26
May
2022

A Pathway Through the Woods

26 May 2022

26 May 2022

A Pathway Through the Woods
Monotype Print
acrylic on handmade paper

Sometimes we are plunged into darkness so that we may learn to seek and recognize what light truly is.

14
February
2022

The Last Photoshoot

14 February 2022

14 February 2022

The Last Photoshoot

Streets of Intramuros ©2020 Gerardo Jimenez Photography

        I went to Intramuros that Friday, March 6, 2020, to take reference photos for paintings I had planned on doing. The places I visited – Fort Santiago, The Manila Cathedral, San Agusrtin Church, Barbara’s Restaurant –  had a healthy number of visitors . I had to fall in line to get into Fort  Santiago. I suppose these numbers of visitors were more or less expected on a sunny March afternoon.  But there was a certain somber mood that permeated , probably caused by the steadily increasing reports of a virus outbreak in Wuhan China, and fears about it spreading further.

         Little did I know that the photos I took that day were to be the last ones before the world changed.  

Intramuros ©2020 Gerardo Jimenez Photography

          I could still walk wherever I wanted to.  I had no apprehensions about walking into the middle of people who were gathered together, as I searched for the best spots to take my photos.  I could still see the faces of people I met along the streets and open spaces. The idea of wearing face masks did not exist.   I leisurely walked along the streets of Escolta, Tomas Pinpin, and crossed Jones bridge. I even took the Pasig River ferry for the very  first time, on my way to meet up with my family.

Pasig River ©2020 Gerardo Jimenez Photography

          I had no idea that only days later , the whole country would  be put on lockdown. Schools , restaurants and  offices would be closed, public transportation would be suspended, and we all would be required to stay home, and allowed to go out only to buy basic necessities. The whole country, the world in fact, would be caught in a grip of fear, as news of infections, then hospitalizations, then deaths grabbed the  front pages of newspapers and the main pages of online news media.  Within two weeks of the lockdown, two of my own dear relatives were to perish from COVID. 

Manila Cathedral ©2020 Gerardo Jimenez Photography

         Not only  was the fear about our health and safety. What would happen to our work, our incomes? Will our children’s education be put on hold?  Will we continue to have food supplies?  When can we see our loved ones again?

          I did not know these things as I walked around Intramuros in search of angles of photos to take.  I was actually enjoying the afternoon,  when the afternoon sun still allowed cool gusts of wind, and provided light and shadow that I looked forward to interpreting on watercolor paper.  

Fort Santiago ©2020 Gerardo Jimenez Photography

            I was happy with the photos I took. The entrance wall of Fort Santiago was backlit by the afternoon sun, and cast a beautiful reflection on the strip of moat in fron t of it.  I liked how the Manila Cathedral peeked above the small buildings that lay between it and the Fort.  I was intrigued by the subtle lighting of the half of Barbara’s Restaurant that was to open for evening , as the service personnel prepared the tables for service in the relative darkness. Or were  the empty tables, the darkness, a portent of things to come? 

Barbara's Restaurant ©2020 Gerardo Jimenez Photography

           Today, almost two years since the pandemic, these places, and others ,  probably remain the same . The trees have probably grown larger, the shrubs thicker, although they have probably kept the same by maintenance work that has since resumed. Nothwithstanding the absence of the crowds of two years ago, the buildings have probably retained their old charm. Save for the imperceptible added patina of two years of weathering, brick, stone, concrete , even paint stay unchanged  .

            It is we who have changed.

My watercolor painting series on Intramuros

What Walls Cannot Contain
(Fort Santiago)

watercolor on paper
24 x 18 inches
2020

Private Collection

Preparing for Dinner Service (Barbara's)
An ode to the resilience and dedication of restaurants and their staff

watercolor on paper
21 x 29 inches
2020

Private Collection


Manila Cathedral
From Fort Santiago

watercolor on paper
14 x 21 inches
2020

Private Collection

9
January
2022

Roses in Solitude

(From the Online Exhibit Peering)

You many now be
On your own island
As your protection

But protection
is also isolation.
What protects you
From your isolation?
From the 
muddled darkness?

Perhaps it is
Remembering
With fierce
determination
Or quiet realization

You are precious
And beautiful
You are worthy
You are enough

As He lovingly
Made you
To always be

Then there really is
No isolation
But there is
Holy solitude

9 January 2022

Roses in Solitude

(From the Online Exhibit Peering)

You many now be
On your own island
As your protection

But protection
is also isolation.
What protects you
From your isolation?
From the 
muddled darkness?

Perhaps it is
Remembering
With fierce
determination
Or quiet realization

You are precious
And beautiful
You are worthy
You are enough

As He lovingly
Made you
To always be

Then there really is
No isolation
But there is
Holy solitude

9 January 2022

Roses in Solitude

(From the Online Exhibit Peering)

You many now be
On your own island
As your protection

But protection
is also isolation.
What protects you
From your isolation?
From the 
muddled darkness?

