The experience was indulged in only last Thursday. But I knew I had to report the happenstance immediately, and have thus decided to defer a couple of book reviews in the making.
Well, this will also serve as a book review in part, thanks to the gift received that night from our old buddy Chuckie from our San Juan days in the ’60s and ’70s. But first let me recount how I serendipitously stumbled upon the amazing collection.
It was a call from Atty. Ato Callanta that started it all. Our common friend Salvador "Dodong" Arellano, the world-class equine painter based in Glendale, California, had urged him to get together with me for a possible project of note. Dodong and Chuckie are cousins, sons of great architects, and both beholden to art.
Dodong’s exquisite watercolor renditions of horses and game fowl, not to mention nudes, have long established him as an artists’ artist, and a collectors’ favorite. His equine portraiture has led to his official adoption as the resident artist of the Santa Barbara Polo Club, inclusion in the prestigious Armand Hammer gallery-museum, as well as the collections of such global notables as Prince Charles, Sultan Bolkiah of Brunei and Sylvester Stallone.
Now and then he deigns to come home for a special one-night visit exhibit-sale, the last held a couple of years ago at Greg and Irene Araneta’s residence. And local patrons make sure to buy out all his works, and/or commission him further for portraits. These include Danding and Gretchen Cojuangco, Ma. Clara Lobregat, Melo Santiago, Cip Roxas and Chuckie Arellano and Ato Callanta themselves.
Clearly, Salvador Arellano bids fair to become a great heir to his father Juan Arellano, himself a collector’s painter, albeit better known as the master architect behind some of our most cherished buildings such as the Post Office and the Metropolitan Theater in Manila.
In turn, Chuckie’s father was Otilio Arellano, who designed the structures for the World’s Fair held in Manila in the early ’50s, and was instrumental in the design and architectural initiatives behind the eventual construction of the Pinaglabanan Shrine in San Juan. Chuckie’s younger sister Agnes, herself a noted sculptor, had set up the legendary Pinaglabanan Galleries at the site of their ancestral home on what was then Tuberias St., fronting the Ejercito manse.
Chuckie’s and Dodong’s grandfather Arcadio Arellano was Manila’s first licensed architect, while another forebear, Deodato Arellano, shines in history books as a co-founder of the Katipunan.
E-mail correspondence with Dodong over the past year has led to a pet project. This painter, after all, also wields a superb pen. I’ve known it for some time, but it grew more evident when I asked him to contribute a mini-memoir to a coffee-table book on San Juan that I’ve been working on. His essay brought back my own saccharine memories of teen-age times spent in Juan Arellano’s villa on P. Guevara Ave., where we often had chill-out sessions right in the studio where Dodong’s and his brother (my gangmate) Toto’s late great father had hung up a hundred or so paintings that would grow in value over the decades.
Dodong’s essay-writing efforts, inclusive of his countless revisions, soon had me crying uncle. You gotta decide when to stop! I hollered through the Internet. Tama na! Maganda na!
But it seems the exercise awakened a literary beast in my old friend. Soon I was receiving pieces of short fiction, of the erotic variety. I encouraged him on, until we found ourselves with half-a-dozen scintillating pieces in English, some with Taglish dialogue between amorous couples. And that was when we conceived of a book that would marry his erotic prose with his exquisite nudes.
So that’s why Atty. Ato and I had to pay Chuckie a visit, primarily to check out the Salvador Arellano nudes, in watercolor as well as oils and pastel, among Carlos Arellano’s collection, which I knew to have been expanding considerably since he started acquiring modest pieces of art from upcoming artists all of 30-some years ago, when he was still connected with Far East Bank and Trust Company or FEBTC. In fact it was Chuckie who had initiated the bank’s own art acquisition program.
The last time Chuckie had served Johnny Blue to this friendly guzzler was over two years ago, when Dodong and I paid him a surprise midnight visit. I had then noted with appreciation the growing collection highlighted by particularly superb artworks in his muscular den. I recall some large, glass-encased works by Rafael Pacheco (finger paintings of fishes), an admirable Justin "Tiny" Nuyda, a couple of Prudencio Lamarrozas, Dodong Arellano nudes and horses, and of course some vintage collectibles, among them by Juan Arellano, Fernando Amorsolo and Victorio Edades.
But I was not prepared to be overwhelmed by what I saw last Thursday night, in Chuckie’s new digs in the same village, where his sister Agnes has her own inestimable artworks, mostly sculpture, displayed in her gardens, and where Odette Alcantara still provides a fine haven for artists and artworks of all variety. Come to think of it, Blue Ridge must now take pride of place in hosting the most splendid collections of contemporary Philippine art within its gated confines.
I arrived later than Ato and was guided through what looked like a simple carport, except that the garage walls, and ceilings(!), were covered by paintings to make it look like a White Plains art gallery.
In a capacious den, Chuckie and Ato had started sipping glasses of red wine, with a large plate filled with all sorts of cheesecake and mousse slices set between them on the glass table. I was to learn later that the delectables, not exactly proper pulutan or finger food, were all sugar-free.
Following vigorous handshakes, I looked around before I took my seat, and was pleasantly impressed by the sight of dozens of paintings filling up all the walls, all the way up to where an obvious loft offered a glass partition overlooking our table setting.
Chuckie explained that he had to have the loft built to serve as his personal quarters during his convalescent period after a kidney transplant over a year ago. For at least six months he had to confine himself up there behind the glass, wary of social contact on account of his weakened immune system. But the loft and the glass window, plus I suppose an intercom system, allowed him to literally overlook, and engage in conversation with, his family over meals, or with friends and associates.
