People of the Philippines vs. Maryang Makiling

By Arnel Mirasol

No amount of soothing words could appease the mountain goddess Maryang Makiling. Her husband,
Banahaw, tried his best to mollify her, but failed. What triggered her outburst was the news that her former domain, the Mount Makiling Forest Park, is now officially a city - and with a new name to boot.

Apolonio Vallejo was the present mayor`s grandfather. He was the architect of the mountain town`s urbanization. It was he who allowed a network of roads to be built and the hilly terrain cleared of trees and subdivided into residential lots. So, the town council saw it fit, when the time came to declare their town a city, to change it`s name to Mount Apolonio.

That was the last straw. For decades, Marya suffered in silence. She just watch with foreboding the lowlanders gradual encroachment on her home. She said and did nothing when villages for the new rich sprouted along the slopes, bearing such exotic names as Beausoleil Homes, Pico de Aneto, Sylvan Spring Village, Saint Croix Ville, Montvert Villas, Montpellier Subdivision, Plateaux d`Or, and Valley High.

"I`ll have the last laugh yet, Banahaw," Marya said.

"Why- what are you going to do?"

"I will reforest Mount Makiling. I`ll plant my balete seeds atop the peaks."

"Please. Don`t be rash. We can no longer afford to antagonize the humans. You know how powerful
they`ve become. Our magic is no match to their weapons."

"Don`t worry. There are no houses at the peaks. No one will see me there.

"Why have things come to this? I can`t understand why Bathala permitted this to happen. Look the humans are now superior to us. They have completely eased me out of the very mountain I`m supposed to rule," lamented Marya.

"I hope you understand, but I must do this. I may never regain my mountain, but at least, I can make it a hellish dwelling-place for humans"

That very night, Marya traversed the distance between Mount Banahaw, her present home, and Mount Makiling astride her doe. Upon reaching the top of one of Mount Makiling`s three peaks, she proceeded forthwith to dig holes for the balete seeds. She also did that on the other two peaks. In no time at all, the seeds germinated and grew into mature trees, with their scary complement of gnarled roots that drop down from equally gnarled branches. These roots upon touching soil quickly grew into new trees, also with gnarled branches and roots which upon touching soil, again quickly grew into new trees.

It was an unending sequence - a veritable invasion. From the mountain peaks, hundreds of balete trees sprouted along the slopes, trails and concrete roads, and into the posh enclaves of the upscale villages. The village residents woke up into a nightmare. There are balete trees everywhere. Inside their yards and outside, an eerie forest was being grown.

Now, folklore have attributed occult properties to balete trees. They are said to be bewitched - the favorite abode of tikbalangs, kapres and other denizens of the underworld. Further compounding their mysterious image is the legend that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from one such tree. And perhaps, their very appearance, with their tangle of hanging roots that look like the unruly hair of a witch, contributed the most to their fearsome reputation. So, you can just imagine the terror felt by the village residents upon waking up amidst a balete forest.

Alarmed, the city mayor, Valentin Vallejo, called an emergency meeting. They convened in the municipal hall of a nearby town because their own city hall was already half-ruined. The moving, breathing roots of the balete trees have broken through concrete pavements, fences and walls, causing cracks to form all over the building. Burrowing tenaciously, the roots, which were truly umbilical cords interconnecting all balete trees, also caused vein-like cracks to appear on the walls of the chalets, mansions, bungalows and villas. The collapse of all structures on the mountain city was thus feared by everyone to happen anytime soon.

Present at the meeting, aside from the councilors and police officials, were the shamans- the herbal doctors, the faith-healers, and the gurus of the various cults and sects who made Mount Banahaw their temple. Though no great fan of these people, the mayor readily saw the necessity of summoning them, because it is apparent that what was happening was not an everyday natural occurrence.

"This is not a natural calamity," the mayor began. "Something supernatural is at work here. Whoever heard of a balete forest grown overnight? And a balete forest at that!"

"You`re right mayor!" the shamans chorused. "Indeed, someone`s exercising her magic powers!"

"We told you so. The mountain goddess is angry. This is her revenge. We already warned you many times in the past You should have listen to us," said Maestro Thelmo, the supremo of the Watawat ng Langit sect.

"Yes, Maryang Makiling is angry. This is obviously her handiwork. Serves you right for turning her wilderness haunt into a concrete jungle," added Amang Turno, the self-styled pope of the end-day cult Barrio Wakas.

"Maryang Makiling and Banahaw must be laughing at us now," said Tandand Pilo, the master
herbalist of a faith-healers` cabal.
.
"So, Maryang Makiling is the culprit then. You yourselves have accused her. She is our suspect and must therefore be arrested!" Mayor Vallejo declared.

"For what crime mayor?" Tandang Pilo asked

"For what crime? For causing all this destruction, that`s what. That`s vandalism, yes, vandalism. And terrorism too - for spreading fear and terror among the citizens."

"I don`t know. But she`s a goddess. How are you going to arrest a goddess?" Amang Turno asked.

"Oh, we can try. I and my men can try. As a start, we can perhaps hasten the urbanization of Mount Banahaw by burning its forest."

"God! You never learn Mayor. It was useless talking to you!" Maestro Thelmo cried.

"Say what you will. I must enforce the law. Tomorrow at dawn, a warrant of arrest will be served Maryang Makiling."

Meanwhile, the residents of the mountain city enlisted an army of tree-cutters to cut down the rampant balete trees. Armed with axes and chainsaws, these men were kept very busy indeed. No sooner had they felled a tree when saplings would shoot up from the concrete ground and mature in a matter of seconds. It was a hopeless task - a really unending sequence.

Early the next day, squads of soldiers and policemen swarmed through the dense jungles of Mount
Banahaw. They were armed with automatic rifles and flame-throwers. Mayor Vallejo was aboard a
helicopter. Using a megaphone, the mayor called on Maryang Makiling to please surrender. If she won`t, the mayor threatened, Mount Banahaw will be burned to the ground.

Deep in their cave palace, Marya and Banahaw heard him, and were very much troubled. They discussed their dilemma and thoroughly analyzed and weighed all the options open to them. And they realized that they really have no choice. With a heavy heart, Marya decided in the end to surrender, if only to prevent their forest realm from being destroyed.

Maryang Makiling gave herself up. Banahaw wanted to go with her, but she implored him not to. She was not detained in a jail, however, for no jail could keep her. It was widely believed that she had the power to penetrate solid walls and doors. She was brought instead to Mayor Vallejo`s house- or what remained of it- where she was accorded the deference due a goddess.

"We are willing to compromise, Marya," the mayor said. "We will release you if you lift the curse you put on the city. Please stop the balete trees from further multiplying. The tree-cutters have given up. The people are getting desperate. And I am at my wit`s end."

"I`m really not that difficult to talk to. All right, I`ll lift my curse and tell you how to kill the balete trees. But you must not only release me: you must also recall your troops and pledge that you`ll never ever turn Mount Banahaw`s rainforest into another concrete jungle," Maryang Makiling demanded.

