ARTIS CORPUS HOLDS GROUP SHOW ON CHILDREN
By Enrico J. L. Manlapaz
BataNgSining (Child of Art) is the first group exhibition of Artis Corpus Gallery. It is a welcome breather from the seemingly profound topics alluding to the universe, nature, spirituality, pure art, and existence, pondered upon in the first four solo gallery shows mounted from November 2008 to the present. In recognizing pluralism in 21st century Philippine visual arts, Artis Corpus Gallery featured exhibitions of varied artistic styles and personal dispositions. Sculptors Jun and Elrine Vicaldo presented Sandiwa: Tao’t Kalikasan (One Spirit: Humans and Nature), followed by prolific visual artist Trek Valdizno’s Urgent Paintings from San Rafael, Bulacan, curated by Sandra Palomar. Angono artist Orville D. R. Tiamson then mounted his P+RE+VIEW exhibition. This series of exhibitions ended with Ryan Rubio in a painting and sculpture show entitled Existence, from 15 February to 9 March 2009.
A project of a lighter mood was conceived last December when I stumbled upon a couple of exceptional works by two painters from Bulacan in a mall group show in Manila. BataNgSining was given its serendipitous kickoff on 31 December 2008 when I came across an important artist, Neil Manalo. In early 1990s, I was fascinated by his wide-eyed urchins awed by giant television screens showing bigger-than-life images of supernatural powers and heroes. I courageously asked if he can join a group show of this nature. He obliged and the show was made. I formally invited some twenty other budding or established artists to join the exhibition. By end of January, I had in my list an additional thirteen artists who show a genuine fascination for children, seen from their previous works.
The Filipino language has been a very comfortable refuge to express various concepts within a single term. The phrase “bata ng sining” can simply mean “child of art.” Yet in the colloquial, when a child is labeled in a fashion such as “batang something,” a uniquely different meaning is attached. Batang kalye (literally “street child”) implies a certain affinity toward the ways of the world. The street possesses the child as the child possesses the street. Batang kalye may also mean “street-smart kid” or a child who knows how to move about and deal with people around. Batang sining can also mean “artistic child.” Yet I prefer Batang Sining to mean a child belonging to the eternal concept called Art, with a sense of ownership implying oneness and monism. Batang Sining can also imply the child carrying, thereby owning, Art within. BataNgSining, as written and presented in logo form, incorporates the various meanings presented above. The three words are strung together to read either Bata Ng Sining or Batang Sining, whatever suits its reader best.
In my letter of invitation for the artists, I mentioned that works should feature the child as star of Philippine visual arts. The Filipino child becomes center of attraction. In portraying this sensitive subject, it was my wish that the matter be presented “what should be” rather than simply “what really is.” Reality is softened by hope, nurture, company, interaction, and cooperation. It was my intention to present what the child was meant for: discovery, play, ambition, care, love, and a desire for a bright future. In simple words, I wanted children presented in situations suited for the precious gift that they are.
A collateral event of the BataNgSining exhibition is the Summer Creativity Workshop for Children aimed to provide opportunities for children to express themselves creatively through the visual arts. Conducted in the same exhibition venue, participants will see themselves featured on the walls of the gallery surrounding them while they create their visions of their world. The entire program BataNgSining seeks to encourage dedication and commitment to the proper attention to and nurturing of children.
The works collected for this exhibition follow a cohesive thread from simplified yet serious concerns to visions of greatness. The exhibition starts with a socially relevant issue, the constant bombardment of children with technology. Neil Manalo presents his Magpipinsan (Cousins) where, in a typical pre-supper ritual at home, a group of five children watch their favorite show in television, seemingly inattentive to the impact of this tube to their lives, their values, and their future. Demetrio De la Cruz’s Pixelize, Depixelize further engulfs the child within a mechanized world. This child seems to enjoy this entrapment, accepting its logic as his own way of dealing with things around him.
Down the lane, three works seem to emerge with a bittersweet undertone. Noel Pama’s Unan (Pillow) wishes for the homeless child a pillow to cushion her head from the hard and cold concrete matted only by a piece of flattened corrugated box. Melancholia strikes the child as he celebrates his birthday in Jaime Gubaton’s Happy Days. Camille De la Rosa’s The Outcast is not really clear who is: the rich boy building his sandcastle, abandoned by his own negotiating parents, or the boy staring at him from the beach. The viewer is left to decide on the matter.
Ambition, or at least the desire for it, is presented in the next works. Using the kite flying cliché, artists Norlie Meimban and Gerrico Blanco portray the slum child wishing his saranggola to soar high as his dreams. Kris Jan Gavino’s Someday… employs his red-caped superchild high above possibly in his own nursery, among cutout clouds and moon. Mark Anthony Bello treats the topic differently with his Maestro Primero (Master I) where the painting child is mindless of a forecast shadow, possibly of his own future.
Two works are not for the weak of heart as they both challenge the audience headon. Edwin Martinez’s Cold Pleasure dictates a straightforward “Inggit ka, ‘no?” (Envious?) with the boy staring directly at his viewer as he mockingly slurps his molten ice cream. A similar stance, although a little coy, is employed by Othoniel Neri in his Pa-Kyut (Trying to be Cute).
Mind play is evident in Rodel Jacintos’ Little Boy Blew where a baby blows fantasies in a quasi-surreal landscape employing a flying carpet of checkered tiles. Another fantasy number is Randalf Dilla’s cherubim with a naughty twist, subtly titled Innocence. All are wrapped up by the monochrome work of PJ Jalandoni entitled Mga Batang Sining (Children of Art) juxtaposed on the world map, subtly declaring “We are Children of Art! The Children of the World!” Today: Art! Tomorrow, we conquer the Universe!
