An art séance
MANILA, Philippines - I grew up around art, but it wasn’t until I studied art history that I began to care about what went on behind all of it. Something “pretty†would catch my eye and that was that, but when I started reading up more about the artists and their lives, I got sucked into an entirely different way of seeing and considering a work of art and the story behind it, whether or not the story is obvious.
Artists’ biographies lend a contextual richness to how we may read a work or a body of work. Of course, I have a long list of artists who I’d have wanted to speak to before they passed on and left this realm. These are just a few of the people I would love to speak with, if I could have an art séance.
There’s the obvious Vincent Van Gogh, who is such a clichéd choice, but I can’t help it. I want to know how he really felt about his work and how people responded to it. I want to know how he really died, as there’s a bit of speculation and rumor surrounding this part of his life. A particular episode of Doctor Who gave Van Gogh the hug I wish I could give him; mostly I just want to know if he’s okay.
Riding further along that Angst Train, I want to talk to Mark Rothko and ask why, in spite of all the beauty he created, he still decided to end his life. I’d love to see how he saw the world and how that vision got translated to the page. I want him to know that millions of people in the world continue to be moved by his art and no one else can paint with colors quite as well as he did.
I would love to share a drink or two with Jean-Michel Basquiat, so I could ask him how he feels about the commercialization of his work, which is on everything, from clothes to makeup to iPhone cases. I want to know how his pieces would have progressed if he got to live this long. Would he be painting about the same things? Would his paint strokes change with age? Would he have taken so many drugs if he knew he would lose his life to them?
I want to talk to my mixed-media hero and jack-of-all-trades, Robert Rauschenberg, who had an eye for composition and beauty, for the hidden story in a mixed-up tableau. To be honest, I just want to follow him around all day because I want to know how he did it all, and what went on in his head.
I would love to know what Lee Friedlander would have thought about the selfie, and if he would be on Instagram, so I could follow him. I want to see the America now, through his eyes, and I want to see my home, Manila, through them, too. I want to know where he goes to on his haunts, and how he made such beautiful photographs, how he told such great stories, just going about his day.
Lastly, I think I would want to talk to Roberto Chabet. Sir Bobby died earlier this year and one of my biggest regrets is being too shy to talk to him. He is, by far, the artist whose work, vision and perspective resonate most with me. I wish I had thanked him for being so nice to me, and my work. I wish I wasn’t so hesitant to chat with him on Facebook when I still could have. I was too young to have had him as a professor — besides, I did not pass the UPCAT — but he used to share so many links on Facebook, and in a way, that was how he continued to teach people after retiring. I did not share a lot of memories with him, but his death tore at me because there were a lot of things I thought I still could have told him, and a lot of things I wanted to ask.
I think it would be infinitely more interesting if I could speak with all of them at the same time. If anything, this has taught me to get over shyness. There’s nothing I could really have done, with Rothko or Rauschenberg, but Chabet was just a click away. Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of, and shyness is a useless emotion when you could have an answered question instead.
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