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The Hermit of Cubao

The Hermit of Cubao
Photo by Marlon Cagatin, December 13, 2015

Thursday, May 12, 2016

This electronic diary is continued on tonyperezphilippinescyberspacebook31.blogspot.com.

John John

D. sent me sad news this afternoon. His stepson John John, barely 19 years old, was salvaged by men who might have gotten him involved in drug trafficking. His cadaver was found miles away from his home, in Dolores, Quezon.

I knew John John because his parents used to own an antique shop in Ermita, which was close enough to my office to visit on lunch breaks when I was still employed. I have, as a matter of fact, quite a few exquisite items from that shop, but the piece de resistance will always remain a one-meter-tall, porcelain Kwan Yin coveted by many.

John John wasn't exactly an ideal son. He was out of school and into drugs at 14, among other things, when I first met him. He got a girl pregnant at 15, later separated from her, and then shacked up with another girl. He got into brawls with the police. He tried a series of menial jobs that never lasted, mostly as a fast-food waiter and as a bag boy in supermarkets. I once tried to get him interested in theater and art, and brought him with me to the Cultural Center of the Philippines during Tatlong Tabing: Tatlong Dula Ni Tony Perez, but that didn't work because he was too maverick and couldn't shake off his substance habit. He became docile for a while after his mother suffered a stroke; he stayed home and conscientiously took care of her. His stepfather, D., moved the entire family to the province for a change of surroundings. It seems, however, that John John still managed to find his way to his old, crooked friends, and to always the wrong people.

For the past two years John John had been trying to reach me on my mobile, but I consistently ignored his messages. His last message was a request to teach him painting, but it was something that I just couldn't take seriously. In retrospect, he may have been calling out for help, and now I somehow feel guilty that I was too busy with other things and did nothing about it.
The white opal earrings for Angelique arrived this noon.

The emerald earrings arrived too.
Friday the 13th is always my lucky day, because 13 is the number of Saint Anthony of Padua, whom I was baptized after.
Feeling better but nose still runny from the rectified turpentine fumes.

Another no-painting day, but will definitely resume tomorrow.

Either I subconsciously want to view more DVDs or I subconsciously want to finish the painting on May 19, thus dating it April 19 - May 19!
The day is tomorrow's school uniform steaming on an ironing board.
Good morning, Cubao!

Slept nine hours.

Last night, the werewolf crossed the street to the burger stand.

Thinking of Francis

While working on a four-panel mural for the lobby of a beach resort and afterward the improvement of a deer statue in front of one of the cottages, I was assisted by five apprentices who lived in Olongapo and took the ferry to the resort whenever I went there. One of them was a young man named Francis. I cannot recall his surname, only that he was one of the best apprentices I ever had, he followed instructions to the letter, and he made me feel like the successful operator of a Renaissance atelier. Like all of the other apprentices Francis was poor, if not dirt poor, and subsisted only on charcoal portrait commissions from friends and acquaintances. One afternoon while we were scouring the shore for shells and bits of coral, he came upon a broken Barbie doll in a trash pile, picked it up, washed it lovingly, and stored it safely among his belongings. I asked him if the doll were for his daughter, but he explained that he intended to use it as an ecorche, "for anatomical reference".

If Francis had no family of his own I would have offered him a home with S. on the ground floor of our house, teach him more about materials and techniques, and help him generate his own art for sale. He would only have been lonely in Cubao, however, and would have longed to be with his wife and children as often as he could.
A sweet, one-hour nap.


Watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Set in the 1950s it is, unfortunately, a confused cross between Grease and The X-Files. The Roswell-extraterrestrial connection-Maya subject matter is interesting to me, but, I am certain, comes across as utterly unfocused to audiences that are not in the know.

Cate Blanchett is in this one, and Ray Winstone as the token Ke Huy Quan. It is even hinted at that the producers might be open to continuing the series with Ray Winstone taking over Harrison Ford, who is much older in this episode despite the water of immortality that he drank in The Last Crusade (which, evidently, didn't work and even more evidently wasn't the last crusade).

The screenplay is a tired hodgepodge of ancient mythology and the urban mythology of extraterrestrials. There is less action than in previous episodes, and there is too much verbal exposition. Many of the exteriors actually look like studio sets; the lighting is too carefully designed and, as a result, the scenes are too carefully dark. There is more smashing of gates, doors, and artifacts, making me feel that this series is the complete opposite of heritage conservation.

Like The Last Crusade, this episode hinges on a fatherhood issue. On the whole, however, Crystal Skull is boring because, as the audience, we really cannot understand what everyone is looking for and why they should even be looking for it.


My granddaughter Aubrey's crystal skull

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Poorer by P65,000. Paid half of Aubrey's tuition for the coming school year.
In the meantime S. is off to the center to buy more paint tubes for his project.
What is keeping me company on my no-painting day.


Watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, because I thought I hadn't on the big screen years ago, which proves that this, to me, was the most forgettable episode of them all. As usual it is an exciting carnival ride, with chases, contrived arguments to provide texture to the dialogue, a lot of smashing of walls and floors without the owners' permission, and vehicles that materialize out of nowhere to provide convenient escape for the characters. Sean Connery is here as Indie's father--and River Phoenix as the young Indie (what a great loss he was to the world of movies, for he was, indeed, a most beautiful young man).

This episode is about the quest for the Holy Grail. It was fun to regress to the age of 13 and enjoy this movie. I recall that, when this movie showed, it was on or about the time that battered, distressed, leather portfolios came into vogue. It was also during this time that my sister Sylvia sent me a cruciform-sword pendant from Australia, and I now realize that this was the movie behind it.

In the end those chases became quite tiresome, like a trite video game. Cinematography is the only substance of this series. And the fact that it made Harrison Ford forever young and immortal, with or without the Holy Grail.


  • Today
  • A Messenger conversation with R., a young composer who lives in the U.S. He is one of my favorite students. His journey is a difficult one.
  • 7:43am
    R.


    how's the painting coming along?
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:44am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    Almost done. Actually I need one more day, but have gotten quite ill from the fumes.
  • 7:44am
    R.


    ah

    bummer

    the price of dedication
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:44am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    Oil is really lethal. A lot of artists gave it up for health reasons. However it is still the best medium. It lasts for centuries.
  • 7:45am
    R.


    nice

    a noble cause

    i was wondering

    though

    looking through you pictures of the painting

    the bottom seems so bright and vibrant

    and the top kind of dull

    not in a bad way

    but in some sort of juxtaposition

    is that on purpose?

    like

    for instance

    the top left leaf

    could be like the wings of the fairies

    i'm not criticizing

    was just curious

    as to how you saw it
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:51am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    Yes. The purpose of glazing this painting is to make all the surrounding colors cool, gradually growing warmer as they approach the fire. It creates the illusion of a blazing fire. The colors I chose are from a restricted palette, all earth colors. The introduction of other colors would distract the viewer from the focal point of the picture--either the fire in the pit or my crotch, depending on how you see it. I also wanted to convey an oppressed, secret-meeting atmosphere.
    Cool colors were furthermore necessary because I had to provide breaks between the masses of flesh, which are rendered in warm colors. The masses of flesh would otherwise be too overwhelming,
  • 7:52am
    R.


    interesting
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:52am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    It is really a very sensuous painting, but best seen in front of you. Photos are low-res.
  • 7:52am
    R.


    ye

    i got the sensuous feel

    you're right about the whole crotch and fire thing

    i like the balance of the fairies though

    and the mermaid

    they kind of balance it in a whimsical way

    idk if i could ever be a painter
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:55am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    Yes, the fairies are foreground figures. They are light creatures and do not cast shadows as dark as the others'.
    Note that all the females are fully "dressed". That was deliberate too, it was to emphasize the primitive masculine.
  • 7:55am
    R.


    ha!

    wonderful

    i didn't notice that!
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:55am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    Anyone can be a painter. First you learn the basics, and then go from there.
  • 7:55am
    R.


    that's cool

    yes true

    but i feel it too static or me
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:56am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    By static you mean you have to hole up alone in order to get things done?
  • 7:57am
    R.


    no like

    in the finished product

    there can be movement

    in terms of where your eyes and soul go

    when viewing a good painting

    but for me

    with music

    you're always moving

    and yet

    standing still at the same time

    or not

    if you're dancin

    *dancing

    lol

    but that's what i mean
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:58am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    Music is painting without colors.
  • 7:58am
    R.


    ah but you can see colors with music

    shapes

    patterns

    geometry
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    7:58am
  • 7:58am
    R.

    i'm not going to get in a fight over it lol

    i just feel like for me

    A) i wish i understood painting more

    B) i love music and appreciate the sound-color/shape-process
  • Benjamin Zamora Silva
    8:00am
    Benjamin Zamora Silva


    Check out the works of Kandinsky. All of his paintings are renditions of or were inspired by music.
  • 8:00am
    R.


    wow

    i just did
Sitting at my computer inside my captain's cabin bedroom, which is against a window that looks out onto the driveway. From this vantage point I see tenants walking out the gate to go to work or school. Aubrey herself left half an hour ago to go to her college admission review class. Until I turned 64, the year I retired, this was how my life was, a series of mornings trying to beat devils' traffic and get to work. I am a lot happier and more content now.

I always thought that it would be the other way around, that being that person in the driveway was much preferable to being the person looking out from the window, but that was from the point of view of someone who had not yet turned 64.
A no-painting day. Found two protective masks but still need to recover before resuming.
Good morning, Cubao!

The day is a party clown dressed and waiting for his cue.
The Midnight Lecture
Oil on cradled canvas
36" x 36"

Work in progress

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

9:31 PM


All of the heartthrobs have been eliminated.
The Midnight Lecture
Oil on cradled canvas
36" x 36"

Work in progress

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

5:56 PM



Back from groceries with S. Bought bird seed too.

