It has been almost seven years since I last paid Hiraya Gallery a visit. That was for the opening of kinetic sculptor Gabby Barredo's exhibit, a show that literally stopped traffic on U.N. Ave. , which had been closed off to accommodate the huge turnout. Clearly, no expense was spared that evening; highlights of the vernissage included a light and sound show, followed by a Noh-inspired performance piece acted out on a roof-level stage that had been especially constructed for the occasion.

I will never forget how grateful I was for making a rare exception to attend, and how ecstatic I felt seeing art so fabulously celebrated, and spiritedly embraced. It was a proud moment for Philippine art, and I am sure, a high point in the career of Didi Dee, the Gallery's director, whom I later named in my subsequent review of the event as, hands-down, the queen bee of the local commercial gallery scene.

Didi had every right to sit up on that throne. Her gallery's sterling reputation was backed up by a string of critically acclaimed exhibitions. Foreign curators selecting artists for individual or group exhibitions at their museums sought her out like drones, making a beeline to her hive. Who else but Didi could have pulled off a controversial show like Jose Legaspi's – who installed an effigy of his own mother, daggers sticking out of her, like a pin-cushion – with such aplomb? Where else but Hiraya could one find the best oeuvres of, among others, Nunelucio Alvarado (paintbrush bristling with rage), Francisco Viri (enigma personified), or the hugely popular Mario de Rivera?

So why, you might ask, did I wait so long to call on Hiraya again?

I suppose that I had come to hold the gallery in such high regard that I always expected more from it – a tall order, indeed – hoping that it would constantly outdo itself. Sure the shows that followed – coming to my attention through regular e-mail updates – intrigued me; but somehow there was nothing more that had the potential of squeezing the bejesus out of me.

As the years passed, Hiraya began to bore me because I felt that it was serving up more of the same. While I am all for vision and consistency, the steady stream of linear convolutions, history lessons, and weavings, not to mention the pageant of tribes and forbears, social commentaries and digs at the nation's psyche proved to be too much. The artists' sources may have been valid, but, in the end, the fountainhead seemed to have run dry.

And yet my fondness for Hiraya, and what it stood for, remained. And so, when I got wind of the gallery's latest offering at the start of the year, I saw this as a sign – an opportunity to look at the gallery afresh, with blinders off and expectations unset. The title of the show, though, Epistles on Death, Decay and Nostalgia, seemed to reek of the attic, and whiffed of gloom and doom. But I was prepared to meet it head on and sniff it out.

I was surprised to see that Hiraya had done away with its white cube interiors, replacing it with a khaki cream hue. The pristine look that it once had may have seemed to be a curtsey to the usual, but it did do wonders in presenting the artworks untrammeled by any other color conveyance. Needless to say, it also made the previous space look more spacious. Somehow, down home earthiness – complete with potted fern plant – had been deigned preferable to spic and span severity.

As for the quality of the works, I was happy to witness that most were close to topnotch, particularly, Ronaldo Ventura's "Blind Mechanism," a worthy testament to his technical skill, which formed part of an installation the artist did when he received the CCP Thirteen Artists Award. Didi made a comment that Ventura – typical of ripening talent – tended to exceed, to overstate or over-blow unnecessary details. It was something that I readily agreed with, noting the horse's gouged-out eye, and the Santi Bose-like preponderance of shadowy cartoon figures, which lurked about the 7x10 foot canvas.

Further marking the high quality of the works on show were Benjamin Elayda's thought-provoking "Valorized and Commodified Curio," Juror's Choice at the 2003 Asean Art Awards, with its postmodern swipe at colonial objectification; and a new find, Bonnie Gimenez, whose paeans to natural calamities were executed with the haunting mezzotint quality of Fil dela Cruz and the deft graphical precision of Sanso; his graphic design background obvious from the layering effect employed in his three works.

Imelda Cajipe-Endaya and Pablo Baens Santos remained strong and steadfast, the former represented by a triptych of old works, arranged like a comic-book strip, part of her longstanding series of paintings studying the evolving role of the Filipino woman; the latter's "Manifesto," a well-contrived exhortation against Martial Law excesses. Having seen how powerfully he could encapsulate the experience of the abused sugar-land farmhand in his native Negros , however, this outing failed to show Nunelucio Alvarado in his element, the artist biting toothless in " Paarak ."

Intimating this opinion to Didi, I saw her mood turn mordant, and I could see where she was going. In spite of her exacting standards, she had much to contend with: The influence of unsophisticated buyers on the output of artists (whatever happened to John Frank Sabado?); the need to sell not only to make a living, but also to have the luxury of time and space to be alone, recharge, read, travel – engendering new encounters that could help deepen and evolve their creative vision.

And yet, in spite of these, as we immersed ourselves in art speak, Philippine art's three D's remained defiant (secure in her role as arbiter), determined (her faith in Filipino talent unwavering), and, above all else, demanding (never content, needling artists to break new ground). Already, she is thinking of mounting a show that will take Jose Legaspi out of his onanistic box. She has also asked Norberto Roldan to set bottles and altars aside to create sleek pieces that foreground his aptitude in graphic design.

How the future face of Philippine art will look like, no one can say for certain. But if only for the buzz that Hiraya promises to bring to the scene, it remains high on my list of must-see galleries.