"Okay, I`ll do that.

"I pledge, no, I vow- I vow that Mount Banahaw shall always be a jungle paradise; that I`ll do
everything in my power to prevent others from desecrating and destroying it. May the wrath of Bathala fall on me if I break that vow. And may his lightning strike me now, right at this very spot, if I`m not sincere in my intentions. So help me God," the mayor intoned solemnly.

Pause. No one stirred. Everyone expected a bolt of lightning to strike the mayor. But none came.

"I have to believe you I guess. This is what you should do then. Tell your tree-cutters to go up the three peaks of Mount Makiling. Tell them to bring twelve sacks of salt with them- four sacks to each peak. Up each peak, they will find four balete trees that are seemingly old, but are not. They are the mother trees. Cut them down. Then sprinkle a sackful of salt on the soil around each stump. Once done, all the balete offspring will wither and die." And that was what the tree-cutters did.

Everything that Maryang Makiling said came to pass. The balete trees that engulfed the mountain
city promptly withered and die. But it was too late. Because all the chalets, mansions, bungalows and villas were ruined- their walls, floors and ceilings cracked to chunks by the previously moving, breathing, burrowing roots. Traumatized, the villagers saw it best to just abandoned their homes. They wouldn't want to live in a place where eerie forests grow overnight, and have for neighbors the tikbalangs, kapres, and other creatures who are believed to live there. So, in time (not overnight), lush vegetation again overran most of the villages, and Marya Makiling's dream of restoring her domain to its pristine condition, before the advent of the Vallejos, was partly realized.

Although many were saddened by the catastrophe, some were actually happy. The furniture-makers,
the charcoal-makers, and the woodcarvers of the surrounding towns were delirious with joy.
For there, right before their eyes, piled several feet high along every street of the mountain city, were the chopped trunks, branches and roots, which are the raw materials for their craft.
And those, they can have for free. Nevermind if they are said to be bewitched- the furnitures and carvings can always be exported. And the charcoal will be burned anyway.

So, what happened next to Maryang Makiling. Well, nothing- because as we all know, there is no Maryang Makiling. She doesn't exist, in the same manner that no balete seed that will grow and mature overnight exists. The events I narrated above are all imaginary, and the story is meant solely to be a cautionary tale. In real life, Mother Nature won't need a Maryang Makiling, or bewitched balete seeds, if she wants to exact revenge on humans. She has myriad ways of retaliating, which are all natural. There is absolutely no need for the supernatural stuff.


End

(The image above is an illustration I did for "Alamat ng Palay/ Legend of Rice," from the book written by Lampara Books Publisher Segundo Matias, Jr., entitled "Mga Modernong Alamat/ Modern Legends.")

SEA FREAKS: The Story of Brandong Palikpik

By Arnel Mirasol

The village where Brando was born was a once famous seaside resort. It was a divers` haven
skirted by ribbons of corals. But not for long. The place lost its charm when the corals were
destroyed. They were smashed to pieces by the boy-fishermen to drive the fishes away from their
coral homes and into the waiting fishing nets. The boy-fishermen worked for the muro-ami fishing
magnate, Don Carlo.

Though only twelve years old, Brando`s skill in swimming was without match. He has a physical advantage, because you see, his feet are webbed. He was born that way. He only has three toes on each foot, which are both flat and longish, and resemble a scuba diver`s fins. To questions as to why Brando was born with them, his mother could only answer that they were caused perhaps by her frequent staring, while pregnant with Brando, at pictures of her late husband wearing his diving fins.

But village kids believed otherwise. Teasing, they insisted that what fascinated Brando`smother were not pictures of divers, but of frogs. So, Brando came to be called by many names: Brandong Palaka (frog), Brandong Syokoy (merman) and Brandong Palikpik (fin). Of these, the last sounded least insulting, almost pleasant to the ears, that Brando even seemed pleased to be known far and wide as Brandong Palikpik.

It was on the eve of the town fiesta, just before dark, when strange but amiable-looking men stopped by the eatery run by Brando`s mother. This group of seven men arrived on a
big outrigger. They were dressed in bulky jackets and trousers and had on oversized
rubber shoes. Wearing big smiles on their faces, they went to the counter where Brando
and his mother was.

"Good evening," greeted the one who seemed to be the leader of the group.

"Good evening. What`s yours?" Brando`s mother asked.

"I`m sorry. But we really came here only to ask for directions - to the house of Don
Carlo. The fellow who owns the fishing boats. Do you know him?

"Yes. Of course. Who wouldn`t know him in this village? Almost all of the boys here
work for him," she answered. "You would never miss his house. Nobody for miles around
has a house that big, and with a water playground yet. All right, you go out through that
door and then follow the footpath leading to the main road..."

"Wait Ma, I`ll just accompany them," interrupted Brando, who was then leafing
through a file of skin diving magazines,

"No. It`s almost nighttime. We`ll be having our supper in a little while."

"Please Ma."

And Brando`s mother, knowing her child`s continuing fascination with the water
playground in Don Carlo`s compound gave in. "Okay. But be sure to return at once." Then
addressing the leader of the group, she asked, "By the way, why do you want to go to Don
Carlo`s house?"

"We`re looking for jobs. As fishermen."

"I don`t think that this is the right time to go there looking for jobs. We`ll be celebrating
our fiesta tomorrow, and all the men in that compound have started getting drunk early
this afternoon. They can get really rowdy."

"No problem with that. We also drink. We`ll know how to get along with them."

"Oh well, if you insist."

Don Carlo`s house was unique - a manifest symbol of his obsessive taste for the
grandiose. It`s not enough that he owned the biggest fishing fleet in the whole province.
He also had to live in the most luxurious mansion thereabouts, complete with a water
playground for his only child, Kai. Its huge swimming pool had tubular slides attached to
an enormous concrete whale. But the centerpiece of the playground was the twisting slide
that rose several stories high. This playground was heaven to Brando. His greatest desire
was to be allowed to spend a day in it, along with other village kids who were on good
terms with Kai. He got invited, all right. But the long time it took him, with his unwieldy
feet, to climb the slide tower`s narrow ladder bored the impatient kids. Add to that the envy
they felt, when Brando, upon hitting water, flitted fish-like through the whole length of the
pool.They can never top that. So they seldom invited him.

Kai opened the gate himself. He was wrapped in a towel, having spent with the village
kids a daylong frolic at his water playground. "Oh Brando, it`s you. Come on in."
Even if they seldom get to play together, Kai actually had a soft spot for Brando, whom
he admired for his agility underwater. What really prevented him from inviting Brando more
frequently to their frolics were the sly ways of the envious kids who dissuaded him from
doing so. They wanted Kai all to themselves.

"Who are they?" Kai whispered.

