Canadian border.

Not A Fluke At All

Broken Echo

If I am going to view my life as a silent movie, it wouldn't be mostly a happy reel. A lot of the scenes would be lonely and depressing.

But if I am going to open my mind and take the time to really look at each scene, I realized the universe has been kind to me.

If I am going to count the achievements I hold dearest,

• consistent honor student from grade school to high school
• graduated with honors
• ranked third in the licensure examination for chemists
• sold a painting during the first exhibit I joined
• finding the love of my life (coming soon)

I realized that these are opportunities (except the last one, because it still has to happen) to grow. When call to mind, it should bring a proud beam on my face instead of a shy smile, downplaying my achievements. These actions are not acts of humility at all, but veiled ungratefulness.

What came to me each time someone recalls my achievements is that those moments are a fluke; that they are gifts from the gods I don't deserve. I think it's the right time to acknowledge to myself that I deserve them; that I am great at something. 

Fields

When two out of my three paintings were sold last month, I took it as an affirmation that the first painting I sold wasn't a fluke at all. Since I was a kid, I have been doing art: using up all my grade school pads for sketching, driving my mother nuts with all my chalk drawings on the walls and decorating the boards in my high school. I am really good at this. I am not a master (for it takes a lifetime to be that) but I know I have an opportunity here to grow, and I am going to see to it that I will.

Confining Chaos

This is the last abstract I made before 2013 ended. Just like any December of the past years, my mind took a dive into a chaos mode. My only resort is to confine, albeit poorly, the turmoil within.  Now that we are halfway of the first month of the new year, it is my fervent hope that I will be able to successfully soothe the little child within.

In Between

acrylic on 9" by 12" Canson watercolor paper

Fiery Mirage

acrylic on 9" by 12" Canson watercolor paper

Let me know your thoughts. Leave your comments below. Thanks.

Second Chances

There is a story behind this piece (well, a lot of my pieces are). But this one is a classic example of if-it-doesn't-work-the-first-time-set-it-aside-and -get-back-to-it-later.

I started the green background a year ago. It was one of my attempts to create an abstract piece that appears more spontaneous and less structured. This was painted on a 12" by 18" Canson watercolor paper. However, I realized 30 minutes after, that the piece is not going to work. It lacked structure (what I'm attempting for in the first place) and direction as well. At some point, one part of the piece looked like a gay Lochness monster (no offense to the LGBT group). Since the work was going nowhere, the painting was set aside and waited until my mind finds clarity to decide on what to do next.

A year later, I revisited the painting. I cut the piece into two, figuring that each part can survive alone. A technique has been playing on my mind before the semestral break and I'd like to try it out. The portion which has the Lochness monster didn't survive. Surprisingly, the technique worked well on the other portion, which is the one above.

There are still other pieces waiting for my attention. I hope to get back to them one day and they will be given proper time under the sun, just like this abstract art I called Second Chances.

Timorous Faith

                            Medium: Acrylic

                            Paper:  9" by 12" Canson watercolor paper

I am interested what you think of this second abstract I made. Kindly leave your comments below. Thanks.

Dexter's Madness

Last September, one of my favorite TV series, Dexter, had just ended. Its ending may not appeal to everyone but it bears some rumination. For one, the famous TV serial killer didn't die and was not killed by lethal injection. Instead, he staged his own death to pave self-exile from the people he loves dearly. The absence of intrapersonal communication and hallucinations of Harry magnified the impact of his self-exile. These acts are his way of self-examination that prevents him from giving in fully to his dark passenger.

The audience would expectantly clamor for justice to be served. Death by lethal would be appropriate for Dexter. But death itself, is liberation.

Dexter chose the punishment he deserves; a desolate life fit for the dead. For a living person, that is worse than death.

As I dabble in abstract art, this piece, I called Dexter's Madness, is my tribute to the end of the famous TV serial killer.

Studying Men at 33

Reticence

After immersing myself in a hot tub for the past months, I decided to take up another goal in my figure drawing. This time, I am going to learn how to draw a male figure. I have started doing this in small scale last Christmas. It was only recently that I found the time to make one in a  bigger scale. 

The image above is an example of a figure study. Artists used this to learn techniques on how to draw and paint  human figures. This is usually done with a live model and preferably, nude. However, as I am not yet confident to draw a live male model, I decided to use images from books as references. Once I have gained mastery, I could ask someone to pose for me. 

