For the past ten years, Popo San Pascual has been the city by the ridge’s full-time resident, making occasional trips to Manila to purchase supplies. The move came about when his youngest brother Jayjay started painting; Popo yielded his studio to his brother. Deciding that their family home in White Plains was too small for two painters, he asked his mother if he could use her property in Tagaytay, which had been in Marina San Pascual’s name since she was only two years old.
This piece of Tagaytay is definitely busier now than it had been when Popo first moved here. They now have the Bag of Beans Coffee Shop fronting their property and a former teen star’s weekend home nearby. But it is still the perfect setting for Popo’s artistic lifestyle.
He built a spacious house, keeping the décor sparse, allowing lots of room for his huge canvases. It is a functional shack where his imagination can roam wild and the colors to flow. His creativity pours out into the garden with lush greens and humongous bromeliads. His little nephews and nieces call it a forest. And over-whelmingly abundant with plants and trees, it deserves to be called nothing less. With big windows to keep him connected to nature, the artist and his plants not only thrive, they bloom with so much life.
Having created so many masterpieces here, there is no question this is home. It is evident in how he becomes lost in his work, how he moves in union with the place, and how his contentment is tangible. Despite having stayed in Paris, without question Popo would still choose this setting.
Taking the cue from Popo’s idyllic Tagaytay existence, his siblings have also built their own piece of heaven in the family’s shared lot. Popo’s sister Marikit and her husband Jan built a weekend home for their young brood of five. Their house is quaint and charming, almost like a playhouse. But the true attraction is the garden, a showcase of Jan’s work as a landscape architect. In the entrance, Mr. Potsman, a sculpted figure made of pots, greets guests. Flowers, herbs and vegetables abound.
At the heart of the garden is a strange concrete structure, which turns out to be a most unusual bathroom. Surrounded by plants and flooded with sunlight, it has an enormous shower that makes it possible for all five family members to shower simultaneously.
Interesting details dot the place, like witty "hear no evil", "see no evil", "speak no evil" sculptures. But for the children the best feature of their weekend home is the growing population of rabbits. A fenced in hilly area allows the rabbits to burrow, hide, play and multiply to their hearts’ content. As of last count, 28 adorable fluffy bundles of joy have truly come to love this place, too.
Popo and Marikit’s eldest brother Thadeus built a house in between those two homes, but since he is based in the US, it is hardly ever used. Mother Marina was prodded to start serving lunch and dinner there on weekends. A caterer for several decades, Marina agreed with her children’s wishes. Last November, Popo added an extension to Thadeus’ home, calling it the "Chicken Coop", awash in bright and vibrant reds, blues, and greens. He cleverly angled the screen to let the air in and to create the illusion you are dining outside, one with the plants. Planks of wood act as shelves for little potted plants, flowers and a collection of over 30 chicken icons. Popo explains the Chicken Coop captures all the clacking sound diners make here with all their animated stories.
I arrive just in time for Popo’s afternoon art class, but the gracious host insists I eat first in his mother’s garden bistro. For P450, Marina offers a buffet spread which she prepares herself. Start with a salad of fresh Tagaytay greens and her various dressings–concocted depending on her mood–ranging from creamy garlic dressing to an Oriental vinaigrette. It is then followed by a pasta dish and her signature tender lamb pieces.
Tita Marina fusses over her guests, making sure they have their fill. She regales you with stories and points out her life’s blessings. She shares a powerful prayer which she uttered as a single maiden to meet her beloved husband. She takes you around from one house to another, proudly pointing out to guests the lovely details.
Popo takes leave to begin the art class, held at Tagaytay College not too far away. He tells me that he has 97 children in his class, and that they usually start with yoga to calm everybody down. Today the yoga teacher is under the weather, so Popo is left with the task of dealing with the over-enthusiastic youngsters himself.
A project of the young mayor of Tagaytay, Francis Tolentino, the classes are part of a six-month program where children can learn dance, theater or art. The city government provides teachers like Popo with a modest stipend for their assistance. But Popo has generously provided 12-inch square plywood boards to paint on, plus boxes of oil paint and lots of paint brushes. The children are also sufficiently nourished with a substantial snack of juices and sandwiches.
When I arrive almost an hour into the session, the children are not only calm, they are very much into their lesson. Canvases were leaning outside the classroom to dry. Kids ages ranging from 7 to 15 were hunched over their works, as Popo brims with pride. Only in their fifth week of class, there is an awesome display of perhaps more than a hundred wooden squares on the floor. It was the most vibrant quilt of art I had ever laid eyes on.
Their choices of images, colors, and strokes are all so preciously naïve. Today they are doing landscapes, with the past weeks were focused on patterns. Popo grins, pointing out how pure their paintings are. Together, we marvel at how one student had unusually chosen to paint the evening sky in a most realistic depiction of black and blue. Another did a yellow, orange and black sunset image which evokes the feeling of the Carribean.
Every child shows his or her work to Popo. He nods his approval and briefly chats with each young artist. None of the children have ever seen his work. Perhaps none of them even knows he is a famous painter, but none of that matters to Popo. Wth paint smudged on his forehead and his clothes, he is one with them in exploring art.
After the last child has left, teacher Popo collects the paintbrushes and canvases, keeping them for another week. When probed on why he does this, the artist does not articulate clearly why. He reveals though that it was through summer art classes that he discovered his passion for art as a young child.
But as the day turns to night, Popo and I drive along Tagaytay’s highway by the ridge. He points out an unusual flowering cherry tree, heavy with blooms; and he is ecstatic at its rare beauty. He tells of the birds who take flight in V-shape formation. He dreams that Tagaytay will develop a sense of mythology, a sense of wonder for the volcano and wildlife.
Popo knows the city as well as anybody. He can tell you the best finds in the city, where to eat and which ones to skip all together. I tell him he is the best tour guide; he jokes the he is the city’s unofficial gro. His sincerity and genuine friendship cannot be denied, endearing him to the prominent Tagaytay crowd as well as the simplest folks of the city. Popo San Pascual has truly found his home, and the city has gained an adopted son.