68. A Mountain He Could Not Climb: JOSE W. HERNANDEZ and his Facebook Painting

ZAMBALES LANDSCAPE, 24" x 30", oil on canvas, signed Jose Hernandez, 1983.

When Facebook was founded in 2004, it was only a matter of time that sellers and dealers discovered it as an effective selling platform. Which was why, in 2016, Facebook launched its Facebook Marketplace that continues to be a convenient destination on  social media to discover, buy and sell items with people in one’s community.

It was in this way that I stumbled on a painting offered by dealer Kenito Romero, who had posted it, along with other picks on the said selling site.  I had previously bought a Ben Alano portrait from Kenito, who, when not on assignment in Qatar doing aircraft maintenance, also dabbles in freelance selling of collectible like antiques and paintings.

THE PAINTING, AS IT APPEARED FOR SALE ON A FACEBOOK GROUP.

This was, however, my first time to see a Jose Hernandez painting offered for sale from a picker—usually I see these in galleries and personal collections. I have always wanted a Hernandez artwork, as I am partial to the works of Kapampangan artists, of the “Mabini-style” kind, and Hernandez’s works reflect this style. He was more partial to large-scale themes, and I have seen these in paintings capturing town fiestas teeming with people, sprawling landscapes,  and Amorsolo-esque rural scenes.

Jose Hernandez was actually born in Tondo, Manila on 22 September 1944. The family, however, moved to Pampanga after the war, when his father, a lawyer, accepted a teaching job at the Harvardian College, a local law school in San Fernando. By 1948, the Hernandezes were well-settled; they had also established the Luzon Women’s Fashion Academy beginning that year.

SIGNATURE OF JOSE W. HERNANDEZ

Jose Hernandez, nicknamed “Boy” showed an early interest in the arts. As early as Grade IV at the Assumption Academy, he would use his notebooks to doodle and draw at the expense of his school work. As a teen,  he earned extra money as a painter- apprentice in a movie theater sign shop owned by Nards Mendoza. He was painting even as he started his high school at Pampanga High School. In his senior year, he was given a scholarship by Pres. Diosdado Macapagal, allowing him to graduate in 1963.

But his heart was in the arts, so, in the mid 60s, he pursued this passion under the mentorship of future National Artist, Fernando Amorsolo, Carlos “Botong” Francisco and Vicente Manansala. At the same time, he was also visiting the studios of  such popular artists as Simon Saulog, Cesar Buenaventura,  and  Miguel Galvez. He totally abandoned his education to learn art from these masters.

HERNANDEZ PAINTINGS ONLINE  Sources: alamy stock photos/worthpoint.com

In 1965, he was honored to join his idols in a group exhibit held at the National Library.  Later in the decade, his paintings were carried in the Angeles gallery of Conrado Zablan. Finally, he struck it on his own by opening his own gallery along Friendship Highway in 1974.

In 1980, he made it in the international scene with an exhibition of his works at the Fine Arts Gallery in Spokane, Washington. It was from this period that this mountainscape from Facebook Marketplace was painted.

NOTE THE CONDITION OF THE PAINTING, that has been glued on plywood, and framed.

When it arrived at my doorstep, this large 24” x 30” was in dire condition. It had been glued to a thin plywood, as it was the custom to keep the canvass flat, and it was coming off from the frame, which seemed too small to hold it. At the back, a dedication was inscribed with a pentel pen: “To Sammy, A Remembrance & Thanks for Everything. Robert Domingo P.D.” ( A quick google check revealed a certain Robert Domingo, a Production Designer for movies)

DEDICATION, written in pentel pen on masking tape at the back of the painting.

The seller, Kenito, told me that it had hanged in a restaurant in Tagaytay for years, which explains its sorry state.Exposed to the elements, the painting had sustained many scruffs and accumulated layers of dirt, I had to clean it at once, first with sponge and soap, followed with a generous rub of Wipe-Out cream. The original colors came alive, and the brush stroke details revealed that this could have been painted briskly, and quickly—on-the-spot.

THE CANVAS, as found was glued to a plywood board that revealed a paper sticker about its provenance.

I was so bothered that it had been glued on a plywood, so I set about trying to pry the canvas out. After a few, firm tugs, the canvas started to come off—thank God, the rubber glue had completely dried off.  It took awhile for me to pry the canvass loose, as even with careful peeling, all that pulling I added more scruffs and scratches to the painting.