Just like the previous art pieces I made, your suggestions and constructive criticisms are very much welcome and appreciated. Kindly leave them in the Comment section below. Don't be shy! :)

Burning in the Dark

9'' x 12"  acrylic on water color paper

I am interested to hear your thoughts. Kindly leave your comments on the box below. Thanks. :)

Wishes On Copper

For the past weeks, I have been struggling on getting inspired. I felt that the muse who has driven me to create had finally left the building. Much as I want to 'let loose' or 'let art unfold before me', the results would always be a bizarre combinations of lines and colors, which I might on as abstract. But who am I kidding? Abstract isn't just a mixture of colors and lines. There should be harmony that emulsifies those two. 

One Sunday, I passed by the paints section of National Bookstore and saw tubes of copper paint. Interesting. That color would look good on a man's figure. Think..copper-skinned man. Yum! So, I bought a tube. Then beside it, I saw a bronze paint! Think...a bronze-skinned man. Somebody turned on the AC! I included the bronze paint in my cart and passed the books of Fifty Shades of...I could make my own version of it one day. Inspiration..don't leave me yet!

Excited with my find, I went straight to work. I drew a man's figure on a watercolor paper. However, the paints don't seem to  work well with the paper. Let's talk about affinity and polarity. They just don't stick. Yeah, I was disheartened and set them aside for awhile.

Last weekend, I decided to get my hands paint-dirty. My plan was to get to know the paints. I primed the paper with titanium white (no time for a gesso) and applied the copper on it afterwards. The sun came out...it's working! I continued covering the whole paper with copper and observed how it blends. Then I made simple balloon drawings, using medium yellow. Mars black did the shadows. 

The results..Ta da!

This weekend, I'll try out the bronze paint. Who knows, I might be able to get my own version of Fifty Shades with my man, Pete. 

Gash from the Past

Each time I see a little child crying or throwing a tantrum, I often wonder what he/she turns out into after 10 years or so.When a mother humiliates her child in public physically or verbally, it gives me a sense of foreboding of what a parent this child will become.

I grew up fast. I was still a kindergarten but I know a boy can fall in love with a girl. I understand that a girl has to maintain a sense of propriety and a boy should not cross such boundary. My high school friends (and I have only a few) would often ask me what college is about when I haven't been there myself, just like them. I always have this air of maturity beyond my age, accompanied by a sense of weirdness and aloofness.

Oftentimes, I found myself outside looking in, that I decided to venture into a journey of self-instrospection. In this journey, I came across a lot of books and one of these is written by a clinical psychologist Oliver James entitled They F*** You Up How to Survive Family Life. It detailed, complete with examples, how a damaged childhood can affect the behavior and perspective of an adult. The younger the child endured an abuse, the more difficult a child can recover from such that he/she tends to repress the emotional pains. However, like an overflowing dam, the repressed emotions have to surge out in the form of anger, insecurities, skewed perspectives, misplaced values and such.

Though fictional, let me cite one of my favorite TV series Dexter as an example. Dexter Morgan is a Miami Police blood spatter pattern analyst. Unfortunately, he is also a serial killer and his need to kill is referred as his dark passenger. This need can be traced back when he was 3 years and found in a pool of his mother's blood, after watching his mother's violent murder.

It may be fictional but fiction has factual basis.

Fresh pains can be one of the outlets of these repressed emotions. It is like a new open wound over old scars and there you can see a tiny child peeking from the past, in the hope of being seen, comforted in her grief and reassured that there is a place for her in your present and future.

A Weekend Mix

Most of my works were mostly done by charcoal, watercolor, and acrylic. I hadn't done anything that mixes different media. Inspired by an Indian artist, Ajay De whom I have read over a copy of Reader's Digest, I decided to use acrylic paints and charcoal in my piece.

I was thinking of what could be my possible subject when it dawned on me that I haven't made a follow-up on my post A Preview to Nude Art. This would also be an opportunity for me to practice on my figure drawing, particularly on my proportion problem. 

It helps that a lot of fine art nude photography websites are available today. I scouted for my subject that I could draw and incorporate a part of  my concept in it. I decided to choose a photo entitled Apples by Imants Silkans (Kindly click on the name to direct you to the website.) done in black and white.

