The Artist in Me

It's 10:00 pm. I should be in bed watching TV, but my newly painted toenails need more time to dry. I have decided to write a bit, watch TV and let the nailpolish dry all at the same time! But the truth is, I need to start focusing and directing my consciousness into that storehouse of images and memories, hold a Chinese brush, direct my fingers to do their magic on a blank sheet of paper. In other words, I should be painting on a canvas instead of painting toenails!

I knew what I wanted to be even when I was small. An artist, that was what I would tell myself. I remember making drawings on the blank pages of Webster’s Dictionary and every available sheet of paper that I could lay my hands on. I would weave stories and express my thoughts through a pencil held by my clumsy little fingers.

Papa and Mama realized I had talent, and enrolled me in a summer art class in the Lyceum of the Philippines. It was 1959 and I was 9 years old then. Papa brought me twice to my art class which was on the 3rd floor of the building. The next time I was on my own. I rode on the bus, making sure my fare was safe in my secret pocket and that all my art materials were secure in my brown paper envelope.

Lyceum seemed like a huge building to me during that time. The corridors were long and wide and it was always quiet. This frightened me but I had to be brave because Papa expected me to be so. I learned to overcome my fears and later settled down and began to enjoy the class and art activities together with the other children.

That summer class was the first and last art class I attended as a child. Many years later, I found myself in a different setting and atmosphere when I enrolled in the UP College of Fine Arts in Diliman. I was in a new world! There was tremendous energy all around me. It was exhilarating, challenging, and exciting. I grew in every direction. My creative energies were unleashed. I began to be transformed into an artist, at last.

My transformation was gradual and went on even after I left the college. I finally discovered the mystery and beauty of watercolor. I was able to achieve that unique softness and transparency of colors with many hours of practice and patience. Watercolor is difficult to control and manipulate. It reacts in many different ways. It seems to have a mind of its own and will seek its own place on any surface. I have learned to direct its movement by understanding its nature and its possibilities.

It does not scare me anymore the way it used to. I had to overcome the fear that gripped me as I held the brush between my fingers. I had to be brave because I expect this from me.