Tuesday, October 29, 2013

41. Review: GLIMPSES OF OLD CEBU

Category: Books 
Genre: Arts & Photography 
Author: Lucy Urgello Miller University of San Carlos Press 
276 pp. Hardbound

When I got hold of this book from La Solidaridad and saw the author's name, it rang a few bells in my head. After leafing through the pages, I realized that this was the same Lucy Miller that I had frequently bidded against on ebay, especially when the items up for bid were Manila Carnival photos. Her old photo collection about her province has suddenly become a handsome picture book.

Around 700 of her choicest postcards and photos are included here, depicting everything Cebu--from Magellan's cross, magnificent residences, modes of travel, public places to scenes from the Cebu carnivals and other historic events. Captions, anecdotes and engaging stories accompany each photo--like the murder of a Cebuano couple, the visit of Taft and the killing of 4 American teachers by bandits. This book is of particular interest to me as it is a perfect combination of local history (which I have always been partial too) as well as colonial photography (read: nostalgia! antiques!). I am glad I found this copy--the last one, in fact--in Manila. When this goes out of print, expect "Glimpses of Old Cebu" to be a valuable collectible too.

 (Thanks to Mr. Louie Nacorda for tipping me about this book)

(9 June 2010)

Sunday, October 20, 2013

40. HOUSE CLEANING FOR ART TREASURES

I’ve always held my dealer friends, Tony and Leni Ronquillo, responsible for turning me into a hardcore collecting fiend. Back in the early ‘80s, the Ronquillos were one of the first to set up a second hand shop at Makati Cinema Square, and it was here that I met Tony, a veteran collector as well, whose mishmash merchandise was always a source of puzzlement to me back then—Coke bottles, Star War toys, Bakelite radios, records, postcards, stamps, vintage toys and old photos. It was he who jumpstarted my Manila Carnival photo collection , by giving me a real photo postcard of the 1915 carnival queen, Concepcion Medina.


But the Ronquillos’ real treasures were to be found at their Makati apartment at San Antonio Village, and I would often pay them a visit to see what they have in their place, crammed to the rafters with all sorts of collectible junk brought in by basureros, runners and fellow collectors. As Tony headed the Bayanihan Collectors’ Club, he got first priority in perusing the items for re-sale in his more upscale Shangri-la shop (the now defunct Circa) and in the regular club-sponsored auctions.

 The Ronquillos’ taste is pretty much eclectic, with furniture and collectibles being their field of specialty. Back when antique fairs were the rage at Philtrade, they would often participate, saving their best items for such events, often mixing these with the more sellable comic books, movie posters, ephemera, chairs, commodes and other household antiques.

 I remember they once offered a small Fabian de la Rosa landscape painting for 50K. Another time, an ivory Calvario tableaux complete with a virina went up for sale at their Circa for just 120K. I also could not forget the century old tabernacle door elaborately carved in relief with primitive looking angels and religious figures, with its original polychrome intact.

In the mid-90s, the Ronquillos moved yet again to a bigger, quieter place on Conchu Street, which soon filled up with more trash and treasures. For over ten years, they lived in this apartment that also became their Makati warehouse, and which became my after-office haunt. It’s always a challenge to look for things of interest as every square inch of the place—from the garage to the walls-- is filled with boxes, crates, cabinets and bookcases with contents on the verge of overflow. I often would joke them by offering my janitorial services for free; I always have the urge to organize their stuff every time I go visit.

A week ago, I got a call from Leni inviting me to see their stuff as they have decided to give up their apartment and move back to their more spacious Parañaque home. They are downsizing their accumulations preparatory to their big move. It was a downer to hear of their move—one less rummage place to visit. But she said the kids have all grown and most are on their own, so she and Tony have decided to relax a bit and return to their old rambling home.


This Monday, a holiday, I decided to drop by their Conchu place to say hi and see what they have. As always, their place was a bedlam, but they had already set aside a box for me which had been filled with stuff I’d be interested in—old religious photos, 1950s kitsch, Carnival Queen postcards, sacred art. After making my selections, I asked to be taken around the house to see what else I could bring home.


What discoveries I made while I went from room to room—but the artworks found all over their apartment piqued my interest. On the walls of their overcrowded living room were these paintings, one of which I immediately recognized as Nemiranda’s. The large painting showing a Mother nursing her baby was bought by Tony for Php 2,600 from a Swiss consul who was being reassigned elsewhere, having completed his term here in Manila.


The stairwell railings were decked with decorative plates as well as small, unidentified paintings on the side.

 The dining room featured a long vintage Last Supper painting that has been retouched by Leni’s artist-brother.


