The art and manners of Fernando Zobel

He was the perfect example of a gentleman with profound capacities to express friendship with positive acts, capacities beyond the clichés one encounters in polite daily exchanges, greetings beyond the smart tipping of one’s salakot. Allow me to express my heartfelt gratitude to Fernando Zobel for having helped me so much in my budding years as a painter with almost zero prospects in Manila at the end of the Japanese Occupation.

Our friendship began when I was at the UP School of Fine Arts, struggling with my personal demons and downright inefficiencies. The Manila art scene was experiencing growing pains. The Art Association of the Philippines was the only godsend that lifted our spirits so full of self-doubts and parochial quarreling, squabbles among factions. I showed Fernando my first batch of etchings done at the Ecole Nationale Supériure des Beaux-Arts in Paris. He showed such a great interest that I thought he was trying not to discourage a greenhorn in the field like me. He suggested that I make mount an exhibit at the Philippine Art Gallery. He personally called Lyd Arguilla to recommend me. How kind of him to stake his reputation.

It was the first one-man show of etchings in the Philippines, according to critic Benesa, who wrote OKIR, The Epiphany of Philippine Graphics.

Fernando and I had friendly and invigorating encounters in his house and that of Lee Aguinaldo’s. His knowledge of culture dazzled me, for it was backed by great intelligence and modesty. I was then in a state of ravenous appetite for knowledge and culture. He also invited me to his talks at the Ateneo on Padre Faura. He talked about how to deal with prints, about Rembrandt’s magical means with black-and-white medium of etching. It opened my eyes to the greatness of this medium, and how powerful was composition – the backbone of any art form. This exacting, rigorous expression escaped me before; and in my neophyte’s ignorance, I was swayed by the easy seductions of the purely superficial decorativeness. This was basically one of the greatest gifts that I got from him. Out flew the all-too-comfortable "pretty-pretty, saccharine confections." In my own talks these days, I center on composition, hoping I could convey some of the wonderment that Fernando gave me.

"Juvi, acabaremos pintanto igual (Juvi, we all end the painting the same way)," he told me one day. He particularly liked my forays into scrape-rub technique with black ink on paper with a metallic blade that I used for my barong-barong and baklad series. His remark gladdened my heart profoundly, for I was quite unsure where this technique would lead me. How generous of him to express this, considering how many of his colleagues in the art hornet’s nest gleefully tried to drag others down. (Yes, it’s only human: they seemed to be afraid of their own shadow.) This scrape-rub technique eventually developed differently for us. For Fernando, it evolved into his most successful black-and-white swirls, turns – dipping, gliding, whirling, soaring black lightning… winging away. It was an explosively successful expression that placed him indelibly, internationally at the summit.

The technique led me to much aesthetic satisfaction for it opened so many horizons that I needed in my endeavors. Fortunately, collectors and museums started taking notice.

Zobel continued to support me despite (or because of) his great ascension in Madrid and other cultural capitals. I frankly cannot remember all the succeeding and overlapping recommendations and introductions I was given by him. Things do happen in a domino effect – if you have a solid technique, a personal vision, and proofs of your sincere and dedicated perseverance.

He recommended me to the Philadelphia Print Club, care of its director Bertha von Moschzisker, which resulted in a major one-man show there. This led me to the Cleveland Museum of Art (one of the greatest in the world, along with its symphony orchestra) and was elected artist of the year. I did a special print for the museum, and was given a one-man show. My predecessors were Matisse and Dali. I was overwhelmed. My show was scheduled between the presentations of Turner and Rodin. What a delightful achievement.

I have to thank Fernando also for introducing me to his very artistic and poetic cousin Jaime Zobel de Ayala, whom I went to see while he was studying at Harvard. I liked him from the very beginning. But with all his business, diplomatic and artistic activities, I now seldom see Jaime and his wife Bea.

Even in Madrid, Fernando opened a major door by introducing me to the Kreisler Gallery, one of the best (if not the best) galleries in Spain. His message was direct and powerful: Tengo el gusto de presentarte a mi buen amigo y excelente artista, Juvenal Sanso (I have the pleasure of introducing to you my very good friend and excellent artist, Juvenal Sanso)." It was staggering. The recommendation worked like magic for it became my gallery in Madrid.

The inter-relationship with the Zobel de Ayala family started in the mid ’30s, as the Zobels were among the best and most loyal clients of our Arte Español family business (they are still our clients today). In exchange, we reciprocated since our display room was housed in a building owned by the Zobels. We had merienda at the palatial home on the boulevard (Dewey) of Doña Angelita.

I remember also that Fernando introduced me to a gallery in Boston called Swetzoff.

Fernando went to Paris and visited me in my bedlam of a place with his kind friend and fellow artist Gerardo Rueda. His eyes must have popped out, for it was a mass that showed an intermingling of works-in-progress at all stages of malfunction and wishful progress; piles of clothes; paint tubes; and unwashed brushes to name a few un-decorative elements. Fernando had this meticulous habit in his studio. Even the floor was white, enviably white. His brushes were laid side by side impeccably – like piano keys.

If I could talk to my friend Fernando, I would tell him this: "Allow me to give you a warm Madrid-style hug to thank you. You probably didn’t get anything in exchange from me. This makes you all the more meritorious. Thanks a million, and forgive me if at times I may have disappointed you in this one-way exchange."