RITES OF MANHOOD (three shows at the CCP)

Art Criticism

Jul 28

RITES OF MANHOOD (three shows at the CCP)

By Cesare A.X. Syjuco

Published in: Philippine Daily Globe, September 21, 1990

1 Draftsmanship to the level of sorcery

IF you thought, as I did, that painter Danilo Dalena was just another obnoxious little fart in hibernation, look again. His 20-year retrospective at the CCP Main Gallery until October 23 is the art show of the season, and quite possibly of recent years. Bluntly put, it is awesome, even intimidating. Artists who thought themselves God's gift to the world will stand humbled with their balls and burritos in their hands. And sooner than later, the world will come knocking at Dazzling Danny's door.

Even as they bring up the rear, his portraits are superb studies in character and figuration, uncanny in their powerful living charisma, the work of an artist with a bat's sixth sense and the devil's way with a brush. Portraits are never divine; Dalena's are one step away from being the exception. In the very least, his subjects are fallen angels with their wings clipped, teeth clenched, and souls laid bare.

The countless drawings can only be those of some great dead master. So exquisite are they that in their glass cases they still tempt me to theft. Dalena's pen and pencil raise paper to the status of canvas, and draftsmanship to the level of sorcery. No one in art today, anywhere, can hold a candle to them.

Lining the walls of the great exhibition hall in a relentless unfurling, and mocking us with their sheer number and their utter superiority, the major pieces in the show are incredible in their scope and mastery, breath-taking in their sweep, their immense power, their unclouded brilliance and the raging genius they attest to. This is painting at its grandest and most magnificent, beyond the conjurement of illusion and thoughtful posturing, beyond reach of the merely talented and inspired.

Dalena's retrospective easily makes him the youngest and— incredibly enough—the most gifted master of painting in the country today, a giant of an artist masquerading as a costume with a hearing aid. Remember to kiss his hat and sandals as you exit. Miracle cures are possible.

2 Kudos to the chef, spank the curator

I am a breast-and-thigh man myself at chicken parties, but food on the go has always looked best to me garnished and in small servings. Glass sculptor Ramon Orlina's current exhibition Ning-Ning— laid out like a body count at the CCP Small Gallery until September 23—is so poorly presented that work of lesser merit might have been laughed out of town.

Imagine a tight cluster of taut bosoms in luscious, hand-cut crystal, littered teat-to-breastbone on stands all approximately chest-level. It's not unlike the scene in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre where the police uncover a grizzly stockpile of cadaverous spare parts. And no gravy on mine, please.

Yet Orlina's current level of expertise is a joy to behold in itself. For a while there, the learning process was excruciatingly apparent as the Glass Wonderboy made us squirm with his touch-and-go maneuvers. Now the babbling babe has learned to talk and may soon begin to sing. Can we doubt that there is more joy in heaven over the arrival of one major new talent than there is for the feigned departures of a hundred faltering has-beens?

And this is precisely what this stacked outing is all about, beyond the promotional fanfare, the baring of flesh and one sculptor's curious fetish. If we were to pinpoint the exact location in time at which

Orlina might be said to have truly "arrived", I would wager it's here and now. The artist's workmanship is unerring, honed to a flawless pitch and lustre. There is, too, a more confident handling of line, form and density than was previously apparent. The work on exhibit is undoubtedly five-star material, and the urge to touch and fondle it is testimony to its compelling gestalt.

Orlina's Ning-Ning is more than a clever mouthful. Kudos to the chef. And a well-deserved spanking to the curator.

3 Blank verse in dead space

In contrast, Nelson Ferraris is a little-known Visayan artist whose auspicious appearance at the CCP's Little Theater

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