Reading paintings as history
Auction frenzy and exaggerated prices have brought long-forgotten works by Fernando Amorsolo into the art market in the last few years. In the past, one could see these works only in museums and socially pedigreed private collections; today, works by Filipino masters can be seen or had anytime by anyone who has money.
It is distressing that people sometimes look at names and signatures rather than pictures, and that people take a second look at paintings, not for their beauty or importance, but for their price tags or the social cachet they bring to the owner. But it is an exciting time to be a Filipino art historian these days because so many works are being made available for study, and the resulting research can help revise existing narratives and conventions.
Amorsolo is best known for his brilliantly back-lit landscapes, flattering portraits, and genre paintings of tanned, smiling dalaga in traditional rural costumes before World War II, rather than for a small group of works, mostly made and recopied in the 1950s, that depict scenes from Philippine history. These historical paintings are a departure from his regular commercial output both in subject and size.
“First Baptism,” for example, is a work of large dimensions that required many detailed sketches and studies for each figure, plus additional visual research for the details like grass mats, Oriental ceramics and other elements that created the scene of the contact period of the 16th century. Each of these diverse elements was drawn, with color studies, and carefully set in an overall composition before being transferred to the large canvas. Sad to say that the artist must have thought his work striking as history, but it was somewhat theatrical or contrived as a painting.
I often wonder what process Amorsolo went through to paint history, or if he could be called a visual historian of the Philippines. To execute his paintings of the pre-Spanish and contact-period Philippines of the 16th century, he read up on available Spanish accounts of the Philippines. He even consulted with prominent scholars at the time, like Trinidad H. Pardo de Tavera, Epifanio de los Santos, and even his best friend, Guillermo Tolentino, who, aside from being the most prominent sculptor of his time was also an acknowledged authority on the precolonial syllabary or baybayin. From other sources Amorsolo was able to copy the arms and armor that Magellan and his men might have worn when they arrived in the Philippines in 1521.
Reviewing Amorsolo’s historical paintings that have come to light in recent auctions made me appreciate the challenge he faced when dealing with the costumes of precolonial Filipinos. The illustrations from the “Boxer Codex” circa 1590 were not as well-known or available as they are today. Amorsolo may have heard of the Codex or saw black-and-white reproductions in his time, while in the 21st century one can download the entire Codex, in high resolution, for free. The good thing about not having much to refer to is that one is free to speculate or imagine.
Amorsolo based much of his historical paintings on costumes and weapons found in museums or still in use by cultural communities. He made many pencil sketches and small oil studies from life that comprise visual documentation of Mindanao costumes, particularly those of the Bagobo, known for their fine color sense and intricate beadwork. In reconstructing images of the pre-Spanish past, Amorsolo supplemented the scant historical material he had at hand with his imagination.
He did not lack live models for his paintings, and some of the sweet-faced women in his historical paintings were based on members of his family. All the important women in the paintings are adorned with gold jewelry that has lately been supported by archeological discoveries now on view at the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas Museum and the Ayala Museum. A work titled “Early Sulu Wedding” made me smile because it depicts the bride kneeling before an imam practically naked save for a garland and a necklace. Her elaborate headdress is inspired by Indonesian rather than Philippine examples. In another canvas the Filipinos are depicted carrying different types of shields—one a Bagobo from the south, the other a Kalinga type from the north. These props are visually engaging and make me wonder if the scene and its detail are likely or not.
Amorsolo’s historical paintings provide us much more than a dated visual historiography. To fully appreciate them, the viewer has to go beyond the form and detail to see the delicate balance between history and imagination. It is a professional bias, but when I look at paintings I see beyond the canvas and try to tease out what the artist read or the research he did to paint them.
One can enjoy a painting at face value, for the picture itself; it can also be enjoyed for the monetary value it commands. But I think Amorsolo’s historical paintings reflect the desire to search for and capture that elusive thing we call national identity. Now that we can visit the National Museum free of charge, lets hope people will visit more than once and read the paintings like history.
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