ART RAP: Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark
ART RAP: Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark
By Cesare A.X. Syjuco [Gorilla In The Gallery]
Published in: Philippine Graphic Magazine, May 17, 1993
(First of two parts)
Issues, not artists or events, comprise the most visible movement in Philippine Art today. And talk, not produce, is taking up more and more of our artists' time.
As a focused and determined few cash in on the compulsive spending of the nouveaux riches, a far larger majority may have succumbed to that deadly syndrome known as "paralysis by analysis." All talk and no work has made Juan a dull boy.
What are some of the topics inspiring debate in our cafés and galleries? And just how deserving are they of our time and attention?
The writer—an art reviewer for this magazine when he was awarded the prestigious First Kalaw-Ledesma Prize for Art Criticism in 1991—is a leading figure of the Manila art vanguard, and is the recent recipient of a TOYM Award for Art and Culture Advancement. He describes himself, not entirely in jest, as "a rebel-returnee to both criticism and the Graphic."
ART PHILIPPINES: MIRROR, MIRROR, STICKS AND STONES
Apparently, every decade or so that a spanking new volume on our contemporary art hits the bookstands is a time for celebration—and for serious apprehension. The Crucible Workshop's new monstervolume Art Philippines—two years in the making and a chock-full of money in the doing—should keep everyone on edge for quite a spell, checking for changes in the wind. If the picture breaks up in the most telltale places, it's not your set, folks. Crucible's patented shotgun editing—of wildly disparate texts by 10 more writers of different styles, perspectives and inclinations—is a staggering case of surgical dada. Where the thigh bone intersects the elbow and blooms into the thorax is the best argument I have ever encountered in support of the Big Bang Theory.
Let me explain. Art Philippines was originally conceived as a compilation of authoritative essays, each focused on a particular period or aspect of Philippine Art from the Spanish times to the present. This was a landmark concept providing a broad spectrum of insights and points of view in pursuit of a more accurate picture of the whole. A later decision by the crucible editors to heap all of the compiled material into a single text with a single perspective (in many instances, their own) was the virus in the system and the knife in the Butcher's hand. Vital opinions were scrapped and loose ends hastily grafted, with not a few artists bumped off or sold short in the ensuing confusion. The outcome—a rambling, schizoid text that draws few if any worthwhile conclusions—proves that coaches should stay on the bench and waterboys should not play ball.
Still, Art Philippines is a truly handsome book held together against all good sense by the weight of its pedigree. A modern-day miracle of paste, influence and big bucks, its Hongkong printing is impeccable right down to its spine. Baldovino's sleek photography and Steve Santos's masterfully crisp layouts—impossible without corresponding wages to jolt the dead—are enough to rescue any text from its most miserable shortcomings. Even its would-be authors—bandied in Crucible's promotional flyers as the best in the business—carry enough clout between themselves to fell the most determined critics. Given our dire need for updated material on the subject, and considering the scarcity of funds, vision and courage that is the lot of high-end publishing, Art Philippines will almost certainly survive as the definite sourcebook on our contemporary art and artists for perhaps another decade.
That's probably the saddest part of all. For despite the inevitable snarling in its wake, this is as safe and as gutless a book as they come, one that takes no chances with the publishers' sizable investment. Like a horse with blinders, it is impervious to all that artworld heckling. And true to form, its lack of daring and its unwillingness to proffer insights into the all-important present make its dull to read as a manual of etiquette. Which, with good reason, I sometimes suspect it is.
Back at the ranch, the dramatic struggle for Philippine Art rages. And Art Philippines—that handsome stranger with the toothless grin—remains oblivious as a turd to so much of it.
MEGABUCKS AT MEGAMALL: MABINI IN A HIGH-RISE?
I swear that if I ever hear anyone else describe SM Megamall's Artwalk as "nauseatingly commercial," I shall pull out his hair. I could tolerate a more imaginative comment—say, "The Cartimar of Art" or even "A Culture Vulture's Paradise"—neither of which, I might add, are labels of my own creation. But "nauseating" in reference to art for money (and conversely, to money for art) is an asinine remark if ever I heard one—made all the more intolerable by its lack of originality and good humor.
All this had to do, of course, with that peculiar assortment of commercial art galleries clustered together on the 4th floor of Manila’s busiest (and therefore most potentially lucrative) shopping mall ever. I admit that the idea of art in a ShoeMart context can turn a sensitive tummy. But money is money wherever you can get it, and the Sys of Carriedo have long proved their mettle as the masters of merchandising.
