Orginally published in Philippine Review, Volume II (Issue No. 6) August 1944

This article by Galo B. Ocampo may be read as a rare document of Philippine modernism in the visual arts under Japanese occupation. It records, from within, a moment that has largely escaped art historiography: that the cause of modernism did not stall during the war but continued to advance, finding institutional form in exhibitions such as the Kalibapi competition. Rather than interrupting the trajectory set in the 1930s, the wartime condition appears to have intensified it, even redirecting it along a different course.

Ocampo frames Philippine modernism through a comparative, almost belated geography of art. He begins by situating the Philippines as out of step with the major centers of artistic change: while Europe has already absorbed and institutionalised modernism—placing Cézanne, Van Gogh, and Gauguin alongside the Old Masters—and while Japan, as he notes through Saburo Miyamoto, is already moving beyond modernism in search of new directions across Greater East Asia, the Philippines is only now arriving at this transition. Modern art, in his telling, is already nearing exhaustion elsewhere, yet it is only beginning to take root locally. This temporal lag is not simply a deficiency but becomes the condition through which modernism in the Philippines acquires a different character.

Set against the lingering Academic inheritance of figures such as Juan Luna and Félix Resurrección Hidalgo, and the partial departures of later painters, Ocampo identifies a decisive shift with Victorio C. Edades and its culmination in Carlos V. Francisco. What emerges is a practice grounded in the artist’s immediate environment. Modernism in the Philippines, as Ocampo presents it, is shaped by global currents yet articulated through distinctly Filipino conditions, even under the paradoxical structures of wartime occupation.

By GALO B. OGAMPO

PERIODICALLY, a change comes over the world of painting.
Such a change is either the result of our rapidly changing times
and environments in the social, economic and cultural fields, or the product of the collective efforts of artists in search of new art forms and values.

Such a change in the local art world is in the air today. This change of
art values is purely local. Comparatively speaking, we are many years
late in this change, for modern art is fast becoming passé in other art centers. Cezanne, Van Gogh and Gauguin have passed the rigid requirements of the museums and art galleries, and they now hang side by side
with da Vinci, Michelangelo and Raphael. Among the living, Picasso the “eccentric,” and Matisse the “fauvist,” are fast becoming venerable old masters.

“Modern art is fast becoming passé in Japan, too,” writes Saburo Miyamoto, one of the foremost artists in Japan. “Japanese artists now look
for inspiration and materials all over Greater East Asia.”

In its retarded development, modern art seems to be coming to full
bloom in our country only now, manifesting a healthy cultivation at the Second Art and Architectural Competition and Exhibition under the sponsorship of the Kalibapi. In this competition, all the major prizes have been won by young moderns.

It is rather unfortunate that the average Filipino’s attitude towards
modern art is not quite as healthy as its development would deserve.

“I do not know why Angelus was awarded first prize,” commented a society matron belonging to the higher bracket of Philippine society. “It is not at all classical.” When asked which paintings were classical among the canvases exhibited, she pointed to a realistic genre piece and another canvas showing the influence of Amorsolo. Filipino painting is, therefore, either classical or modern. In both instances, I am afraid, Filipino painting will fall short of the rigid prerequisites as may be imposed by a better art critic.

The truth is, any attempt to classify Filipino painting and painters
will be a little misleading. Luna and Hidalgo, the most popular Filipino painters, really belong to the tail-end of an Academic school already turning Romantic. In subject matter they conform to David’s formula that “Art must only treat important and noble subjects, preferably from classical antiquity,”—like Luna’s Spoliarium (Roman) and Hidalgo’s Oedipus et Antigone (Greek). Yet Luna’s technique reminds one of Delacroix, who demolished David’s artistic empire. These two, therefore, are either Academic or Romantic artists. Classic, never.

After Luna and Hidalgo, the only Filipino artist of consequence is Fabian de la Rosa. The direction he followed is the genre school. De la Rosa preferred de la Rosa to any other painter. Thus, in spite of his two trips abroad, one cannot discern the influence of any foreign artists in his works.

However, in his Mariquina Road, de la Rosa revealed a hitherto unknown tendency, that is, in the end de la Rosa preferred Nature to de la Rosa. There are a lot of painters after de la Rosa who go to Nature with a less esthetic objective than to reproduce Nature. Because they eschew technique, it is hard to classify them, so that it is safe to assume that they belong to the Naturalists, because to them it is still Nature even if it means a muddy and dirty palette, poor colours and a haphazard means or technique.

Amorsolo brightened the otherwise muddy and dark canvases of the “naturalists.” He gave colour-pigment and increased the colours of the Filipino artist’s palette. Local art critics dubbed him an impressionist. But brightness of tone and garishness of value do not make one an impressionist. The genuine impressionists went farther than that. They gave colours a plastic value that increased the tactile elements in art.

Arriving in 1928 from abroad, Victorio C. Edades is the first Filipino artist to give Filipino art a new impetus and direction: destination—Modern Art.