Perhaps it is
Remembering
With fierce
determination
Or quiet realization

You are precious
And beautiful
You are worthy
You are enough

As He lovingly
Made you
To always be

Then there really is
No isolation
But there is
Holy solitude

25
November
2021

Peering
to look keenly
to be just visible
to come into view

An Online Exhibit

25 November 2021

Peering
to look keenly
to be just visible
to come into view

An Online Exhibit

25 November 2021

Peering
to look keenly
to be just visible
to come into view

An Online Exhibit

7
October
2021

Transitions

watercolor paintings by
Gerardo Jimenez
at Aphro

For inquiries:
Aphro Gallery at 0919-990-8679
Aphro in Facebook
aphroliving at nstagram

The Aphro Gallery is located at
The Alley, Karrivin Plaza
2316 Chino Roces St.
Makati City.

7 October 2021

Transitions

watercolor paintings by
Gerardo Jimenez
at Aphro

For inquiries:
Aphro Gallery at 0919-990-8679
Aphro in Facebook
aphroliving at nstagram

The Aphro Gallery is located at
The Alley, Karrivin Plaza
2316 Chino Roces St.
Makati City.

7 October 2021

Transitions

watercolor paintings by
Gerardo Jimenez
at Aphro

For inquiries:
Aphro Gallery at 0919-990-8679
Aphro in Facebook
aphroliving at nstagram

The Aphro Gallery is located at
The Alley, Karrivin Plaza
2316 Chino Roces St.
Makati City.

8
August
2020

Ang Maging Parang Lata

By Gerardo Jimenez

Ang Maging Parang Lata
Gamit na
Patapon Na
Kinakalawang
Tila na Basura

To Be Like Used Cans

To be like used cans
Used
Thrown Discarded
Rusted
Trash

Ang mawalan  ng silbi
Gasgas na
Nangangamoy
Panay bangga
Matanda na

To become useless
Scratched
Foul
Dented
Old

Ngunit kahit latang laspag
Na mukhang wala nang mahihita
Ay maaring
Muling magkaroon
Ng bagong gamit

Yet even rusting cans
Seemingly utterly useless
May find
Renewed role
And mission

Baka pa maging bahay
Simulain
Tagapag-alaga 
Ng Pangako
Nang mayamang ani

Perhaps become home
Beginning
Refuge
Of promise
Of harvests and orchards

Kung tulad ng
Mga munting sibol
Na Supling na tanim
Na tila tumutungo
At sumasayaw

Sa Kumpas na Mahiwaga

If they be like
These small saplings
Seedlings
Bowing
Dancing

To a Mysterious Grace

8 August 2020

Ang Maging Parang Lata
To Be Like Used Cans

By Gerardo Jimenez

Ang Maging Parang Lata
To be like used cans
Gamit na
Used
Patapon Na
Thrown Discarded
Kinakalawang
Rusted
Tila na Basura
Thrash

Ang mawalan  ng silbi
To become useless
Gasgas na
Scratched
Nangangamoy
Foul
Panay bangga
Dented
Matanda na
Old

Ngunit kahit latang laspag
Yet even rusting cans
Na mukhang wala nang mahihita
Seemingly utterly useless
Ay maaring
May find
Muling magkaroon
Renewed role
Ng bagong gamit
And mission

Baka pa maging bahay
Perhaps become home
Simulain
Beginning
Tagapag-alaga
Refuge 
Ng Pangako
Of promise
Nang mayamang ani
Of harvests and orchards

Kung tulad ng
If they be like
Mga munting sibol
These small saplings
Na Supling na tanim
Seedlings
Na tila tumutungo
Bowing
At sumasayaw
And Dancing

Sa Kumpas na Mahiwaga
To a Mysterious Grace

8 August 2020

Ang Maging Parang Lata
To Be Like Used Cans

By Gerardo Jimenez

Ang Maging Parang Lata
To be like used cans
Gamit na
Used
Patapon Na
Thrown Discarded
Kinakalawang
Rusted
Tila na Basura
Thrash

Ang mawalan  ng silbi
To become useless
Gasgas na
Scratched
Nangangamoy
Foul
Panay bangga
Dented
Matanda na
Old

Ngunit kahit latang laspag
Yet even rusting cans
Na mukhang wala nang mahihita
Seemingly utterly useless
Ay maaring
May find
Muling magkaroon
Renewed role
Ng bagong gamit
And mission

Baka pa maging bahay
Perhaps become home
Simulain
Beginning
Tagapag-alaga
Refuge 
Ng Pangako
Of promise
Nang mayamang ani
Of harvests and orchards