"They are fishermen looking for work. They want to see your father," Brando said, also
lowering his voice.

"Papa has visitors upstairs. He cannot attend to your companions tonight. After the
fiesta, maybe. But anyway, come inside. Have some food and drinks."

Kai introduced the strangers to a group of fishermen. They were carousing near a big
kettle hanging over a low fire. Simmering in the kettle was a tasty soup of goat`s meat.
Kai and Brando retired to a spot near the outdoor shower where Kai resumed dressing.
It was a noisy gathering. Don Carlo`s men were drunk. While two of them laid sprawled
on benches asleep, others engaged in confused talk and argued in loud voices.

"Where are you from?" Iteng, the fellow in charge of refilling the wine glass, asked.

"We are from Mongpong," the leader of the strangers replied. "We are fishermen. We
want to work for Don Carlo."

"My, you come at the wrong time. This is not the time for interviewing job applicants.
Tomorrow`s fiesta, and tonight, well, tonight`s the time for drinking - our rehearsal for
tomorrow`s main event," Iteng said with a laugh. "Don Carlo himself is busy drinking with
his big shot pals. They must be drunk by now. Better have a drink so that your coming
here won`t be a total waste of time. Here." Iteng handed a glass of reddish coconut wine to
the leader.

For several minutes, Don Carlo`s men and the strangers took turns drinking from that
single glass. A bowl of steaming soup was also passed around. Moments later, Iteng
noticed something: " O, where are your companions?"

"Oh, they must have gone somewhere to take a leak."

"Can`t be sure. They might be vomiting instead."

"Could be, with wine this potent."

Iteng chuckled: "We don`t call that dragon`s blood for nothing."

Iteng was again pouring wine from a pitcher when the compound was rocked by explosions in the boatyard. Though roused savagely from their stupor, Don Carlo`s men were so numbed by alcohol that they failed to react. Amidst the tumult, they dimly saw their newly-built boats being blasted by the dynamites detonated by the strangers. They saw them too, rushing out of the gate half-carrying Kai and Brando who were both struggling and shouting for help. Using the tricycles parked outside the compound, the strangers escaped.

The strangers were not from Mongpong. They were the secret inhabitants of the
dreaded Durian Reef whose existence have long been suspected by the villagers. Those
who dared ventured in the vicinity of the reef never came back, their disappearance
conveniently explained as accidents - wrecks caused by the spiny rocks resembling the
spikes of the durian fruit after which the reef was named. The reef was never inhabited by
humans. It has no vegetation. Fresh water could only be had from depressions in the
rocks, natural reservoirs filled by rain during the monsoon season. No place was safe
for mooring as submerged spines could easily pierce any hull.

But the reef was a sanctuary. Since the earliest times, undetected by humans, the
reef provided an ideal abode for a tribe of amphibious creatures. They are like humans in
most aspects, except for the fins protruding from their torsos, their scaly limbs and their
webbed feet. They breathe with their lungs when on land and through their skin
underwater. And they hop when they want to move faster from place to place. To sustain
themselves, these creatures tended the corals, which are nests for dozens of species of
fishes. Thus, the havoc wreaked on these corals by Don Carlo`s boy-fishermen caused
the dwindling of their food supply.

After shedding off his suffocating human clothing, the leader, now displaying the lean
muscular body of a fish-eater, began to speak: "I`ll tell you why we destroyed your
father`s boatyard. We wanted to scare Don Carlo, to stop him from sending into our sea
his coral-breaking gang. Remember the fishermen from your village who disappeared
months ago? It is against our rules to have any contact with humans- but we have to
punish them.They were exploding dynamites in our sea. We thought that would stop Don
Carlo from pursuing his destructive ways. We were mistaken. Not only won`t he stop- he
even taunted us by building more boats!"

"The fishermen, where are they?" asked Kai.

"We held them captives for a while, but they tried to escape. So, we killed them and
fed them to the fishes." Kai and Brando shuddered on hearing that, their pristine world of
boyish pranks and jealousies exposed for the cloistered unreality it really was.

"So you see, there is no hope of you ever returning home. We need you here to protect
us from revenge attacks by your father."

"But Kai hasn`t done you any wrong. Why punish him for the faults of his father?"
Brando asked, pleading.

"I know, I know. But as I`ve told you, we need him as shield to prevent any revenge
attacks. Don`t worry, both of you won`t be harmed as long as the humans don`t attack us.
Especially you, Brando. With those fins for feet, why, you might even be one of us. But
enough of that!

"Let me just warn you. You are captives. You`ll be given enough food, but you`ll be
closely guarded. You can go play in the sea, but remember that you cannot escape for
my followers are fast swimmers. As speedy as barracudas. Don`t ever try to escape,
because if you do, we`ll have no choice but to destroy you.

"But aren`t you going to ask for any ransom?" Brando asked.

"What ransom?"

"Ransom. Money in exchange for the freedom of Kai. His father has plenty of it. I`m
sure that he`ll be most willing to pay you any amount you demand."

"Money won`t be of any use here. Everything here we can have for free. No, we don`t
need money."

"But what do you need? Why don`t you tell Don Carlo what you need? Perhaps he can
give you that. He will give anything for the safe return of his son."

"I don`t know why I allow you to argue with me. But all right, I`ll indulge you. All we
need are fishes, lots of it, to feed our expanding population. But you humans refuse to see
that your maniacal destruction of our corals are depriving the fishes of nests. You refuse to
understand that you can no longer bring back to life the corals that you have destroyed.
Now, how can Don Carlo do that? How can he restore the corals?"

Brando spoke no more. He had no answer to that. So, he and Kai went to sleep
distressed. The leader was right. How could anyone replace the corals? How could
anyone guarantee nests for fishes now that the corals are fast disappearing? With these
questions in mind, Brando fell asleep.

Nowadays, Brando was no longer sure whether he did the remembering in his dream.
But anyhow, the pictures of boat wrecks and scuba divers he saw in the diving magazines
he was reading on the night these creatures came into their eatery, did gave him the idea.

About an hour before dawn, Brando, who was no longer able to sleep, asked that the
leader be awakened. Though still drowsy, the leader again good-naturedly yielded to
Brando`s persistence. Brando proposed to him his idea. And the leader, being the
reasonable creature that he really was, readily gave his approval. By midday, with three
amphibious creatures as escort, Brando was well on his way to his own village, to the
mansion of Don Carlo, to relay to him the demands of their abductors.

Not a week passed when there appeared, crossing over to the edge of the horizon, a
flotilla, sailing for the Durian Reef. Dozens of boats made up the flotilla, which was Don
Carlo`s entire fishing fleet. As the fleet neared its destination, the boats scattered to
encircle the reef. When Don Carlo`s yacht blew its horn, the crew of the fishing boats
did quickly their assigned tasks. After fifteen minutes or so, they lowered the lifeboats
down the side of their vessels. The crew were abandoning the fishing boats for these were
starting to list.But no one was surprised nor was there any panic , for this was Brando`s very idea. In exchange for the safe return of his son, Don Carlo agreed to sink his entire fishing fleet in the sea surrounding Durian Reef. He ordered his men to scuttle the boats by boring
holes on their bottoms.

