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Prieto, Melissa Louise M./ 2018-01684

Arts 1 WFW-2
26 March 2019

Amorsolo— the name almost naturally drifts from our lips when asked to identify a
Filipino artist. Fernando Amorsolo was not only a highly popular artist from his time up to this
date; he was also one of the most, if not the most beloved artist in Philippine history.
Recognized as the first National Artist of the Philippines, his works continue to be widely
admired by not only budding artists but also by the general public.

Indeed, Amorsolo is the quintessential Filipino artist known for making “Filipino” art. In
that same breath, he is also dubbed as the “painter of the American period” in recognition of his
popularity among Americans and other expatriate residents in the Philippines (Capistrano-Baker
250). This can easily be taken as two separate titles given to a tremendously skilled artist. Yet
the parallel is too appealing to simply overlook and dismiss. It leads one to ponder how the two
can co-exist, or if they even exist in the same breadth.

In this endeavor, questioning is in order. To what extent did his exposure to American
culture influence his conception of his artworks? If there was indeed an influence, could his art
still be called “Filipino?” What is “Filipino art”, anyway? Is there a clear-cut definition of such,
or is it simply arrogant and deluded to think that such a thing exists? I seek to ponder upon this,
along with other related probing queries, in this paper and upon the backdrop of one of
Amorsolo’s artworks, Fishing Scene (1942).

Before going down this lane, it is important to trace the art style Fernando Amorsolo
possessed, and in fact championed. Fernando Amorsolo was the champion of conservative art.
Conservative art emerged as deeply rooted still in the academic tradition of art. There remains a
primacy of what is considered beautiful, springing from the European salon and tailored
according to the Western aesthetics.

In Fishing Scene, it can be observed that Amorsolo had used contrapposto. The two focal
standing figures in the painting were positioned not entirely forward, leaning slightly on one
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foot. They form a somewhat S shape, seen to exude grace. In the same respect, other qualities
exhibited by art following Renaissance style can be spotted in Amorsolo’s paintings. There is the
precedence of beauty and the adherence to the principle of balance.

During Amorsolo’s period, art in the Philippines was understood to be the idyllic, rural
scenes that are consistently prominent in his works. Whether these are farmers or fishers
beaming with contentment or maidens exuding beauty, perhaps a combination of the two, these
works were seen to epitomize everything “Filipino.” Even now, these works continue to be the
foremost examples of what classifies as Filipino art in foreign reference books (Arndt 6).

Yet these so-called “Filipino” idyllic landscapes and genres were the result of American
preference. As they took on the role of art patrons when they colonized the Philippines, their
penchants dictated the scores of artworks that were created (Guillermo 24). Is it not ironic then
that the institutionalized image of the Filipino situated in the background of tropic paradise was
also catering to the tastes of colonizers?

Perhaps a closer look into the painting is needed. Context aside, there is much to be said
about the basic elements that compose the work. Take movement. Guillermo cites that
movement in works of art, implied or actual, parallels human experiences of movement (7).
While the movement exhibited by the two focal human figures in the painting is not entirely
outlandish or absurd, it is very much unnatural. Furthermore, taking into account the relative
weight of the fishes amassed on the net in terms of the sense of their composition, carrying it
with just one hand does not seem practical, at the very least, and at most, even humanly feasible.

To preface, this is not mere nitpicking in an absurd attempt to attack Amorsolo’s skills
for the sake of calling it criticism. As a matter of fact, I do not contest in any way that Fernando
Amorsolo’s works are beautiful. They are indeed undeniably pretty, as what you would expect to
see on postcards that invite you to go and wander off to the place yourself. “Postcard pretty”, if
you will. However, the very fact that it painted a remarkably charming picture of fisherfolk is
precisely what makes it problematic. The lack of dirt, sweat, and the smallest hints of exhaustion
are not only unrealistic; it pushes a narrative purged of proletariat realities.

