Goodbye to a Painter
October 29, 2001 | 12:00am
Miguel Castillo, 33, drowned in a diving accident off the coast of Maragudon, in his father’s home province of Cavite last Oct. 21. The young painter’s wake was held for three nights at the Mt. Carmel Church in New Manila, his works displayed near his bier in the adjacent chapel.
Castillo’s father is the novelist Erwin Castillo, whose long awaited epic work Cape Engaño is still searching for the right publisher. The dead painter’s younger half brother is the guitarist Diego of the alternative, indie band Sandwich.
On the last night of the wake Wednesday, it is almost like a social event in itself, with painters, writers, musicians, advertising people in attendance. There is brandy, whisky and wine going around, to wash down the usual pica-pica, and as chaser to the varied reminiscences that are, as befit the occasion, mostly doleful.
"Nene, here’s our ring bearer of ill fortune," Erwin re-introduces an equally obscure poet to Miguel’s mother.
Above the nearly half-moon is like a cradle or a rice bowl, depending on how one looks at it; a harbinger of a good harvest, nonetheless, remarks the deposed executive director of the NCCA, Rio Alma.
Recah Trinidad, an old kumpadre of Erwin’s, is doing the rounds nursing his faithful Torres brandy, checking if plastic cups are full, occasionally feeding other mournful comrades some fried rice and pancit on chopsticks. Erwin takes the time to remind his kumpadre that he has a part in the program the next day, in the service for the scheduled cremation.
"Painter pala siya," one kibitzer notes to Erwin upon seeing the paintings inside, a number of them watercolor landscapes with still water – lakes, rivers, streams – the omnipresent element.
"He was a troubled child," Erwin says, adding that "ganu’n pala kung namamatayan ng anak," recalling the poet Ricky de Ungria in far-off Davao, whose only son Nikos committed suicide a few years ago.
Also in the motley crowd that night is the future national artist Danny Dalena, who must have been an influence on the young painter, whose work included nude studies and some portraits, one of the latter of which was his lolo’s, Colonel Reyes.
The underground writer Gelacio Guillermo also surfaces to condole with his Diliman classmate, Erwin, whose writing batchmates come out in full force: Pete Lacaba and Marra Lanot, Krip Yuson, and Teo Antonio, deep into the circle of mourners and drinkers.
"Ano ba ang jologs?" one pretty matron was heard to have asked.
If you don’t know the meaning of jologs, then you’re getting on in years.
In one corner are Diego’s cohorts in Sandwich, the couple Raymund Marasigan and Myrene Academia. A little later Diego is rehearsing a number with them on a guitar, probably for the next day’s program.
"You want me to bring out the guitar for you?" Erwin asks his ring bearer of ill fortune. "The kids are practicing a number inside the chapel. Francis Reyes is here."
"Huwag na, mga propesyonal mga ’yan. Pagtatawanan lang tayo."
There’s also Pepito Aguila, father of Kap and bosom buddy of Erwin, seated by the dried up fountain, pouring out glasses of the Australian wine, Jacob’s Creek.
Soon enough there’s a kind of chorus starting up, with Celina Cristobal leading Erwin, Teo, Krip, Rio, Marne Kilates, Jimmy Abad in an ensemble of nostalgic Filipino songs. Adman Cris Michelena joins in on a verse or two.
"Kayo ba’y naaalala pa ang mga kantang yan?" Rio asks rhetorically.
Marne later observes, it’s been a bad year: first Mike Bigornia, then Perdigon Vocalan, now Miguel Castillo. And it’s not over yet.
Nearing midnight the Mt. Carmel security guard advises Erwin that some New Manila neighbors are complaining, as if the sound coming from the church vicinity were enough to raise the dead.
"Simple, all we have to do is send Teo home," Krip volunteers.
Erwin motions to Recah to ring a glass or two to get everyone’s attention, after which the grieving father announces: "We have to keep it down because the neighbors are calling the police."
Before taking leave Krip places a handkerchief on the back of a sweat-drenched Erwin, who says "iba ’yung nag-aalaga ng anak"; it’s a trick one learns when taking care of an overactive child with a wet T-shirt.
The ring bearer also excuses himself, saying that he has to do school bus duties the next day.
"It’s something we all have to do at one time or another in our lives," Erwin says.
We’re all waiting for his next novel, the much-delayed follow-up to his Firewalkers released in the early ’90s. Be it Stranger Sweets or Cape Engaño, indications are that it would be worth the long wait. It would very likely be dedicated to the memory of his second son, Miguel, painter of the obscure whose death was by water, the remains put to the fire on a Thursday, the last Thursday of an October of lost time.