The moment the sea swallowed the last of the fishing boats, a small canoe paddled by
Kai appeared, gingerly making its way around the spiny rocks to the yacht, where Don
Carlo, Brando, and the cheering crew was waiting for him.

Many years would passed before anyone can appreciate the logic of the maneuver. If
anyone should ever go diving around the fringe of the reef, dozens of varicolored apparitions
would provide him with visual delights. The boats sunk by Don Carlo`s men now lay
unmoving about a hundred feet below. Their former grayish hues are no longer visible
because their hulls are now plastered with swaying colonies of colorful sea anemones.
Aside from these, reddish species of sponges and bluish starfishes found refuge on the
wreckage of the boats.

And darting in and out of the portholes, funnels, doors and other vents and orifices of
the boats are fishes, several varieties of them, flashing colors that would surely light up any
aquarium. But no, the wrecks are supposed to be sanctuaries, artificial nests for fishes
needed by generations of those mysterious amphibious creatures for their survival.

The village where Brando grew up again became a famous seaside resort. From Don
Carlo`s pier, divers board yachts bound for the reef. The boat wrecks encircling Durian
Reef became major tourist attractions, luring divers from all over the world. Pictures of
scuba divers posing alongside the wreckage of Don Carlo`s fishing boats were often
featured in skin diving magazines abroad.

The village is once more a busy place. But most busy are Kai and Brando, who found
their calling guiding divers in their underwater treks. Brandong Palikpik found at last his
true milieu, for underwater, having fins for feet is not freakish. It is the most natural thing
in the world.

End

EROTIC AIR IN THE TALE OF RAPUNZEL

By Arnel Mirasol

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm didn't have children in mind as their primary audience when they put out the first editions of their book, Kinder-und Hausmarchen (Children and Household Tales), in 1812 and 1815. It was only in the 1819 edition did they began to eliminate passages with erotic content to make it more palatable to bourgeois morality and taste. For the curious out there, here is an excerpt (translated into English, of course) from "Rapunzel" as originally written and published in 1812:

'At first Rapunzel was afraid, but soon she took such a liking to the young king that she made an agreement with him: he was to come everyday and be pulled up. Thus they lived merrily and joyfully for a certain time, and the fairy did not discover anything until one day when Rapunzel began talking to her and said, "Tell me, Mother Gothel, why do you think my clothes have become too tight for me and no longer fit?" '

So, there- Rapunzel became pregnant by the young king, which was the most natural and lovely state for her to be. My sensibilities may have been numbed by all the explicit videos I've watched (hahaha...), but I must say that I see nothing wrong in that very oblique mention of their amorous frolics. Therefore, to make my illustration adhere closely to the original spirit of the tale, I painted a half-eaten apple, symbolizing that most delicious of "sins", at the lower right portion of the artwork.

Title of the above illustration: RAPUNZEL
Medium: Acrylic on paper
Size: 26 7/8 X 8 3/8 inches
Year made: 2003
Collectorr: Reni Roxas
Story retold by Fran Ng
From the book Long Ago and Far Away
Published by Tahanan Books for Young Readers

KIRSTEN ANDERBERG'S STUPID LOGIC (including the transcript of Kirsten Anderberg's reaction to this blog, my rebuttal, and comments from friends)

By Arnel Mirasol

Eyes of Love

Not too long ago, I had an online tiff with Kirsten Anderberg, who describes herself as a feminist, historian, human rights activist, writer and musician. When I checked her profile info, I realized that she is also a 1997 graduate of the Whittier Law School. So, she must be a full-pledged lawyer by now - awesome credentials indeed, anyway you look at it. And I, who can only "boast" of a high school diploma, am definitely in awe.

Our discussion revolved mainly about the paintings I did of nude female models featured in the girlie magazines I kept at home. Kirsten wondered why I was doing only female nudes. She asked me to add male nude paintings to my repertoire, to which I answered that it's a big no-no for me, because naked male bodies disgust me. Apparently, she overlooked , the "hahaha..." I end my answer with to indicate that I'm just being facetious. She assailed my saying that, because she must have thought my disgust real. She quickly presumed that I was homophobic, or a hater of males. ( Kirsten and I were both wrong in our understanding of the word. Homophobia actually means fear or hatred of homosexuals. My apologies.) Well, what else should I say. I'm a true blue straight male who don't exactly relish painting models with dangling, or, God forbid!, tumescent sexual paraphernalia.

Tangerine Dreams

Luscious Reds 

Perfumed Persuasion

She next told me that she can't quite believed that I see nothing beautiful in Michelangelo's naked male sculptures. Well, which artist won't be entranced by them. In fact, when I was still in art school, Michelangelo's paintings of powerful males were the first art works I tried to emulate in art school.

The Cock Charmer

I was so enthralled by Michelangelo that I bought two books that featured his art. But Kirsten should understand that when an artist admires male nude artworks, it doesn't follow that that artist will be obliged to also create male nude artworks. Not wanting to paint naked male bodies doesn't imply hating them, or the male specie in general.

Kirsten insistence on their being the same is stupid logic. My fascination with Michelangelo's paintings of naked males is over, and I'm now pouring my efforts in painting, not only female nudes, but also picture book illustrations and other paintings depicting a variety of subject matter and styles.

Her supposedly observant eye then focused on a female nude painting I did - that of Marilyn Monroe in high heels - Maria Lina Desnuda (below right) She remarked that Marilyn shouldn't be so glamorized because she led a sad life. She may have achieved fame and fortune, but she in truth felt exploited. That's why she succumbed to the lure of drugs and was so depressed that she eventually committed suicide. How true and how sad.

But what Kirsten said next floored me. Here, unedited, are her exact words: " I ask you paint a few of her DEPRESSED, LONELY, DRUNK ALONE DESPERATE let's paint REAL portraits of who she was for once! Paint THOSE pictures, not this trite predictable made up crap of a "fairy tale" of what women never should want to be unless they want to be MISERABLE AND DIE YOUNG." The nerve! Who does she think she is? She has no right whatsoever to dictate to me what I should paint next. It's none of her business if I want to paint a thousand portraits of a glamorized and orgasmic Marilyn Monroe oozing with sex appeal and joy.

Kirsten opinions on my art doesn't count. She may affixed to her name all those highfalutin titles, but still, I won't consider her "art criticism" valid and relevant: because I can see at a glance that her knowledge about art is sparse and threadbare. The only opinions about art I highly esteem and put a high premium on are those of my peers- my fellow artists; those of the art critics, art dealers, art collectors, and most especially those of my family and friends, because I know that they always mean well even if they negatively criticized my artworks.