To my  surprise, I found a sticker on the plywood to which the canvas had been affixed.  I could not avoid tearing the sticker to pieces, but I pieced it together like a jigsaw puzzle, revealing important information about the painting and its provenance,

RECONSTRUCTED STICKER , shows the piece came from Genesis Gallery.

The sticker yielded the name of the gallery it had come from: Gallery Genesis, a well-known gallery still extant today,  based in Pasig. It also confirmed that Jose Hernandez was the artist behind the painting, entitled “Zambales Landscape”, painted in 1983. The rest of the information, unfortunately, is unreadable due to the damage I caused, but all I needed to know was there.

ZAMBALES LANDSCAPE,restored detail.

The scene is actually a portion of the grand Zambales mountain range, and it shows a peak that looks like Mt. Dorst, painted from the Pampanga side. The trees, foliage and vegetation were painted with quick, energetic short strokes, which suggest that this artwork was painted in situ--the artist had tom paint quickly as he was at the mercy of the fickle outdoor weather, The deft handling of the perspective using different shades of blues and greys, and elements like the tiny nipa huts, and the mountains beyond-- give us a sense of the great distance and vast grandeur of this great mountain divide.

Next came the business of having the painting retouched and re-framed. For this part of the job, I sought the service of local painter, Roy L. Datu, a longtime artist since 1967, with a studio along Don Juico Ave., It also helped that Datu knew the painter personally. Datu’s specialties are portraiture and painting restoration, one of the few to have mastered the tedious art. But it took just two weeks for him to finish the restoration job, and double-frame the painting--which he did commendably, as these pictures show.

RESTORED AND REFRAMED "ZAMBALES LANDSCAPE" 

Though the rest of the 80s and the 1990s were a period of  relative stability and success --he opened a frame shop in Bacoor in 1988, was a finalist in the 1995 International Art Competition in Bardonia, New York, and had his “Fiesta” painting reproduced as a UNICEF Christmas Card----Hernandez began having bouts with depression, that grew worse in the 1990s.

While he had weathered the challenges of a struggling artist, his mental illness, compounded by his personal problems,  proved to be a more difficult mountain to climb.  Sometime in the late 1990s, he decided to end it all by taking his own life by hanging. His works today are avidly sought after by discriminating collectors who value the realist tradition with themes made popular by Amorsolo,  of which Hernandez was one true master.

58. TALES OF THE TAPE

TALES OF THE TAPES

 Yesterday was a free day, so I decided to do a bit of cleaning around the house. I must admit I am a pack-rat like my parents, who never threw things away. Instead, we had the habit of stowing away things in the nooks and crannies of old cabinets, shoeboxes, biscuit tins and other secret compartments—until they are forgotten forever.

 So, great to my surprise when I found again my old cassette tapes stashed in one drawer of an antique altar table. Of course, you know what a cassette tape is—that thing which you wind with a pencil and plopped into a cassette tape recorder, around which our family music entertainment revolved for many decades. I had my Dad’s Xavier Cugat tapes, tapes from the folks in America, study tapes from my former ad agencies Ace Saatchi (from the 80s!) and Jimenez DÁrcy.

Lo and behold, even my school tapes from the mid 70s, are here—used for my radio productions as a Communication student. I can’t believe they’ve survived hours of playing, mold infestation and countless scotch tape repairs!! More amazing was the fact that many of them were still playable.

 I plunked one into my trusty cassette recorder and the garbled, but recognizable sound of a commercial I taped for a class assignment in 1976 spewed out of the speaker. It was a radio ad for a milk brand “Grow-Up Milk”, where I sang a jingle plagiarized from Nino Muhlach’s Milk Maid commercial. I even voiced the announcer part as well, in which I enunciated the address of the milk company—“siete doble siete, tapat ng poste, Manila!”

 The same tape contained assorted recordings I did that are almost 40 years old! I recorded for posterity, my friend Vic Lamug singing “Simple Man” when he guested on a folk program over at Station RMN. This must have been around 1976, when most us were in the folk scene. Too bad didn’t record my version of “Scarborough fair”.

 There was also several takes of my folk group rehearsing the song “Hurry Sundown”, for Visioned Link IV, in 1977. I had a nasal voice then, as now, but much tinnier! I was floored when I flipped the tape and heard the strains of “Dahil Sa Iyo”. It was our competition song for the Commerce Talent Show, Group Singing. We were a shoo-in to win as most of our members came the talented “Rhymes and Rhythms”, and we were coached no less than Levi Granadosin, one of the famous singing Granadosin brothers. Our vocalization sounded good on the tape, but onstage, we flopped and had to settle for 2nd.

