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A Dialogue
of Cards and Humans
by Alice G. Guillermo
Today, July 20, 2003
For Sakay, Guiliano Flores, 35, of Binangonan,
Rizal, playing cards are not just inert pieces of painted
cardboard to be flicked, shuffled and dealt on any available
surface, table or floor, in a game of solitaryo, pusoy or
tong-its. First, it is a ubiquitous cultural item in his
environment swarming with the children of his family and
neighbors, from his 10 siblings and the schoolchildren of
his younger years to his own boys and girls, now four in
all. One may play solitaire alone at night with a clandestine
air under a single light bulb when the weather is too hot
for comfort, but during the day cards laid out in pusoy
are like a strong magnet drawing everybody from the entire
neighborhood to play and kibitz.
In Sakay’s series of oil paintings in
his first individual show at the Hiraya Gallery, cards promote
social interaction and soon enough, a small group of Fire-Spitters
gathers around in an instant session of street-corner gossip
within sight of the King of Spades (the polite or other
authority figure) who lays an admonishing hand on a shoulder.
The artist has developed his own style of figures, rounded
and muscular, with light and shadow etching the muscles
strongly. They show a large gamut of facial expressions
finely drawn, such as perplexity, concentration or resentment.
Self-taught, the artist had Carlos “Botong” Francisco as
a model for a long time and his influence still remains
the concern for general design and the dynamic interaction
of the figures. Or in another work, Crab,
a group of young boys vigorously climb over each other,
illustrating the common social ill of crab mentality.
For the artist, playing cards is like
opening the pages of a book; when dealing them out, narratives
tumble out of them willy-nilly. With insight and skill,
the artist brings the elements together in a unity to form
small concentrated moralities that deal with issues of our
day. He struck upon the original idea to crate dialogic
interaction between the humans and the playing card figures:
the Kings, Queens and Jacks of the four suits. Now these
play a variety of roles. Most of the time, they seem to
constitute a background chorus observing the antics of the
humans. Even more, they convey specific attitudes—they lose
their deadpan classical expressions like gods unaffected
humans, if not devoid or incapable of feeling, but in fact,
assume interventionist roles, though in an indirect manner
since they remain most of the time within their framed space.
They frown or grimace, showing disapproval or register shock,
and because of such they become forces to be reckoned with.
Not to be overlooked is the role that
the design of the cards plays in the paintings. The figures
themselves of the cards are in cool shades of royal blue
accented and embellished by the strong repetitive patterns
of their hats and costumes in decorative bands of crimson,
yellow and blue. To bring out an interactive effect, the
human figures, in contrast, are painted in neutral hues,
such as bluish gray or light lavender in modulating tones
that enhance the patterns of the muscular or fleshly structure.
This contrast if brought to striking and admirable effect
in two paintings—The Wall
and Where is the Way
to Heaven?. In the first, a row of human figures—two
with their backs turned flanked by two women’s bodies facing
front, all in monochrome bluish-gray with strong tonal contrasts
along the body structure—occupies the near foreground, their
hands joined together in a kind of human chain. But in the
interstices between them are espied the royal figures of
the cards in their bright tones and decorative bands. The
artist gives a political meaning to this image: the kings
of the earth hide their wrong doing behind a human chain.
From the warm human bodies that are called upon to guard
them, they draw a semblance of humanity. The human figures
even seem to tower over the kings, one of whom seems to
grimace in pain. In their nudity, the humans convey simplicity
and obedience. Would these attitudes define their relationship
to the kings, thus perpetuating the power of those who bear
down on them with a whip? In the other work, Where
is the Way to Heaven?, illustrating the use of the card
design, three rows of nude human figures, in neutral hues
of gray, grayish blue and light brown, march in procession
but in contrary directions. The colorful playing cards are
glimpsed as inscribed on their foreheads as they pass in
single file. These cards symbolize the book of doctrines
or creeds of the various churches. This unusual image shows
the powerful grip of religious ideologies on the minds of
people.
Sakay’s works are serious personal responses
to current global issues. In The
Hero, a half-smiling young man confidently lounges on
a seat with the playing cards for background. And who is
the hero? Surprisingly, the artist answers that it is the
United States. Why? He answers that although indeed the
US conducted a war of aggression against Iraq, it has become
a hero because it “won the war.” The artist must have meant
this in a tongue-in-cheek kind of irony, black humor in
colorful garb. Certainly, one does not become a hero for
militarily imposing oneself on a society. Like an earlier
theme, this notion seems to draw from the earlier theme
of the human wall, of the masses acknowledging and protecting
the ruler that they mistakenly think destiny or fate has
foisted upon them.
In The
Latest Trick, a magician with a black top hat demonstrates
his latest sleight-of-hand against the back ground of the
cards, with the King of Spades showing stern disapproval.
There is, again, some ambiguity regarding his figure. It
may seem that he is not with the kings because there are
no clues or hints that identify him with them, but of course
even the royals belong to four different suits. However,
it is the kings of the earth and no other that are the masters
of illusion both in word and in fact. Armed with a magic
wand and a saw, this magician focuses his powers on a glass
box containing the figure of a king,. With the magic word
and the right gestures of prestidigitation, the royal personage
and his box will disappear (poof!) into thin air. Or maybe
it could metamorphose into a rabbit pulled out of a hat.
Too many gimmicks and magic acts! The artist seems
to say.
We can only but agree, but we should make
sure that the royal magician do not pull the rug from under
our feet.
Next Review:
The National Malaise as Art
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