Christmas Card?

Ages ago, when I was still a member of Ilustrador Ng Kabataan (an organization of illustrators for children) we were asked by Museo Pambata for design proposals for their annual christmas cards. I sent this one. The girl was a recurring character in my drawings back then. I "distressed" the original drawing by creasing the paper and dipping it in tea. Then I added gold dust when it dried. I was very fond of this piece. The museum sent it back though, saying it wasn't "Filipino" enough. I recall that the cards they did end up producing that year were every square inch crammed with jeepneys, parols and simbang gabi. Very festive and colorful. I guess they sold well.

We were asked to send designs to Hallmark as well and so off this went again. "It looks sad," they told me when they sent it back. Un-Filipino and unhappy. Hmm.

My girl with potted plant finally saw print when a friend decided she wanted to produce her own greeting cards one Christmas. I think I still have a couple of pieces left.

I suppose it has always bothered me that there is in general a rather narrow perception of what "Pinoy" ought to look. I don't know...I'm Filipino and I drew the picture. I don't think it looks decidedly un-Filipino, and if it does it definitely wasn't my intention. What would have made it look more Filipino? If there was a nipa hut and a coconut tree in the background? Come on. And while we're at it, I don't think it looks sad. A little moody maybe, but not sad. But then again maybe that's why I don't work for Hallmark.

More Happy News

On the 27th of October, friend Tess and her Alex were married in New York. I send you my love and best wishes, and thank you for sharing your happy moment with all of us. Extra thanks, because I am a sucker for happy endings/beginnings and I sure loved this one!

Time Flies When You're Smitten

I can't believe this little flower is now 3 years old. Happy birthday darling Olivia. (Photo taken during her christening in Jan. 2002)

Snappy

A few days after I posted the previous entry, I checked for comments, half-hoping that God was feeling extra-unorthodox and left me a message. Something unequivocal, undoubtedly Prime Mover. You never know, right?

Two mortals dear to me did post, and I am grateful. In fact, while I am at it, let me thank my entire reading public (population: 4).

A loved one pointed out that I have been grumpy for two days running. And it is true, I’ve been extra irritable. Yes, there have been some frustrations and concerns, but come to think of it, nothing particularly devastating nor new. So why, I ask myself. Could it be hormonal? Egad, I used to think that was such a lame excuse, but I am detecting a strange pattern here. Around the same time last month I pulled an emotional weirdfest that still leaves me cringing.

In an effort to shake this off I bought a bag of sweets while I was at the mall for work. Doesn’t sugar lift the mood? I am happy to report that I have completely consumed my choice selection of gummies, and should therefore be feeling better any minute now.

(waits)

Any minute now…

In The Dark

On the 12th of November, Carlo’s friend, a photographer named Mike Llorin was killed by a stray bullet. I am told he was attending a car show in Makati, when a group outside got into an argument and, as absolute morons are wont to do, decided the only way to settle it was with their guns.

I met Mike last week at a store opening. The briefest crossing of paths, and now this horrible turn of events. There is a wave of sadness, shock and anger in C’s community. I am told that Mike was a fine human being. I am also told that people aren’t just saying this about him because he is gone -- as is sometimes the tendency -- but because he really was a good man, in an age when goodness is often an afterthought. I can’t even say that I knew this man, but the senselessness of his death makes my spirit weep.

Mike was married with three children. He was 30 years old.

(I know You are reading this. I want You to explain this to me. I am waiting.)

Okay, So It Isn’t Brilliant, But..

A recent project required me to watch scenes from the movie Troy over and over and over again. I would never claim that this film was anything but a good Hollywood ride, but I was struck by the opening statement:

Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity. And so we ask ourselves: Will our actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we are gone and wonder who we were, how bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved?

Tour For Two

C. and I zipped up our jackets and went around a damp Manila yesterday, travelling first by car and then on foot. He took this photo on one of Intramuros' smaller streets, which were all glistening with the afternoon rain. We caught the sun setting on the bay (gorgeous) and had dinner at Su Zhou on Mabini (delicious). Walking back to the car through evening traffic we looked for those lovely old buildings still standing among the newer high-rises, which for all their fresh paint and concrete, pale in comparison to those grand old dames.

It was a good day.

With All Your Heart And Attention

Hello. I’m back at the desk, after a crazy October. I had plans of giving a blow-by-blow of what kept me so tied up, but I will save that for another post.

My 2 year old sister Olivia (she turns 3 in a few weeks) decided she wanted to hang out with me so I had a tiny office gnome today, running around and crawling over every piece of furniture at her disposal. To her credit, she did keep herself busy for a laudable amount of time, drawing with her pastels and going through her stash of books. After a while though she wanted to “read” something else, so I handed her a book on Degas (she looked at Magritte before, and Picasso – both kind of confused her). So here was this tiny human being sitting on my yellow couch in her knickers and pink tee, quietly flipping through Degas’ plates like an art critic. Then she declares, “I like this so much.”

Sigh.

As if the warm fuzzy feeling this gave me was not enough, a copy of a letter fell out of the book. It was written by a friend, a wonderful artist named Bernadette ‘Bernie’ Solina, who I had the pleasure of working with on a children’s art workshop back in 1999. The letter was addressed to the project organizer. In it are Bernie’s thoughts on art, its purposes, particularly in the context of our workshop, which was operating on a non-existent budget and was meant to reach city kids who could not afford lessons otherwise. We held our sessions Sunday mornings in a garden beside the Manila City Hall, and had limited (traditional art) materials that we had to spread out among an overwhelming number of eager participants. It was our own version of the Miracle of Loaves and Fishes, I tell you.

It is a wonderful letter which I would love to post here in its entirety, but I think I should ask her first. No, first, I have to find her, since we lost touch after my older sister got sick. (Bernie, if you somehow come across this drop me a line). I will quote this for now:

There is often this question to artists (and it may refer to anyone in particular): would you stop doing artwork if you were marooned on an island with nothing to work with (meaning art materials) and no one to appreciate it (meaning art gallery habitués)?

Art makes us co-creators of God. There really is nothing more natural and more sacred than doing art. Priests do it by praying, cooks do it by cooking, you may do it by nurturing your adopted children…it is basically something you do with all your heart and with all your attention.

I like this so much.