Kung tulad ng
If they be like
Mga munting sibol
These small saplings
Na Supling na tanim
Seedlings
Na tila tumutungo
Bowing
At sumasayaw
And dancing

Sa Kumpas na Mahiwaga
To a Mysterious Grace

7
July
2020

Taal

By Gerardo Jimenez

2020.  This year will likely forever be marked  as the year our world and our lives suddenly changed.

In the place where we live, the disruption was great and stunning. And so unexpected. I painted this on my sketchbook the day before Taal erupted. I did this on what was a very ordinary day, of chores as well as some leisure time. I was having the oil of the car changed. While waiting , I noticed the acacias by the road, marveled at how the afternoon sun made it such a happy scene of green, even in an  ordinary industrial zone. Little did I know that in a little over a day, this picture of promising spring, would become a dessert of ash, mud, and that all these leaves on the majestic acacias would suddenly be gone.

Hiwaga 2, watercolor on paper, 12 x 16 inches

The very next day, shortly after lunch, news would could come that Taal was erupting. Still, we felt that we were far enough from the volcano, that the eruption would not be as strong as to affect us, even as the family was concerned for those living in the vicinity of the eruption. When we left home to bring the kids back to their school dorm, we could already see the mushroom-like cloud formed in the sky. It was gigantic. Yet I still thought we would not be affected. Maybe I was just in denial.

Acacias in Carmelray, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

Following the news in the car, I became increasingly alarmed and worried for my wife and children who had stayed at home. Communicating via phone, I learned that electricity had been cut. I raced home, scampering for masks where I could buy them, and worried over radio reports that the South Luzon Express way had become difficult to drive through. Rains made it worse, and dangerous, the announcers said. When I finally arrived home, I opened the door and immediately smelled this chemical odor from all around. The pitch darkness concealed for the moment the severity of the ashfall, but I could faintly see that one of our other vehicles, that was colored white, have had this seeming cake of black on its roof that also covered the glass.  But we were all safe, thank God.

Nuvali Lake after Taal, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

The next morning we went out and discovered that what had been green grass and trees the day before had turned into a deathly dark grey. There was mud everywhere. Branches were weighed down by ashfall  that the rains glued to the leaves. Shortly after, the weight and the sulfur from  ash would cause most of these leaves to be shed .

Hiwaga 3, watercolor on paper, 7 x 13 inches

What would follow would be weeks and even months of cleaning. We counted our blessings, that the eruption had spared us, and we were more concerned for the many more who were forced to evacuate their homes, and who had lost much much more. But still, this event took a toll on us. After a few days , we visited the farm that my wife  now managed, and discovered that practically all the crops had been destroyed, and that what had once been such a beautiful place had , overnight, turned into a surreal , grey mush. It would take about two months for the farm to somehow recover from this, in terms of having plants and produce to sell again. The costs to recover, and to help the farm-workers who lived near the farm, were substantial.

View from the Garage, watercolor on paper 7 x 13 inches

This was going to take some time.  

What somehow sustained me through this time, as we did the necessary work to clean up and recover, was painting how nature around us had been affected, and how it slowly renewed itself.

 

Hiwaga 1, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

When it became safe to bike around, I passed the usual places  where I biked.  I was repeatedly fascinated by the trees all around that had lost their leaves.  I thought that this was a rare moment, that I would not see these beautiful , interconnected branches, once the leaves grew back.

 I reflected on how crisis reveals how connected we are with with each other, how we came from one source.

Hiwaga 1, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

7 July 2020

Taal

By Gerardo Jimenez

Hiwaga 2, watercolor on paper, 12 x 16 inches

2020.  This year will likely forever be marked  as the year our world and our lives suddenly changed.

In the place where we live, the disruption was great and stunning. And so unexpected. I painted this on my sketchbook the day before Taal erupted. I did this on what was a very ordinary day, of chores as well as some leisure time. I was having the oil of the car changed. While waiting , I noticed the acacias by the road, marveled at how the afternoon sun made it such a happy scene of green, even in an  ordinary industrial zone. Little did I know that in a little over a day, this picture of promising spring, would become a dessert of ash, mud, and that all these leaves on the majestic acacias would suddenly be gone.

Acacias in Carmelray, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

The very next day, shortly after lunch, news would could come that Taal was erupting. Still, we felt that we were far enough from the volcano, that the eruption would not be as strong as to affect us, even as the family was concerned for those living in the vicinity of the eruption. When we left home to bring the kids back to their school dorm, we could already see the mushroom-like cloud formed in the sky. It was gigantic. Yet I still thought we would not be affected. Maybe I was just in denial.

