YIN-YANG and An Open Door
YIN-YANG and An Open Door
By Cesare A.X. Syjuco
Published in: Sunday Globe Leisure, May 19, 1991
I FIGURED it all out in my sleep. Somewhere in between the giant sno-cones and the topless dancing girls, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks: “indoors” and “out- doors” are the yin and yang of contemporary living.
Read my lips. Then consider, if you will, the profound relevance of that statement to our own daily lives. We have indoor/outdoor sports, indoor/outdoor entertainment, indoor/outdoor plants and furnishings, indoor/outdoor fashions, etc., etc.
Is it any wonder, then, that there should be indoor and outdoor art to compliment an indoor/outdoor life? Or that both kinds of art, for that matter, should possess qualities unique to their own specific applications?
All this delirious chatter isn’t exactly for nothing. In the very nick of time, the answer descends on me like Jacob’s ladder to make good sense of an other- wise-lackluster show. In time for my noon deadline, at that. Lucky show. And because I value old friendships, lucky me.
Here goes. On view at the new Kanlungan Ng Sining gallery until June 5 is the exhibition entitled Remedios Circle Sa Luneta: Indoor/Outdoor Art. The show’s fresh curatorial concept focuses on artists’ individual reactions to indoor and outdoor exhibition spaces, with both types of work presented simultaneously.
No art critic worth his salt would miss the chance to sink his teeth into an exhibit like that. Such a visionary concept, if and when it could actually be realized in the show itself, would necessarily underscore the age-old considerations attached to site- specific art in general. These would include (a) affinity of the work to the shape and character of its surroundings, (b) suitability of its materials to the environmental conditions of the location, and (c) relationship of its scale/proportions to the quality and size of its setting.
The fact is that, for hundreds of years, artists have been designing their works around the very spaces they are made to occupy. Thus, weather-resistant materials are almost always used for outdoor pieces, natural materials for naturalistic settings, and larger or more expansive works for wide-open locations. The principles governing site-specific art are among the oldest foundations of art-making itself. Yet, curiously, never before now have they assumed so prominent, so critical a role in the realm of art theory.
Installations by Daniel Buren and Kristo have obliterated the thin line between art and architecture. Earthworkers like Carl Andre have reshaped entire landscapes. Relating this phenomenon to the work of our own artists would definitely have been a thesis to thrill to. The show at the Luneta had the makings of something terrific, I thought to my- self—if only the artists could really get together on this project.
The Remedios Circle seemed tailor- made for the job. A 15-man alliance comprised of “middle-generation” artists with their roots in abstraction and mixed media, the group’s personas virtually span the breadth of stylistic approaches from the methodical to the freeform. By headcount alone, the wealth of talent in its fold has always been potentially awe- some. But “potentially” is the trick-word here, and this fraternity of well-known painters—not nearly a year in existence— has remained, for the most part, an unwieldy and ill-focused group bogged down by its own abundance of individual talent.
Ask Clapton and Winwood; “super- groups” seldom make it off the ground. Nevertheless, I grit my teeth and went to see the show.
A walk-through gallery
I had gone to the Kanlungan Ng Sining gallery at the Luneta expecting the worst. Descriptions of the space itself—vividly provided by other artists I had spoken to over the past weeks—had conjured terrible images in my own head of a tin shack with all its nails and splinters hanging out. Totally vulnerable to the elements, someone had said. Hot as an oven, complained others. More like a waiting shed for commuters, someone else had told me. Word had it that the gallery had been re-dubbed “kilikilig ni sining” (or “art’s armpit”), and that was perhaps most cruel of all.
I also came prepared for the worst be- cause the Kanlungan gallery had been a cult project of high-flying sculptor Ed Cas- trillo—a puffy plum to cap his excruciatingly long reign as President of the Art Association of the Philippines (AAP). The idea for the space itself is one of only three things, I think, that Ed and his boys can rightly claim to have brought to completion during all those years in the driver’s seat. Now, Castrillo’s entourage has always had a way of making mountains out of molehills—especially when size weighs heavily in Ed’s favor—and passing off a toilet as an art gallery would not be beyond them.
My sources were dead wrong, along with my own apprehensions. Kanlungan is a charming space, if pared down to essentials. Located behind the National Library within sight of the Rizal Monument, the gallery-proper is one long exhibition area with artworks presented in single file. It is a walk-through affair surrounded by lush greenery, without the usual doors to shut out the poor. Artistic Director Rock Drilon was also a member of the Remedios Circle, told us that hundreds of promenaders come to the gallery daily, making it a genuine bridge to the urban masses.
The late Dianne Arbus said that nothing is ever what you expect it to be. Where the gallery was impressive—at least in intention and spirit—the exhibit was rather disappointing. Not all of the members of the Remedios Circle were represented in the show, and those that were, had pieces that hardly showed them at their best. Only three or four of the artists had even bothered to present outdoor pieces, and much of that entailed a minimum of effort and planning. With the possible exception of a few outstanding works—including a stunning indoor canvas by Tony Ramboyong, a small peek-a-boo construction by Gus Albor, a macabre installation by Jojo Legaspi, and a heroic garden sculpture of bamboo and tin cans by Hemisanto—the show looked somewhat tired and overdrawn at the bank.
Where the Remedios Circle succeeds in relating to the indoor/outdoor concept is in an area of concern quite apart from their original intention: that is to say, in bringing a substantial overview of progressive Philippine art (an elitist activity usually reserved for “insiders”) to the common people that usually inhabit the Luneta park (now and forever the proverbial “outsiders” looking in). That’s a helluva lot better than it sounds—and in many ways, a helluva lot better than I had wanted it to be.
Success sometimes comes to people when they least expect it, and when it does, it grabs them from behind. I’ve always known that, and still it surprises me.
Thumbs up, boys. And a caustic grin to boot.
* * *
Cesare A.X. Syjuco, “YIN-YANG and An Open Door” (page 1 of 1), Sunday Globe Leisure, May 19, 1991