The busy kitchen area, on the other hand, had a solitary painting showing a still-life grouping of fruits and plate, an all-too common and overdone theme. The painting was so bad, I think it was just there to cover up something--a crack or a wall stain, maybe.

 Hanging above a door leading to a store room was this small painting characterized by thick brush strokes. It was hung too high for me to read and recognize the signature.


Inside the store room were these three large interesting paintings. The first figurative piece bore the signature of the artist, a certain Sarmiento. The second one is a brass sheet, etched with patriotic symbols and dedicated to a World War II veteran, a great memento from the last war.


 There were other generic Filipiniana artworks, the kinds that one can buy from a furniture store from the 60s and 50s--all uninteresting.


 The best, however, was this rustic piece, dated 1978 by an unidentified artist whose signature I could not decipher.


 I was in for another surprise when I excused myself to use their bathroom. For, hanging on the wall next to the light switch were a pair of small paintings—one of which was a very desirable small Gabriel Custodio landscape.


 Hanging back to back on the sliding acrylic door were these antique picture frames. The oval frame is richly carved with Pinoy motifs popularized by Isabelo Tampinco—anahaw, bamboo and gabi leaves. The second squarish frame features a carving of anahaw frond, but is simpler.


My most exciting find turned up in the garage, of all places, where tons and tons of stuff are stored—hanging on the walls, rom the ceiling, resting in chairs, stacked on top of one another, squeezed into bookcases and bauls.


The paintings were the causes of my agitated interest, which I tried hard not to show. There was this huge floral painting that was signed Gonzales—the first name was unintelligible. Is this perhaps, the work of Mabini artist Felix Gonzales? Maybe, maybe not.


But if there’s one thing that I am sure of, it’s the painter of this next painting dated 1969. I thought at first that the sailing theme was very American, but upon taking a second look, the scene is very much a Filipino based on the outfits of the sailing crew.


The painter is no other than Oscar Navarro, the celebrated Mabini artist whose worth and skill is only being recognized only today.

 The very legible signature confirmed this. The scene of the crew controlling the boat during a squall is a rare Navarro theme as he favored traditional landscapes and rural settings.


There was still so much to cover, but as they say—so little time, so many stuff. I haven’t even gone upstairs where a 1970 Onib Olmedo portrait hangs. And there are still the book cases to check. I was given another invitation to come back and go through the boxes kept under the sofa, so I guess I will. The garden looks like its full ofpotential. Maybe, just maybe, underneath their overgrown amorseko, I’ll find an genuine Amorsolo!

(31 August 2009)

Sunday, October 6, 2013

39. FAKING AMORSOLO: Discovering Philippine Scam Art

 I recently acquired this 20 X 30 painting, entitled “Fiesta”, painted by a certain M. Casañas, and dated June 1956. It is a typical painting of that time, with a very common Filipiniana visual theme, painted in the realist style. The 51 year-old painting was also “well-lit”, Amorsolo-esque at first glance, but devoid of the softness of strokes characteristic of the master's works. Nevertheless, I was charmed by the effusive composition, vivid color and most of all, the vintage appeal of the period piece, choosing it over small works of the more well-known Miguel Galvez, J.D. Castro and Elias Laxa, despite a surprisingly higher price tag.

 It was then that the gallery owner let me in on a story about the artist that had enough suspense and mystery to fill a thriller movie. Mario Casañas (he wasn’t even sure of his 1st name), was an artist who actively painted all his life—from the late 30s to the 70s. He was one of the “Mabini painters” in Ermita, a group appellation that was met with derision at that time—as these painters catered primarily to the tourist trade, painting on demand, rendering subjects upon their client’s request. His contemporaries included Oscar Navarro, Romeo Enriquez, Oscar Espiritu, Crispin V. Lopez and Elias Laxa.

Casañas though didn’t just paint originals; he also started copying the works of Fernando Amorsolo. Whether this was mandated by clients or done on his own volition cannot be ascertained. What was sure was that he regularly churned out Amorsolo forgeries that found willing buyers and believers in the local art market. His competitors were incensed at this practice, and it is said that one colleague in the trade found his tricks so repugnant (or was he jealous of his art, however fraudulent?) that he ordered a hitman to kill the artist in the 70s.

 Today, one can’t find the name of M. Casañas in Philippine art books. There is no trace of him except in hush-hush oral stories remembered and recounted by aging gallery owners and painters, and in rare pieces of works such as this one that now hangs in my living room, signed by the painter who may have been a scam artist in the eyes of many, but an excellent scam artist he turned out to be.


(19 December 2007)