 The most fun was listening to us rehearse the songs for our college day presentation night, entitled “Come Alive”. I wrote the lyrics of the theme song (“What do we need to survive/ We need love to come alive!/ Well I guess there’s no other way/ Come alive with us today!) with music supplied by my talented classmate Francis Cardona—who doubled as the music conductor!

The highlight was the staging of the musical “Timmy”, with all-original songs written by classmate Jojo Barreiro. I could distinctly hear Tina Chua singing the title tune, “T-I-M-M-Y…that’s Timmy! Something out of a fantasy…”. And guess who played the title role? Me!! Also in the cast--and on tape-- was Cya Jonson, leading the ensemble with the rousing “Welcome to our village…we hope you feel at ease…welcome to our village…and sing!! , Well, at 18 years old, we could certainly sing our lungs out! Such verve..and such nerve!

 My tape compilation grew when I went to work in Manila—and a few saved cassettes yielded jingle studies done by the prolific jinglemaker Caloy Agawa for the Ministry of Tourism account, then handled by Ace Saatchi. There were 3 studies done for a domestic tourism jingle that had for its theme “Huwag Maging Dayuhan sa Sariling Bayan” (Don’t be a Stranger in your own Paradise, English version). I did the English lyrics and my CD, the Famas Awardee Jimmy Santiago wrote the Pilipino version which completely knocked me out for its lyricism and imagery.

 My agency ,Ace Saatchi was a regular in inter-agency competition that were all the rage in the 80s---and in 1987, we joined the Inter-Agency Christmas Chorale Competition. Caught on tape were the voices of our choral group singing a most unique competition song—“Jellicle Song””, from the musical cats.

 The song had been reworked to include Christmas lyrics, and included lively purring, meowing and caterwauling!. Listening to the song, I was transported back to the big final night where we came in feline outfits and belted out our song under the musical direction of Betsy Basilio. It was no-contest from the start--we swept competition away, winning Best Choreography and Best Chorale Group! What other stories could these ancient cassette tapes hold?

Well, I haven’t listened to all of them and I plan to do that in the next few days. Maybe I’ll start with my 30 year old home recordings doing my versions of those “”I-am-just-a-poor-boy-though-my-story’s-seldom-told” folk tunes. Or maybe I’ll have the contents transferred to a disc or digitized some day.

Then again, maybe that’s not necessary--I’ll just play them on my vintage cassette recorder and relive once more those carefree days when our pleasures were simpler, when things were less complicated, and where worries were solved with a familiar song, a guitar and a tape recorder on hand.

56. I FOUND MY DIARIES, AND STARTED READING ABOUT ME.

I FOUND MY DIARIES, AND STARTED READING ABOUT ME.

 I was 15 when I started a diary, December 1972 to be exact. I didn’t know what prodded me to write the daily details of my life—it may be because I was in the last few months of my senior high, a chapter that I did not exactly want to end. Or it could be my historical gene that compelled me to record events for my future descendants to read about—both milestone and everyday moments.

 Long before the age of expensive moleskins and fancy scrapbook journals, I was already writing down, at day’s end, the things that transpired at home and at school. I first wrote on unused notebook pages, bound in metal fasteners. I wasn’t much of a writer, often writing in phrases, and just enumerating sequence of events. 

My earliest Christmas day entry (December 25,1972, Monday) noted how my day started and the gifts I and my siblings received: “Woke up at 8:00 a.m., and I got my gifts—orange shirt and green ‘tela’, Php 10.00 bill from Ma and Php 5 pesos from Auntie Susing. Gregg got green shirt. Mike and Eric got chess sets. Froi got a toy harmonica”.

 Similarly, on January 17, 1972 I nonchalanatly reported the posting of our bi-weekly grades, while a 4th year student of Sacred Heart Seminary: “Ranked 6. Spanish-77, Physics-79, History-88, Composition-88, Literature-81, Religion-82”. And I thought I was a real “bobo” in Physics—I had a better grade than Spanish!

 There were days though when I started writing about my feelings—or more accurately, my mood swings—“Was very mad ‘çoz I can’t find my Jingle magazine! Locked myself in my room.” (17 January 1973. I wonder if that instigated my future obsession to organize my magazines and comics in neatly-labelled boxes, arranged by dates?).

