Why Daddy V clicked with everyone

MANILA, Philippines - The father of famed entertainer Gary V — Vicente C. Valenciano — is my father, too. When he passed away on May 29, he left us and five other siblings inexpressibly stricken. For while faith conjured visions of Daddy relishing every ounce of Heaven’s magnificence, a crater of supreme proportions formed where once he lived, breathed and texted among us. There on its edge, all seven of us teetered — along with spouses, children and mother — tearfully, painfully and wistfully peering down at the blackest of blacks. 

Every day since has been a merciful step back from the precipice, thanks in large part to hundreds of memories about Dad shared over the course of an eight-day wake. The stories were like brushstrokes that added the requisite grays and highlights of a fine photograph on our black canvas to yield a striking monochrome of our beloved father’s life and character.

People spoke of Dad as the kindest “amo” one could ever hope to have; the coolest boss who never had a meltdown and led by example; the steadfast friend who used every limited resource to help you out of a crisis. As a professional engineer and casual designer of everything from chicken coops to wrought-iron patio furniture — colleagues described him as innovative and categorically brilliant. But through it all came this refrain: Dad was a humble, thoughtful, generous and good man.

Unsurprisingly, considerable tribute was paid to “VCV,” the photographer. Absolutely no one could recall my father with anything but a camera gently clutched in his hands — not even a teddy bear. Some vehemently argued that the camera was part of his anatomy and lamented that the portrait we gingerly positioned on his casket didn’t show it. Photography, after all, was the one visual art about which Dad was downright passionate .He pursued it obsessively, compulsively and prolifically — even selfishly, on the surface, until you realized that it was how he selflessly provided his best service to family, friends, employers and clients.

In this most sacred of playgrounds, Dad apparently ruled supreme. Some called him a genuine icon of Philippine photography, while others emphatically praised his leadership. Whether as president of the exclusive Camera Club of the Philippines or founder of the grassroots-driven Zone 5 Camera Club, Dad purportedly ignited and sustained an unprecedented level of enthusiasm for photography and trained many a viewfinder toward excellence. He was a teacher and mentor to thousands. In fact, everywhere we turned at his wake — even in our innermost circles — there were folks proudly brandishing the badge of “VCV photo seminar graduate” or groping for superlatives to describe the impact of his mentorship on their photography skills and careers.

No, the big picture of Dad’s life is more than just a fine photograph. It’s a masterpiece, really — quietly and painstakingly crafted over 87 years, one kindness and one photograph at a time. Like my brother Gary, Dad’s artistic genius and technical prowess have enriched and influenced an entire Filipino industry. But unlike his beloved son, he rarely required the spotlight, applause or even financial gain because the sheer pleasure of doing and giving was reward enough.

The still quiet of Dad’s room still stings today, but I brave it daily to find solace and deliver on a promise. Literally, his extraordinary body of work as a photographer and publisher is strewn about that little room. There are scans and manuscripts on his computer; prints, negatives and 35mm slides in multiple filing cabinets and storage bins; and shelves upon shelves of albums and books, self-published and otherwise. Dad and I eagerly looked forward to working side by side when he felt better to sift through, preserve and possibly publish his life’s work. God, however, had other plans.

So I trudge on alone, my scanners and laptop like little shovels digging at a mountain. So far, at its apex, I have found thousands of family photos celebrating the life and times of seven children — Gary especially — from diapers to parenthood and careers. Whether taken candidly or deliberately posed, just about every image presents breathtaking detail, composition and drama — as though Dad were trying to capture an award-winning shot all the time, every time, for decades. But most of all, they exhibit so much love, patience and gratitude for us all. It’s how he expressed it best.  

Today, I peer at the world through my father’s eyes. In time, you will, too, with a book that will likely teach as much as entertain and astound you photographically. This entire exercise is one part heartbreaking because Dad is not here, but three parts comforting because he lives on ever more intimately in my head and heart. So when I ask, “How would you crop this photo, Dad?” or “Is this enough saturation?” — he answers gently from behind a trademark smile and generous spirit now immortalized — on Earth as it is in Heaven. 

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Visit Diana V. Faustmann at GroovinOnApps.com.