Nuvali Lake after Taal, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

Following the news in the car, I became increasingly alarmed and worried for my wife and children who had stayed at home. Communicating via phone, I learned that electricity had been cut. I raced home, scampering for masks where I could buy them, and worried over radio reports that the South Luzon Express way had become difficult to drive through. Rains made it worse, and dangerous, the announcers said. When I finally arrived home, I opened the door and immediately smelled this chemical odor from all around. The pitch darkness concealed for the moment the severity of the ashfall, but I could faintly see that one of our other vehicles, that was colored white, have had this seeming cake of black on its roof that also covered the glass.  But we were all safe, thank God.

Hiwaga 3, watercolor on paper, 7 x 13 inches

The next morning we went out and discovered that what had been green grass and trees the day before had turned into a deathly dark grey. There was mud everywhere. Branches were weighed down by ashfall  that the rains glued to the leaves. Shortly after, the weight and the sulfur from  ash would cause most of these leaves to be shed .

View from the Garage, watercolor on paper 7 x 13 inches

What would follow would be weeks and even months of cleaning. We counted our blessings, that the eruption had spared us, and we were more concerned for the many more who were forced to evacuate their homes, and who had lost much much more. But still, this event took a toll on us. After a few days , we visited the farm that my wife  now managed, and discovered that practically all the crops had been destroyed, and that what had once been such a beautiful place had , overnight, turned into a surreal , grey mush. It would take about two months for the farm to somehow recover from this, in terms of having plants and produce to sell again. The costs to recover, and to help the farm-workers who lived near the farm, were substantial.

Hiwaga 1, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

This was going to take some time.

What somehow sustained me through this time, as we did the necessary work to clean up and recover, was painting how nature around us had been affected, and how it slowly renewed itself.

Hiwaga 1, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

When it became safe to bike around, I passed the usual places  where I biked.  I was repeatedly fascinated by the trees all around that had lost their leaves.  I thought that this was a rare moment, that I would not see these beautiful , interconnected branches, once the leaves grew back.

 I reflected on how crisis reveals how connected we are with with each other, how we came from one source.

7 July 2020

Hiwaga 2, watercolor on paper, 12 x 16 inches

Taal

By Gerardo Jimenez

2020.  This year will likely forever be marked  as the year our world and our lives suddenly changed.

In the place where we live, the disruption was great and stunning. And so unexpected. I painted this on my sketchbook the day before Taal erupted. I did this on what was a very ordinary day, of chores as well as some leisure time. I was having the oil of the car changed. While waiting , I noticed the acacias by the road, marveled at how the afternoon sun made it such a happy scene of green, even in an  ordinary industrial zone. Little did I know that in a little over a day, this picture of promising spring, would become a dessert of ash, mud, and that all these leaves on the majestic acacias would suddenly be gone.

Acacias in Carmelray, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

The very next day, shortly after lunch, news would could come that Taal was erupting. Still, we felt that we were far enough from the volcano, that the eruption would not be as strong as to affect us, even as the family was concerned for those living in the vicinity of the eruption. When we left home to bring the kids back to their school dorm, we could already see the mushroom-like cloud formed in the sky. It was gigantic. Yet I still thought we would not be affected. Maybe I was just in denial.

Nuvali Lake after Taal, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

Following the news in the car, I became increasingly alarmed and worried for my wife and children who had stayed at home. Communicating via phone, I learned that electricity had been cut. I raced home, scampering for masks where I could buy them, and worried over radio reports that the South Luzon Express way had become difficult to drive through. Rains made it worse, and dangerous, the announcers said. When I finally arrived home, I opened the door and immediately smelled this chemical odor from all around. The pitch darkness concealed for the moment the severity of the ashfall, but I could faintly see that one of our other vehicles, that was colored white, have had this seeming cake of black on its roof that also covered the glass.  But we were all safe, thank God.

Hiwaga 3, watercolor on paper, 7 x 13 inches

The next morning we went out and discovered that what had been green grass and trees the day before had turned into a deathly dark grey. There was mud everywhere. Branches were weighed down by ashfall  that the rains glued to the leaves. Shortly after, the weight and the sulfur from  ash would cause most of these leaves to be shed .

View from the Garage, watercolor on paper 7 x 13 inches

What would follow would be weeks and even months of cleaning. We counted our blessings, that the eruption had spared us, and we were more concerned for the many more who were forced to evacuate their homes, and who had lost much much more. But still, this event took a toll on us. After a few days , we visited the farm that my wife  now managed, and discovered that practically all the crops had been destroyed, and that what had once been such a beautiful place had , overnight, turned into a surreal , grey mush. It would take about two months for the farm to somehow recover from this, in terms of having plants and produce to sell again. The costs to recover, and to help the farm-workers who lived near the farm, were substantial.

Hiwaga 1, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

This was going to take some time. 

What somehow sustained me through this time, as we did the necessary work to clean up and recover, was painting how nature around us had been affected, and how it slowly renewed itself.

