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I froze
upon my editor’s suggestion that I interview the
world-renowned master of expressionism, Juvenal Sansó.
I asked for a day to mull over the assignment. As 24
hours lapsed, rationality set in. “When will this great
chance come again?” I asked myself. And so on a
Wednesday afternoon, I found myself in a cab headed for
Sansó’s residence in Bel-Air, Makati.
I
arrived 10 minutes early of our 3 pm appointment. I was
ushered into a spacious sala with huge windows that had
ornate iron grills. “This must be wrought-iron works
from the Sansó family business,” I said to myself.
Sansó’s family moved from Barcelona to Manila in 1934 in
order to establish a wrought-iron shop, Arte Español.
He was only four years old at that time. Ironically,
this business would help define the boy’s destiny, for
it was with the purpose of making him learn how to
design that the boy’s father would eventually encourage
the young Sansó to take art lessons. Who could have
known that the idea of iron-grill design would lead to
expressionism? Before I could continue pondering the
point, Juvenal Sansó appeared on the second-floor ledge
and issued a friendly greeting. In no time, he led me to
a quiet study where we began the interview.
BACK FOR GOOD.
After decades of
shuttling between continents, the great Juvenal Sansó
has returned to Manila. For good. His acclaimed art is
the focus of the special DVD titled
By the Book of the SM
Foundation.
“Sir...” I prefaced. “Yes, you have a question,” he
interrupted. “You want to know my age. Well, I am 16.”
He declared with a naughty grin. “Then, I shall write
that down,” I responded. “You are 16.” In Sansó terms,
“16” would have been the end of World War II, an event
that truly traumatized him. “It was horrible. It was
difficult for my family. We moved to Montalban, planted
and ate only camote.” “16” would also be the time he
took on his first job, as conductor of his family’s bus
that plied the Santa Ana-Quiapo route. Manila during the
Liberation days was not exactly a safe place. A
one-armed bandit by the name of “Putol” once tried to
take over Sansó’s bus. The blue-eyed and fair-skinned
boy in a grand exhibition of spunk and daring talked his
way out of the problem in Tagalog. These qualities would
prove to be very useful, artistically and otherwise,
later in his life.
As the
post-Liberation days brought relative peace to the
much-damaged Manila, Sansó started to train under
Alejandro Celis, a maestro who was gracious enough to
tell him later on that there is not much more that he
could learn from lessons held at home. So off he went to
the University of the Philippines-School of Fine Arts,
where he would later study under such titans of
Philippine Art: Fernando Amorsolo, Dominador Castañeda
and Ireneo Miranda.
“I
wanted to be like Amorsolo, but I could never be like
Amorsolo.” Although he studied under the masters of the
so-called conservative school, his genre scenes would
hint at the foreboding more than the bucolic. “I was
painting differently, but Amorsolo approved. He would
look at my painting from behind my back and silently
give me a sign of approval.”
It would
have been the Philippines’ loss—nay, the world’s—had
Sansó turned into an Amorsolo depicting village lasses,
golden sunsets and gurgling streams. Sansó needed
something else, something with more “edge.” He dared to
be different and his persistence paid off. In 1951
Sansó’s Sorcerer won first prize in the annual
art exhibit of the Art Association of the Philippines. A
few months later, Incubus, a watercolor piece of his,
won in another contest. These accomplishments should be
understood in the context that he was only in his early
20s at the time.
“Have
you seen The Sorcerer?” he asked while thumbing his way
through a book on his works by Alfredo Roces. “No, I
don’t I recall,” I replied without embarrassment. He
pointed to a full-page photo of his work that showed a
half-naked old man grasping a cane with his two hands.
In the opposite page was Incubus. Its subject took the
form of a beggar with his right hand raised, asking for
alms, and the left, clutching a tattered bayong.
Although possibly not in his consciousness at that time,
he dared to invert the ordering of the world. Both
The Sorcerer and Incubus could have easily
fallen under the category of social realism with the
titles Taong Grasa (Vagabond) and Limos
(Alms), respectively. By bestowing powerful titles to
the powerless, he successfully created dissonance that,
in turn, heightened his images’ ability to depress and
disturb.
Sansó’s
life in art continued to be directed by daring. After
his successes in Manila, he went to study in Rome
without knowing Italian. When he got bored with the
pedagogy of Rome, he “fled” to Paris without knowing
French. In Paris he enrolled at L’Ecole Nationale
Superieure des Beaux-Arts studying oil and fresco
painting. “It was daring because there was not much
demand for fresco painting. For that you needed walls!”
Afterward, Sansó went into print-making, specifically
etching, under Edouard Goerg. It was in etching where
Sansó truly learned about himself and his art. “It
suited my temperament. I would work on several plates at
one time.” This developed into a “method” which he
eventually applied to all other mediums, for instance,
working on 20 to 50 paintings at the same time.
Goerg
not only bequeathed Sansó with techniques in etching but
also facilitated his movement away from his “black
period.” “He asked me to do a flower,” Sansó said with a
mock grimace. “So I drew a flower and found out that
flowers can be as fleshy and as exciting as human forms.
From then on I never stopped doing flowers.” By calling
a teacher’s dare, Sansó found new ways of seeing and
expressing.
Whereas
“doing flowers” constituted his first steps away from
the “black period,” Sansó’s Brittany series trumpeted
his rebirth as an expressionist, a radiant expressionist
conjuring incredible images with color and light. In
Brittany, where the weather is fickle and land and sea
share an embattled existence of crashing waves, deep
undertows, and unpredictable flowing and ebbing of the
tides, Sansó’s anguish had turned into sublime
expression. He shared this journey of his soul and his
art with closest of friends, Yves le Dantec and his wife
Agnes. “I did not realize it until much later that
Brittany had always been with me. I look at old pictures
taken in Montalban…and there it was, the rocks and the
water.”
Sansó’
achievements in art in the last five decades have indeed
been wide ranging. Many believe that had he been a
Filipino citizen, he would have already been named
National Artist a long time ago. Alas, herein lays the
myopia of Philippine politics and governance. Whereas
other countries, such as France, would not hesitate
giving the honor to noncitizens, ours trip on a
technical criterion of citizenship. Well, it is our
collective loss and not his.
Sansó’s
latest dare is his return to the Philippines. He has
sold his studio in Paris and has set himself up in his
family’s house in Bel-Air, Makati. This must be an
ultimate dare, for while many Filipinos prefer to leave
the country for good, Sansó has decided—after 52 years
or so of shuttling between Europa and Felipinas—to
return. For good. Bienvenido maestro!
***The
SM Foundation will be launching a DVD on Juvenal Sansó,
titled By the Book, on September 25, 6 pm, at SMX
Convention Center, Mall of Asia Complex. The video aims
to encourage art appreciation among young people and the
launching will include the initial distribution of the
material to the finalists of the Shell Art Competition.
The video was produced by SM Foundation in line with its
education advocacy, which includes a college scholarship
program and the building of schoolhouses all over the
country. For inquiries: 831-8000.
Sansó’s Ode to Brittany exhibit is ongoing until October
3 at the Alliance Total Gallery, Alliance Française de
Manille. (895-7585), with a lecture by the artist on
October 3, 7 pm, at Alliance Ondeo Auditorium. |
