Lit only in certain areas and suffused with resonant silence interrupted by the occasional hammering, the Metropolitan Museum of Manila was still thick in the preparation of “BenCab: The Filipino Artist,” which opens to the public today when I arrived. While museum labels had yet to be attached on the gallery walls and some paintings, still covered in bubble wrap, were still waiting to hang, there was no mistaking the magnitude and grandeur of this retrospective that boldly attempts to summarize the achievements of BenCab (Benedicto Cabrera) in his 50-year run as one of the country’s most successful and beloved artists.
Stepping into the gallery, you could feel the figures in his works staring at you from the various points of history — men and women drawn from real life who, through the National Artist’s fluent strokes and inspired coloration, are now deemed immortal. From his well-known figure Sabel to his depictions of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) and unsung revolutionaries, BenCab has created enduring portraits that give face to the idea of the Filipino. He may be an artist-celebrity and auction darling but BenCab, true to his roots, has chosen common folks to extol in his works.
His subjects, despite being of humble means, evoke a dignified stance and magnetic presence that you just can’t look away from them. They have quiddity. This, no doubt, they share with their creator who, after having wrapped up an interview with another publication, walked towards me with a decisive stride, a trim figure wearing what has now become his uniform: a newsboy cap, a shirt under a suit jacket and a pair of denims folded at the hem. No one would guess that he is all of 73 years.
“It’s really hard to keep up with what you’ve done,” he said, when I mentioned the startling breadth of his creative output. “A retrospective is a good way to see your progress, from the start to the present kind of work.”
The Met exhibition, which is one among the eight organized in various museums as part of the celebration around BenCab’s golden anniversary, begins with sketches from as early as his student days at the University of the Philippines in the early ‘60s and culminates with his toy sculptures shown at Secret Fresh Gallery last July. In total, the retrospective is composed of 170 works, which are on loan from various collectors, institutions and the artist himself. One of those works, “Scavenger,” which was from his first solo show in 1966, was rediscovered early this year when it was bought in a flea shop in the States for $4.99. It was through an auction — sold, no doubt, at a price thousands of times over — how the work finally got here.
The curator, Dannie Alvarez, decided to group the works together thematically, rather than chronologically, to emphasize certain choices in style and subject matter. Walking by the hallway, one would have the sense of BenCab’s both subtle and dramatic shifts with his choice of color, the solidity of his figures (“Sabel,” for instance, is sometimes evoked in the abstract with a flurry of strokes mimicking worn garment) and modulations of his painterly style. “What they notice about me is that, as I become older, the colors become stronger; my early works were into the browns, almost monochromatic,” he said, describing one noticeable change of his work.
When creating a show, he would usually have an overarching theme, which makes it easier for him to identify what period a painting belongs to and, conversely, makes it harder — if not impossible — for forgers to copy his work. His every piece, though it may feature one of his abiding themes, would always have a clutch of unique details. It’s not his practice to issue an authentication certificate, he said, because “that is the easiest to fake. If they (the collectors) come to me, I tell them if it’s mine or not.”
His consistent, sometimes record-breaking, success in auctions (you haven’t made it if you don’t own a BenCab) has driven a few collectors to sell. “Some collectors now buy with the speculation of selling it later,” he said. “Before I get disappointed (when they sell), particularly if it’s a friend but now…I have to detach myself already once you agreed to give your work. Hindi puwedeng sabihin, ‘Mura mo lang binili yan…’
“My only regret,” he continued, “is that I didn’t keep my best pieces; I sold them early on. Now, if I have a show, I always keep a few for the museum.” The museum is, of course, the BenCab Museum, which has become a tourist destination in Baguio City and been made all the more popular with the success of the film, There’s Something about Tadhana, that features it as a location. He does try to buy his early works back, such as one from 1967. “I paid P250,000 and then when I looked at the back it said, P500. That’s how it is.”
Beyond the ostensible price of his works, what the retrospective represents is the supreme technique that has propelled BenCab to where he is. “BenCab: The Filipino Artist” is a master class in figuration, a testament to the intelligence of the hand gripping a loaded brush, a proof that painting, deemed by certain quarters as passé, is still an enduring presence in the world. His portraits are not ashamed to be perceived, in this post-modern society, as beautiful, classical. “I like working with people,” he said. “I love observing them. Sometimes, I get touched by what’s happening and it comes out. I always draw from life.”
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“BenCab: The Filipino Artist” runs until Feb. 26, 2016 at The Metropolitan Museum of Manila located at the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas Complex, Roxas Boulevard, Manila. Visit www.metmuseum.ph or email info@metmuseum.ph for details.