If she wanted more male nudes painted, I, a male painter, shouldn't be the one she should pester. She should ask the female and gay painters she knows to do it for her. Maybe, she should also request the best painter nowadays of pin-up style female nudes, Olivia de Berardinis, to cease painting those naked women in porn poses and instead start painting male nudes from now on. And Kirsten should also stop from lumping us painters of female nudes with pornographers. Nude female art is not pornography. The biggest pornographers are all there in the US. It would be best perhaps if she send Hugh Hefner, Bob Guccione and the other porn moguls there a facebook message each sometime. They might appreciate it and may add her perhaps to their list of friends. They'd be thrilled having a feminist as friend.

Pin-up art by Olivia de Berardinis

Arguments, Rebuttals, Ripostes, and Comments:

KIRSTEN ANDERBERG: SO now only women and "gay painters" should paint nude males he says, while saying he is not homophobic!!!!!!! LMAO!!! Do you understand what homophobic IS?! You are it, babe. Your FEAR of male nudes is BIZARRE! And again, you expect me, a woman, to look at your female nudes adoringly, or are you PAINTING ONLY FOR MALE VIEWERS?! That follows your logic. If you, a male, cannot paint male nudes and only female nudes due to your homophobia and heterosexuality, then that means only men and gay women would be your audience, right? And yet you seem to act as tho heterosexual women would like your work. Why? Why would heterosexual women like your work but het men not like male nudes? Do you see how your homophobia has skewed your logic? So, fine, you are painting women nudes ONLY FOR MALES AND GAY WOMEN - that is your intended audience. OK. So logically then you think only gay men, I suppose, and het women should paint nude males...sigh...so old school...and funny how you paint and write re oppression yet YOU ARE THE OPPRESSOR IN THIS INSTANCE AND ARE TOO FEARFUL TO EVEN SEE IT! April 17 at 2:42am

KIRSTEN ANDERBERG: I also did not do such a thing as to lump all nude into porn!! NOT AT ALL! I said which ONES felt like porn and PRAISED the nudes that did not reek of porn to which you responded the ones I noted as porn were in fact COPIED FROM PORN! And the one nude I liked that I said was not porny you said you had altered the face of and I asked if that was perhaps what troubled me re the other porn ones was the look on the faces = porn and submission to who we know we are here to serve! Why are you now lying?! I said I am cool with sex and nudity just not treating women as the only secxual beings, which you have re discarding all male sexuality due to your homophobia and look you ass, I have written Hugh Heffnet and complained and have the letterback from him framed as it was so precocious. You are now saying I am not into nudes, which I am more positive to them than you as I approve of male and female nudes,and I told you I run the vulva museum so you are just trying to manipulate things now...I am prosex,pronudity and feminist and anti-porn. I am fine with respectful eroticism of women, what I am not cool with is men like you using women as blow up dolls and MEAT. April 17 at 2:47am

KIRSTEN ANDERBERG: You are obviously homophobic, you have proven that. You obviously have serious issues with needing to reduce women to meat, as I told you I was fine with sex women and nudes but felt some of your work oppressed women for men and some did not and pointed out the differences. It was YOU who then tried to make this into some weird thing where I was saying nudes are porn which I never said. I did not say male nudes like Michaelangelo made were porn why do you assume all women nudes would then be deemed porn by me?! It seems my dear, that I know as much about art, in the end, as you, as you seem to be oblivious to politics beyond Patriarchy and if you want your audience to be just artists with a higher education level than yours, or to only paint for gay women and males, go for it. If you want straight women for an audience, or people without Harvard degrees in art to look at your work, or any of the gay community to give you the time of day, your attitudes would need to change, more than your art subjects. I am not interested in looking at your work anymore knowing how homophobic and sexist you are. Good luck with your political attitudes as they overshadow your art. I can find the women you painted from Penthouse and Playboy in the flesh in the original mags if I wanted that crap so not sure why I would waste time on your work at this point...You should perhaps begin advertising in gay women venues for your art since you seem to believe that is the only audience in women you could have...due to your homophobia standards re men and you. April 17 at 2:55am

ISAGANI FUENTES: whoaaaa !!!...............it's so hot in the Philippines !!! April 17 at 6:45am

ISAGANI FUENTES: got to keep a comfortable distance friends...nose bleed ako ...BYE !!! ;-) April 17 at 6:53am ·

ROMY RENDON: pal, don't you worry about that woman,(kirsten), she got nothing to do on her spare time lol.. April 17 at 11:32am

ROMY RENDON: keep doing what you do best, we love your painting... April 17 at 11:34am

BUDS CONVOCAR: my oh my! what controversy a nude sketch could make??? the dictionary defines homophobia as: homophobia |ˌhōməˈfōbēə|nounan extreme and irrational aversion to homosexuality and homosexual people. Question: if i stay away from the company or presence of gay people but i don't necessarily feel aversion towards them, am i considered a homophobic person?April 17 at 2:38pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: Hello, Kirsten. You confused the words "not wanting to" with "hating". You see things in black and white. You seem to be unaware of the word "indifferent", which is actually my attitude to male nude art at present. I have no special liking for nor dislike for it, which means that I'm indifferent to it. I have been painting for more than thirty years, and I have mentioned that the first master I emulated was Michelangelo. I've drawn several male nudes, after his style, to familiarize myself with the contours of the male anatomy. It was just an exercise, just as my painting several female nudes was only an exercise. Nothing political or sexual to it. I just wanted to show to my peers that I am also competent in painting nudes. I have said before and I'm saying it again that I only copied from the girlie mags because I can't afford to hire my own models. April 17 at 2:40pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: The world of nature is complex and is composed of many objects, creatures and elements which would interest painters. You can't seem to believe that I'm through with Michelangelo. That's not an impossibility, Kirsten: because when we artists feel that we have exhausted a subject, we move on, and paint other subjects. The practice of art is a life of never ending practice. We like to try our hands in painting different subject matter, sometimes to sort of challenge ourselves and perk up our interests in art making. Artists get jaded and bored too in what they are doing. April 17 at 2:51pm ·

