Golden Harvest
Golden Harvest
By Cesare A.X. Syjuco
Published in: Sunday Globe Leisure, April 28, 1991
'The strength of the Ateneo's remarkable collection is its focus on early works by significant Filipino artists, with carefully selected pieces representing aspects of their development.'
THE media announcements regarding eight new acquisitions by the newly expanded Ateneo Art Gallery came to me like the mesmerizing strains of a Pied Piper, an open invitation to rekindle fond memories of a past laden with personal ties that had since become muddled with the distancing of the years. It’s funny how even the most essential things can somehow manage to get buried alive in an obscene stockpiling of forgettable names and faces, only to re-emerge later in one’s life as fated reunions.
I had not seen the Ateneo in nearly a decade, and certainly not since its famous Art Gallery had been upgraded, if only in size and status, to a full-fledged art museum a year ago. Being a La Salle boy myself, there seemed to be a little reason for this compelling sense of nostalgia—except, perhaps, for the desire to see once more its impressive collection of modern masterworks that had been my own gateway to a lifelong interest in the visual arts. But there was still another reason, and it was inextricably linked here.
Professor Emmanuel “Eric” Torres—that acknowledged pillar of the critical profession whose name has always been synonymous with art at the Ateneo—was, in fact, among my early mentors, one in a line of profound career influences that included the poet Cirilo Bautista, the maverick painter Lee Aguinaldo, the temperamental scholar Rodolfo Paras Perez, and the crusading cultural editor Rosalinda Orosa.
It was Bautista who had taught me how to wield a pen with grace, Aguinaldo who had encouraged me to explore the limitless potentials of paint, Paras Perez who had inspired me to take genuine pride in my cultural heritage as a Filipino, and Orosa who had tamed my impulsiveness and innate anger by molding me into a clear-thinking critic. But it was Eric Torres who had plucked me from obscurity in giving me my first solo exhibition in 1977, and Eric, too, who had instilled in me an abiding respect for the classical that did not come easily.
In a sense, therefore, it was Eric Torres that I had come to see. And with him, his great love of hindsight and his uncanny grasp of historical perspective—the foundations of the present that comprised a magical bridge to my covenant with the future.
Even now, at 59 and already greying, he had not lost the sparkle of his infectious idealism, the eloquence, wit and charm that had drawn me to him as a wide-eyed novice. To be sure, it was this same intellectual energy that had made him the keeper of the faith in the Ateneo's well-known commitment to culture and the arts. As a multiawarded poet and writer who still teaches English and Creative Writing at the university, he had long been instrumental in nurturing new blood for the Blue Eagle's illustrious line of literary stalwarts. But it was as curator of the Ateneo Art Gallery that he had staked his "claim to fame" and the bulk of his energies, enhancing the facility's stature and worth by lending it his own sterling reputation.
Eric's outspoken pride in the Ateneo Art Gallery can best be understood by those who have experienced the joys and travails of committed parenthood. From a virtual caretakership instituted by the Jesuits in 1960 for a major collection of modernist paintings donated by the late Fernando Zobel, he had singlehandedly raised the facility to what it is today: an efficiently-run museum that houses possibly the most significant body of Philippine modern art within easy public access.
With Eric alone at the helm - and then only as a part-time administrator squeezing in extra hours outside of his work in the classroom - the Ateneo's art collection now boasts of 115 major paintings, 25 important sculptural pieces, 136 fine prints, and 62 drawings by many of the country's leading lights of contemporary art. More than doubling the original number of artworks bequeathed by Zobel to the university, his personal efforts have netted outright donations by artists and collectors alike, including valuable vintage gems that virtually trace the development of our modern art movements from the Neo-Realist school, to Abstract Expressionism, Pop, Minimalism, Social Realism, the New Genre and beyond.
Indeed, the strength of the Ateneo's remarkable collection is its focus on early works by significant Filipino artists, with carefully selected pieces representing little-known aspects of their development. Aguinaldo's Explosion #141, an exceedingly rare relic from the genesis of Philippine abstraction, is an exuberant souvenir of that artist's fabled romance with the action paintings of Jackson Pollock. Joya's Granadean Arabesque from 1958, a dramatic testimonial to the heroic stance of the era, is a powerful statement by an immense talent that seems to have dwindled with the years. Marciano Galang's Cavite, a 1964 assemblage of trash and old shoes that inspired catcalls when it was purchased by the Ateneo over 20 years ago, is a stirring reminder of the genius that raged and virtually consumed itself in this now-sadly-under-rated painter. Outstanding pieces such as these seduce you as you enter the museum, confronting you with the timelessness and the fragility of our visionary gift, leading your from canvas to canvas on a journey of discovery, inspiration and rapture. It is a most unforgettable journey.
That the enlargement of the facility in February of 1990 has allowed Eric's skeletal staff of two to display a wider selection of works than was previously possible has served to considerably enhance the impact of the collection—even for those already familiar with the fascinating genealogy of recent Philippine art. Exquisite works by Luz, Galo Ocampo, H.R. Ocampo, Tabuena, Magsaysay-Ho, Manansala, Legaspi, Medalla, Elizalde-Navarro, Alcuaz, Kiukok, Malang and Rodriguez Sr. unfold like a mystical path that points the way to a land of promise inhabited by a younger crop of artists: Austria, Antonio, Bencab, Samonte, Lao, Olmedo, Liongoren, Aviado, Baens Santos, Baldemor, Lamarroza, Delotavo, Tence Ruiz and Edgar Fernandez, among others.
Eric recalls how the gallery once grew out of the Ateneo Library Building like a stubble, sharing quarters with stacks of books, reference materials and magazines that always seemed to dog the paintings. Only recently was Eric himself granted the "luxury" of a full-time assistant, and with that, the use of a personal computer with which to sort through the facility's complex inventory. To this day, he remains a "curator-on-the-side," teaching English courses to earn his keep. Sadly, the Ateneo, like all great institutions that have grown beyond their capacity to see clearly, may be the last to realize the true importance of the collection entrusted to its care.
As we exited towards Katipunan Avenue, a large path of freshly-harvested corn caught our attention. A handpainted streamer proclaimed it to be "The Sweetest Corn In The Land," and that seemed a trifle lame. It was the insistent gastric rumbling and the "buy-four-take-one-free" offer that actually made us pull over and fish out some change for a bag of ears.
The first mouthful of firm, sugar-popping little kernels was enough to convince us that the claim had genuine basis in fact: it was the sweetest corn in the land! That got me thinking all over again about Eric Torres, the gallery, and the Ateneo bureaucracy, and just how little we realize pure gold when we see it—particularly when it grows under our very noses. But then again, how often have we heard that tale?
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Cesare A.X. Syjuco, “Golden Harvest” (page 1 of 1), Sunday Globe Leisure, April 28, 1991
