With an imagination on hyperdrive and technical skills that won’t quit, one of contemporary art’s most exciting artists paints and sculpts the shape of things to come
Text by Lourd De Veyra
Photographs by Jake Verzosa
Image: Ronald Ventura's wall of sketches and studies.
With an imagination on hyperdrive and technical skills that won’t quit, one of contemporary art’s most exciting artists paints and sculpts the shape of things to come
Text by Lourd De Veyra
Photographs by Jake Verzosa
Image: Ronald Ventura's wall of sketches and studies.
Ronald Ventura lives on a street called Earth.
That is not metaphorical balderdash but a literal statement of fact. This part of Congressional Subdivision in Tandang Sora takes appellative inspiration from celestial bodies. Earth Street in Tandang Sora is a stone’s throw away from a Burger Machine stand. A big number 2 is crudely spray-painted on his apartment gate. One sees, upon entering, a caged pitbull that is suprisingly quiet for its otherwise vicious pedigree.
“Show-type lang yan,” Ventura explains, when asked about the dog’s demure demeanor. A blue Ford Lynx occupies the driveway that leads directly to what presently serves as the artist’s work studio, at the center of which looms a canvas more than 10 feet and virtually blank except for an outline of what appears to be a robot of Japanese phylogeny. To the right side of the driveway is a wall lined by small plants, to the left a shelf with a battalion of resin sculptures varying in dimensions and shapes except for one common characteristic: the pudgy body topped with animé-rodent-like heads, adorned by edgy monochromatic scrawls (some are actually shaped like rats).
Ventura, 35, lives on a street called Earth but there is nothing mundane about his art. The aforementioned canvas, he would reveal to me later on, would be painted with a gigantic image of Astro Boy (or what looks like him) with the face of his son. On the robot’s chest is a small hatch opening to reveal a beating heart.
ME: What is it that you find beautiful?
VENTURA: Tough question.
ME: Haha. Sorry—
VENTURA: Siguro, what’s beautiful for me is something closer to the truth.
ME: “...”
VENTURA: Of course, my truth is different from yours.
ME: Okay...
VENTURA: And, of course, your concept of beauty changes all the time.
ME: “...”
A landmark exhibition by the Asia Sociey in New York traces the roots of Chinese contemporary art, from its beginnings in the midst of sweeping turmoil to its spectacular rise in the international scene.
By Jack Teotico
Image: Detail of Wang Guangyi's "Great Castigation Series: Coca-Cola", 1993, 200 x 200 cm, oil on canvas
Courtesy of the Artist and AW Asia
A landmark exhibition by the Asia Sociey in New York traces the roots of Chinese contemporary art, from its beginnings in the midst of sweeping turmoil to its spectacular rise in the international scene.
By Jack Teotico
Image: Detail of Wang Guangyi's "Great Castigation Series: Coca-Cola", 1993, 200 x 200 cm, oil on canvas
Courtery of the Artist and AW Asia
Last year’s autumn in New York seemed to inspire a deep gaze into the heart and soul of Asia—at least two big events were in-depth visual probes into the East. There was the second Asian Contemporary Art Fair (ACAF NY), first staged the year before, in 2007, the largest gathering of contemporary art from Asia in the United States. The Asia Society booth at the ACAF NY in Chelsea’s Pier 92 led me to their museum along Park Avenue, in the Upper East Side. It was a particularly cold day (requiring three layers of clothing), perfect for staying in, but a landmark exhibit then on view at the museum was not to be missed. Curated by leading authority on Chinese contemporary art and Asia Society Museum director Melissa Chiu along with artist Zheng Shengtian, the exhibition, which ran from September 5, 2008 to January 11 of this year, chronicled the impact of Chinese politics on art for the tumultuous three decades after the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, and was one of the most comprehensive and informative exhibits ever mounted outside of China. Definitely worth the brisk walk in nippy weather.
