Mars Ravelo, Komiks, and Arts

This entire month, I had been craving for a dose of arts in my life. I've been dreaming of going up to Angono, Rizal to visit the many museums of the Philippines' Arts Capital; as well as planning a return trip to Angono's sister town, Antipolo, where the Pinto Arts Museum is located. 

Unfortunately, hectic October couldn't allow even just one of the two to happen. 

But when I least expected it, I ran into an art exhibit last October 15, Saturday. 

That day, I was covering Day 1 of the Asia Pacific leg of Travel Blog Exchange, which was hosted by the Philippines for the first time. The event was held at the Philippine International Convention Center (PICC) in Pasay City. 

After the official business, I walked toward Roxas Boulevard and passed by the nearby Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). Along the ground driveway, there were tarpaulins of ongoing shows and programs. 

And there it was, the poster of "Mars Ravelo Reinterpreted," an exhibit marking the Filipino comic artist's birth centennary. It was staged by the CCP with the support of the Ravelo family. 

The participating artists

A true legend, Ravelo continues to touch the lives of today's generation. His creations and characters come to life up in TV shows and movies. Darna, Dyesebel, Lastikman, and Captain Barbell are just some his heroes and heroines that have become household names. 

The exhibit is no different as it also aims to "present the continuing legacy and influence of his work in Philippine culture and society." But at the same time, it is different for it showcases the creativity of Filipino artists who were tapped to "move from and into different styles and mediums, applying 'komiks' sensibilities without losing their distinct personalities." (CCP) 


And I was ecstatic to see familiar names in the list of participating artists. Leeroy New and Dex Fernandez are two contemporary Filipino artists that I had been following through social media for more than years now. The works of Kris Abrigo I also recently encountered. 

I was curious to see how they, and the others, would, pay tribute to someone as iconic and legendary as Mars Ravelo. 

Upon entering the CCP's Main Gallery, I was first greeted by a collection of memorabilia documenting the career of Ravelo. It was a prelude of sort. 

There was a timeline detailing his early days, as well as his latest works. His family also lent personal items like a script of Captain Barbell, and a vintage typewriter--both probably utilized by Ravelo himself. 
Also aplenty were first-ever printed editions of Ravelo's different comics. I bet this would delight comic collectors and lovers if they ever visited the exhibit. 

After the brief familiariazation and history lesson, it was time to see the actual artworks which included paintings, murals, mixed media and installations. 

An early favorite of mine was "D for Divinity" (2016) by Ernest Concepcion. Made of oil and enamel on gypsum canvas, it is a reimagining of Darna--humanized but divine. The iconic Pinay superhero had her arms raised as if she was on a campaign trail. Her nemesis surrounding her but not quite succeeding in defeating her. Look closely and you see her soul escaping her. Why, I wondered?

'D for Divinity'

Another popular female protagonist of Ravelo is Dyesebel, whom generations of Pinays once dreamed of becoming. In the exhibit, the mermaid came to life in a brass sculpture on a stainless steel base by Jonas Roces. The 2016 work of art seemed to leap out of the depths of the ocean, her figure--body, hair, tail and face, detailed subtlety but beautifully.

Sculpted Dysebel in brass

A different interpretation of Dyesebel is painted by R.M de Leon. His 2009 acrylic on paper showed the mermaid splattered on the ground and surrounded by flies and insects! "Malansa na?" I couldn't help but ask this time around, proving that art raises discourse. 

Dysebel painted on canvas

And then there were the abovementioned contemporary artists who had made names for themselves in local and global scales. 

Fernandez, the man behind Garapata, lent his signature art that had already became a brand coveted in other parts of Asia like Japan and Korea.

A portion of the mural "Ipe, Engot at si Garapata"

The Garapata was incorporated into Ravelo's 1940s character, Ipe. First printed in Buhay Pilipino, Ipe told the lives of two servants, the elder Ipe and younger Engot who serves as the annoying sidekick of the former. 

Fernandez's mural, which was popping with colors, was titled "Ipe, Engot at si Garapata."

And then there was New, famous for his out-of-this-world installation art. He had exhibited in different parts of the Philippines and the world. 

In Mars Ravelo Reinterpreted, he chose an early comics, "Flash Bomba" that chronicled tragedy of Roldan who got crippled by polio. However, he regained his legs and more through a deal with the Tiklabang. Thus, Flash Bomba was born. 

Flash Bombas with skulls

New's "Still Life with Two Flash Bombas" include two life-sized Flash Bombas made with multiple colorful, tiny and plastic baby toys. At their foot, four skulls made of the same material were scattered--which for me overshadowed the Flash Bombas. 


The younger Abrigo was also chosen for the exhibit. I had known of this promising muralist back in my days at The Manila Times after my former lifestyle section colleague wrote a feature on him. 