Much of the fuss, I imagine, is premised on the curious notion that money are irreconcilable, like God and the devil. It is a notion that has never bothered me. Art isn’t the first or even the most striking example of a noble pursuit exploiting a ready-made market for profit. Religious institutions and virtually the entire medical profession claim to have lost nothing in quality or purpose for all their apparent commercialization. It can be argued in this context that all artists must live in order to make art, and that some artists must live better than others.
Perhaps the one legitimate apprehension here springs from our memories of A. Mabini Street and the galleries that proliferated there as a colony in Artwalk fashion. That the Mabini crowd fell from grace into everlasting notoriety is a historical footnote that can still pinch nerves. And the striking similarity between Megamall and Mabini, albeit in their respective contexts, is achilling thought indeed.
It’s good to remember that money is never the culprit, even as it is often the motive for the perversion of an ideal. Art can never be prostituted by money; ergo, there are no art prostitutes, only prostitutes disguised as artists. There is no prostituted art, only prostitution disguised as art. Which role Artwalk eventually appropriates for itself — art house or whorehouse — will determine history’s reckoning of the galleries there. They have my sympathy and my prayers, for theirs is a bold and dangerous endeavor. They tread the tightrope that is art in the marketplace.
As for the commercialization of art, money will always be money wherever you can get it. And more often than we care to admit, money made is money well earned.
F.V. RAMOS & E.R. TAGLE: KING KONG LOVES CHEETAH
Should the President of the Philippines be seen playing golf with Dewey Dee? Or toasting the Manero Brothers? Or exchanging cigars with Don Pepe? Or painting with E.R. Tagle? Has the President lost his mind?
For FVR’s sake, and with due consideration for the office we hold sacred, further commentary should be avoided regarding his recent one-on-one with the artworld’s king of sleaze —a “painting interaction,” no less, to commemorate Think Positive Week. But will this obscenity never end? Must we squirm each April so soon after Easter? Can someone please tell the President to ask before he leaps?
FVR with ERT? No fair. At least the President can paint.
CHILDREN OF A LEANER GOD: REVENGE OF THE PROMDIS
Once upon a time, the artist from the regions north, south, east and west of the Big City were the poor and distant relatives of the artists from Manila. The Big City, after all, was the seat of government and commerce, home to the country’s premier art galleries and museums, the biggest buyers and art patrons, the critics, academe, the media, and the all-powerful Cultural Center of the Philippines.
When it was first suggested (following the fall of the Marcos regime in 1986 and the redirection of government policies) that a substantial part of the cultural purse be diverted towards the development of regional art guilds and audiences, the idea was greeted with enthusiasm in Manila. Regional artists, it was felt, should be given every possible opportunity to improve themselves and their lot, to profit from the wealth of knowledge, technology and experience that could be made available to them from Manila, and perhaps, in due course, to prove themselves equal to their more privileged kin in the Big City.
The situation now seems to have reversed itself. Amidst a dearth of cultural funding and stiffer competition between artists in Manila, the growing perception is that regional artists are receiving unfair preferential treatment and the lion’s share of public attention. “When there isn’t enough to go around, charity should begin at home,” says one veteran artist who was an active campaigner for cultural aid to the regions, reflecting the currently popular stance that regional art communities are fringe considerations, at best, that should take a backseat to the Manila mainstream.
Attendant to this undercurrent of rising animosity is the further perception that some regional artists are beginning to conduct themselves like artworld superstars, with the sympathetic attention showered on them in recent years having gone to their heads. Others contend that those who have benefited the most from regional assistance programs are actually Manila artists who have resettled in provincial centers. “Nagpapakanda-tribal sila para lang makapaglimos (They disguise themselves as tribesmen in order to beg),” complains a younger artist who makes no bones about his sentiments.
Numbers are perhaps their best argument. The Baguio Arts Guild (BAG), probably the most visible beneficiary of recent attention and almost certainly the single largest group of active artists in the regions, has a total membership of only 53. The Black Artists of Asia from Bacolod City, another high-profile regional group, has less than a dozen full-time members. Apparently, more and more Manila artists are beginning to feel that too much time, attention and money is being given to the needs of a few artists in the regions, while their own urgent needs are being roundly ignored.
In a field of endeavor where inactivity and indifference are probably two of the worst sins, Manila artists may be learning a valuable if painful lesson. Regional art guilds are proving beyond a doubt that organization, a definition of purpose, and an aggressive program of self-promotion are necessary means for survival in the Big City. How quickly they’ve learned.
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Cesare A.X. Syjuco, “ART RAP: Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark” (page 1 of 2), Philippine Graphic Magazine, May 17, 1993
Cesare A.X. Syjuco, “ART RAP: Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark” (page 2 of 2), Philippine Graphic Magazine, May 17, 1993