Dubbed “the first exhibition to examine in-depth the powerful and complicated effects of Mao Zedong’s revolutionary ideals on artists and art production in China,” the exhibit brought together “large scale paintings, ink paintings, sculptures, drawings and artist sketchbooks, woodblock prints, posters, and objects from everyday life, many never before shown in the United States.”
My interest in China extends several decades back—throughout the three-decades long modernization of China under Mao Zedong, many of us outside of it played rapt witness (in the various ways that information could get to us) to a sweeping phenomenon, one that is best described as both awesome and tumultuous. Along with a Yale University-published volume, the 260-page Art and China’s Revolution written by Melissa Chiu, that I bought off the museum store and devoured along with a sandwich in the museum café, the riveting exhibition brought to light certain controversial episodes in the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution.
BACKThe late Santiago Bose, the free-spirited artist and cultural crusader, lived his life in his works. Six years after his death, his daughter continues to find pieces of the man in the legacy he left behind.
By Lilledeshan Bose
Image: Detail of Santi Bose's "Self-Portait on Door", 1976
The late Santiago Bose, the free-spirited artist and cultural crusader, lived his life in his works. Six years after his death, his daughter continues to find pieces of the man in the legacy he left behind.
By Lilledeshan Bose
Image: Detail of Santi Bose's "Self-Portait on Door", 1976
In November, I arrived in Manila for a long vacation after five years of living abroad. Among the first social gatherings I attended was the Writers’ Night at the University of the Philippines, an annual Christmastime gathering of writers of all persuasions, of which I count myself as one among the returning alumni. During the festivities, an old professor introduced me as Santiago Bose’s daughter.
It’s been more than six years since I’ve been introduced that way, and I was amazed by the familiar feeling of smugness-plus-sadness that it brought me. Throughout my life I felt that Santiago Bose—artist, conceptualizer, theorist, arts organizer, magician, critic and father —pre-defined who I was in other people’s eyes.
With good reason—Santi, as he was called by close friends, fellow artists, and other associates, was a brilliant artist. New York-based novelist Jessica Hagedorn once referred to him as a “cultural provocateur,” hilarious and unforgettable. In the 1970s, he worked with Alfred “Krip” Yuson and Alfonso “Boy” Yuchengco on Ermita magazine, about the same time he began mining indigenous materials and portraying local events in his mixed media work. After a mural he made in Sagada became politically controversial, he realized how powerful his images could be and wielded his brush deliberately, aware of its implications.
In the 1980s, he co-founded the Baguio Arts Guild with National Artist BenCab, Kidlat de Guia and Robert Villanueva, among others. They promoted Baguio art and hosted international festivals, exposing young artists—and the city—to international work and vice versa.
BACKBefore they became giants, a group of struggling young artists founded Salingpusa — literally meaning junior bit player — and went on to leave an indelible mark on Philippine contemporary art.
By Riel Hilario
Image: Toney Leaño supervises the making of the "Karnabal" study as other members look on.
Before they became giants, a group of struggling young artists founded Salingpusa — literally meaning junior bit player — and went on to leave an indelible mark on Philippine contemporary art.
By Riel Hilario
Image: Toney Leaño supervises the making of the "Karnabal" study as other members look on.
There are certain episodes in Philippine art when the nexus of creative activity significantly emanates from particular groups, sectors, or even singular personalities in the community of artists. The emergence of the artist-group Salingpusa in the 1990s undeniably transformed the landscape of Philippine contemporary art. A powerhouse of a group, the artists of Salingpusa have chartered several directions with their individual works and yet it is their collective threefold legacy that emanates its influence until today.
First is their story of collective struggle for a breakthrough; the classic journey of young Filipino artists searching for a niche in the art scene. They did this by way of art contests, and by supporting each other in their endeavors to consolidate bodies of work.
Then there are the interaction paintings where the collective approach re-introduced solidarity as an artistic virtue. The Salingpusa artists injected renewed vigor to figurative easel painting in the 1990s, and brought to the attention of the art scene the struggle and endeavors of the young artist.
