Abueva’s bench and other treasures

Napoleon V. Abueva (1930-2018), National Artist for Sculpture, passed away physically yet remains alive in many people’s memories for his inspired works, as well as for being a kind and playful person until a lingering illness overcame him.

As you enter the University of the Philippines Diliman campus on the wide University Avenue, you will be greeted by two of Abueva’s large-scale works. One is “Tribute to Higher Education,” made up of a number of concrete reliefs set on a huge cube of adobe that represent the various disciplines offered by UP and the ideals and hopes that come with education. It’s a pity that most people are too busy minding the road to notice the detail in this work. Further down by the guard house in the middle of the avenue is “University Gateway,” very sharp concrete waiting sheds that resemble the tips of paper planes pointing heavenward, under which people can take refuge from heat and rain—again, works that people see but rarely notice.

Abueva took his title lightly, although he was the only one who used the “National Artist” car plate. He always had a ready smile and a strong handshake born of many hours of work in various media: wood, marble, brass, plaster, and resin. One of his playful works, now long gone, was made for the home designed by National Artist Leandro Locsin for the writer Gilda Cordero Fernando. The home was inspired by Japanese aesthetic and had a fish pond. Abueva made a floating sculpture for the pond that was a reference to the slipper the young Jose Rizal is supposed to have thrown into Laguna de Bay. The Abueva slipper floated a long time on the Fernando pond until the wood disintegrated and it was eventually discarded.

In December 2007 Abueva turned up at my home in his battered pickup and declared: “I have a Christmas gift for you!” It was one of his much coveted wooden benches. He had come alone so I asked for help to unload the bench from his truck and bring it to the service elevator. Alas, it would not fit. We tried all possible positions short of requesting that the roof of the elevator be removed, and eventually gave up. The other option was for five men to take turns carrying the bench 18 flights up on the fire escape. Just imagining it made me realize what the pharaohs felt when they saw blocks of stone transported from all over to build the pyramids.

I thanked him, saying: “Billy, I live in a condo. I love this bench but maybe you have something smaller? Something that will fit in the elevator?” He scratched his head and replied: “Well, I have a smaller one made of softwood, but I wanted you to have this one made of molave.” Nobility of material being a consideration in an artist’s work, I said: “Maybe we can park this in my sister’s home while we think of a way to get it up to my apartment.”

His eyes lit up at remembering my sister, who had been his student in UP Fine Arts. His lips turned into a smile as he exclaimed: “Ah, yung kapatid mong maganda!” I replied, “Not that sister, Billy, the younger one who attended UST Architecture. Unlike me, maganda din siya.”

So the Abueva bench was enjoyed by my sister and her family for many years until it was borrowed by the Ayala Museum and transported to the well-received Fernando Contrapuntos exhibition at last year’s Venice Biennale. The bench traveled to Italy while I stayed in Manila. When it returned home, I asked that it be delivered to the Ateneo Art Gallery’s newly opened space where it is now exhibited and admired. It may be a museum piece by a National Artist, but I insist that people sit on it because that is a bench’s primary purpose. Unlike other art pieces that are just to be looked at, this one will be touched and the oil of many hands will give it patina and the many bottoms that will warm the seat will polish it to a high sheen. And Abueva will live on through this bench that has given me so much joy, and will continue to give others the same joy.

The last time I saw Abueva was in his home, when he asked me to try out his “rocking house”—actually a shed that gave me motion sickness. Fortunately, lunch was served in his main house, where we chatted and laughed a lot. My fond memories of him will remain long after the state honors to be given tomorrow have been forgotten.

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