His earlier works executed abroad show a solidity that is almost monumental, dynamic composition that is sorely needed to vitalise Filipino art. In addition, he infused design, which is also a sore spot in Filipino art. However, his later works (after his second trip from Paris) show nothing of the strength of his earlier works. The few canvases that he brought with him from Paris show marked influences of Renoir (Blond Nude Study) and Gauguin.

His influence among the younger painters is most gratifying, however. Greater still is his influence on Filipino art. No other Filipino painter has enlightened serious young painters in the development of a surer technique based on a sound foundation of artistic principles than Edades.

Arriving at a time when the public was not ready to accept modern art, he bided his time till in 1935, when he began painting murals. These murals precipitated a controversy in the press, and the fight for modern art in the Philippines was on between the modern group and the academic group.

Thus, in 1938, as one of the protagonists in this modern movement, we wrote in a local paper:

“If the Filipino artist wants to achieve enduring art forms and values, he must leave his Ivory Tower and mix with the crowd without. He must shake off his age-old theories of academic art and partake of the latest in art. In short, he must begin to paint his own people his own way, to the end that Filipino art, manifestly as a social expression, can attain universal recognition as Chinese, Japanese or Mexican art.”

Written six years ago, the words we want to believe find fulfilment in Carlos V. Francisco, winner of the First, Second and First Honourable Mention prizes in the Second Art and Architectural Competition under the sponsorship of the Kalibapi. Francisco’s is also the triumph of fifteen years of struggle to bring modern art to the people.

This artist is a painter who comes home to his own people in the same way that Hokusai, Eakins, Gainsborough or Millet did.

For the majority of people who have seen the exhibition at the Nippon Banka Kaikan have asked if Carlos V. Francisco has ever been abroad. Never. Which makes him the more important. Motive and training, vision and sensibility, sincerity and sense infused in the fires of the artist’s imagination—all played an important part in the unanimous decision of the Jury.

For Carlos V. Francisco is important. He has found the right direction, kept his bearings. He will eventually arrive at his destination. Direction alone in art is not enough. There are many detours and blind alleys into which many an unsuspecting painter stumbles.

Francisco knows what he wants and goes after it. Eleven years ago he was a scholar in the State University but left his classes because he felt that he could learn more through self-study. He mastered the human figure so thoroughly that he became the most proficient illustrator in our local papers.

It was, however, his contact with modern art that proved to be the turning point in his career. Before this, he painted after the Flemish school. His earlier paintings show much of this influence.

In modern art, Francisco found the answer to his true individuality. He was soon to learn that there was such a thing as solidity, texture, form, rhythm and design in painting, and not merely a plain splashing of the brush against canvas.

He started an apprenticeship which took him almost ten years. Cezanne fascinated him. There was something in the significant form of the recluse from Aix that drew this young artist to this modern master. There was something of the primitiveness of Gauguin that struck a sympathetic note in him too. Gauguin preferred primitive Tahiti to civilised Paris. In his early days, Francisco was offered a monthly salary, the palatial house and studio of a successful architect, with the stipulation that the young artist do nothing but paint and paint. Francisco showed up for one day and then disappeared. He did not feel at home in such a big house. He preferred the nipa hut of his native Angono.

Angono, nestling by the shores of Laguna de Bay, has furnished all the materials in his paintings. All the characters in his winning pieces are his townsfolk. A colleague has said that he characterises his people in his paintings. So did Goya and Daumier. So did Grosz and Gropper. Only, greater minds call it character.

Sincerity is the keynote to his art. It is also the keynote to his character. “Why do you paint Igorots,” he asked a contemporary one day, “you have never lived with those people. You do not understand the Igorot mind, their costumes and customs. I do not smell your Igorots in your paintings.”

Not a few connoisseurs have intimated that his style is stiff. To which he answers: “One’s style can be stiff or loose, but it must always be vital.”

Francisco’s style is characterised by its faultless design, its solidity of form and a texture executed with verve. He has a plastic sense of colour, and works fast as most inspired artists do.

Demetrio Diego, the winner of the Third Prize, Siesta in the Farm, is noteworthy for the facility in handling masses. As for our own entries, which we believe betray a decorative sense of Oriental composition, an architectonic rhythm and a texture reminiscent of Van Gogh, we leave the judgment to other persons. Bonifacio Cristobal’s Prayer is an example of what a Fine Arts graduate can do if one can get away from the influence of his professors. Worthy of mention is Architect Jose Pardo’s Long Hair. It is characterised by a planar composition and an intense colour scheme that makes it stand out in spite of its small size.

It is hoped that these young painters will continue to paint and study to the end that they may enrich and revitalise Filipino art and make it a strong cultural force. It is true that most of them, if not all of them, are still in the process of growth. But never in the history of Filipino art has Filipino painting looked so healthy and potential. The present crop of youthful painters is the best proof we can have of new clarity of esthetic purpose, new direction with new blood.—#