APPEARANCES AND DISAPPEARANCES │ PRESENCE AND ABSENCE

In an artist’s statement/exhibition notes I wrote for a 15 January 2011 one-man exhibition opening it reads, “There is that constant channel of communication connecting the internal and the external, a correlation that links what is perceived and what is experienced, and the manner by which this discourse become apparent in paint. Such transpires in and with Presence. It is for an artist to explore varied ways to draw a parallel to the macrocosm in which he locates himself.”

“Fascinated by this concept and while toiling from scrutiny interrogating the objective world, visual artist JCrisanto Martinez created paintings, all on acrylic on burlap/canvas, to mount PRESENCE, his sixth one-person exhibition. The paintings occur in relation to presence. Rhetorically the artist inquires “What is the nature of presence? Of absence? What is this unforeseen presence found in the ostensible absence? How does one intensify the sense of presence in a perceived suspected absence or the sense of absence in a perceived suspected presence? And what binds these seemingly contradictions together?”

~ 0 ~

12 May 2009.

I woke up in the afternoon with a message in my mobile telephone that, upon decoding, reads, “Hi! Good morning. Gotta check if this is Joseph’s number. Na-miss na kita. Sana totoo ang number na ito.” No need to guess but with that encounter with Nikko Zapata during the fortnight at Green Papaya Art Projects, only one person comes to mind. Sheer gut feel. Beth Laluces.

Soon, like verbal volleyball, there were exchanges of short text messages. Soon, like mental calisthenics, there were calculated responses. And more soon after that there was no moment of holding back as emotions and excitement overrun two people who, on several occasions, attempted to locate each other in more than twenty years and have failed.

We agreed to meet right that night. The appointed rendezvous was at SM Centerpoint in Sta. Mesa, Manila. As to exactly where at that mall no one knows. Then it happened. From the left of the mall she appeared like an apparition as I approached from the right. Imagine, right smack at the center of the mall, in between escalators, with so many people witnessing, two people longing to renew that old bond finally faced each other again. That unmistakable presence.

So it has been more than two years since then. And every twelve of May for the past two years we go out to celebrate over dinner. In 2010, we dined at Va Pensare, an Italian restaurant at the Araneta Center where we received dagger-looks from the chef whom we mistook as the waiter when we complained about the quantity of the food. Last year we were at Venetto, an Italian joint at Trinoma for pasta and pizza. We did not complain about the quantity of food this time. We were overfed.

And the rest of the best is yet to happen.

~ 0 ~

In the span of more than two years I believe three people have moved on. Like the inscription that I wrote for my mother’s epitaph which declares, “I lie here not because my spirit is not willing but because my flesh is weak.” They have run out of breathe. It is difficult to describe an emotion in their departure knowing the fact that you were once fascinated by their presence and were once connected with them.

Rodel. The Business Administration student who boldly took on the challenge of essaying an effeminate role in the streetplay “Truthfully Yours, Greggy” which I wrote and was presented at the UE Quadrangle at the height of anti-Marcos protest actions.

Ross. A giant of a small man. A multi-tasker whom I shared so many meriendas at Dory’s. He was my teacher.

Chikoy. The Doors fanatic. Oftentimes quiet. Yet oftentimes ready to burn the midnight oil for a more relevant education.

Others also went ahead of them. Unnamed perhaps. Unmarked perhaps. Unheralded perhaps. Resting finally. As we who are surviving remain surrounded by the shadows of the greatest mountains and the depths of the greatest bodies of water on earth. We feel their unmistakable absence.

~ O ~

Lewis Mumford once said, "Raw experience is empty, for it is not what one does, but what one realizes that keeps existence from being vain and trivial. It is the artist who realizes human experience, who takes the raw lump of ore we find in nature, smelts it, refines it, and stamps it into coins that can pass from hand to hand and make every man who touches them the richer."

Eight people started out the idea and worked on the fruition of establishing the Kapit-Bisig Party Alliance (KBPA). They were the modern day artisans who, in the now dilapidated structure along M. Dela Fuente St., in Manila, proved how an amalgam of individual vision, considering the unforeseen, and an artist’s enthusiasm can combine to create an organization that has affected and effected us, enriching us as we shape our view of the world and our goals in life.

In the coming year comes thirty years since KBPA was founded. Let us all take part in the preparation of what appears to be one grand celebration. Let us all share in the majesty, intimacy and timelessness of this event in a way I hope all of us can relate to. It is one occasion to take value those who still are present and feel the presence of those who no longer can make it.

It shall happen. It shall all be there. Let us all be there.

Joey Martinez

27 November 2011