ARNEL MIRASOL: But, I must say that we both erred in our understanding of the word "homophobia". It actually doesn't mean fear of males or male nudes, but rather fear of homosexuals. I checked with the dictionary. I apologize for that error- just human. April 17 at 2:54pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: We go back to that word "oppression" again. I have said before that oppression connotes the persecution, the enslavement and the forcing of people to do something against their will. I haven't done any of those things when I painted those female nudes, so where is the oppression there? You are the one doing the oppressing when you continue to taunt me into painting something I don't want to paint. That attitude to me is authoritarian, dictatorial and fascistic- words which actually mean the same thing, hahaha.... April 17 at 3:02pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: I have mentioned already that I didn't do those female nude paintings mainly for profit, because if I did, I would have baulked from giving them away - which I actually did in the end. I gave them to friends as a gesture of friendship or to reciprocate favors previously done me. The real "artist-profiteers" are there in your own backyard. People like Olivia Berardinis, who I'm sure have already raked in enormous sums for her paintings of naked females wearing high heels, black stockings and hats. I'd like to ask if you've already sent her a facebook message denouncing her for her tasteless choice of subject matter, unseemly fixation with females in porn poses and "attire", and insatiable appetite for monetary gains and profit. April 17 at 3:14pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: That's exactly the impression I got when you wrote, "I ASK you paint"- that you are asking me to paint male nudes instead of Marilyn Monroe and other female models. Look, you even emphasize the word "ask" by capitalizing it. Now you are telling me that it probably was a typo. April 17 at 3:18pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: The reason I did paintings indicting dictators was precisely because they were the real oppressors. They tortured, killed, imprisoned, and brainwashed people into doing something against their will. We painters of nude females never did that. So I'm baffled why you insisted on accusing us as oppressors of females. April 17 at 3:22pm

RIC ICO: Go, go, go, Arnel! We will support you. April 17 at 3:27pm

RIC ICO: It's for artsake, not a political issue! April 17 at 3:28pm

ARNEL MIRASOL:  I have always thought that feminism as a movement have already petered out, because the way I see it, women discrimination and abuse is no longer the norm here in the Philippines, the US,  and other western countries. Especially here in the Philippines- because the way I see it, Filipino women have always been empowered. Many Filipino sociologists even categorized Filipino society as matriarchal. And one wit even declared that most Filipino husbands are "under the sayas", or hen-pecked: to which I can only retort, how true, how true, hahaha...There are of course isolated cases, but as I have said they are no longer the norm, because they are no longer a policy of the state, nor the tradition of society. April 17 at 3:29pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: If you really want to make a mark and be really useful, I suggest that you go to countries where the women are really oppressed, discriminated against, and deprived of their rights, and hurl there your umbrage, vitriol, and all the invectives you can muster. I would be very interested to know what will happen to you next. April 17 at 3:33pm

NONA RUST: Freedom of expression...it is in the constitution... April 17 at 3:36pm

TRISTAN BAMBA: weeewww,,, April 17 at 3:46pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: I never said that I paint only for highly-trained artists. What I said was the only people whose opinions I valued and put a high premium on are my peers- my fellow artists; the art critics, the art dealers, and art collectors, and family and friends. I didn't say that you can't look at, analyze and critique my work, only that I won't put a high premium on your views on it, that I consider your opinions on art worthless because you keep on insisting that your feminist beliefs be the standard or criteria for evaluating art- which shouldn't be the case. Paintings should be valuated on their adherence to the rules of composition, color harmonies, and technical competence. If a painting overstepped the boundaries of good taste, then, sue the artist. And as far as I know, only Egon Schiele was imprisoned for pornographic art. Which some of his artworks really are, because in several of them he showed naked women spreading wide their labias. April 17 at 3:52pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: You twisted my words again, Kirsten. I never said that only females and gay men should paint nude. I only said that instead of harassing me into painting male nudes, ask instead your female and gay painter friends to do it for you. Where's the homophobia in that? (Incidentally, we both erred in defining the word homophobia; it actually means, fear of homosexuals.) I repeat, where's the homophobia in that? My suggestion that you ask instead your gay painter friends to paint male nudes does not in any way suggest that I hate them. Frankly, I cannot see the connection, because I'm sure that gays would actually relish and be proud of their male nude paintings and their male nude art acquisitions. An attitude I heartily approve of because art is art, no matter what the subject matter is. There are several painters who were gays or suspected to be one, who I deeply admire: there was Leonardo da Vinci, for one, and Michelangelo. There were also John Singer Sargent, Paul Cadmus, and Andy Warhol. April 17 at 4:11pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: You might not know it, Kirsten, but that is actually the case. Since we painters cannot hope to please everybody, we paint only for a certain audience. Something like positioning or finding a niche in marketing lingo. Now, now, I'm sure that you'll denounce me again for being concerned with profit, but I guess I have to tell you that for painters, painting is a livelihood like any other. I'm not a mere dilettante who paints merely as a hobby, to pass away the time. Painters have to eat like any other human being.

Besides, Kirsten, I suppose that your saying that only men and gay women would like nude female art is way off the mark. Nothing could be more wrong, as witness the comments in this thread of heterosexual females who expressed their admiration for the depiction of the nude female form in art. Some even volunteered the information that they would actually be honored and delighted if some painter invited them to pose for them in the nude.

That attitude on posing in the nude for painters goes a long way back. I have written somewhere in my pages that two duchesses, the Duchess of Urbino and the Duchess of Alba have actually posed naked for Titian and Goya respectively. And I must add that nude art models are even honored and immortalized when they posed for painters. Take the case of Manet's model for two of his paintings, Le Dejeuner Sur L'Herbe (Breakfast on the Grass), and Olympia. If she hadn't posed for those paintings, we wouldn't have known that a certain woman named Victorine existed. April 17 at 4:34pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: Kirsten, just because something is copied from a girlie magazine doesn't mean that that something is porn already. One of my painting you praised, the Tangerine Dream, is also from Penthouse Magazine. I presumed that you liked it because the girl's pose is pretty coy and not blatantly erotic. Well, for your information, that very girl actually had other photos in the same issue of that magazine showing her in vulgar poses, with her thighs wide open and her genitals in full display. I didn't select those vulgar photos precisely because I know that they went beyond the limits of good taste.

It's all a matter of perception, Kirsten. What to you would be porn, like naked women with high heels, wouldn't be so to others. For example, that Marilyn in heels painting: you consider that porn when others don't see it as such. In fact, I suspect that now, many would consider that picture as pretty wholesome, because of the porn explosion in the internet nowadays, where not only showbiz starlets, but even ordinary people, rich and poor, men and women and gays, are the performers, and who actually give the impression that they are having fun doing those hardcore sexual acts.

Yes, you may have approve of one nude painting of mine, but you have condemned the others as porn merely because the women are shown wearing heels, displaying pubic hairs or showing inviting expressions on their faces. (Well, what expression would you like these models to show - would it be more okay if they bare their teeth like fangs and act like roaring lions?) You have labelled these pretty innocuous pictures as porn while other people have not - so, what other conclusion can I make except that you equate nude women paintings with pornography.April 17 at 5:07pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: We have both presumed that homophobic means a person who hate males. Both of us are wrong there, because the word homophobia actually means hatred of homosexuals. You said that I'm a male hater, as per our previous understanding of the word. But I supposed I have to ask this: wouldn't that label more precisely describe you? I am of the impression that, deep in your heart, you nurtured a deep hatred for males, that you consider most of what we do as oppression and abuse of women. You even assert that patriarchy is a bad thing, when not all fathers and male leaders are abusive and tyrannical. There are also many benevolent, nurturing, kind, impartial, and soft-hearted males, in case you didn't know.