Hiwaga 1, watercolor on paper, 6.75 x 10 inches

When it became safe to bike around, I passed the usual places  where I biked.  I was repeatedly fascinated by the trees all around that had lost their leaves.  I thought that this was a rare moment, that I would not see these beautiful , interconnected branches, once the leaves grew back.

 I reflected on how crisis reveals how connected we are with with each other, how we came from one source.

10
Feb
2020

Fabriano In Acquarello 2020 

By Gerardo Jimenez

I will be participating in the Fabriano In Acquarello Exhibition to be held in the City of Fabriano, Italy this May 25 to 31, 2020.  

10 February 2020

Fabriano in Acquarello 2020

By Gerardo Jimenez

I will be participating in the Fabriano In Acquarello Exhibition to be held in the City of Fabriano, Italy this May 25 to 31, 2020.  

10 February 2020

Fabriano In Acquarello 2020

By Gerardo Jimenez

I will be participating in the Fabriano In Acquarello Exhibition to be held in the City of Fabriano, Italy this May 25 to 31, 2020.  

9
Nov
2019

At Home – Tablescapes

By Gerardo Jimenez

October 12 to Nov 6, 2019 at the Prism Gallery.

9 November 2019

At Home – Tablescapes 

By Gerardo Jimenez

October 12 to Nov 6, 2019 at the Prism Gallery.

9 November 2019

At Home – Tablescapes

By Gerardo Jimenez

October 12 to Nov 6, 2019 at the Prism Gallery.

18
October
2019

AT HOME”: Tablescapes by Gerardo Jimenez

By Cid Reyes

      “Setting a table asks soul to be present as we transform eating into dining. Plates and cups and silverware may be objects of family memory or simply beautiful tools of the table. A tablecloth, cloth napkins, candles, and even a trivet can change an ordinary meal into an experience that magically holds a family together, invites needed conversation, stokes friendship, and swells the soul with the ordinary pleasures it craves.” Thus wrote Thomas Moore, in his book The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life.

     In Gerardo Jimenez’s second solo exhibition titled Tablescapes at the Prism Gallery, the artist’s works indeed swell with the ordinary pleasures it craves. On view are his many watercolours depicting the various table presentations of Gejo – for that is the sobriquet that he is known by his friends, among which count some of the country’s celebrated homemakers, hosts, chefs, artists , writers and storytellers such as Margarita Fores, Happy Ongpauco, An Mercado Alcantara, Lizette Barreto Gueco, Aleth Ocampo, Maritess V. Joaquin, Joel
Binamira, Dedet dela Fuente, and Pio Goco of the Goco Family of Taal, Batangas. No stone – or rather, spoon or fork, or Sterling and Limoges china – has been left unturned, for such is the evident joy and delight that have been brought to bear on their arrangement. One imagines that in their creative hands even a banana leaf serving as a plate can be just as aesthetically satisfying. The thrills of the eyes and the tastebuds fairly match each other, a balancing act of whimsy and discipline. The renowned writer Gilda Cordero-Fernando was known to have a penchant for the unmatched tableware, but such is her elan and insouciance that everything she does as a hostess is marked by confidence, humor, and flourish, and therefore, stylish.

Nourishment and Delectation

     Here, indeed, arranged on a table, are the pleasures of living and the conviviality of friendship. From one artistry to another, we behold a visual and vicariously partake of these sumptuous still lifes, celebrating images that are evocative of nourishment and delectation – not only for the eyes, the body, but also for the soul. For certainly, we eat not only with our mouths – but with our eyes. A well-laid out table, orchestrated with symmetry and colors and the contrasting textures of glasses and goblets, plates and cutlery, and plain or patterned tablecloth, cannot but whet one’s appetite, bracing us for the experience ahead.

Instagram-able?

     There is a word that is often bandied about: “Instagram-able.”  Being current and “in,” it sounds rather chi-chi, though one laments, indeed cringes at the suggestion that the image at hand, pretty and charming it may be, had been wrought merely and conveniently for aesthetic satiety, only to be disposed of as speedily and greedily as one had clicked the cell phone button.

     So: are Gejo’s watercolors “Instagram-able”? Perish the thought.  One rather relishes the thought that these watercolours were meant to be savored slowly, the better to sustain their spirit of enchantment. Those of us – as if there were any exceptions – who have, at one time or another, gone to, and eaten at a fast-food joint, would be in a better mood and disposition to appreciate Gejo’s works. For the human spirit, too, can be starved.

Transparency and Limpidity

     Watercolor in fact is the ideal medium for this experience, as the medium has the unique qualities of transparency and limpidity not granted oils, or even that other water-based medium, acrylic. Thus the medium can evoke memories and remembrances, an intimacy with the moment, and can thus lift us from the physical place of a dining room into more ethereal regions. Thus, whether the tablescape is situated in some elegant dining room in a Makati mansion or a premium condo, or in an ancient bahay na bato in the province, a common attribute pervades the scene: an intensification of awareness of time, a solacing silence before the arrival of guests, and a sensation of a wondrous time coming ahead with friends. In contrast, one thinks of many French Impressionist painters, notably Bonnard, whose tablescapes depict the scene after the departure of the guests, with the table in domestic disarray. While that may have its own unpretentious charm, one rather favors Gejo’s artistic ritual preparation, an act that suggests the gentrification of the spirit.