Not in the least is the individual careers of each Salingpusa artist, whose works continuously change and engage nationalism and globalization and remain significant in the discursive domains of art in the new millennium.
BACKToti Cerda's limber strokes in watercolor and portraits of innocence bring new light to the medium
Text by Cid Reyes
Image: Detail of Toti Cerda's "Ulan-Ulan 2", 2007, 21 x 29 in, watercolor on paper.
Courtesy of Gallery Genesis
Toti Cerda's limber strokes in watercolor and portraits of innocence bring new light to the medium
Text by Cid Reyes
Image: Detail of Toti Cerda's "Ulan-Ulan 2", 2007, 21 x 29 in, watercolor on paper.
Courtesy of Gallery Genesis
In Philippine art history, most esteemed are the watercolor paintings of the late National Artist Vicente Manansala, whose deft touch with the medium impelled art critic Rod Paras-Perez to describe his watercolors of countryside landscape “as though a bird could fly through them.”
Unfortunately, however, watercolor never quite attained the stature of oil painting. To what can we ascribe this lowly estimation of watercolor? First and foremost is the vaunted difficulty of this medium which, let it be said, intimidates many artists. Second and more affecting, Filipino collectors are so infatuated with oil paintings, regarding them as superior to the watercolor medium, which, with a certain benign disdain, is regarded as good only for sketches, studies and preliminary drawings for what would eventually be rendered in oil.
Aware of this lamentable neglect, the Genesis Gallery, under the management of Ernesto and Arasahi “Chichi” Sales, decided to put watercolor in its worthy place. Nearly 25 years ago, the Sales couple launched the Kulay sa Tubig art competition. The Filipino translation of the word watercolor did more than just “indigenize” the medium; it made the Filipino artist respond, to the medium born. Collectively, the numerous prize-winning works gleaned from this invitational watercolor competition are a veritable fest. Increasing numbers of Filipino artists have made a real connection with the innate virtues of watercolor: transparency of light, radiance of color, discipline of draftsmanship.
Primus inter pares, or first among equals, among Filipino watercolorists is Toti Cerda whose claim to this honor is easily justified. The Kulay sa Tubig art competition has installed a “Hall of Fame” for watercolorists who have won at least three major prizes.
BACKThe new Tyler Rollins Fine Art gallery in Chelsea, a large, 3,000-square-feet art space, is a pioneer in its specialty: Southeast Asian art. That owner Tyler Rollins should devote as much attention to a blossoming market is evidence that Southeast Asian art has arrived, and the gallery opening in October 2008 is a telling sign it could remain upbeat through these troubled times.
Images courtesy of Tyler Rollins
READ MOREThe new Tyler Rollins Fine Art gallery in Chelsea, a large, 3,000-square-feet art space, is a pioneer in its specialty: Southeast Asian art. That owner Tyler Rollins should devote as much attention to a blossoming market is evidence that Southeast Asian art has arrived, and the gallery opening in October 2008 is a telling sign it could remain upbeat through these troubled times. In December last year, Time Magazine gave a nod to Rollins’ bold move, saying, “Rollins’ timing is perfect: while prices for Chinese works dropped in the fall auctions, Southeast Asian art broke records.” At the Sotheby’s auction in 2008, contemporary art from Southeast Asia ruled the floor—Indonesia’s I. Nyoman Masriadi’s “Sorry Hero, Saya Lupa (Sorry Hero, I Forgot)”, $622,000, eight times the estimated price, and Filipino artist Ronald Ventura’s “Nesting Ground” fetched $280,000, “more than 10 times the expected price.” Here, Rollins shares some thoughts on what’s in store for Southeast Asian art at his new space, and in all of New York.
|
Tyler Rollins |
ON THE NEW GALLERY IN CHELSEA
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A FINE EYE |
|
|
© Contemporary Art Philippines 2010