 Of my high school graduation on April 14, 1973, Saturday, I wrote: “Final graduation practice. We had to carry lots of chairs, so tired. Got home past 11 and after a brief nap, I dressed up for graduation. I was with Ma, Beng and Cyn. The graduation was a quick one. Went to Tatang Ato and ate and ate.”.

 Even with such a bland description of an important school event, I could now recollect with greater details what happened that night. Our Class of 1973 graduation was held at the Sacred Heart Chapel. I was dressed up in a borrowed coat slightly damaged by a flat-iron scorch mark on the breast pocket, perhaps inflicted by a careless househelp. My mother insisted that it will not show on my pictures as the fabric was dark anyway (well, it did, Mother, the flash cameras captured it as a shiny blemish on my picture!). I remember the stifling heat and my hunger pangs—I couldn’t wait for the rites to end.

And when it did, I just rushed out to get some fresh air, and didn’t even have a chance to say my proper goodbyes to my teachers and classmates. Since I didn’t have any “handa” for my graduation, my parents and I decided to proceed to the house of my uncle, Tatang Ato and Mang Luning, who, at least prepared a party for cousin Ramiel, a fellow graduate. I remember having grilled tilapia for the evening, happy to feast and freeload.

 As I sift through my diaries now kept and sorted in three boxes (I changed to writing on Cattleya notes, instead of bulky notebooks), I, too, have become amazed at the trove of information I have written. The entries for October 1998, April 2007 and most recently, June 2009, were harder to write for they contain the last accounts of my father’s, my brother Eric’s and my mother’s valiant fights for their lives. To this day, I have no desire to re-read what I have written, for that only serves to bring back memories of great loss and mourning.

 But there were also momentous dates that I took note of, that were sources of joy for the family, all documented on my diaries---like the birth of my first nephew ( July 1978), weddings of siblings, my father’s Dream trip to the U.S. ( March 30,1980 ) my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary (15 May 1974) ,promotions on the job, passing of various board exams, and on a personal note, my London and U.S. agency training in July of 1989.

 Even what’s in between the pages of my thick and tattered diaries contain surprising stuff that never fail to amuse—a clipping of a “want-ad”of a Makati agency which I responded to. I was accepted for the job, but never got around to writing my first ad copy as the company declared bankruptcy on the very day I was supposed to start. There were also school programs, photo negatives, various receipts and scribbles of my 1981 swimming records that I diligently kept (1 min,: 38 secs for 100 m. breaststroke, Nov. 8, 1980—slow for a 23 year old).

 It’s been 45 years since I first took up a pen and began writing on a notebppk page that would become my first diary. For as long as there are things to write about, I don’t think I will stop writing. And I don’t care if these things I write about are only relevant to me. As far as know, they compose memorable references of the people I have known, siblings I grew up with, of fathers,mothers, grandfathers, and of forebears we now miss and honor,of classmates, teachers, officemates.

My diary doesn’t just document life events but they capture the nuances of relationships and illuminates what time has dimmed. So today, as I review the dog-eared pages of my diaries, I hope to explore again those shadows in my past that are vague and hazy; places, images and events that have been forgotten, ignored or taken for granted. Unravelling the magic of memory has never been so fascinating.

52. REWARDED WITH AN OSCAR

When I began collecting paintings in 1995, one of the very first I acquired was a large work on canvass by an artist named Oscar T. Navarro. The name of the painter was my least concern at first—it was the theme that mattered to me most. I have always been partial to conservative Filipiniana paintings and this particular ‘woman on a banca’ scene I instantly liked—not just because of the subject but also because of the price; it was available in two easy installment terms!

 Eventually though, I got interested in the artist behind the painting. I looked up “Oscar Navarro” on available art books and found out that his works were included in the Jorge Vargas Filipiniana Collection. Born on 24 January 1921, Navarro had belonged to the first batch of U.P. Fine Arts students whose studies were interrupted by the outbreak of World War II. Most of his classmates died in the Bataan Death March. After the war, he established his talyer in Ermita in 1949.

Painting in the realist tradition, he won many prizes in the Conservative Category at the AAP Exhibitions from 1951 thru 1955. He also was a superb landscapist, and it was his mastery of this genre that attracted me to his work in the first place.

Since then, many have started discovering the works of this Manila artist, and a quick search on art auction sites, including good old ebay, turned up a small cache of Navarro paintings now carrying hefty price tags, from a low of $399 to over $1,000!