He toured us up the loft, which had a score of paintings, then through hallways and other rooms which all comprised such an abundance of art. So that’s why, I said, you had to have that recent coffee-table art book done by Manny Duldulao, which I had heard about.
Chuckie smiled and asked an assistant to produce two copies which he had obviously prepared upon hearing of our impending drop-in, as the books already had penned dedications. Of course I thrilled to my copy: "To Krip: I’ve always considered it an honor to have a great man -— of letters and art -— like you as a very close friend of the Arellanos. Sincerely, Chuckie"
Well, that’s how close I’ve been to this gifted clan alright, as to allow mutual fulsome backslapping, often attended by sly winks and give-it-all-away grins.
The next hour would have been a delight to any videographer or art critic or any aficionado. At the back of the residence, which is still a-building, was a hangar-like structure normally associated with extensive carports. There too hung scores of large canvases, led off by those bird paintings that used to be displayed at the El Botin resto at Eastwood.
Chuckie said he had replaced those recently with some of his elegant erotic paintings; read: nudes. More and more we encountered the genre throughout the residence, even as we had to ascend up to four floors at a certain section of the improvised building.
In the master bedroom was a large oil by Larry Memjie titled "Deodato Arellano Residence," with the Katipunan co-founder shown peering out of the second-story front window. There too was a magnificent large multi-media work by Manuel Baldemor, titled "Bran Castle, Transylvania."
A room was devoted entirely to Pachecos, which we were told should soon go into a book in the making. In fact, Chuckie Arellano had enough art in his extensive collection to merit the publication of several other books: a Lamarroza, one on a naturalist theme, portraits, landscapes, and of course a "Book of Nudes."
Our old buddy was careful to point out, however, that the publication of such art books was his way of helping out artists he admired, as well as to acquire more of their works. It was a trade, he said. He would publish books on their art, and he’d get their works as gifts. Most people thought he had amassed a fortune less than ethically, given his association with the former administration as SSS chair. What isn’t known is that he had started out on his private collection three decades ago, and had paid moderate amounts in the early going. And now he still acquired works as a patron and not just as a collector or an investor. It was his way of helping out Filipino artists. Whenever someone in dire straits offered a new work, he’d purchase it, but only if he liked the painting. No sense in encouraging bad artists, he said matter-of-factly.
In any case, as we went through our brisk tour, we did note that many of the works were by unrecognizable or (to us) unknown artists, the "emerging" ones as Chuckie was proud to mention. But of course we were happy to recognize works by sterling names in Philippine art. These included Hernando Ocampo, Vicente Manansala, Anita Magsaysay-Ho, Arturo Luz, Joya, Ang Kiukok, Malang, Bencab, Onib Olmedo, Nunelucio Alvarado, Marcel Antonio, Angelito Antonio, Tam Austria, Manuel Baldemor, Edgar Doctor, Oscar Zalameda, Philip Monserrat, Emmanuel Garibay, Mariano Madarang, Nemiranda, Al Perez, Steve Santos, Impy Pilapil, Solomon Saprid, Manuel Rodriguez, Sr. and Jr. or "Boy" Rodriguez, our old buddy based in New York.
Perhaps we walked too fast so we could get back to our wine, whisky and no-sugar sweets. Or the sheer number of artworks prevented us from making a dutiful catalogue. So I tried to remember to ask our host eventually why he didn’t seem to have works by our own favorite artists, such as Santi Bose, Jaime de Guzman, Pardo de Leon, Rock Drilon, Pandy Aviado, Vitalis, Jerry Araos, Gerry Leonardo… Etc., etc. et al.
In the recently released book edited by Manuel D. Duldulao, Art Across the Phil-ippines: Selections from the Collection of Art Patron Carlos A. "Chuckie" Arellano, published by Peso Book Foundation in association with the Kabataang Pintor at Iskultor ng Pilipinas, showcased with proper eclecticism are only 110 of the paintings from the thriving collection. I say proper, because the works competing for space in Chuckie’s residence are as eclectic as all-get-out.
In his well-worded preface, Duldulao explains the thematic reason for the choices that went into the book. The over-all idea is regional representation, so that each doublespread features a small Philippine map where the artist’s provenance is indicated. Duldulao is just as lucid in informing the reader on the individuality of passion that informs Arellano’s patronage.
"There are many types of collectors and each has a variety of motives for collecting. Some are driven by an insatiable passion to possess; others by a desire for social prestige. A few collectors carry on an intense rivalry with one another, a contest of egos and assets. Among the lesser types are the snob-collector who puts premium on fashion and the me-too-er, who buys paintings because the Joneses do.
"There is, however, yet another type of collector —- and … Arellano… is one of them. Arellano acquires a work of art because, first and foremost, it appeals to him. He gives no thought to what he bought last or is likely to buy in the future. His acquisitions are simply made in terms of inner satisfaction, the strict joy of life…
"On the walls and hallways of his residence is a conglomeration of framed paintings, drawings, and prints while tabletops hold clustered groups of sculptures and various kinds of precious objects. As his collections grow and wall space shrinks, Arellano finds it necessary to resort to a Victorian massing of art works.
"Surprisingly, this ‘skying’ of pictures does not end up in a chaos of images. One might think the combination of such works would be overpowering but in fact the installation creates an exciting crosscurrent of energy, enlivening rather than confusing the space."
How true. For that is how Ato Callanta and I felt as we wandered through the seeming maze harboring over a thousand artworks, which could well be pronounced as a testament to Pinoy horror vacui, were it not for the evident sense of overriding passion. That passion, one man’s passion, spelled the efflorescence of genuine patronage.