by Alice G. Guillermo

Today's Weekender . July 9, 2000 (No. 369)

The myth of rural idyll never found congenial ground among the artists of Bacolod, capital of Negros Occidental. Instead of the familiar landscape of rice paddies, the province is given over to the monocrop of sugar cane in vast plantations owned by a handful of elites.

Not a land of sweetness and life as Amorsolo untiringly evoked, Nunelucio Alvarado’s Bacolod is fraught with dark shadows and sinister presences against passages of blazing light in a harsh landscape. More than anywhere else, contrasts have been stark since the sugar industry was established in the province with the first sugar mill put up in the 19th century by the English entrepreneur Nicholas Loney. That was also the time when the country’s ports were thrown open to international trade marking the beginning of cash crop agriculture.

These times and conditions, past and present, make up the imagery of Alvarado, who is holding his latest show at Hiraya Gallery. His art draws its dynamism from the conflicts and sharply delineated class lines in his home province that has often been described as a smoldering social volcano. Seeking big economic opportunities in sugar, the landed elites converted their rice lands to sugar-cane plantations. In the midst of this rural landscape were built their mansions of wood and stone, with their sliding windows of capiz shell overlooking the large tracts of land leveling all around, even as far as the horizon. But out in the fields the peasants then and now have labored in planting endless rows of cane or in harvesting them with their broad espading with its hooked blade the tall rounded stalks which they carry in bundles on their shoulders to the trains headed for the sugar mill.

Alvarado developed an iconography based on indigenous folk beliefs and traditional symbols which he integrated into contemporary themes and issues, resulting in works of high visual impact.  Unlike other artists of similar orientation, Alvarado did not choose to work in a realist or classic style. In his personal idiom, the human figures are squat and angular, their muscles well-articulated to convey strength in agricultural work and closeness to the earth. Their eyes are intense, with a clear penetrating gaze.

Their vivid coloring imparts vitality and expresses strong emotion. Without doubt, the opposition to classical form inheres in the subjects themselves, the farm workers and sakadas of Negros who, needless to say, are the antipodes of the aristocratic and idealized Apollos of classical art. The folk quality of the style and what it conveys of essential humanity and authenticity is eminently suitable to the subjects, at the same time that it implies the identification of the artist himself with the peasant folk.

Alvarado’s most recent show of watercolors entitled Palagpat (Uncertainty) brings his concerns up to the present. As in his earlier Tiempo Muerto series, he depicts the entire range of Negros society in horizontal rows of highly individualized figures. Far from being historical or stereotypical characters, they possess distinctive features that suggest their life principle, at the same time that they carry with them the atmosphere of the times. The issues that are posed are mainly those of the present political dispensation, thus bringing out the fact that Negros province with Bacolod, its capital, is not an insular and isolated locale but is sensitively affected by the tremors on the national level. Indeed, the title of the series itself captures the malaise, indeterminacy and lack of direction, the wanton waste of human and material resources in the absence of clear objectives.

In these works, satire as the dominant tone is directed to the officials in power as well as to those who perpetuate ignorance and corruption. Class polarities are not simply depicted on one place in a confrontational manner between antagonistic camps, but rather on two levels. For often, behind the brightly colored characters are half-glimpsed figures in gray tones. Contrasts in scale, small and large, also suggest the prevailing system of power relations.

In Tikal Tikal Waay Man (Blustering Without Substance), the upside-down shadowy beasts carrying guns suggest covert military rule. Lording over the scene, a large green face, its eyes shaped like a theater marquee featuring a reclining nude, extends its curling tongue to twist and strangle the head of a lesser official to tip the balance in favor of crony interests. He is flanked on one side by a worker giving the finishing touches to a relief of the presidential seal and on the opposite side by a sakada with his espading standing threateningly by. A number of elements allude to show business and folk festivals in their role as purveyor of illusion. At the center is a dancing clown, one hand down the other up, signifying inconsistency and lack of sobriety in leadership.

Other works such as Dragon Lady and Believe It or Not allude to specific figures and issues in the national scene. An intriguing subject of late, for instance, was a particular official wielding extraordinary powers. Her large face in unnatural hues with a green dragon printed on her cheek is depicted upside down, against the tenor of ordinary life. Gambling, deceit and prostitution are rife with casino kings visiting the country.

Cory in My Arms refers to a notorious vigilante chief with a bleeding heart tattooed on his arm. Meanwhile, one catches a glimpse of Uncle Sam and even Japanese samurai making the scene.

At the same time, the violence simmering just below the surface is evoked by the figure of a faceless marine flaunting his armalite surrounded by flying forked tongues in the guise of pinkish flowers, a sly comment on credibility. A people’s protest rally is met by police carrying shields emblazoned with spiked clubs. In response to all these, Ang Imo Katapusan (This is Your End) shows a disembodied and fleshless hand from the outside, perhaps from the grave, come to seek retribution and mete judgment on the corrupt: the pimps and prostitutes, spies, murderers and peddlers of imperialist interests (the American flag is displayed like a holy icon on a pushcart). The hand, its nails grown into hard spikes and its thumb broken off, possibly symbolizes the spirit of protest which survives even beyond the pale of individual physical existence. It is shown as about to begin the punitive gesture of clawing the characters from the page into a gray and nameless void.

Although exhibiting in Manila, Alvarado generally prefers to entitle his works in the Ilonggo tongue of Western Visayas in order to retain local color and to bring in the flavor of Ilonggo, which has a characteristic lilting and amorous quality in relation to the more straightforward Manila Tagalog. Moreover, in these recent works, an innovation consists in textual elements that form border designs in terms of humorous and satirical comments in highly idiomatic street jargon.  The artist engages in punning and other forms of word play which combine Visayan, Spanish and English elements that are a colorful part of the local culture.

Alvarado’s art is up to the minute in its grasp of national issues and events.  Always exciting and innovative, a great part of its appeal stems from the artist’s immersion in people’s lives, his keen political consciousness, and his combination of acerbic satire and street humor, but always with an underlying tenderness for his province and its sugar-cane workers in struggle.  As the artist stresses, "While this unjust system prevails in our country, artists will always continue to produce meaningful works.

Also Read:

"An Angry Socialist Realist Continues to Rage" by Emmanuel Torres

"Narratives of Our Time in Blazing Images" by Alice Guillermo

"The Menacing Power of Alvarado's Art" by Ramos E.S. Lerma

"Nunelucio's Alvarado's Tales from the Wastelands" by Reuben Rabas Canete