Hello Oso!

I was watching documentaries about World War II on the National Geographic Channel’s Military Monday while doing the piece below. I guess some of the depressing imagery seeped into the drawing.

I belong to a little children’s illustration group called Ang InK (Illustrador ng Kabataan). Every Saturday, we have a little InK corner in the Manila Bulletin and an Inkee (as members are fondly called) is assigned a topic to illustrate.

Well, mine’s about New Year’s Resolutions. Here’s the bit I did.

Back (L-R): Pia, Kenikenken, Nawrus, Maurice / Front (L-R): Tin, Me, Abi, Molyn, Jay, Rosanne, Dani, Jetro

I had dinner with UP friends the other day at a little restaurant called Van Gogh is Bipolar owned by one of our friends – photographer Jetro Rafael. It was a bit of a double celebration as well as a little reunion by the Fine Arts people. It was Marvel colorist Jay David Ramos‘ belated birthday bash and our friend Tin Manasan also came home from Singapore for a vacation.

Van Gogh, tucked inside a yellow building along Maginhawa St., UP Village, is also Jetro’s residence which now doubles as a dining place open from 530pm to 1230am everyday (except Tuesdays).

Charming and quirky, the restaurant can probably serve around 15 people. With bric-a-brac purposefully left by patrons and artworks adorning the walls, the place is perfect for artist types who want an out-of-the ordinary eating and visual experience. There’s a lot of stuff to see and take in despite being a small cozy place. To the side of the entrance is President Laurel’s old cabinet and a little bookshelf cradling over a dozen books. Below the bookshelf is a little “sari-sari” store with jars of candy and sweets and a framed watercolor painting by Robert Alejandro which says “Honesty System”. A money box is ready and waiting to receive coins.

The baroque chairs in the main dining table are purposefully mismatched. One of the chairs is dressed in a cardigan. The walls around the dining area carry angry sketches and drawings made by Jason Moss during the 90s, supposedly during a hate-the-world phase. An old bureau sits just beside the dining table etched and carved with graffiti by patrons. On top of it are over a dozen different teapots patrons can choose to drink their tea from.

The menu is mostly organically grown with its dishes named after famous bipolar people (like Sting and Bill Clinton apparently). They serve delicious tea made to “alter one’s mood”, at least according to Jetro. White, fat, porcelain jars contain various tea leaves such as Spanish Plum and Ginger. The tea leaves were grown in Jetro’s farm in Isabela. Each jar is labelled with hand drawn lettering by Robert Alejandro.

I was the first to arrive at the place and while waiting, Jetro graciously served me tea in a pot of my own choosing. I picked a brown earthen pot with ceramic flowers. My host dropped a few spoonfulls of tea leaves into the pot and added a few teaspoons of mint before drowning them in boiling water from a white waterpot doodled with the interiors of the restaurant.

I drank my tea from a little white tea cup cradling peppermint leaves at the bottom. Honey was also served inside a tiny goblet and it sat atop the goblet’s stem like liquid gold.

Before everyone arrived I was drawing and doodling to pass the time. I remembered reading something about drawing the things one hates to draw, supposedly to get better at it. Well, I honestly hate drawing cars. I’m not a car buff like most guys (which is ironic since I won myself a brand new Toyota Vios 2 years ago from a contest).

So while waiting for everyone to arrive, I drew cars.

While drawing the Vitara above, some of the drivers noticed me doodling on my moleskine and asked what I was doing. I told them (a bit annoyed and wanting to be left alone). It still astounds me that drawing in public can be such an odd activity for a lot of people.

>>Rommel

That’s my dad on the left side of the spread, drawn on a Sunday dinner at a restaurant. I’ve never been comfortable showing my drawings to my Dad. Ironic, since I used to mail him my drawings when I was a kid and he was working in Saudi Arabia. But since returning over 20 years ago, I’ve found that criticism to a child ( even the “constructive” kind coming from one’s parents) is less important than encouragement. And more often I found his criticisms withering (though I’m sure he didn’t mean it) when what I wanted most was flattery and encouragement.