Subtlety of Colors

      It is a commonplace to say that colors can by turns convey and alter specific moods. These tablescapes are no exception. These were generally in delicate pastel hues – colors that are comfortable in their genial interiority, not seeking attention the way hot primary colors do shying away from turbulent and restless brushstrokes. In these works, it is the overall quiet ambience that is paramount, not centered on an artist’s exhibitionist technical skills, and with no anxious effort to solicit applause. Gejo realizes that the quality or temper of an artist’s brushstrokes should be attuned, not incongruent, with the purpose of the painting: a reflection of the Good Life, a celebration of friendship.

     As the French cookery writer Eduard de Pomiane exalted a lunch that he has prepared for his friends:
     And now there is a succession of joys:
      The eggs with a glass of cider – just like velvet.
      The roast with its gravy, and the mushrooms that I warmed whilst I was dishing up the roast – a rustic cooking with a primituive freshness.
With this, a glass of Burgundy.
     The peas follow, soothingly bland.
      The cheese…The strawberries and cream…The coffee…A thimbleful of plum brandy…
     Contentment…The joy of living and of loving one’s friends.
     Or: as Gerard “Gejo” Jimenez, inviting us to his feast of watercolors, might salute us: Bon Appetit!

***************************************

Cid Reyes is the author of choice of National Artists Arturo Luz, BenCab, J. Elizalde, Navarro, and Napoleon V. Abueva. A prolific critic, he has authored over 40 art books and numerous art reviews and exhibition notes. He wrote the landmark book of interviews, “Conversations on Philippine Art.” Reyes received a “Best in Art Criticism Award” from the Art Association of the Philippines (AAP)

Click on any image to enlarge.

18 October 2019

AT HOME”: Tablescapes by Gerardo Jimenez

By Cid Reyes

      “Setting a table asks soul to be present as we transform eating into dining. Plates and cups and silverware may be objects of family memory or simply beautiful tools of the table. A tablecloth, cloth napkins, candles, and even a trivet can change an ordinary meal into an experience that magically holds a family together, invites needed conversation, stokes friendship, and swells the soul with the ordinary pleasures it craves.” Thus wrote Thomas Moore, in his book The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life.

     In Gerardo Jimenez’s second solo exhibition titled Tablescapes at the Prism Gallery, the artist’s works indeed swell with the ordinary pleasures it craves. On view are his many watercolours depicting the various table presentations of Gejo – for that is the sobriquet that he is known by his friends, among which count some of the country’s celebrated homemakers, hosts, chefs, artists , writers and storytellers such as Margarita Fores, Happy Ongpauco, An Mercado Alcantara, Lizette Barreto Gueco, Aleth Ocampo, Maritess V. Joaquin, Joel Binamira, Dedet dela Fuente, and Pio Goco of the Goco Family of Taal, Batangas. No stone – or rather, spoon or fork, or Sterling and Limoges china – has been left unturned, for such is the evident joy and delight that have been brought to bear on their arrangement. One imagines that in their creative hands even a banana leaf serving as a plate can be just as aesthetically satisfying. The thrills of the eyes and the tastebuds fairly match each other, a balancing act of whimsy and discipline. The renowned writer Gilda Cordero-Fernando was known to have a penchant for the unmatched tableware, but such is her elan and insouciance that everything she does as a hostess is marked by confidence, humor, and flourish, and therefore, stylish.

Nourishment and Delectation

     Here, indeed, arranged on a table, are the pleasures of living and the conviviality of friendship. From one artistry to another, we behold a visual and vicariously partake of these sumptuous still lifes, celebrating images that are evocative of nourishment and delectation – not only for the eyes, the body, but also for the soul. For certainly, we eat not only with our mouths – but with our eyes. A well-laid out table, orchestrated with symmetry and colors and the contrasting textures of glasses and goblets, plates and cutlery, and plain or patterned tablecloth, cannot but whet one’s appetite, bracing us for the experience ahead.

Instagram-able?

     There is a word that is often bandied about: “Instagram-able.”  Being current and “in,” it sounds rather chi-chi, though one laments, indeed cringes at the suggestion that the image at hand, pretty and charming it may be, had been wrought merely and conveniently for aesthetic satiety, only to be disposed of as speedily and greedily as one had clicked the cell phone button.