Castillo’s father is the novelist Erwin Castillo, whose long awaited epic work Cape Engaño is still searching for the right publisher. The dead painter’s younger half brother is the guitarist Diego of the alternative, indie band Sandwich.
On the last night of the wake Wednesday, it is almost like a social event in itself, with painters, writers, musicians, advertising people in attendance. There is brandy, whisky and wine going around, to wash down the usual pica-pica, and as chaser to the varied reminiscences that are, as befit the occasion, mostly doleful.
"Nene, here’s our ring bearer of ill fortune," Erwin re-introduces an equally obscure poet to Miguel’s mother.
Above the nearly half-moon is like a cradle or a rice bowl, depending on how one looks at it; a harbinger of a good harvest, nonetheless, remarks the deposed executive director of the NCCA, Rio Alma.
Recah Trinidad, an old kumpadre of Erwin’s, is doing the rounds nursing his faithful Torres brandy, checking if plastic cups are full, occasionally feeding other mournful comrades some fried rice and pancit on chopsticks. Erwin takes the time to remind his kumpadre that he has a part in the program the next day, in the service for the scheduled cremation.
"Painter pala siya," one kibitzer notes to Erwin upon seeing the paintings inside, a number of them watercolor landscapes with still water – lakes, rivers, streams – the omnipresent element.
"He was a troubled child," Erwin says, adding that "ganu’n pala kung namamatayan ng anak," recalling the poet Ricky de Ungria in far-off Davao, whose only son Nikos committed suicide a few years ago.
Also in the motley crowd that night is the future national artist Danny Dalena, who must have been an influence on the young painter, whose work included nude studies and some portraits, one of the latter of which was his lolo’s, Colonel Reyes.
The underground writer Gelacio Guillermo also surfaces to condole with his Diliman classmate, Erwin, whose writing batchmates come out in full force: Pete Lacaba and Marra Lanot, Krip Yuson, and Teo Antonio, deep into the circle of mourners and drinkers.
"Ano ba ang jologs?" one pretty matron was heard to have asked.
If you don’t know the meaning of jologs, then you’re getting on in years.
In one corner are Diego’s cohorts in Sandwich, the couple Raymund Marasigan and Myrene Academia. A little later Diego is rehearsing a number with them on a guitar, probably for the next day’s program.
"You want me to bring out the guitar for you?" Erwin asks his ring bearer of ill fortune. "The kids are practicing a number inside the chapel. Francis Reyes is here."
"Huwag na, mga propesyonal mga ’yan. Pagtatawanan lang tayo."
There’s also Pepito Aguila, father of Kap and bosom buddy of Erwin, seated by the dried up fountain, pouring out glasses of the Australian wine, Jacob’s Creek.
Soon enough there’s a kind of chorus starting up, with Celina Cristobal leading Erwin, Teo, Krip, Rio, Marne Kilates, Jimmy Abad in an ensemble of nostalgic Filipino songs. Adman Cris Michelena joins in on a verse or two.
"Kayo ba’y naaalala pa ang mga kantang yan?" Rio asks rhetorically.
Marne later observes, it’s been a bad year: first Mike Bigornia, then Perdigon Vocalan, now Miguel Castillo. And it’s not over yet.
Nearing midnight the Mt. Carmel security guard advises Erwin that some New Manila neighbors are complaining, as if the sound coming from the church vicinity were enough to raise the dead.
"Simple, all we have to do is send Teo home," Krip volunteers.
Erwin motions to Recah to ring a glass or two to get everyone’s attention, after which the grieving father announces: "We have to keep it down because the neighbors are calling the police."
Before taking leave Krip places a handkerchief on the back of a sweat-drenched Erwin, who says "iba ’yung nag-aalaga ng anak"; it’s a trick one learns when taking care of an overactive child with a wet T-shirt.
The ring bearer also excuses himself, saying that he has to do school bus duties the next day.
"It’s something we all have to do at one time or another in our lives," Erwin says.
We’re all waiting for his next novel, the much-delayed follow-up to his Firewalkers released in the early ’90s. Be it Stranger Sweets or Cape Engaño, indications are that it would be worth the long wait. It would very likely be dedicated to the memory of his second son, Miguel, painter of the obscure whose death was by water, the remains put to the fire on a Thursday, the last Thursday of an October of lost time.
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