ARTISTS are those whose gifts set them apart as their talent, wisdom and integrity are superior. They make beauty, unlock mysteries, serve the truth, create life out of the matter of their visions – between pokes of arrogance and humility, between failure and triumph.
They walk alone, listened to voices unheard by others. They have command over other their chosen medium, whether a brush, a pen, a musical instrument or a voice. They are timeless as the universe itself, yet why do certain expressions of art live for all their time, while others die with the moment.
When does an artist say that a piece is timeless? How does he say it? How much is the fad, how much is merely reflection? Why is baroque right for one age, while too effulgent for another?
Why is Homer hard to read now and George Sand not? Can a standard of craftsmanship apply to art of all ages? Or does it have its own different definition?
What was Van Gogh thinking, when he slashed a brood of black and greys across a white canvas and let the edge dribble down? Was that a statement of violence or self-portrait? Why does some modern painting shock us? And what of the little tight paintings of different brilliant flowers in a vase? Does it have any life, any meaning beyond its sentiment? Is there any pleasure in its forms or textures?
Life dissolves and blooms but the Filipino Cultural Center (FCC) will always give people a sense of place and good sense in each season.
Last Saturday, April 20, artists Vics Magsaysay, Bienvenido Boi Sibug, Luiz Balbin-Spanks, Magoo Valencia, Rey Zabagan, Julius Kim and Bernadette Manahan Sta, Maria opened a floral exhibit entitled, “A new beginning: Art of the Spring” at the FCC. The center vibrated like a tuning fork.
All over the walls spring has sprung — sweet and floral, as if they were showers on the breeze of an April day.
Suddenly, the most gorgeous sparkling flowers have blossomed. All around were flowers that healed and sizzled, in calculated seductions blossoms of pink and white roses, lilacs, daffodils, the aristocrat orchids, the outrageous birds of paradise, as seen by Santa Maria.
The flowers of Magsaysay — that scent of hope, love and lust — captured hues of perpetual light and sudden grace. Their collective floral showcase surrounded us to surrender to its radiance, like the breath of angels.
Yet, we should not get too carried away, spring comes and goes, as it surrenders when nature matures: and like love, the flowers and greens marvelous and magical at its full blossoming, but when it wanes, it is nothing but a heap of rotting leaves.
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E-mail Mylah at [email protected]
