History as present imperfect

The voice at the other end of the line is Ronel Britania’s, and he is at his gallery on New York St. in Cubao in the midst of gathering roughly 100 works from various artists for the forthcoming shows of Tutok, the artists’ collective which in a series of exhibits plans to take another look at our history through a prism of mostly 1x1 canvasses, personal reactions to the works of the masters: the Manunggul jar (representing pre-colonial art), Juan Luna’s “Spoliarium” (colonial), Victorio Edades’ “The Builders” (modern), and Ang Kiu Kok’s “Crucifixion” series (post-martial law).

Traffic on a Saturday night to the other side of town is not so bad after all, and in the heart of Cubao in Brgy. Mother Immaculate, Ronel — who is more or less an old face having almost worked with him in a Britania Art Project featuring painter Neil Manalo’s Singapore sojourn — ushers us into the gallery that is already teeming with a considerable sampling of works for the Tutok series, mostly the 1x1 obras which leave us wondering where to look first.

They are like so many eyes of revisionist history staring at us from out of the blue, underneath the slanting lights that might have been a crossroads of Philippine art.

Soon enough out comes Karen Ocampo Flores, one of Tutok’s prime movers, to help enlighten and brief us on what this latest project is about.

We remember Karen from years ago, when she was still a fresh graduate of the UP Fine Arts and she held a group show with four other women who were perhaps her batch-mates, at the Pinaglabanan Galleries in San Juan where their professor Chabet was curator.

A work of hers we recall in that exhibit was a triptych of sorts, one panel of which had an exposed brown breast. Compared with that huge work of long ago, the paintings that now surround us are like miniatures.

She hasn’t heard much since then about two of her Pinaglabanan colleagues, Binggay Caguiat and Isabel Limpe, but Francesca Enriquez and Karissa Villa are very much around in the art circles. And Chabet? Why, the professor continues to reinvent himself, conceptually or otherwise.

But the year is now 2007 and the show is titled “Tutok Kasaysayang,” subtitled a provocative look at the past as a continuing present. It hits the road Nov. 17 at Glorietta 4 Artspace on the fourth floor, most likely bigger than any methane blast accident or disguised terror attack.

A name is mentioned, Marika Constantino’s, who also has a work staring at us from out of the wall’s eyes, her reaction to the Manunggul jar.

“She’s also from UP High, but younger,” Karen says of Marika, who also happens to have written the literature in the exhibit’s flier, and whom we meet in the patio at the back where there are food and drinks and another Tutok man, Jose Tence Ruiz, holding forth with his Generoso brandy, but no sign of the actor Dennis Trillo juggling bottles.

But let’s hear it from Marika: “‘Tutok Kasaysayang’ is a two-part group exhibition focusing on Philippine history. On one hand, as the title connotes, it evokes a sense of misgiving, but more importantly, it looks forward towards new understanding, appreciation and function. The show is a visual annotation on the relevance and importance of history, provoking one to contemplate: kasaysayan... pag-asa… huwag sayangin… bigyan ng saysay...”

Then at the end of November the show moves over to the Alab Art Space at the Intellectual Property Office along Buendia Ave., for the second chapter in the continuing history lesson and art as re-visioning and reinvention.

Another familiar 1x1 we espy that night on New York street is the work of Igan D’Bayan, his takeoff from Ang Kiu Kok’s crucifixion, another dark parabolic tribute.

In the patio meanwhile Tence and I are racing towards the midnight liquor ban with our cups, he with his brandy and I and my red wine, trading stories of how it is to be a father to teenagers.

It was Tence who told me that we really have two uses: sundo (fetch) and allowance.

Before a text message comes floating in reminding us on one of the dad functions, we get a glimpse of a sculpture in the gallery inside.

“Julie Lluch’s?”

No, we are told, though she has committed to join the show, her work must be in progress, if not already in transit.

It seems just recently when Tence dropped by the apartment with a painting of his, “Postmoderne,” a gesture of thanks for a write-up that came out in a magazine.

There’s another work of his, an editorial cartoon of General Ramos that appeared in the old Chronicle that is also on the walls ready for the Tutok roadshow.

There’s also a white curtain that seems to be set off from the other works on display, and when I ask Britania what’s inside, he says, “more paintings.”

Not all are 1x1 though, there are other larger works of 3x2, as well sculptures and other collaborative meanderings lapping at the dark sea of the past.

Full of froth and then some, names like Alex Baluyut, Alwin Reamillo, Meps Endaya, Peque Gallaga, Santi Bose (+), Sid Hildawa, Renato Habulan, Lyra Garcillano, Pandy Aviado, Clairelynn Uy, the list can go on and on.

“What you’re seeing is just a fraction of what the show will be,” Karen says, shortly before we take our leave.

That most of the works are 1x1 however suggest a uniformity rather antithetical to art, so there must be a paradox hiding there somewhere, which should not be lost to the viewer, and least of all to the artist.

These Tutok guys are full of surprises, and Tence is telling me about the fate of his old skeletal Beetle, before the conversation is left hanging in the Cubao night when a taxi drives by from out of the discordant past and into the faithful future.