Paint as you are paid
The noisy squabble over the National Press Club mural made by those Angono artists would not have erupted if those artists realized that they were commissioned, that is — they were paid to do a job. In principle, there is no difference between those artists and an ordinary house painter who is told to paint the walls of a house in the color the house owner wants. They had to do the painting as commissioned, to do the exact bidding of the patron.
Our most famous artists, Amorsolo, Manansala, Botong Francisco all accepted commissions and performed to the satisfaction of their many patrons.
A patron who pays a writer to do his biography has the right to reject the biography or alter it the way he wants it — he paid for it. This is the simple fact about this case. Those Angono painters are duty bound to paint the mural as the National Press Club wanted that mural to be.
It is another thing, however, if the artists were not commissioned, if they did the mural on their own, without anyone paying them. Then they have every right to complain if their work is altered or defaced. And if it was bought from them, the owner of the painting has every right to do what he wants with his property. Simple rights of ownership. It is not artistic freedom that is involved here — it is the right of property.
Artists complain too much about their freedom without quite realizing that they have a responsibility to those who patronize them.
One way out of this dilemma: before doing a mural, they should specify terms in a contract.
All through history, and during the Renaissance, the great artists thrived on the patronage of kings, popes, princes and big businessmen. They painted portraits of their patrons, their families, their mistresses and as always, in the most flattering manner. Sometimes, they were able to insert a bit of personal comment, sometimes unknown or unnoticed by their patrons, but on the whole, they painted what they were told to paint.
It is in those paintings that were not commissioned that they were beholden to no other than themselves, their integrity and freedom as artists.
On the other hand, at the conclusion of the Mexican revolution in the Thirties that country’s great painters who participated in the revolution — Diego Rivera, Sequiros, and the others — were commissioned to paint the rehabilitated buildings. In addition to their commissions, they also painted those murals depicting the revolution itself, the lives of ordinary peasants and soldiers. These murals were, at first, not appreciated by their patrons and the Mexicans themselves — they were too realistic, too down to earth. In spite of the criticism, the artists persisted. Since then, their work had become the hallmark of the Mexican Renaissance.
If such condition exists for painters in the past as well as in the present, the same conditions apply to those who write.
Take Nick Joaquin, for instance. He was a great writer, one of our greatest. This reputation rests on his fiction, his plays and on his many essays as a journalist and as a social and cultural commentator. The Free Press which employed him for many years gave him all the freedom he needed to express himself and the truths in our society as he saw them.
But his commissioned biographies are another thing. They were cosmetic jobs, tailored to satisfy the individuals who commissioned those biographies. He knew the limits — he couldn’t caricature or write about their warts and blemishes. He wrote with usual facility and felicitous command of language but all are prettified. The work is honest, just as plastic surgery, liposuction are honest jobs.
Sure, there are papers like the New York Times, the Manchester Guardian, Le Monde, The Washington Post and so many others whose political choices and leanings are explicit. But they permit untrammeled discussion and reportage in their pages. The leeway they give to their writers and staff members is what distinguishes them, and makes them great.
And the other newspapers and media which are stringently controlled by the market and the personal policies of their owners? They are, of course, mediocre.
As a writer, I value my freedom as much as any other writer or artist, when I write for media I know there are limits to what I can write. The policy of a newspaper, for instance; if the publisher does not want to print what I have written, the decision is final. I respect it, I can give my piece to another publisher, or publish it myself.
The old Manila Times where I worked for 10 years was a great newspaper. For all its shortcomings, the Roceses who owned it allowed its staff members a lot of freedom. In its pages, columnists would disagree with the editorial. I wrote freely on issues which I felt were important, agrarian reform, social issues mostly. Ms. Isabel and Joaquin (
Virginia Woolf said that only the writer with independent means can have independent views. That goes for all artists.