As to your saying that you are no longer interested in looking at my art anymore, well, all I would say is "good riddance". I never invited you, in the first place. You were the one who just barged in into my page and even offered to interview me. I wouldn't want to be interviewed by a person who is so touchy, and who immediately goes ballistic and belligerent whenever I defend my art and expressed a contrary opinion. You have intruded into my page and inflicted on us your anti-male politics. Better stick with your political agenda, Kirsten. You'd be more useful doing that. April 17 at 5:36pm

BUDS CONVOCAR: way to go arnel!!!April 17 at 5:49pm ·

ARNEL MIRASOL: Wheww, that was tiring! Hahaha...Napagod ako ng husto sa babaeng yon (oops, baka iba na naman ang pakahulugan doon, ah, hahaha...) mga kaibigan kaya mamaya na ako magko-comment at magpapasalamat sa mga reactions nyo. Iidlip muna ako, para meron akong powers pag naglamay ako mamaya sa tinatapos kong alamat illustration. I'll be back. I love you all!April 17 at 5:56pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: ‎@Benneth. Thank you very much for seeing my point. You're so right. Nude paintings really honor and immortalize the models. But the painter should maybe ask first the permission of your husband before inviting you to pose for him, hahaha...Just joiking. :-)April 18 at 4:50pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: ‎@Beth. Tama. Dahil nga siguro sa tradisyunal na ang female nude art. Ever since marami nang ganyang painting kaya maganda na sa paningin. Nasanay na ang viewers. Thank you very much.April 18 at 4:54pm ·

ARNEL MIRASOL:@Tzerelin. You're so right. That's what I told Kirsten. The images I painted may have come from girlie magazines, but I chose to paint only those which doesn't overstepped the limits of good taste- those which are not vulgar or obscene. But the problem with her is she equates even the wearing of heels by naked women as pornographic already, when some viewers saw it as cute or even beautiful. She even labelled me as a man-hater and sexist for not wanting to paint male nudes and delighting instead in doing only female ones. Frankly, I can't see the connection. She boasted of being a law graduate and writer, but I must say, that her logic stinks. It is downright stupid. Thank you for admiring my work, Tzerelin, and also for encouraging me to paint on and not mind the unfair criticisms that may come my way.April 18 at 5:11pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: Hello, Romy. She is one pretentious lady. I've read on her wall that she's now very busy writing her 9th book, entitled, "How to Apply to Law School". Why, the very title sounds stupid to me. There is everything wrong in that title. I guess, what she means is "How to Apply for Admittance to Law School". Now, which person with average IQ, who's thinking of entering law school, would buy that book, when they can make inquiries by just calling, emailing or seeing personally the college registrar or anyone in-charge of admissions? Let me just see her submit that book to publishers here; I'm sure that she'll be swamped with a deluge of rejection slips. Thanks, Romy, for liking what I do and always being there to give me moral support.April 18 at 5:31pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: @ Buds. Kirsten and I both erred in our understanding of the word homophobia- we both thought that it means a hatred of males. Yesterday, I checked with the dictionary before going online, and I found out that one of its meaning is fear of homosexuals. Thank you for your also doing a research on the word, hahaha...Well, if you stay away from the company of gays, Kirsten would definitely label you, pronto, as homophobic or a hater of homosexuals. That's how her mind works. She sees things only in black and white. If your not for, your against. Which rather surprised me, because she claimed that she's a writer, and writers should be aware of the word "indifferent"- which means, not mark by a special liking for nor dislike for something. Indifferent is the word between for and against.April 18 at 5:45pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: Hi, Ric, thanks for acting as my one-man cheering squad, hahaha...Kirsten Anderberg is a political fanatic and man-hater at heart- I understand the type. Self-righteous fanatics, if ever they capture power, will surely be the tyrants of tomorrow, and will surely do what Hitler did when he branded avant-garde artists as degenerates, prompting them to flee Europe to save their lives.April 18 at 5:52pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: Thanks, Nona. Yes- freedom of expression is a constitutional right. But Kirsten Anderberg, who's supposedly a law graduate, doesn't seem to know that.April 18 at 5:54pm

BUDS CONVOCAR: Kirsten, I miss you!!! Hehehe!!!April 19 at 1:05am

ARNEL MIRASOL: Buds. I also miss her, Buds. I actually enjoyed our debate- it was fun. I always get a euphoric rush every time I succeeded in pricking the a_ _ of pompous people like her. Totoo nyan, ang daya nya ( The truth was , she didn't play fair). You know what she did after posting all those anti-male tirades on this thread, she blocked me at once. Maybe because she knows that I won't take her taunting sitting down- that I surely have an answer ready for every issue that she raised. She's afraid to read my rebuttal, hahaha...We love you, Kirsten. Please come back.April 19 at 5:44pm

BETH SUAREZ: haha!!!!wow nman arnel......love nyo n sya agad????galing ng debate nyo....nakakabuhay ng dugo!!!!April 19 at 7:32pm

ARNEL MIRASOL: Thanks, Beth. Oo nga, eh. Ako matanda na, pero parang nabuhay uli dugo ko, hahaha...Of course- love na namin sya, wala namang personalan yon. Sya lang pinersonal nya, block nya ako pagkapost ng comments nya. Hindi na binasa sagot ko. Daya nya.April 20 at 12:01am ·

BETH SUAREZ: ngiiii...madaya nga!!!April 20 at 1:27am

THE SAGA OF ARNALDO DE TONDO

I celebrated my birthday last June. An occasion I decided to mark by coming out with this short narrative of my life. Don`t take the pompous title seriously, friends. I merely wanted to humor myself, to make me stand steadfast in my belief that what I`m doing with single-minded devotion for thirty years now is significant. Never mind if a very close relation consider me and my profession useless. But please read on- this piece is not an exercise in self-pity. On the contrary...

I was born and raised in the slums of Tondo: at the so-called Tondo Foreshore, that bit of land that was originally sea. Despite the place`s notoriety as breeding-ground for would-be toughies, I will always remember my boyhood years with fondness. I had so much fun then romping about the flooded streets, trying to catch tadpoles and small fishes with improvised nets. Even the fistfights I engaged in with boyhood adversaries now seem to me like exciting fun-filled games.

We weren`t exactly destitute then like many of our neighbors, because my father, Edmundo, was already working overseas as a marine engineer. That is why my siblings and I were all able to go to college. Our eldest, Esterlina, finished commerce at University of Santo Tomas (UST). My younger brother, Rodolfo, finished industrial engineering at the University of Manila, while Teresa, the youngest, finished nursing, also at UST. She is now a nurse in San Diego, California. We kids were lucky, because unlike our father, we don`t have to struggle hard for our education. He's originally from Cebu, and he came here to Manila with his parents to study. Being poor, my father had to work as a janitor and later on as a clerk at Feati University, where he finished high school and took up mechanical engineering. Although he reached only third year in engineering, my father managed, a few years after he got married, to get hired by an international shipping company as engine crew. Those were lax times, and crewing agencies then didn`t required diplomas from seaman applicants. He rose to the rank of chief engineer.