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Cerefina was on the office floor this morning, lying flat and completely relaxed. She had a pensive look on her face, and the constant movement of her eyes conveyed that she was thinking animatedly despite the immobility of her body.

There are times when I wish that my knowledge of clinical psychology would extend to the thinking processes of animals. I know that they reflect, because anyone who is capable of memory is also capable of reflection.
Good morning,Cubao!

Visited M.'s cafe last night.

Slept well, though I have a developing cough and my throat itches, most probably due to the fumes of the rectified turpentine.
The trees screamed like witches being burned at the stake.
If your medication has become a fix, then you are a drug addict.
The Midnight Lecture
Oil on cradled canvas
36" x 36"

Work in progress

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

10:17 PM



Exciting! The proprietor and curator of Artery Art Space dropped by to see S.'s work in progress and my The Midnight Lecture in progress. He agreed to accept both on consignment. I want S. to complete all the panels before having them sold, though.

Artery Art Space is just across the street from our house. S. and I are now pretending to be starving artists living in Paris and hoping to sell our paintings at a Salon.
The Midnight Lecture
Oil on cradled canvas
36" x 36"

Work in progress

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

3:20 PM




Monday, May 9, 2016

Mapilipino ang buhay.
The Midnight Lecture
Oil on cradled canvas
36" x 36"
Work in progress
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
1:10 PM


The reality I see is that all of the intellectuals have no control over and influence on the majority, after all.

The tragedy is that they continue to think that they do.
The politically frustrated give in to the flu.
When a door comes loose, all you have to do is change the hinges.
Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a golden bell on a tall steeple.
The Midnight Lecture
Oil on cradled canvas
36" x 36"
Work in progress
Monday, May 9, 2016
4:40 PM



S. is back from his weekend.
Now glazing my painting, Working from top to bottom again.
The Midnight Lecture
Oil on cradled canvas
36" x 36"
Work in progress
Monday, May 9, 2016
3:13 PM


Sunday, May 8, 2016

It had nothing to do with psychology. It was just a thrilling roller coaster ride with many loops and humps.
In retrospect, people may have joined his parade because it seemed like a lot of fun and they had nothing better to do on boring, hot, summer days and nights. It was like participating in a Mardi Gras. It was free entertainment. But only a few of them even knew, understood, or cared what issues were at stake.
The Midnight Lecture Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36" Work in progress Monday, May 9, 2016 11:58 AM


Now Angelique is off to vote. Cerefina insisted on going out too, but we prevented her from doing so.
Your Messenger message:

"Hi Sir , you are always in my dream, i think every other day. I cannot recall the exact details of my dream. A week ago what i clearly recall is that you insisting on something, almost it runs on my entire dream. I woke up with a headache . Two days ago you appeared in my dreams, your wearing blue jeans with white long sleeves , in my dreams i assisting you doing exorcism. Its a series of events with one theme, all about exorcism."


My reply:

Hello _______!

At this particular junction in your life your psyche is telling you to "exorcise" something within you: a bad habit, a peculiarity, a dark impulse, or a feeling of dissatisfaction or frustration about your work situation. Remember that dreams recur because, in waking life, you do not take the proper action that your psyche requires.

I suggest that you contemplate whatever change you need to do in your life--major or minor--and take things one step at a time.


Good morning, Cubao!

The day is a white sheet of paper with your name on it.
Thought of serving tea and sympathy to friends after they come back from their own voting tomorrow, but, unfortunately, I have to spend more hours on my painting.
The Midnight Lecture Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36" Work in progress Sunday, May 8, 2016 10:00 PM



One-hour business meeting with M.
Girls and women dream no more and no less than boys and men do, and so, in that realm, there is no gender difference.
In the last analysis, don't you think that a lot of people deliberately sought to rile, upset, and provoke you out of sheer sadistic indulgence, and nothing more?

That includes the candidates themselves.


6:15 PM. Angelique and J. arrived from Baguio City. They were dropped off here by J.'s parents. They are leaving again soon, however, to attend J.'s parents' house blessing.

My schedule used to be like that before I decided that it is so much better to take things easy and keep my life stress-free, while the rest of the world does not.
My first, post-retirement painting will be finished soon. I hope to do at least 19 more, without rushing, so that, when I die, my granddaughters can sell them and use the money on themselves.
That is why I've been giving away my old paintings--to free up storage for new ones.
I will, of course, tell them what the prices are. Bwahahahahahahaha!
Three-hour, deep tissue massage. Now I can't resume painting for the next three hours because I shouldn't get my hands wet with linseed oil, turpentine, soap, and water.
The Midnight Lecture Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36" Work in progress Sunday, May 8, 2016 3:09 PM



Saturday, May 7, 2016

The Midnight Lecture Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36" Work in progress Sunday, May 8, 2016 2:02 PM