Abrigo's 'History of Halimaw'

Abrigo made two artworks, one acrylic on canvas, the other acrylic on wood, both of which are about Gog, a lesser known work of Ravelo, about monsters and brains. But despite the morbidity of the story, Abrigo's reinterpretation breathed of youthfulness and vibrancy, with colorful geometric and typography. 

Another personal favorite was the masterpiece of Jericho Vamenta called "Kwentong Labada ni Gorio at Tekla" (acrylic, oil pastel, and oil paint on canvas, 2016). As the titled suggested, it was about Ravelo's "Gorio and Tekla," first serialized in the 1950s. 

A personal favorite by Jericho Vamenta

The painting was a picture perfect depiction of the Filipino society's mister and misis, bickering because misis in a tapis had tons of laundry while mister on briefs had a cockfight to attend to. The way I saw it, Tekla was the typical nagging wife while Gorio was the hopeless under the saya. 

A unique piece was Mariano Ching's "Untitled" for the unique Ravelo character, Facifica Falayfay, the gay persona of Pacifico who hailed from a macho family. The acrylic and pyrogpraph on wood portrayed how Facifica's heart was colored differently. 

Mariano Ching's uses pyrography on this piece

Also part of the exhibit is a flat latex mural by Ang Gerilya painted at the wall just across the main gallery. Called "Tagapagligtas," it aptly honored the heroic deeds of iconic superhero, Captain Barbell. 

A Captain Barbell mural at the walls of CCP

Ravelo's direct, living descendants namely his daughter Rita and son Rex also contributed to the exhibit by showcasing their works that are heavily influenced by their father. 

Rita Ravelo-dela Cruz, the fourth daughter, for example had framed drafts of her comic strip "Kikay Okay," which came out at "Art Manila Quarterly," a publication by The Manila Times in the 2000s. Kikay Okay is the extension of Rita, a mischievous girl character by his father. Kikay is the daughter of Rita. 

The funny antics of Kikay Okay

The CCP writes, "Ravelo-dela Cruz's style is an epitome of Mars' original illustrations, the revival of Pinoy komiks essence and her father's drawing style . . The Kikay Okay series is a reflection of a love and admiration of her father's legacy."

Meanwhile, her brother Rex exhibited "Tinapa Literature," a drawing of his father's works repurposed as pambalot (wrapper) for tinapa (smoked fish)--reminiscing the golden era of komiks when it became a huge part of the Filipinos' everyday life. 

And while there may be a steady production of local comics today but Mars Ravelo Reinterpreted makes one hope for the full resurgence of komiks in the Filipino culture. 

Comics is for all ages

Self-portrait at the "Bondying" installation

When Bullet went ‘slow’

Seated at the center of Route 196’s tiny stage, the singer-songwriter began tuning his guitar and in between this meticulous ceremony, he asked the few remaining people if they were already tired or if they were still OK.

It’s almost 3 a.m.

Perhaps, he meant to tell it to himself. He came from a long gig at a different venue also in Quezon City.

But regardless, he managed to give the intimate crowd a heartfelt show. He was a natural named Bullet Dumas.

He sings—and talks

Dumas told the few ones—around 20 or so of them—who waited for him that they can sit on the floor if they felt like it.

“Ako ang (mag)-cool down ng gabi ninyo (I will cool down your night),” said the closing act of “The Rest is Noise 14” live gig last September 10 at Route 196. It was staged by Vandals on the Wall, one of the leading producers in the local indie music scene today.

And then right after performing his first song “Ikaw,” he sought the comments of the audience if he came too loud for them. “Hindi ba crispy (ang tunog)?”

“Crisp!” someone from the crowd kindly corrected.

“Crispy. Masarap kasi e!” he answered heartily eliciting laughter from everyone.  That was just the first of many witty and funny adlibs thrown all throughout his performance.

He also explained each song, whether who it was written for, or why the lyrics were written as such. And that all that he played were different from the ones played at his earlier gig.

In another honest instance, the artist asked everyone if they had a pair of scissors. One of his tuning pegs was damaged from overuse that he wanted to just cut off the guitar string.

Obviously frustrated by the dilemma, Dumas kept apologizing despite noting, “Sabi nila, hindi daw dapat mag-sorry (ang artist) sa stage (They say, artists shouldn’t be saying sorry while on stage).

“Sorry.”

His avid listeners who regularly follow his gigs would know that this was the usual Dumas: an engaging kind of talkative.

He always had a way with words, which was even more evident in his songwriting.

Slow set

With a set of slow songs in mind for the gathering deep into the night, Dumas played a beautiful medley of three songs beginning with “Awit at Liriko,” a micro-song about pretty much what the title was.