By Enrico J. L. Manlapaz
BataNgSining (Child of Art) is the first group exhibition of Artis Corpus Gallery. It is a welcome breather from the seemingly profound topics alluding to the universe, nature, spirituality, pure art, and existence, pondered upon in the first four solo gallery shows mounted from November 2008 to the present. In recognizing pluralism in 21st century Philippine visual arts, Artis Corpus Gallery featured exhibitions of varied artistic styles and personal dispositions. Sculptors Jun and Elrine Vicaldo presented Sandiwa: Tao’t Kalikasan (One Spirit: Humans and Nature), followed by prolific visual artist Trek Valdizno’s Urgent Paintings from San Rafael, Bulacan, curated by Sandra Palomar. Angono artist Orville D. R. Tiamson then mounted his P+RE+VIEW exhibition. This series of exhibitions ended with Ryan Rubio in a painting and sculpture show entitled Existence, from 15 February to 9 March 2009.
A project of a lighter mood was conceived last December when I stumbled upon a couple of exceptional works by two painters from Bulacan in a mall group show in Manila. BataNgSining was given its serendipitous kickoff on 31 December 2008 when I came across an important artist, Neil Manalo. In early 1990s, I was fascinated by his wide-eyed urchins awed by giant television screens showing bigger-than-life images of supernatural powers and heroes. I courageously asked if he can join a group show of this nature. He obliged and the show was made. I formally invited some twenty other budding or established artists to join the exhibition. By end of January, I had in my list an additional thirteen artists who show a genuine fascination for children, seen from their previous works.
The Filipino language has been a very comfortable refuge to express various concepts within a single term. The phrase “bata ng sining” can simply mean “child of art.” Yet in the colloquial, when a child is labeled in a fashion such as “batang something,” a uniquely different meaning is attached. Batang kalye (literally “street child”) implies a certain affinity toward the ways of the world. The street possesses the child as the child possesses the street. Batang kalye may also mean “street-smart kid” or a child who knows how to move about and deal with people around. Batang sining can also mean “artistic child.” Yet I prefer Batang Sining to mean a child belonging to the eternal concept called Art, with a sense of ownership implying oneness and monism. Batang Sining can also imply the child carrying, thereby owning, Art within. BataNgSining, as written and presented in logo form, incorporates the various meanings presented above. The three words are strung together to read either Bata Ng Sining or Batang Sining, whatever suits its reader best.
In my letter of invitation for the artists, I mentioned that works should feature the child as star of Philippine visual arts. The Filipino child becomes center of attraction. In portraying this sensitive subject, it was my wish that the matter be presented “what should be” rather than simply “what really is.” Reality is softened by hope, nurture, company, interaction, and cooperation. It was my intention to present what the child was meant for: discovery, play, ambition, care, love, and a desire for a bright future. In simple words, I wanted children presented in situations suited for the precious gift that they are.
A collateral event of the BataNgSining exhibition is the Summer Creativity Workshop for Children aimed to provide opportunities for children to express themselves creatively through the visual arts. Conducted in the same exhibition venue, participants will see themselves featured on the walls of the gallery surrounding them while they create their visions of their world. The entire program BataNgSining seeks to encourage dedication and commitment to the proper attention to and nurturing of children.
The works collected for this exhibition follow a cohesive thread from simplified yet serious concerns to visions of greatness. The exhibition starts with a socially relevant issue, the constant bombardment of children with technology. Neil Manalo presents his Magpipinsan (Cousins) where, in a typical pre-supper ritual at home, a group of five children watch their favorite show in television, seemingly inattentive to the impact of this tube to their lives, their values, and their future. Demetrio De la Cruz’s Pixelize, Depixelize further engulfs the child within a mechanized world. This child seems to enjoy this entrapment, accepting its logic as his own way of dealing with things around him.
Down the lane, three works seem to emerge with a bittersweet undertone. Noel Pama’s Unan (Pillow) wishes for the homeless child a pillow to cushion her head from the hard and cold concrete matted only by a piece of flattened corrugated box. Melancholia strikes the child as he celebrates his birthday in Jaime Gubaton’s Happy Days. Camille De la Rosa’s The Outcast is not really clear who is: the rich boy building his sandcastle, abandoned by his own negotiating parents, or the boy staring at him from the beach. The viewer is left to decide on the matter.
Ambition, or at least the desire for it, is presented in the next works. Using the kite flying cliché, artists Norlie Meimban and Gerrico Blanco portray the slum child wishing his saranggola to soar high as his dreams. Kris Jan Gavino’s Someday… employs his red-caped superchild high above possibly in his own nursery, among cutout clouds and moon. Mark Anthony Bello treats the topic differently with his Maestro Primero (Master I) where the painting child is mindless of a forecast shadow, possibly of his own future.
Two works are not for the weak of heart as they both challenge the audience headon. Edwin Martinez’s Cold Pleasure dictates a straightforward “Inggit ka, ‘no?” (Envious?) with the boy staring directly at his viewer as he mockingly slurps his molten ice cream. A similar stance, although a little coy, is employed by Othoniel Neri in his Pa-Kyut (Trying to be Cute).
Mind play is evident in Rodel Jacintos’ Little Boy Blew where a baby blows fantasies in a quasi-surreal landscape employing a flying carpet of checkered tiles. Another fantasy number is Randalf Dilla’s cherubim with a naughty twist, subtly titled Innocence. All are wrapped up by the monochrome work of PJ Jalandoni entitled Mga Batang Sining (Children of Art) juxtaposed on the world map, subtly declaring “We are Children of Art! The Children of the World!” Today: Art! Tomorrow, we conquer the Universe!
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