Great good friends in art

It’s been a contant pleasure to be associated with terrific artists who keep doing us proud. Full to the brim and increasingly so has been all of the admirable, excellent creativity that we here would refer to as nakatataba ng puso, or heart-fattening. That may sound unhealthy, but we know better. Metaphors be with us.

Last week I wandered around the large hall allotted for  Manila Art Fair 2014 at SMX Convention Center in SM Aura in Taguig. All that art was mind-boggling. The bonus that was knowing some of the artists more than peripherally plumped up our heart once again.

There was our amiga Migs Villanueva, a prizewinning short fiction writer who used to host the Saturday Group of painters in her residence while creating some art of her own. Now she’s certainly found her métier in the naif paintings she does of children. One look at her popular works and you know they’re hers. Signature stamp, talk of. Very happy for her.

There were the young ones Gromyko Semper, Shirin Bandari and Camille Dela Rosa who were exhibiting at the Endangered Visions space for an international collection of surrealist art — much of it eye-popping. Also met other young artists who were part of that exhibit, but weakening or wine-besotted memory that evening has made mincemeat of their names. We should cross paths again.

I regret not having exchanged quick pleasantries with old buddy Justin “Tiny” Nuyda, with whom a wave of hello sufficed, as he was busy entertaining a possible client. Yet his luminous paintings on one wall spoke wondrous volumes, as usual.  

Other friends were around — such as highly successful gallery owners Jack Teotico, Jaime “Popong” Ponce de Leon and Marti Magsanoc. Some represented artists weren’t around anymore although their works were, such as premier sculptor Mon Orlina, from whose wine fountain I sourced my initial libation, thanks to Silvana Diaz of Galleria Duemila who also led me to a bar with a different bubbly.

By the time I wandered off a couple of hours later, my old ticker was as fat as the lady who sings operas to a close. Yessir, the Filipino visual artist has the world for an oyster. Not to mention an ostrich egg, painted, that I gleefully came away with.

From abroad, the great good news strikes us home from different directions. On Oct, 4, the 15-year-old son of my favorite performance poet in Filipino, Vim Nadera, won a silver medal in the Asian Games’ Kids Art competition in Incheon, South Korea.

Victor Emmanuel Carmelo P. Nadera II, or Wika, “Awit’s Junior,” submitted a work titled “Araw ng Palarong Asya” through our National Olympic Committee, one of 40 that participated in this side event.

A Grade 8 student at Philippine High School for the Arts (PHSA) on Mt. Makiling in Laguna, he was the youngest non-athlete member of the Philippine delegation. And he won second prize, receiving $3,000 along with the silver medal.

Congrats and kudos, Nadera pere et fils! Papainom ang mag-ama.

A few weeks back as well, representing us in Taipei was Roger Rishab Tibon, whom we’ve known from way back as one of our stalwart Baguio-based artists.

A yearly art event is organized by Guandu Nature Park in Taipei, Taiwan. Administered by the Taipei Wild Bird Society, the park is part of wetlands that are home to local and migratory birds and various other species of fauna and flora.  

Only five international artists were selected this year to create installations. Together with Tibon were artists from Canada, New Zealand, France/Germany, and Taiwan. They stayed for three weeks, billeted at Asia Pacific Hotel in Dansui, Taipei.

Three works were installed at the nature park, one at Zhizhan Botanical Garden, and Tibon’s at Taipei National University of the Arts.

On Sept. 27, the artists gave talks on their recent and previous works and concepts, with open forums following, involving students, professionals and community people. Opening day was on Sept. 28, with ceremonies attended by VIP’s, while the artists provided a DIY activity that engaged with close to 4,000 visitors. 

Our Rishab’s stunning installation is titled “Fiddleheads” — a set of curling bamboo segments woven together with rattan strips, the tallest at 10 feet. Photos of this installation which drew much interest since it was included in the campus tour for visitors and VIP’s will be printed in the University Journal.

Rishab has obviously become a favorite artist in Taiwan, where he’s been invited a total of nine times by various art organizations, four of those for the annual international outdoor installation exhibit.

Bravo, Rishab!

Now, for a sometime painter — among other creative hats worn — who’s at his supreme best as a literary artist, this lifetime buddy of ours has happily resumed public engagement with what we believe should be an energized audience if only for his latest work.

The first chapter of Erwin E. Castillo’s long-awaited novel, Cape Engaño, is featured in the October issue of Esquire Philippines. Get your copy now or suffer a fate worse than literary ignorance.

This brave and outstanding magazine edited by Erwin Romulo establishes a first for monthly glossies not only by putting his namesake “Lakay” Erwin on the cover, but in much of the inside pages, with an introductory essay by Paolo Enrico Melendez, a photo essay by Tim Serrano who also took the cover portrait, an extensive one-on-one interview conducted with the author by the editor in chief (“about regrets, religion, the entire arc of his life, and death”), and a special photo suite serving as visuals for the chapter excerpt, staged and shot by pioneer indie filmmaker Raymond Red, with actors Ronnie Lazaro, Mon Confiado and Larry Manda.

The new novel Cape Engaño, following The Firewalkers published by Anvil over a decade ago, is hailed as a masterpiece that has been 20 years in the making. Esquire will serialize the entire novel in the succeeding months.

Mabuhay ka, Kaibigang Erwin!

Here’s sharing a brief excerpt from the opening chapter:

“The young Duece Hagland was to see hundreds of variations on that broken juju face, that tempted cruelty by declaring the bearer somehow unworthy of cruelty. His own savage response surprised him. As a sergeant at the captured navy yard, then with the volunteers shoving and elbowing the rag-tag, thieving horde away from the blockhouses and the trenches, he itched to give them hurt and waited for excuse. Every morning his Marines gasped awake airless, for the flaps of their pup-tents would be plugged solid with jostling juju, who had sneaked in past the sentries, watching and giggling, their rags immaculate though they squatted in mud. The objects the Marines hurled at them the juju retrieved and returned: the shoes toweled, the Bibles wiped clean, the canteens filled with cloudy river water. Later, the native marching band would blare through the tents, flanked by vendors and dogs. Their officers would promenade through the American camp, lifting the tent flaps with their canes, pointing, explaining, while their ladies and their brats respectfully nodded and ah’d.

“Sometimes Sergeant Haglund would take his deck-sweeper, a short-barrelled Winchester pump shotgun, loaded with No. 8, to lie in ambush behind a clump of buffalo grass, while his tent lay open, his goods exposed. But the sons-of-bitches wouldn’t take the bait.”

Ah, we oughta be buying Esquire for months to come for more of this marvelous, muscular prose — besides finding out eventually how Erwin Castillo wraps up Cape Engaño.