     So: are Gejo’s watercolors “Instagram-able”? Perish the thought.  One rather relishes the thought that these watercolours were meant to be savored slowly, the better to sustain their spirit of enchantment. Those of us – as if there were any exceptions – who have, at one time or another, gone to, and eaten at a fast-food joint, would be in a better mood and disposition to appreciate Gejo’s works. For the human spirit, too, can be starved.

Transparency and Limpidity

     Watercolor in fact is the ideal medium for this experience, as the medium has the unique qualities of transparency and limpidity not granted oils, or even that other water-based medium, acrylic. Thus the medium can evoke memories and remembrances, an intimacy with the moment, and can thus lift us from the physical place of a dining room into more ethereal regions. Thus, whether the tablescape is situated in some elegant dining room in a Makati mansion or a premium condo, or in an ancient bahay na bato in the province, a common attribute pervades the scene: an intensification of awareness of time, a solacing silence before the arrival of guests, and a sensation of a wondrous time coming ahead with friends. In contrast, one thinks of many French Impressionist painters, notably Bonnard, whose tablescapes depict the scene after the departure of the guests, with the table in domestic disarray. While that may have its own unpretentious charm, one rather favors Gejo’s artistic ritual preparation, an act that suggests the gentrification of the spirit.

Subtlety of Colors

      It is a commonplace to say that colors can by turns convey and alter specific moods. These tablescapes are no exception. These were generally in delicate pastel hues – colors that are comfortable in their genial interiority, not seeking attention the way hot primary colors do shying away from turbulent and restless brushstrokes. In these works, it is the overall quiet ambience that is paramount, not centered on an artist’s exhibitionist technical skills, and with no anxious effort to solicit applause. Gejo realizes that the quality or temper of an artist’s brushstrokes should be attuned, not incongruent, with the purpose of the painting: a reflection of the Good Life, a celebration of friendship.

     As the French cookery writer Eduard de Pomiane exalted a lunch that he has prepared for his friends:

     And now there is a succession of joys:
      The eggs with a glass of cider – just like velvet.
      The roast with its gravy, and the mushrooms that I warmed whilst I was dishing up the roast – a rustic cooking with a primituive freshness.
With this, a glass of Burgundy.
     The peas follow, soothingly bland.
      The cheese…The strawberries and cream…The coffee…A thimbleful of plum brandy…
     Contentment…The joy of living and of loving one’s friends.
     Or: as Gerard “Gejo” Jimenez, inviting us to his feast of watercolors, might salute us: Bon Appetit!

**************************

Cid Reyes is the author of choice of National Artists Arturo Luz, BenCab, J. Elizalde, Navarro, and Napoleon V. Abueva. A prolific critic, he has authored over 40 art books and numerous art reviews and exhibition notes. He wrote the landmark book of interviews, “Conversations on Philippine Art.” Reyes received a “Best in Art Criticism Award” from the Art Association of the Philippines (AAP)

25
June
2019

By Gerardo Jimenez

Panaderyang May Hardin – a pencil and charcoal sketch.

When I brought the family van to a shop along Taft Avenue for minor repairs  recently,  I was happily surprised to spot this bakery across the road.  Aside from having a place I could buy food from while waiting for my vehicle, I saw that the panaderya kept most of its open area as a garden.   

I found it unbelievable that there was still a patch of land kept as a lush garden along a street as busy as Taft Avenue.  The owners could have made more money using the space for something else: an extension of the bakery, a high rise condominium, or as a row of commercial spaces.  Real estate prices in this area must make this lot worth quite a fortune already yet the owners chose to grow trees and shrubs beside their bakery.  The lot really stood out for me as it provided a refreshing break from the almost endless array of greasy concrete walls, rusting roofs, unkept driveways, and trash everywhere that made the street for the most part an eyesore.  The different shades of green from an assortment of leaves under the sun or in the shade just made the wait so much more bearable for me.  Magenta bougainvillea flowers glistening against their dark green background were too irresistible not to draw that hot humid afternoon. 

I usually find myself drawn to the most ordinary of objects or scenes when I search for subjects to paint.  The bakery tucked in between commercial buildings may at first glance seem ordinary but as it continues to exist in the midst of dirty concrete, smog, the rush of buses, jeeps, other vehicles, and pedestrians too busy to notice, the juxtaposition creates a visual oasis for tired eyes and soul.

25 June 2019

By Gerardo Jimenez

Panaderyang May Hardin – a pencil and charcoal sketch.

When I brought the family van to a shop along Taft Avenue for minor repairs  recently,  I was happily surprised to spot this bakery across the road.  Aside from having a place I could buy food from while waiting for my vehicle, I saw that the panaderya kept most of its open area as a garden.   

