Diyosa

I went to Cubao upon the invitation of a friend from the Philippine Association of Printmakers (PAP). Her group was launching an activity at the LRT 2 Cubao train station. I had heard about poetry recordings played in trains and I was curious about how visual arts could be used in them.

The PAP and the Light Rail Transit Authority (LRTA) have partnered for LRT Art, a painting competition open to all Filipino artists aged eighteen and above on the theme “LRT at ang Buhay Pinoy.” The winners’ works will be reproduced and exhibited in selected train stations.

The launch was held at a parked coach. Pandy Aviado, one of the stalwarts of the PAP, said that the PAP was committed to the democratization of art, its motto being “more art for more people” and that the competition promoted this goal. After all, according to LRTA Administrator Mel Robles, the three Metro Manila train lines service about 1.2 million passengers daily. Thousands of commuters could see the artwork everyday.

I grew up mesmerized by the pop art painted on jeepney ceilings and the naughty stickers beside them. I’m excited by the idea of putting art in train stations, and hopefully, inside the coaches as well. Currently, most train station walls are empty and the few posters that are on display advertise products or contain government propaganda. Contemplating artwork inside a crowded train is better than reading those ads. Just make sure that you mind your belongings. Otherwise, you could get off the train with your phone or wallet missing.

It was still early so I decided to check out the paintings of Betsy Westendorp on exhibit at the mall connected to the station. Entitled “Reflections,” the exhibit was held at the Mandarin Suites at the Gateway Mall. The area is posh, a startling contrast to the dusty and grimy street that exists a few floors down.

A security guard in a barong stood beside the glass door. Pots of phalaenopsis orchids adorned the entrance. A large painting of a statue of Buddha beside a pond filled with floating lotus is hung outside the main exhibit area. Another large painting of orchids is found across it. It is a tranquil garden replicated inside an air-conditioned and carpeted hall. The place is quiet, save for the muted voices of the ladies manning the exhibit.

Westendorp’s paintings of orchids, milflores and other blooms have a very dreamy quality to them. They look as if they are floating on air, disconnected from the ground, emerging from the mist. Her paintings of clouds and sunsets look almost abstract. Curious about how much they cost, I asked to see the price list. The cheapest painting was the size of greeting card and costs thirty thousand pesos. The most expensive one costs over two million pesos. I could buy a condominium unit for that amount, I thought.

It was the portraits that intrigued me the most. I had read that Westendorp was among Imelda Marcos’s favorite artists. When I saw the portraits that she made, I could understand why.

A beauty queen is depicted standing regally in flowing robes. Her feet are not shown, it is almost as if she is floating. A socialite is depicted like a sprite in a garden, with flowers all around her. Another socialite looks as if she is seated on clouds, again without feet. They all look immortal. Someone who wanted to perpetuate the myth that she is the Mother of the Filipino Nation could not have picked a better artist.

I left just as Westendorp arrived, with thoughts of hiring her when I get around to starting my own cult. I want to be painted like Lorna Tolentino in “Diyosa”, under the waterfalls, with creeping vines surrounding me. The portrait would be replicated in the membership cards of my followers. And when my cult gets big enough, in the tickets of all Philippine train lines.

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