The annual Antique Show at the Greenhills Shopping Center is going into its last weekend. As in previous years, the dealers aren’t just selling antique furniture but all kinds of collectibles like stamps, coins, old documents, photographs, postcards, books and more.
This year I brought the kids with me, partly to keep myself from impulsive buying, but at the very first stall one of my daughters spotted an old Fisher-Price wooden Snoopy, which you can pull along, its tail wagging and its feet moving up and down. It was still in very good condition, except for worn-out ears—which was fine with me—showing it was a loved toy.
Content with their new toy and busy squabbling who would get to “walk” the new dog, the kids allowed me to stop from time to time to look at the santos, religious images popular with Filipino Catholics.
Although my mother is a devout Catholic, she has a certain Protestant sensibility when it came to the santos. She just didn’t like them, convinced that they would “invite” evil spirits. I pretty much imbibed her discomfort with the santos, not because of a fear of “evil spirits” but because I thought they smacked of idolatry.
Folk art
Over the years though, I did learn more about the santos and began to appreciate them more as folk art. Unlike the mass-produced plaster or resin statues that you can buy in Catholic religious stores, each santo is unique. The most expensive of these santos are those carved out of ivory; their prices are soaring because you can no longer get new ivory, what with an international ban imposed on ivory trading since 1990. The ban was imposed because elephants were being hunted down for their tusks, and thus threatened with extinction.
The more affordable santos are those carved out of wood and then embellished in a thousand different ways. The embellishments can be almost as expensive as the santo. For example, many of the images will not have hands, which means you have to commission them separately, with a choice between ivory and bone. Or, you might have a bald santo needing a wig, which can cost up to P2,000. (I asked the dealer if I could just go get a haircut and donate hair for the wig.)
Santo-carving is a folk art, well documented by Esperanza B. Gatbonton in her book “A Heritage of Saints: Colonial Santos in the Philippines.” Unfortunately the book is out of print but the amazing Internet has one of her talks delivered way back in 1982. The talk serves as an excellent introduction to the santos. (Go to andalltheangelsandsaints.blogspot.com and search on Gatbonton.)
It was from the book of Gatbonton (Tita Chita to me, because she took my anthropology classes) that I learned about the regional variations in the santos. Those from the Bicol region, for example, tend to be carved from heavy wood and are massive figures, with colorful bases and angels for adornment. Cebu and Bohol santos are also heavy and bell-shaped, while those from Samar are tall, thin and flat.
The folk art aspect comes in the way the carvers improvise. Some of the early carvers were Chinese, that’s why some of the old santos of the Virgin Mary look almost like Guanyin, the Chinese goddess (actually a bodhisatva, not a goddess) of mercy.
Another example of folk improvisation comes with San Roque (Saint Roche), who is usually depicted with a wound on his left thigh; but if you find a santo where the wound is on the right leg, the image is probably from Samar.
San Roque was a nobleman who turned his back on a life of luxury to serve the poor. Another rich man who found out about Roche’s work took pity and would send his dog over every day with bread. That dog, sometimes with a loaf of bread in its mouth, found its way into all the San Roque carvings (usually together with an angel). Since no one knows what that saintly dog looked like, it is now depicted in all shapes and sizes, as varied as our aspin (asong Pinoy). My San Roque has a dog that hints of Dalmatian ancestry.
Because the carvers paint on their santos, there are numerous other variations on what can be done to the image itself, as well as its base or, in some cases, its housing, again with all kinds of innovations. One variation is the “taverna,” where the base can be turned so the image ends up “retreating” inside.
I’m trying to convince my graduate students to follow the footsteps of Tita Chita and work on the santos: the designs, the carvers and their place in Filipino households. Many of the “antiques,” I should warn you, are now replicas, but I’m glad that there are still woodcarvers carrying on the tradition.
Folk religion
The santo as folk art is part of folk Catholicism, one which remains vibrant and constantly in flux. Just look at the different kinds of Santo Niños, where the child Jesus becomes a fireman, a policeman, a teacher, a soldier. Santos are very popular with couturiers, who dress up the images in their own haute couture creations and parade them in fiestas.
As for the santos’ functions, I suspect many are used like talismans, meant to protect the home, and to bring good fortune. San Vicente Ferrer is said to be particularly popular for that “good luck” function.
Some of the santos are simply objects of veneration, but others are objects of never-ending appeals—for better health and peace of mind, for example.
One less known religious image is that of the Nuestra Señora de la Leche y Bien Parto, translated as Our Lady of Milk and Good Delivery, delivery here being labor and childbirth.
Sr. Pilar Verzosa e-mailed me asking if I could announce that Our Lady of Milk’s feast day is on Oct. 11, and that a Mass will be held at the chapel in Harrison Plaza on that day at 5 p.m. Last year Harrison Plaza had a Marian exhibit showing all the different depictions of the Virgin Mary, including a resplendent one of Our Lady of Milk—breastfeeding, of course. I wrote about it, saying she should be the patron for breastfeeding advocates. It turns out she already is, and not just for breastfeeding mothers but also for the pregnant, and the childless. Call Baby Gonzales at 531-3063, who heads the Our Lady of La Leche Movement, for more information.
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Email: mtan@inquirer.com.ph