I found it unbelievable that there was still a patch of land kept as a lush garden along a street as busy as Taft Avenue.  The owners could have made more money using the space for something else: an extension of the bakery, a high rise condominium, or as a row of commercial spaces.  Real estate prices in this area must make this lot worth quite a fortune already yet the owners chose to grow trees and shrubs beside their bakery.  The lot really stood out for me as it provided a refreshing break from the almost endless array of greasy concrete walls, rusting roofs, unkept driveways, and trash everywhere that made the street for the most part an eyesore.  The different shades of green from an assortment of leaves under the sun or in the shade just made the wait so much more bearable for me.  Magenta bougainvillea flowers glistening against their dark green background were too irresistible not to draw that hot humid afternoon. 

I usually find myself drawn to the most ordinary of objects or scenes when I search for subjects to paint.  The bakery tucked in between commercial buildings may at first glance seem ordinary but as it continues to exist in the midst of dirty concrete, smog, the rush of buses, jeeps, other vehicles, and pedestrians too busy to notice, the juxtaposition creates a visual oasis for tired eyes and soul.

18
May
2019

By Gerardo Jimenez

18 May 2019

By Gerardo Jimenez

Summer is almost over. So will singkamas season be, as well.

Summer is almost over. So will singkamas season be, as well.

Artwork Links

Singkamas, watercolor on paper
Singkamas, pencil on paper

27
Apr
2019

By Gerardo Jimenez

27 April 2019

By Gerardo Jimenez

On the Spur of the Moment.  On impulse.  Spontaneous.  Without planning or premeditation.

It was certainly on the spur of the moment that I chose to paint this seemingly ordinary garden pond.  I bought it many years ago for the house we used to rent. The kids were very young then.  I also bought a small motor pump to drive water to the taller structure and recreate a mini waterfall.  The kids loved the small koi fish I put in the concrete tub and would stare at the brightly colored fish for almost the whole afternoon.  They enjoyed feeding the fish and watching them move  around the water plants.

On the Spur of the Moment.  On impulse.  Spontaneous.  Without planning or premeditation.

It was certainly on the spur of the moment that I chose to paint this seemingly ordinary garden pond.  I bought it many years ago for the house we used to rent. The kids were very young then.  I also bought a small motor pump to drive water to the taller structure and recreate a mini waterfall.  The kids loved the small koi fish I put in the concrete tub and would stare at the brightly colored fish for almost the whole afternoon.  They enjoyed feeding the fish and watching them move  around the water plants.

Eventually, I had to give up buying koi fish because of the stray cats that kept preying on them.  When we moved to our new home, I had this pocket pond mounted at our backyard and filled it with several kinds of water plants.

Eventually, I had to give up buying koi fish because of the stray cats that kept preying on them.  When we moved to our new home, I had this pocket pond mounted at our backyard and filled it with several kinds of water plants.

It was probably this memory of my children and their innocent child-like wonder with the koi and the mini waterfall that moved me to paint this subject at the beginning of the Holy Week break. 

I first made a monochromatic sketch using dip pen and brushes on Japanese ink.  I liked how the big round leaves of the water plant with their curving veins glistened against the water that reflected the dark background.

It was probably this memory of my children and their innocent child-like wonder with the koi and the mini waterfall that moved me to paint this subject at the beginning of the Holy Week break.  

I first made a monochromatic sketch using a dip pen and brushes on Japanese ink.  I liked how the big round leaves of the water plant with their curving veins glistened against the water that reflected the dark background.

Not content with the ink sketch, I painted a watercolor of the same subject the next morning.  I was painting the plants and the concrete structure the same way I had tackled the dip pen, brush and Japanese ink sketch until later in the morning, the near noon light hit the taller basin and cast strong shadows of leaves on it.  This caught my attention enough to change the course of the painting.  I felt the impulse to make these shadows and this portion of the painting the focal point. The pleasant surprises of plein air painting!

Not content with the ink sketch, I painted a watercolor of the same subject the next morning.  

I was painting the plants and the concrete structure the same way I had tackled the dip pen, brush and Japanese ink sketch until later in the morning the near noon light hit the taller basin and cast strong shadows of some leaves on it. This caught my attention enough to change the course of the painting.  I felt the impulse to make these shadows and this portion of the painting the focal point. The pleasant surprises of plein air painting!

Whether I am preparing for an exhibit, working on a series of paintings, or doing commissioned work, I will make sure to leave enough time and space for paintings done at the spur of the moment.  There is a special joy in that random, spontaneous, playful impulse to paint anything that suddenly captures my attention.  In this painting, it is recalling the joyful memory of my children in their childhood innocence and their sense of wonder.

Whether I am preparing for an exhibit, working on a series of paintings, or doing commissioned work, I will make sure to leave enough time and space for paintings done at the spur of the moment.  There is a special joy in that random, spontaneous, playful impulse to paint anything that suddenly captures my attention.  In this painting, it is recalling the joyful memory of my children in their childhood innocence and their sense of wonder.

Artwork Links

Garden Pond, Pen and Ink
Garden Pond, watercolor