The second titled “Pahinang Ito” was something personal for it was written for his late mother. He put on the shoe of a friend who saw her friend’s name in the obituary.

It was about loss but the requiem was nothing but tragic. He sang how one obituary can be ordinary to most but for that friend, the fonts were so beautiful. Just like the beautiful soul that was now lost.

“These songs usually take long to finish and oftentimes result in numerous versions before it is good to go. I tend to let the songs ‘ripen’ by themselves. I critique my work a lot that’s why my music writing takes a lot of time,” he expressed in an artist biography written by the Francis “Brew” Reyes, Filipino music legend.

In the same story, he admitted that “love—or the lack of it” was also a favorite theme in his songs. Just like that song where he hummed “La la la la” in the beginning only to be replaced by “Malala na” in the end.

Different folk

Google published articles about him online and many have likened him to some of the Philippines’ most distinguished folk artists namely Joey Ayala, Gary Granada, and Cynthia Alexander.

But Dumas’ folk was progressive and contemporary. In an article posted at manila.coconuts.co, his style was described to be filled with “nice guitar chops, unusual time measurements, different vocal phrasings, and random tunings.”

And although his set for The Rest is Noise 14 was described as slow, his unique sound—produced by only two machines: his vocal chords and acoustic guitar—still came through.

Even Coldplay’s “The Scientist” was stripped of its originality and became distinctly Dumas: raw.

This was even obvious in “Two Thirds Sensible,” which was erratic just like his other upbeat and fast songs. It was actually a deviation from the previously played songs because according to him, he could not remember playing his original choice.

“Nasira ‘yong slow set ko. Nagpapaka-Johnoy Danao pa naman ako (My slow set was ruined. Just when I’m trying to be Johnoy Danao)!”

(Danao is fellow acoustic artist and good friend of his. Together with Ebe Dancel, a mainstream singer-songwriter, the trio is collectively known as 3D.)

But he had to make do. It did not matter what song, no one complained.

Still the humbled performer, he looked everyone in the eye and said his thanks before firing away like speeding bullet. 

(Photos are mine and taken using Fujifilm X-E1)

Baring myself; reclaiming my voice

Where did my voice go?

This hit me last Sunday, August 28, as I sat inside the Ballroom 1 of Raffles Hotel in Makati City, listening to authors young and old featured in the session “Stranger than Fiction: How Real Life Shapes Stories” of The Philippine Writers and Readers Festival 2016.

I couldn’t have wished to be in any other room that day. I was put there for a reason.

Because as the authors explained how they write to express themselves—be it in poetry, essay, chick lit, etc.—I came to the realization that I had stopped writing for myself.

It might sound selfish but no. Opening up had become so difficult for me now.

To think that when I started blogging back in college, I was always so carefree and feisty. I would write whatever it was that I felt and post it for the world (wide web) to read—or not read. It did not matter. What mattered was that I have released my thoughts and emotions through written word.

And then I graduated and entered the real world—ha! Talk about cliché.

But you’d probably tell me: “You are a writer. What’s the matter?”

Correct. I was a lifestyle reporter for the oldest newspaper in the country. To finish Journalism was one thing, but to actually practice it was another. I was living the dream.

For five years, I enjoyed everything. Every little bit of it, I am grateful for. The hardships, the teachings and trainings, the people I met along the way.

But in journalism, I was always telling the stories of others. I devoted my all to it: time, energy, creativity.

That was when I lost my voice. That was when I have kept myself to myself.

So read me now as I bare myself and reclaim my voice.

Last week, I bumped into one of my favorite columnists. She told me afterwards, “You are always so positive.”

True and false.

For those who have known me long enough to actually know me, I am generally a happy and optimistic person. But because I have already formed this image to the public, I sometimes portray this image just for show.

Because in the past year, I have gone through some of the darkest days of my life.

Still, I would show up smiling and laughing. Don’t get me wrong, if I acted as such, then I meant it. It’s just that I very seldom and shortly reveal that defeated part of me.

I would just cry at night, and then manage to be better in the morning.

But what was the cause of all of this, clearly there must be something?

Back-to-back heartaches. Whoa!!! Viola!!! O yeah.

Nagulat ka ba? Sana naman! I would get disappointed if not.

Kidding aside, I had thankfully managed to pick my heart back in place. Unfortunately though, a tinge of paranoia was left. Sometimes, I get scared and confused as shit. Such restless heart, indeed.

That’s just the way it is now. My only resolve is that happiness is a choice. And I will still choose to be happy like I have always been.

***

Hopefully, in my next essay, I would be talking about something more meaningful than sugarcoats and heartbeats. Like how it’s so difficult to live but so easy to get judged as a woman in the Filipino society? #Soon.