So it was indeed a pleasant shock for me to discover a rather long and large Oscar Navarro flower painting in a ramshackle antique shop in Bulacan, hidden behind vintage furniture pieces.

Other than the name of the artist which can be legibly read, the dealer knew nothing about the artist. When pressed for more information about the painting, he told me that it had hanged in the living room of an old house.

The painting, dated 1970 and measuring approximately 24 x 48 inches, was done in the later years of the artist’s life (he died 22 December 1973, aged only 52). It sharply departed from his traditional landscape works of which he was more noted for; this example shows a still-life of brilliant colored zinnia flowers bursting from a vase, each rendered in distinct bold strokes and using thick paint, characteristic of Navarro’s deft, energetic technique.

It is a highly commercialized work for sure, more decorative than artistic, meant to enliven a drab wall or to fill up an empty space, but it still is a pristine example from the artist’s late period. Except for crayon markings on the lower part of the canvass, the painting, in its original stretcher and wood and gesso frame—is in very good condition.

And now, the most exciting part was inquiring about the price of this Navarro work of art. Will I be able to afford it? Will I be able to bring it home? Or will this be another case of “the one that got away?”

 The quote was Php3,500 pesos.

 And this Oscar goes to...

50. TAKEN FOR A RIDE IN A CAR, CAR!

Your first car is as important as your first job, as unforgettable as your first love, as thrilling as your first kiss. That is probably why I kept this picture of my very first car all these years, bought from my hard-earned lifetime savings.

How can I ever forget this fire engine-red super Beetle which served me for a year or two? (or it could have been less). I found it for sale in a Buy and Sell ad in 1984 that specified even its new upholstery. The 1964 model Volkswagen I thought, was a classic, as my father had a similar one, which he often took for long drives to Baguio. I figured if a Volks was that roadworthy, I might as well choose the same trusty brand for my 1st car!

I paid Php11,000 for this red Volks, and, as I was still an amateur driver then, I asked my art director, Mildred, to accompany me and drive it from Mandaluyong to my Makati office. It sputtered and stuttered and stopped every step of the way, but we did reach our destination. Since I didn't have the courage to drive it all the way to Pampanga, I called my Dad to take it home.

Oh, he was livid when I told him I got a car and he asked me so many technical questions about its past ownership and performance (Have you test-driven it? Has a mechanic checked its motor and the condition of the carburetor, accelerator, tires, etc.? I said, No to all his questions, but I told him it's got new upholstery. I only heard him heave a deep sigh.

Well, once on the Expressway, I heard more sighing from my father as the engine coughed and sputtered, the glass window fell down, and the recapped tires started giving in. We had to stop every now and then to pry loose rubber from the damaged tires. Midway through the trip, the car overheated, rattled and wiggled, so we had to slow down our speed to about 40 kms. per hour. My father's sighs never ceased, not even when we got home.

The super Beetle went straight to the mechanic's shop, and I think I spent more for its repair than what I paid for it. It really never lost its wiggle, but it was still serviceable for taking me from Point A to Point B. I used it to go to the University on weekends where I took a teaching job, and after classes, a few of mys students would pack the Beetle to hitch with me home.

One night though, while driving home, my car just wiggled violently and its headlights flickered and died. I was never so frightened in my life! I thought it was possessed and from that moment, I decided to get rid of it. Luckily, a cousin of mine was remodelling my kitchen, and was glad to take home the red Volks as part of his payment.

Car-less again, I spent the next few days looking for a 2nd hand replacement. But this time, it was my father who looked for a car for me. Few weeks after, he found me a white Saturn-engine, lady-driven 1978 model Lancer. Oh, what a snappy-looking car! I loved it the moment I laid eyes on it. I drove it to Manila, drove it to work, drove it everywhere, and even drove my sister to Church in it on her wedding day..

Everything went well until that one fateful Sunday afternoon when I figured in a 4-car collision along the Expressway. That's another story that caused more sighs. Sigh!.

(5 January 2009)

47. HOTEL ART

Living in hotels is a necessary part of travel. Hotel bookings are made in advance, often sight unseen. Expecting the unexpected, it is always amusing when you get to your temporary residence. First impressions do last--and the first thing I take note of are the hotel interior decors. Cheap prints, works of unknown artists, campy sculptures, horrible watercolors--perhaps I've seen it all. Of course, I realize that hotels are not museums. That is why when I am on the road, I make it a point to visit a museum or a gallery, which to me is the quickest and most convenient way to immerse yourself in the local arts and culture.

