Celestial graffiti

It’s all happening for Jojo Lofranco. Chances are, that intensely colored painting hanging on the wall of the hip new bistro you’re noshing at is one of his. He’s currently artist-in-residence at Kish, the swanky home store in Greenbelt, so you’ve probably seen his canvases there too. The vibrant chromatic portraits that spring from Jojo’s soul are a ubiquitous sight in today’s most fashionable residences and public spaces. However, Jojo’s success isn’t limited to the commercial world. He’s fast become the art world’s bright young thing, with collectors and gallerists eagerly anticipating his next show. Last year, he won an award from the Artist Association of the Philippines, which for a Filipino artist, is the closest thing to winning a Pulitzer. A few months ago, the 31-year-old painter won a grant from the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) to produce a gargantuan painting measuring 8 feet by 82 feet. The leviathan work was exhibited in CCP and is a major statement that the artist currently known as Lofranco is here to rock your world.

Certainly, the future wasn’t always so bright for this young artist. There were several instances where Jojo was ready to throw in the palette. Happenstance brought him to the rarified world of painting. How many people in today’s modern world of electronics and information technology decide they want to paint for a living? Jojo certainly didn’t. Initially, Jojo had dreams of becoming an architect. After failing to make the cut at UST and UP, he enrolled at the Philippine Women’s University and took up advertising, primarily because his sister was in it and he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He didn’t mind the work, but the rapid pace and high quantity of production didn’t really suit him.

By chance, he took a painting class and discovered the luxury of devoting an entire semester on a single work. Jojo excelled in his color theory class and was surprised when his exercises blew everyone else away. These developments prompted him to shift his major to fine arts, with a concentration in painting. Eventually his parents found out, and they were horrified. They withdrew financial support in an attempt to knock some sense into their son. Painting was no profession for a young man and there was no way they were going to finance their son’s fantasy of becoming an artist. But Jojo was determined to stick with his decision and found various ways of supporting himself through college.

A quick study, Jojo began producing paintings and selling his work while still at university. He smiles as he relates to me his first sale. At the end of the semester, the class would mount a show and invite gallery owners and collectors over. Jojo had one of his paintings up and he priced it at P2,500. Someone approached him and offered to pay him a measly P800 for it. At first, Jojo balked at the lowball price and refused to sell. "Siempre, pride ‘di ba? Two-five ang hinihingi ko so dapat two-five," he says. But his professor pushed him to sell it at a low price and Jojo ate his pride and reluctantly gave in. He can laugh about it now, especially since his canvases currently fetch a hundred times that price.

For all the attention he’s been getting of late, Jojo’s humility is astounding. He doesn’t proselytize nor does he purport to have some grand theory behind the pictures he paints. When I ask where the colors he paints come from, he admits that it’s a complete mystery to him. While he pays tribute to the masters of the New York School and our own abstract expressionist pioneers, he insists that his images are really just exercises in technique and material. A lot of people tell him about the different things they see in his work, ranging from elephants, to celestial figures, moods, emotions, even Jesus Christ. To Jojo, that’s all cool. According to him, he doesn’t paint with an audience in mind, he just does what he does best. If people happen to respond to what he does, then that’s great.

Jojo seems to be genuinely grateful to be at this point in his life. He’s grateful to have found his calling as a painter. He’s grateful to have reached an audience that appreciates and enables his art. He’s grateful for his own little family, including a young son who he’s now teaching how to paint. But Jojo is also hopeful. He’s hoping that his art and talent continues to flourish and he can continue doing his work for a long time. He’s hoping that the gods continue to look his way. He’s hoping that other artists like him take up the brush to push the boundaries even further. As much as he maintains that they aren’t intended, I look at his paintings and I can’t help but feel a sense of hope and joy. It’s Jojo’s world and I like living there. But hey, that’s just me.