During the whole weekend, I labored on this piece. The best part was doing the charcoal. Before, I used a torchon or a spreader to disperse the charcoal and create interesting shadows. Now, I used my hands! They got dirty; like charcoal powders were found underneath my nails but it was so much fun! When using hands, powderize first the charcoal before applying and spreading it on paper.

And now, here it is:

A Phantom in my Slumber

As each element was added, a piece of me was taken as well. Yet, when I looked at the progress I made and now, its finished look, I feel happy and light. Something that I would carry with me as I start another week and face another challenges at work.

Mangoes for A Client

Months ago, a woman saw my portfolio of paintings and sketches. I can see that she was pleased that she asked me to do a still-life painting of a mango fruit. She planned to hang the piece in her dining room. I agreed. She had some specifications, though.

One, there should be leaves. Done.

Two, it should be a yellow mango. (Yellow is her favorite color, next to brown.) Well, one of the mangoes is yellow. Plus, the green tinge of the other two can be attributed to shadows and reflections.

Three, there should be water droplets. Now, I'll be damned. I missed this lesson in my art class.

So, I presented her this painting last weekend.

My client looked at it closely. She was silent for awhile; her husband piped in that they looked like sour mangoes. I told him that it was just the shadows.

Then, the woman asked for the water droplets. I told her I missed learning that in class and I don't want to ruin my shadows on my mangoes (which I have laboriously figured out! accompanied with dramatic flick of hands!). And as a consolation, if she's still interested to get my services, the water droplets will soon follow.  

Next she asked, "Why blue? Why not white?" I replied that blue brings out the yellow color. Her favorite."

So the woman said, with no ecstatic babble, "Thank you. I am happy."

And I let out a deep breath. Ha!

That certainly went like an oral examination. But I can afford an argument with her for this woman has been my constant client since I was a kid: MY MOTHER. 

As much as she loves to critique my works, Mama used to display my art at home and showed it off to visitors. Unlike my Dad who describes me like a big star, she keeps it simple and humble. And on her 70th birthday, this piece on mangoes will go, as planned, to our dining room where most people convene, on ordinary and special days.

Happy birthday, Ma. This isn't really a medal or an award. But I am giving you a fruit of what I love most to do. 

Uncertain

My piece called Inner Passion had generated interesting comments from people. They have seen a number of images out of an abstract piece. One said the piece looked like the sun while another said, it looked like a navel. My three good friends unanimously said, it reminded them of a woman's breast. (and no more on which particular part.) 

These comments inspired me to create another abstract piece. It took me the whole summer to finish this due to  work and other responsibilities. Interestingly, when I started taking its photos for this post, I realized that a variation in its layout may also evoke a different interpretation.

I planned to entitle this as Catharsis. Now, I am no longer certain what its name, as I am overwhelmed on which layout I like more. Maybe, this is the allure of abstract art that have drawn artists. I can now see the freedom it bestows. There is no exact ending. Each line takes you to a different dimension. Each brush stroke unveils a new part of you. 

For a control freak like me, it can be overwhelming but surprisingly, it can be liberating at the same time. 

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Now, I am very much interested on what you think about the piece. Don't worry, I have meager psychology background so I won't be psychoanalyzing your comments. It will be fun, reading your interpretation on the piece at the comment section.  

Inner Passion

Some people are born in the light while some first saw darkness. While people use light to reach their destination, some people grope in the dark, looking for that beacon; to find reason for their mere existence.

Darkness sows fear. The shadows inspire weakness. And the weary traveller latches on the next mortal, sucking them dry like a vampire to its prey.

But the beacon has never been hidden behind the far horizon. It is secreted within the soul. We call this passion.

When given the right amount of time and nurture, the passion inside will burst into life, dispelling the darkness within.

This time, fear no longer holds power. Shadows reveal fellow travellers.

Hold on to that passion, then and do not lose it. Once it has taken root, one does not have to justify his existence. We only have to live the life we are gifted with.

A Wise Leafless Tree

My cousin, Hera, asked me to draw this piece for a wedding she organized. My staunch ally, she has been excited when I told her I am dirtying my hands with paints and graphite.

Her request is a great timing for I have been planning to draw trees. It must be my activist response to the subtle denudation around me or an effect of my Sunday sojourn to feed the mice. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure to start painting this living wood.

The university is rich with different variety of trees. Every morning, I enjoyed looking at the verdant foliage that looks like velvet. It is quite fascinating to any artistic eye to watch the playful sunlight as it teasingly kissed the leaves. However, only very few, including my friend Leonore, will be fascinated at the wizened leafless trees.

