Moments of clarity at ‘Blur’ show

Interesting exhibits are up at the Lopez Museum. The latest is “Blur” which, according to the curatorial notes, is a departure from “the rigid confines of categories and types.” 

The show is an important and interesting attempt at pushing the borders of our perception of Philippine art. The confusion comes from the lack of clarity as to which borders are being pushed: our perception of the artists, or the communal perception of material objects, or our perception of the Filipino in the world, or artists pushing away categories where they are placed.

Outside the entrance to the main exhibit, up on the walls are the paintings of J. Elizalde Navarro and Santiago Bose. The first is a Navarro piece, titled “Centennial Flag” (1998), a work depicting different flags with the Philippine flag. Navarro is remembered, in the words of his champion, Emmanuel Torres, as a “master of colors” and as drawing “inspiration in Asian internationalism.” And here is a work of Navarro, declaring his nationalism, yet what kind of nationalism, the enlightened or the primitive kind, we do not really know. This is not the usual Navarro.

The Bose piece is titled “Circo Simpao” (1998), a recent addition to the Oscar and Connie Lopez collection. It is the usual Bose at the last phase of his career, speaking about colonization, Baguio, and the Philippines as carnival. Although the Bose piece is the more intriguing work on the Philippines a hundred years after the Bonifacio revolution, I am not sure if it is the correct work for the subject of “Blur.” Inside the exhibit proper, I had the same experience. There is Onib Olmedo’s “The Prey” (1981), which is his usual take off from the Edward Munch masterpiece. And there is the great Ang Kiukok’s “Seated Figure” (1977), which is a figure and subject usually associated with Ang Kiukok. Where’s the blur?

Then there is Cesar Legaspi’s “The Idol” (1949), which is a very disturbing painting, as it has the head of what we presume to be the idol, and hands, seemingly giving praise, but one distinctly giving a dirty finger. It is a very powerful image. It jars the image of Legaspi as simply a pioneer of cubism, and brings us back to Legaspi the social critic. If dated correctly, then this is a work done long before his first one-man show in the 1960s. Indeed, the Elizalde and Legaspi works on display are very important pieces, and their being placed in the Blur exhibit heightens their importance and tells us much about artists, the categories where we place them, and the art market.

Navarro actually stepped out of his usual subject to do the “Centennial Flag,” while Legaspi had no comfort zone to speak of yet in the art market when he did “The Idol.” So thus far we can say that “Blur” is about the borders where we box the artists. It certainly is not about Legaspi stepping out of some entrenched border.

Then we have Lyra Garcellano, who has three swings put up inside the exhibit hall, all three moving at different rhythms. The press release tells us that she “implicates kinetics in her subtle treatise on paralysis and propulsion.” I am really not sure what that means, although the work is provocative in that the chair is made of transparent glass, and inside is a book opened to photos of revolvers. Garcellano spells out the idea behind her work with its title: “When the Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions.” A book becomes a dangerous weapon and a swing becomes a seat for danger. These swings and what are on them have their own momentum.

Jose Tence Ruiz has the most interesting work among those on exhibit in the entire museum, including those in other rooms. The museum handout describes it as “monochrome but hand-painted electrostatic print in varying sizes…It is a performative take on the art-life nexus.” To simplify, there are large photos of people, wearing all white, including having their faces wrapped in white cloth, with interventions from the hand of the artist. The point being that the labor of these people is unappreciated and invisible, thus the title of the work: “Chimoy si Imbisibol,” which is a difficulty but successful try at getting the acronym “CSI.” Some of the interventions are words written on the photographs: “Gusto mo bang magatdemet tayong pareho?” “Catalino: Ok lang po señor sa kotse lang ako magdamag.” There are the dreams of the invisible about Nora and Vilma, the petty rivalry among fans, the dream of an exit through a lotto ticket, and the rebellion against stupid orders given by the powerful. I do not know why his work is in “Blur,” as social issues are the usual subjects of Ruiz, and he has been quite adventurous in the kind of materials he uses. He also does not reverse the meaning of objects. Perhaps because the people are blurred, but then they are suppose to be invisible. Definitely the work is engaging and it captures the idea not only of the invisible labor of domestic workers, but many other issues that Philippine society is embroiled in. The work engages the narrative of the globalized (glamorized) economy, stolen surplus labor, and the invisibility of those who clean up, literally, after the party. In fact the museum tour guides always mention that those in the photos are actual domestic workers in the Ruiz household, thus the work is interpreted by many as a tribute to them, which explains why their names are immortalized in the work. But the title of the work tells us that it is not that “chimoys” are invisible; it is Invisible who is a “chimoy.”

I am sure the long sojourn of Ruiz in Singapore helped create this work. Go to Hong Kong, for example, and stay in some of the hotels, ask for room service, and the woman who comes to bring you the South China Morning Post, or the waiter who brings you breakfast, are Chinese residents of Hong Kong, who put a Chinese face to room service, obliging one, of course, to be cosmopolitan and give the expected tip. Leave your room at an odd hour, just when all the guests have left for their morning meetings or shopping, and the entire floor is likely to be swarming with Filipinos cleaning the toilets, changing the sheets, and vacuuming the carpet. Go back to your floor after dinner, and the whole place is sparkling clean, without any sign of life. The privileged visitor is not likely to know that the whole pleasant experience is made possible by the lowest paid members of the hotel staff, the invisible Filipinos, who are likely to never receive a tip or a thank you for their daily grind.

There is a Romulo Olazo painting that is supposed to be part of the “Blur” exhibit, although in the handout I have it is not on the list, and it is hanged in another room where some of the ceramics that belong to the permanent collection of the museum are placed. It is a usual Olazo piece, and the only explanation I get when I ask for the reason for its inclusion in “Blur,” is that the work looks like “a blur.” If the works by Olazo, Ang, and Bose were not included in “Blur,” but were left in storage, including the Ishmael Bernal film Tisoy (a character created by Nonoy Marcelo), courtesy of course of the Lopez family’s ABS-CBN archive and starring a young Charo Santos (before she became a big boss in ABS-CBN), that is supposed to make some kind of statement on hybridity, the concept of “Blur” would have been clearer and more powerful to the viewer. I know it is tempting to say it is all supposed to be a blur, but in the end the themes of challenge and provocation are blunted, and contradictions abound (especially in relation to capital and capital formation, which includes art acquisition), and although the idea is good, the execution in the end is troubled. But among the galleries and museums I have just recently visited, the Lopez Museum’s current shows are the most innovative and interesting. Compared, for example — to the other museum which has the usual boring Sanso paintings and the usual (very) boring dioramas — the Lopez Musuem curator and staff are to be congratulated for their enthusiasm and willingness to try out new ideas. They just have to be braver in pursuing their vision to the very end.

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The Lopez Museum shows are on view until April 5.