Amorsolo’s landscapes are superimposed with a “patina of mirth, idyll, naïvetés, and
abundance." (Ardivilla 86). Emitting an almost blinding vitality, the festive colors eliminate any
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trace of struggle and suffering and instead were replaced with tales of glee and satisfaction.
These are more obvious in Amorsolo’s agrarian landscapes featuring exultant farmers, but
Fishing Scene is by no means exempt from this. The poised postures of the fisherfolk, the highly
flattering angles, the clean, unwrinkled clothing; all of these are a testament to the
romanticization and idealization of Philippine life, all the while unwittingly ignoring the social
realities that come with it.

There is much danger in having works of art as disguised fantasies. To put this in
perspective, let us again note that Fernando Amorsolo was the first Filipino National Artist. It
was during the Marcos regime that he was declared as such. The Marcoses knew the profound
importance of images, and for years they have used construction and curation of images to serve
their political agenda and tighten their grip on power.

Amorsolo, intentionally or not, had created a vibrant Philippine past. Never mind that it is
a mere fantasy; that did not stop the Marcoses to view his works as instrumental in fueling, and
frankly tricking, the public to yearn for the “new society” that mirrors the same hope and
plethora (Ardivilla 86). Up to this date, the common practice of orchestrating images that place
prominent individuals high up on the pedestal continues to persist. This is not to paint Amorsolo
as a conniving co-conspirator enlisted by the regime to push the false tale of a better future only
achieved through the wave of Marcos’s bloodstained hand. Rather, this is where context comes
in.

I cannot know for sure what Amorsolo’s intentions were. It is impossible for me to
ascertain whether he did it willingly, and fully aware of the consequences. I admittedly do not
know enough to vilify Amorsolo as a staunch supporter of the administration, or excuse his
actions as product of coercion. However, I personally hold him accountable, as I do with the
artists of today. Art is not exempt from politics. I vehemently condemn all artists who have
actively and consciously aided in advancing the goals of the man who betrayed the very country
he swore to serve, be it Marcos and/or Duterte. Such an act simply cannot be dismissed as simply
doing one’s job. It is a perpetual obligation to be critical and to note the interests of the nation; it
is a duty to oppose, rather than reinforce, the status quo.

It would be an ill practice on my part, however, if I deliberately ignore the louder claims
of Amorsolo’s deep nationalism. There are actually a multitude of claims that despite the foreign
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patronage, Amorsolo was actually influential in conceptualizing the Philippine national identity.
It is argued that it is exactly the pristine, rural countryside celebrated in his paintings that made
his art truly and painstakingly “Filipino,” seen in counterpoint to the Westernized urban capital
of Manila. According to several claims, Amorsolo had successfully resisted the American
colonial gaze. He is revered not only as a significant figure in the development of Philippine—
“Filipino” art even, but also for his role in forming the Filipino notions of self. This very
significant contribution is articulated in Capistrano-Baker’s assessment of his works:

His idyllic country scenes, beautiful maidens, and gaily dressed peasants planting or
harvesting rice distilled an imagined sense of nationality in counterpoint to American
hegemony— creating an idealized image of the “true” Filipino that persists and continues
to be invoked today (251).
This begs the last hanging question: what is “Filipino” art, exactly? The truth of the
matter is that any attempt of an answer that I could muster would simply echo my elitist notions
of what I think it should be. I cannot definitively do away with Amorsolo’s nationalism. To do so
would be to assume that there is a straightforward definition for nationalism. The concepts of
nation, nationality, and nationalism had always been difficult to define. Too often we have used
these words as “hurrah” terms, yet we fail to encapsulate what they truly denote. Even Hugh
Seton-Watson (5), author of multiple comprehensive English-language text on nationalism, had
stated: “Thus I am driven to the conclusion that no ‘scientific definition’ of the nation can be
devised; yet the phenomenon has existed and exists.” (cited in Anderson 123)

I would be bold, however, to urge that we remain informed and critical in examining
works of art. Amorsolo’s Fishing Scene warrants a thorough analysis, as do his other paintings,
as do the works of others. Challenging the norm, the canon, should be a continuous endeavor.
Art plays a fundamental role in building a nation, and despite the muddled description of what
that entails, I daresay that the nation is not yet built. Nor will it ever be. I view nation-building as
a process with no end. To quote Mojares, we are nation haunted by and in search of a lost and
unquiet soul because of shock, seduction, and sin (297). May we allow art to walk beside us and
guide us in that search.