I was studious as a boy; I graduated with honors in grade school. I maintained my good grades in high school (USTHS), although they suffered a decline in my final year. I was distracted from my studies that time because I got saddled with loads of extra-curricular activities. Aside from heading our school`s art organization, I was also the chief artist of our yearbook and artist and Filipino editor of our literary magazine. Anyway, despite my failing to get any honors upon graduation, I still consider my years in high school as time well-spent. it was around that time that I really grew fond of books, not as required reading at school, but as a real fun way of spending my time. Buying books became a compulsion, a quite costly habit which resulted in my amassing a sizable collection.

Even before I started learning the alphabet, I was already teaching myself the rudiments of drawing. It was an innate obsession, a calling perhaps. When I was a kid, I never knew anyone who can draw, so nobody could have inspired or influenced me. I drew everyday, on any available surface, even on the wooden walls of our house. This so exasperated my mother, Regina, that from then on, she made it a point to always yield to my requests for art materials.

My father`s ambition for me was also his father`s ambition for him. He wanted me to become a lawyer. To his disappointment, I insisted on studying painting, a most impractical choice, really. I first took up fine arts at UST, but quit after my second year. I shifted to architecture, then tried engineering, and finally in my mid-twenties, I resumed, though failed again to finish, my art studies at the University of the East (UE).

I began working as a professional artist in 1981, when I got employed as political cartoonist for the newspaper, People`s Journal. At first, I did an editorial cartoon daily. But due perhaps to my rawness, I noticed as weeks went on that I`m being given fewer and fewer assignments. Since I`m being paid on a per piece basis, I thought it better to quit the job rather than go each day to the office with no assurance on income.After my short initial stint as political cartoonist, I decided to paint full-time after being inspired by a book on Dali. It was the declining years of the Marcos regime and many paintings being done and exhibited at that time were political in content. I rode the trend and painted social realist canvases, but with a surrealist twist. In 1984, I won the top prize in the First Metrobank Annual Painting Competition. It was a most prestigious competition then as it is at present.

When I got married in 1985, I worked briefly as an art gallery assistant at the Galeria delas Islas. Then in 1987, I returned to political cartooning with the We Forum Publications of Joe Burgos, the crusading journalist and staunch Marcos opponent. It was there that my skill in pen and ink drawing was honed. I also learned a lot about political cartooning from Mr. Burgos. He told me that the most witty cartoon is the one that is most visual, meaning, the lesser the text and captions, the better. So, that axiom became my guide in cartooning. I always strive to impart the message sans text and captions. I didn`t always succeed of course, but I`ve created through sheer persistence, several pieces that spoke eloquently of my message without saying it, so to speak.The time came when the paper ceased being a daily. Thus, I took on another job as educational textbook illustrator to make full use of my time. I started with Phoenix Publishing House, then Rex, Abiva and Bookmark. That was way back in 1988. Artworks for their textbooks were black and white line drawings. The job is quite tedious, but I needed to persevere. Being paid again on a per piece basis, I went for volume.

The highlight of my career in textbook illustration was the series of full-color cover art I did for Phoenix Publishing. It was while doing them that I developed the style that would make a good impression on publishers. When I approached Rex printing and Tahanan Books, two of several houses here currently engaged in picture book publishing, their publishers reacted favorably after leafing through my portfolio. The moment suitable manuscripts came along, I was offered the job of illustrating them. So far, I have finished illustrating the following books: TAMALES DAY; FIRST AROUND THE GLOBE-THE STORY OF ENRIQUE; THE ORIGIN OF THE FROG; THE BROTHERS WU AND THE GOOD-LUCK EEL; HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN- ONCE UPON A TIME and THE BROTHERS GRIMM- LONG AGO AND FAR-AWAY. The last book, a collection of the Brothers Grimm best-loved fairy tales, took the longest time in making. I spent around two years on it, agonizing and being elated in turn each time I started and finished a plate. And the result was satisfying. It pleased me; it pleased my publisher.

My first solo exhibit of fairy tale illustrations took place at the Crucible Gallery. It opened on September 8, 2001. Featured in the exhibit were the original illustrations for the book, HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN- ONCE UPON A TIME. The exhibit opening was very, very soft: no guests-of-honor, no ribbon-cutting, no cocktails. But there were sales. Of the eleven illustrations on show, nine were sold: no mean feat in these persistently lean times. Although I was disappointed that my show was completely ignored by art writers here, the flattering comments of the ordinary gallery-goers lifted my spirit. Among the flurry of praises heaped my way, none flattered me more than someone`s remark that I was perhaps the Philippines` "own Maxfield Parrish".

My second solo show at the Crucible featured not only the illustrations for the book, THE BROTHERS GRIMM- LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY, but also a suite of paintings belonging to my machismo series. I guess I can adjudge this show more successful than the first, because aside from selling several artworks, the show also got noticed by the art critic, Constantino Tejero. His feature on me appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on June 25, 2007. A day I expected would be rather dismal, because it was my birthday, and I`m again impecunious. You can just imagine my surprise and elation upon seeing in the PDI`s art news pages his review of my show. I was so excited that I immediately rushed out of the house to buy several copies more of the paper.

Before starting work on ONCE UPON A TIME, I considered my illustrations for the books, THE ORIGIN OF THE FROG and THE BROTHERS WU AND THE GOOD-LUCK EEL as the apex of my achievement as illustrator. I have reason to because both of these books won recognition abroad; The ORIGIN OF THE FROG was a runner-up in the 2000 Noma Concours for Picture Book Illustration in Tokyo, while the excellence of my illustrations for the BROTHERS WU AND THE GOOD-LUCK EEL landed me in the 2002 Honour List of the International Board on Books for Young People, based in Basel, Switzerland. But after seeing the illustrations of Gennady Spirin, Wayne Anderson and James Christensen in the books lent to me by my publisher Reni Roxas, my attitude changed. The truth that the quality of my works are still way below the world`s standard became evident to me. And my ego got deflated.

I still live in Tondo with my wife, Carina, and two sons. My sons, Bahgee and Kai both finished business courses and are now gainfully employed. Although they showed flair for art making when they were kids, I didn`t encouraged them much. Having known firsthand the struggle and deprivation that an artist has to go through in life, I dissuaded them from taking up fine arts. But of course, if they really insisted on pursuing an art career, well, fine, I`ll give them my blessing. Happily, to my relief, they didn`t. They seem more intent on getting rich. An attitude I approve of very much, because perhaps, this poor old papa now have reason to expect a comfortable old age, courtesy of the two.

(Posted above is a clipping of Constantino Tejero's review of my second solo exhibit at the Crucible Gallery, which was featured in the Philippine Daily Inquirer's June 25 issue)