But there is a lesson or two to be learned from trees bared with its verdant crown.  Amidst the beating of the sun and lush beauty around it, the leafless tree stood its ground, with humility and grace. When people scarcely look at it except in dire need of firewood, its hands continue to reach out to the azure sky, proud of its dried and cracked branches.

When I almost reach the end of the road and I have cataract on my eyes, hemorrhoids in my ass, wrinkles on my face, varicose veins in my legs and arthritis every cold night, will I be able to reach out with grace, humlity and pride like the leafless tree? Or will I live the rest of my life, eaten with despair and grief of pains I can’t let go?

A lesson from the leafless tree. Ring!

Color Dilemma

Picture this in mind: A man breezing through the hallway in white pants and shoes and blue dress shirt. I must admit I have seen a man like this before and I know him. Can’t believe he was wearing a Christmas green polo shirt and a golden brown corduroy pants with brown sandals (and navy blue socks showing) while clutching a black bag ten years ago.

True, colors can be intimidating.  My good friend, Ising, would spend a good amount of time to plan her wardrobe for the whole week. From the color combination of the clothes down to the accessories to be used.
It is understandable for who’d want to be  the topic in a conversation of two individuals you don’t even know.

“Unsa man na iyang  gisul-ob uy? Green na gani ang blouse, green pa jud ang slacks.”


“ Murag sagbot sa kadalanan.”


When I first dipped my brush in acrylic paints, I was definitely intimidated. For one, I didn’t understand Andreas’s instructions. Then, my meager knowledge on color harmony has seemingly dissolved in acrylic. It’s no wonder I got this as a result:

A work of art a Kindergarten can very well improve. I could still see the hard look Andreas gave to my piece, trying to come up with a suggestion to save my work.

But on the second try, my meager knowledge on harmony has recrystallized out from the acrylic medium. Some of my teacher’s instruction was becoming clearer to me as I got used to his accent. I made this piece before I called it a night.

This may look like another poor attempt to abstract but I initially planned to make this look like a ribbon. Then as the night went on, it became an eagle then a snake. As of now, I don’t know what this is but it gave me confidence to try my luck  at home.

This led me to this piece.

Photo by Joel R. Locaylocay

I can think of a lot of reason why this is not good. For one, the paper was not suitable for wet techniques as it wrinkled due to excess water. There is too much blue and I was afraid I would lose all my paints (It does show I am still greenhorn to this! )

Nevertheless, I passed the first stage of acrylic painting. It may be a low-pass, but still, it is a PASS.

A Woman, Unchained*

Just as wars have been waged continuously in the history of mankind, abuses of women have been rampant in all races around the world. Even though , it is a woman’s hand that rocks the cradle, another chain binds the other.

I have personally witnessed different forms of abuse suffered stoically by women. I saw a woman whose voice is not heard by her own husband, a woman betrayed by her husband for a prostitute, and a woman whose tears flow at night as she suffers the body pains given to her husband because of an unfounded jealousy.

I know of a pregnant woman whose marriage she decided to end to protect her child from an abusive junkie, whose love she had blindly trusted.

I saw a girl abused by her own grandfather, who grew into an aloof woman whose pains she carefully hid inside. I know of an orphaned girl whose innocence was shattered by her own uncle.

I saw another girl who is tortured and belittled by her own mother.

These are just a few of the abuses women had suffered. However, it is not the form of abuse that shackled these women for life. It is the self-belief that they deserve the anguish. For if one has suffered such torment, one is bound to believe they deserve it.

Photo by Joel R. Locaylocay

And so this work of art is dedicated to ALL WOMEN who decided to free themselves from the crippling abuse and believe steadfastly that they, too, deserve the fullness of life.

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This work of art is the project I had submitted during the culmination exhibit in my art class, on July 9, 2011. It was done on acrylic on a 24 cm  x 30 cm  triple gesso canvas. Surprisingly, this painting had caught the eye of the grandfather of my classmate, Stian. 

*The title of the painting was given by Mark Gary, the renowned film maker of Sandalang Bahay and Hubad. 

I miss this painting, spent several days on this. Thanks to Pareng Jotay for taking a photo of this woman before the exhibit. A wonderful piece of art, now a memory I would keep close to my heart (it has rhymed!).