Sometimes we think
we know who we are, but this self that we think we know isn't exactly the self
that other people see in us. Just a curious observation I got during a quick sketching session at the Tam-Awan
Artists' Village in Baguio City last March. Tam-Awan in the local idiom means
"vantage point", and rightly so as this village donned with authentic
native Ifugao and Kalinga huts sits on a hillside which affords a view of the
South China Sea on a clear day. This native colony is a project of the Chanum
Foundation, co-founded by National Artist Ben Cabrera, which aims to preserve
the natural abode of the Ifugaos and Kalingas and recreate a traditional
Cordillera village, as well as serve as the headquarters for some of Baguio's
well-known local artists. It was my
third visit to this village, but my first time to have my face rendered in
charcoal by its resident artists. And I got not only one, but two drawings from
two different artists. It was my lucky day.
Jordan Mang-Osan sat
down for my first sketch. It was quick, lasted just about 20 minutes or so, but I relished every second of it. It
was as if tiny fragments of who I am were being siphoned out of me one by one
through the artist's gaze. The eyes first, the slope of my cheeks, the bridge
of my nose, the slight smirk. And along with it comes the various hidden
stories emanating from my skin that only the artist can re-tell through the
deft strokes of his pen.
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| Jordan Mang-Osan at work |
A few minutes after
Mang-osan began to draw, I noticed another man pull up a chair behind him and
take out his pad of canvass paper. "Hey, I'm not paying for that," I
initially thought as this other man began to scrutinize my face. But he began
to draw, this sleazy man, and instead of airing my protest, I just shut my
mouth and resumed my pose for fear of ruining Mang-Osan's portrait. A few
minutes into the simultaneous sketching session, though, I felt my disapproval
at this unsolicited drawing dissipate,
and experienced some weird kind of euphoria at being gazed at intently
by two men (haha). After all, it's not everyday that I get to be sketched by
two artists at the same time.
The other artist was
Alfonso Dato, and while Mang-Osan was a bit on the intense side while drawing, Dato was more relaxed and reclined in his chair the whole time. Two artists with
two different styles interpreting two different versions of the me that they
see exclusively through their eyes. That would be interesting.
Here are the final
sketches by Mang-Osan and Dato:
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| Jordan Mang-Osan version |
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| Alfonso Dato version |
And yes, as I
expected, these two drawings look so different from each other. In fact, they
don't even exactly resemble me, especially Dato's picture. I was amused, I
thought I was looking at some cover of a precious hearts romance novel. But I
was far from disappointed. Those sketches were still me, only more varied and interesting. And I surmise
that if everyone I knew was an artist and had paper and pencil in hand, I would
probably be seeing a hundred reincarnations of my self, the me being born and
created over and over again, as seen from the vantage point of a hundred eyes.