In a recent trip to Europe, however, I didn’t have to go out or look far to view excellent works of art. Right in a modest Spanish hotel where I stayed—Melia Fernan Gonzales Boutique Hotel in Burgos—I was surprised to see authentic colonial antiques as well as faithfully reproduced sacred art scattered all over the hotel premises.

It is obvious that the hotel has imbibed the sense of history of this city. Burgos began as a fortified city and was a major stop for pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela. It has also been the site of many wars: against the Moors, Napoleonic French and the Spanish civil war. Its Gothic Cathedral—just a stone’s throw away from the hotel—is beautifully preserved and so are the numerous ecclesiastical monuments that dot the place—more than any other Spanish city.

 Upon entering the Lobby, the first thing that I saw was a beautifully polychromed image of our Lady with the Child Jesus.

The centerpiece of the hotel lobby is this beautiful antique Nativity tableaux encased in a protective glass urna to secure it from overzealous santo art lovers like me. I had to admire this set with exquisite gilt work first--the hotel key can wait!

A solo image of a naked Salvador del Mundo--which I wanted to bring home-- stands guard at the Lobby Lounge. This is an obvious reproduction, but still excellently made.

Going up my 2nd floor room, I saw this old painting of Crucified Christ, which reminded me of the old Cuzco style of painting popular in Peru.

 En route to the restaurant for my breakfast, an antique cabinet displayed various religious vestments--chasubles, a cope and dalmatic--some heavily embroidered, others with great floral appliques.

Next to this dramatically-lit cabinet was this large santo base that had lots of charming little cherub carvings with amazing details. This base was displayed as is, sans a santo, perhaps to show off the artistry that went into this exquisite piece.

There was a big detalyado San Agustin image at the exit of the restaurant, a very impressive piece. It was missing its staff and mitre though, but the detailed church on his left hand was intact.

 At another lounge, I gazed at this folk-looking Madonna that adorned a plain brick red wall. It reminded me so much of the Black Madonna of Montserrat which was also on my agenda, but this one has a fair encarna. There is a Gothic feel to it...

On this same wall was this painting on a gilt frame that looked like the Mother of Perpetual Help without the angel attendants.

Flanking this piece was this San Juan Bautista complete with his sheepskin loincloth. If this were mine, I would add a base and a banner and use it as a processional santo instead of hanging it on a wall.

Adjacent to this inner lounge was the main dining section that featured more vibrant colonial pieces. This retablo housing our Lady and the Child Jesus was a real stunner; the rococo decorations are outstanding:

 Finally, at the restaurant downstairs, a niche housed this ancient San Pedro tabletop santo, which would look perfect on my antique mesa altar.

 Sadly, I stayed only for a day at the hotel. I would have wanted to explore the Swimming Pool. Goodness what I would have discovered there. A carved retablo diving board perhaps, or an antique kneeling angel lamp post. When you are travelling, wonders never cease, there's always a surprise at every bend. And that's what I found at this small boutique hotel on a narrow street in Burgos.

(6 November 2008)

45. WHERE HAVE ALL MY PHOTOS GONE? part II

Some of my photos have also seen print in other publications like magazines, school journals as well as other writers' blogs. Presentations have also been enriched through my photos, to illustrate or visualize a topic.

MAGAZINES:

METRO SOCIETY, "All Hail the Queen", by Bettina Rodriguez-Olmedo, photos by Alex R. Castro. Article on past Manila Carnival queens. July-Aug. 2009 issue.

SINGSING, Official Magazine of the Center for Kapampangan Studies, Holy Angel University, Angeles City, Pampanga.

 BLOGS: 

Na Mi Puebo, a blog about Zamboanga City, maintained by Rossini Almonte - Picture and article of Carmen Fargas 

Dan Cuyonon, a blog about Cuyo, Palawan, maintained by Dan Oliver Tan - picture and article of Trinidad Fernandez 

Ang Aming Angkan, a family genealogy site, -Picture of Iluminada Tuason, Miss Philippines 1939 and reference to my Manila Carnival blogsite 

THESIS: 

 The Philippine International Fair of 1953, doctoral thesis of Edson Roy Cabalfin, Asst. Professor, School of Architecture & Interior Design, University of Cincinnati. - pictures of 1953 pavilions and booths

 Cultural History of the Sto. Domingo Church, Masteral thesis by Romeo Galang, approved for publication by UST Publishing, 

  
 UP Visual Communication Thesis-Exhibit, March 2010 -pictures of Manila Carnival