MANILA, Philippines - What allows a painting to say a thousand and one words? Artist Tatum Ancheta, who is usually talkative, briefly answers: “Its story and mystery.”
In 2007, celebrated photographer Jun de Leon saw one of Tatum’s vector art (digital illustrations) on her laptop and asked if she could make something for him, and he would put it on his wall. She made one for him and to this day, the painting is still on Jun’s office wall. The sight of it got Tatum excited and she ended up dreaming, “What if I start to paint again? Maybe someone would like to have my artwork on his wall.” So she started painting her series that year and had an exhibit in mind. But after five years, her friends still kept asking her when she was going to exhibit her works.
Every time she thought of mounting her own art show, fear would force its way, afflicting her desire to exhibit her paintings. She asked herself, “What is my problem? Why am I so scared?” She had a conversation with her copywriter who had a sister who was a very good painter but wouldn’t pursue the craft because she didn’t want to fail. And it dawned on Tatum that she was putting off her own exhibit because, “I was scared to fail in what I love doing the most.”
Hence her recent solo painting exhibition, her first, was called Momentary Affliction — the state of fear that she was in. She has since realized that it shouldn’t control her, it should just be momentary. She wanted to get past her fears, her memories of sadness, detachment and hate. She painted her emotions. And moved on.
Sadness and anger usually spark up Tatum’s craving to create. “When I’m happy and content, nothing really flows on my canvass. I would stare at an empty white frame for days and not come up with anything,” Tatum says.
“People inspire me as well. How different we all are, yet how connected we become,” she observes. She’s always intrigued by what a person is made of. Take for example her 12 Notes to the Octave. This artwork is a series of vertical canvasses divided into four parts — emotion, consciousness, environment and people’s perception — placed together like keys of a piano that make up an octave. She goes on: “Like notes in the scent of a perfume, like keys in an octave, we are made up of these.”
“All of my paintings are extensions of my memory,” says the painter, who describes a perfect studio as one with high ceilings, bright lights and wide space to scatter her tubes of paint, blocks of wood and canvasses. “Each piece tells a story: about me, about the people I meet, or just how I see people and feel about them in general.”
In the process, Tatum normally starts with a memory or thought to a feeling she’s currently in, then she begins to write words before she actually sketches. “The title always comes first before the artwork,” she explains. “Example, one of my pieces called Silence. It’s a story of my first love and heartache. When I think of that memory, I would always connect my old emotions but I would always get silenced. So I called it Silence. A friend once told me, ‘Why did you name this piece Upside down Stargazing? It is so obvious; you should have titled it Stars Retrograde so people would think.’ Then I thought, yes, it sounds great — Stars Retrograde — but what does it mean to me? I kept saying Stars Retrograde but I couldn’t connect my memory there.”
After writing the story or title, she sketches on any piece of paper, scans the artwork and puts together the imagery in Adobe Photoshop. Then she experiments with different colors. “Once I’m satisfied, I print the artwork and start to transfer it on a canvass. With this process, I usually end up with two artworks — one vector art and one that is hand-painted — but very different from each other.” Tatum’s style is modern contemporary, a little surreal but fascinating with the use of bold and bright colors, typography and texture. Indeed, her paintings are extensions of herself.
“I never follow any rules in painting, also because I never had a formal training,” says Tatum, who graduated with a degree in Communication Arts from St. Paul College in Quezon City. “As a kid, I always dreamt of being a painter. I begged my mom to enroll me in Fine Arts in college but my parents kept telling me that there’s no money in that.” Thus she just studied by herself and experimented with watercolor and acrylic. She used to paint on the walls of her room and create murals, and would always be the person painting chunks of wood in neon paint to be used as centerpiece in school theater productions.
At present, the artist is the creative director for digital of Draft FCB, an advertising company in Makati City. “From the probinsyana who used to run in her tsinelas under the aratilis tree, I now run in heels on the streets of Makati, chasing clients one after the other,” she laughs.
One major turning point of her life was when she started working in the magazine industry. Tatum started as an editorial writer for Youngstar magazine and worked her way up to be the creative director of PeopleAsia magazine. Her experiences at work paved the way for her to design nine coffee table books. She adds, “With my former job, I got to meet and work with all sorts of people — inspiring people, aspiring people, hated personalities, famous celebrities, infamous celebrities and a lot of great politicians. I would always say, I have no wealth but meeting these people is already a treasure in my box of memories. My job with PeopleAsia sent me to places I never imagined I would be in.”
If Tatum were a painting, the title would be: Life always follows. It’s no original, she had the wonderful phrase tattooed on her arm when she turned 30 last February. She says, “No matter how many frustrations, heartaches, disappointments and losses I may encounter; no matter how frustrated I get from all the trials and failures; no matter how many people leave; no matter how much I love and hurt; no matter how I whine or stay silent... ‘life always follows’.”
Just like after a momentary affliction.
Photography by SARA BLACK and NICCOLO COSME • Makeup by CHERRY PACHECO