>>Rommel

After mentioning that I have never felt snow in my entire life, my friend Amélie Clement sent me snow pictures from Brussels. I wish I could send her beautiful pictures of my backyard but my neighborhood sucks. It really does.

Although, I did send her pics of sunny Bohol, which nothing to sneeze at either.

Picked up my mother from the church and we had coffee at Figaro. Food is always better at Figaro than at Starbucks. I ordered a cappuccino – something I’ve been drinking a lot lately ever since tasting the stuff they make at Cafe Breton. But the Figaro brew doesn’t hold a candle to the Breton cup with its creamy, creamy foam that tastes more like milk than air. Okay I’m thinking about it again.

Coffee shops are always nice for people watching and for drawing. I wonder if anybody who has ever done this ever made friends or picked up chicks for making sketches. Just wondering (waves to Abi).

At the other table are three middle-aged Chinese guys talking animatedly. There’s a large Chinese community in the Banawe Avenue area, a lot of nondescript looking people that you wouldn’t think were rich as Scrooge McDuck (I find my references perplexing, but I’m rambling to fill the space). This reminds me of my friend Jefferson (which, incidentally sounds like a typical “Chinese” name. Hehe.) who also lives in the area. On the way to his house, we passed by a tall concrete wall that almost looked like a block wide. Apparently it was their compound wall. Entering the place, you wouldn’t think that there were several houses inside. It was all hiding in plain sight.

Okay, back to work. Back to work.

>>Rommel

Some morning moleskinerie before I get back to work on my pages.

I ran (and mostly walked) this morning in UP around the academic oval where hundreds run and jog during Sunday mornings when the oval is closed off to vehicular traffic. I wanted to run the entire 2.2 km of the oval and then some. But when I began, I found that I didn’t have the will today. Not that my heart found it difficult but something other than biology strained to move my feet forward. Instead, after several sprints and bursts that ended all too soon, I found myself walking. And as what usually happens when I walk long stretches, my mind starts to drift and to reflect. Which probably isn’t the point of a morning exercise run, but there you go.

I’m back to “work” in less than a month. By work I mean the old 9 to 5 as an art director. It’s complicated and it mostly involves making up for being overpaid by a couple of weeks after I spent all my leaves during this almost 7-month stretch of alone time.

My sister tells me it’ll be difficult for me going back. I suppose so. Mostly the rigid schedule. I don’t know about the coming-up-with-ads part. I don’t think I’m that rusty.

But the desire to do my own stuff is still there. When I look at the work of Filipino and foreign artists who’ve devoted themselves full time to their craft, I know that I can’t not do it. It must be done.This was the same feeling of desperation I had when I was working as an Account Executive and servicing clients.

But I realize that during my pseudo-freelance period, I spent my time inefficiently. Oh sure, I’m doing my comic book, I finished a few paintings and I got to go to France to draw but I felt I could have done more.

I now realize that it sucks working at my house. Not in principle. But specifically this house, with people shouting all the time and hardly any food during lunch (I don’t know how to cook and if you saw the sorry state of our kitchen, you wouldn’t want to learn to cook there either).

So what do I do? Still figuring it out I suppose. My professors have asked me if I was interested in teaching in the College of Fine Arts. Sure. I have a lot of theories I want to test out and I truly want to share what I know. But honestly, I don’t know if I have what it takes.

But then as I write that last statement, I know that there probably is no other recourse but to try it out. Better to have tried than failed and all that. So as 2009 comes to a close and having spent most of the year out of the office, I wonder what the next year will bring. As always, there’s no other choice but to take it one step and one day at a time.

>>Rommel

Had dinner at Tazza with my sis while having the car washed. Coffee later on with mom. That’s my mom on the upper right side of the spread. Apparently I captured a passing pissed off aura.

Looking through the interwebs at other artists. I have so much to learn. It depresses me.