I would be the first to admit that I can be quite miserly when it comes to dishing out compliments. So on those rare occasions I tell an artist that I like his work, suffice it to say that it is not done out of any need to be nice, nor out of a desire to reinvent myself as everyone’s favorite art writer.
What was surprising, however, was that I found myself moved by a show that I considered "safe." It was clean, well conceived and stylish – definitely not boring, just uncontroversial. I also thought it to be eminently marketable. At first glance, I could already see these untitled minimalist table, floor and wall pieces consisting of bed springs, nylon threads, colored, coated electric, telephone, and exposed copper wires attached by metal fixtures and sandwiched between clear Plexiglas sheets being snapped up by collectors. And that was before I learned about the popular, lower five-figure price tags on the lovelies!
Now, I know that the aforementioned references do not sit well with those who consider themselves to be "serious" artists: Those who abscond the dirty fray of selling, and would rather shoot themselves than be compleimented for turning out "delightful" pieces.
But if you really think about it, creating works that turn out to be commercially successful isn’t necessarily bad for as long as the thought and process, the so-called "inner necessity" behind the art-making, is not perverted or overridden by the desire to cash in. I hate having to try to impute intent, but I firmly believe that the creative journey of the successful artist begins with the questions "What?," "Why?" and "How?" and ends with the exclamation "Wow, who knew?!"
Getting down to brass and tacks, Zamuco’s effort stood out because, over and above the stuffiness of reductive aesthetics and theory, my gut feel showed him to be genuine – a subjective call, true, but as opinions go, one that has been fine-tuned after years of exposure to all sorts of chicanery.
The signposts of quality were certainly in evidence. Carefully crafted and expertly, adventurously installed with the help of fellow artist Claro Ramirez in a resolute helter-skelter fashion, the works made good use of West’s limited space. Transposing the artist’s homage to the line and to the act of drawing, which was achieved by subverting traditional graphic media, and investigating the visual, tactile and tensile possibilities of a range of detritus hardware and filaments, I also particularly appreciated the lighting — reverently diffused and strategically placed so as to cast playful shadows on the gallery’s blank white walls. The overall effect looked like wayang versions of Luz’s Carnival Forms series colliding with Saguil’s oscillating crepuscular mindscapes.
One brief note before I carry on. Zamuco could not have chosen a more perfect time to mount his show – and expose real talent – what with Manuel Ocampo’s disappointing cathartic explosion next door at Finale. I’m not quite sure if anyone has told him so, considering how we always seem to handle artists with kid gloves, but for some reason, West Coast rebel cool (or for that matter, US dollar prices) did not translate in this messy Manila romp. Gee whiz, talk about the emperor wearing no clothes!
In spite of the weighty reputation of this balikbayan in the local art scene, which is owed in large part to a string of celebrated outings overseas that showed his forceful, prescient, or as one writer put it, "baroque" visual language, in my opinion, an artist is only as good as his last show, and what I saw during my visit looked supercilious and – dare I say it – perfunctory.
Ocampo has certainly done much better work. Let’s hope for finer things from him next time.
I know I sounded overly dramatic when I added: "You know, I think I was born in the Philippines for a reason. I need to contribute something to my country," to which he sagely replied, "Perhaps, you should look at it another way. It shouldn’t just be about your being here to help. Rather, Filipinos should say that they choose to stay here in order to change things, and make the Philippines deserve them." What a wonderful thought!
Guna’s message of empowerment ran parallel to the theme of the ArtSpeak lecture he delivered at my university, which was about risk-taking and creating possibilities heretofore unimagined through what he called the "creative industries."
He highlighted the significance of research at the very core of any creative practice, citing its catalytic role in bringing together what have traditionally been seen as disparate disciplines.
The thought about having science transform the nature, scope and cultural relevance of the arts is tremendously exciting; and Guna, who is one of its staunchest advocates, has had vast experience in this area. As an art theorist based in the Lion City, he has published a book, Ambulations (2000) and many catalogue essays and academic articles, including most recently a chapter, "Ornamental Biotechnology and Parergonal Aesthetics" in Biotechnology, Art and Culture by MIT Press (2004). He is also corresponding editor/writer to several international journals including Flash Art, and has curated many international exhibitions, most notably as contributing curator for Documenta XI, arguably the world’s most important contemporary art festival held in Kassel, Germany. Presently, he is involved in several ongoing research projects in art and biology, phytodynamics, robotic arts, toys, ambient intelligence, nano-fabrication, smart clothing and gaming.
Make no mistake about it: The convergence of art and technology is the new frontier.