MANILA, Philippines — When I was 11 years old, my grandfather asked me if I would be interested in studying in a school up in the mountains.
This was in 1977, when then First Lady Imelda Marcos, inspired by what she had seen in her international travels, dreamed of putting up a national arts high school. Her idea was to bring artistically talented boys and girls from all over the country to the isolation of Mount Makiling in Los Baños, Laguna, and train them to become painters, dancers, musicians and theater artists.
The idea of living on a mountain sounded like an adventure, and I was excited. In my mind’s eye, I saw the enchantress Mariang Makiling, roaming in the forest. I also saw the boy Jose Rizal, sketching the woman-shaped mountain from across Laguna Lake.
My grandfather told me I had a chance of gaining a scholarship to this school because I loved to draw. In primary school, my best friend and I spent most of our time drawing robots that we would one day build when we got to be scientists. When my family relocated to Davao, I found a neighbor who would share the same passion, and we drew and made stories of our acrobatic Kung Fu heroes.
I did not think of our drawings as art, though. Nevertheless, I thought it was worth a try. My grandfather made me take a few art workshops, and I was able to pass the entrance exam to the Philippine High School for the Arts.
I was to stay in Mt. Makiling for the next four years, together with classmates who would be my oldest and best friends. We studied drawing and painting and sculpture. We sang, danced and acted in our friends’ plays. Our mentors spent countless hours with us — during our lunch breaks, or at night, or during weekends — talking about art, art history, and art theory, and humoring our young, artsy heads. During our talks, our teachers made us feel that Art was the Holy Grail. They made sure that we, like them, were bitten by the art bug.
When we were not making art, we spent most of our time talking about it. Our favorite questions were: “What is Art? And what is it for?”
I never seemed to find a satisfying answer to any of these questions. We were always told that we were expected to be future cultural leaders. We were not told, however, how that would come about. Or maybe I was not listening. I myself did not know how I’d do it or even what a cultural leader really is. What I had developed then was a youth’s vision of Art: something pure and meaningful — not necessarily beautiful or pretty — but always an ode to life.
Art was like the mountain with its many moods. Despite its countless variations, it was always enchanting, making one feel that life is one mysterious, exhilarating, tear-producing, and mind-expanding exercise.
Art and Makiling have been part of my life ever since.
While other people feel that art only plays a minor role in their existence — like a glorified knick-knack or a trinket — art has always played a vital role in mine.
Looking back at those dark years, when the country suffered from repression, poverty, and apathy, art provided a world where there existed freedom, abundance, and engagement. In an era that sapped our energy and hope, it kept our juices flowing. It saved us from despair.
I remember our university days when we would show our works anywhere: in plazas and sidewalks, office lobbies, and libraries. We would stage performances in the basements of newly-constructed yet unfinished buildings and old apartment houses.
When we discovered Super-8 film, we rushed to make stories out of images, with scant technology and funds, but with shiploads of dreams.
We went to exhibitions, concerts, film screenings, dance performances, plays, and found kindred spirits there. We found new mentors and friends — people who were into this thing that was at the same time fact and fiction, reality and imagination, stimulant and relaxant, mass-oriented and elitist.
There was a feeling that somehow, art was part of the movement that would sweep the darkness away. Stories will give people courage; songs, hope. Paintings will provide vision, and dances will make us not forget the movements of life.
It helped us survive and triumph over trying times.
As the present decade ends and a new one begins, those of us who have seen those days are heartbroken to see familiar dark clouds in our country’s horizons.
To gain my bearings, I think of the mountain and the enchantress that roams the forest, nimbly dancing through the charging winds, chanting of love against hate, community against polarity, life against death.
Let’s pick up our tools and conjure our dreams. - Ian Victoriano
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Painter and scriptwriter Ian Victoriano held his latest exhibit ‘Dati Akong Paraluman’ at an art gallery on Maginhawa Street, Sikatuna Village.