The Best Abstract Artist

But, of course, I could say whatever I want with my son.

If a picture paints a thousand words, then how many words would it take if it presents itself in abstract form? Artists the world over has a lot more to say than a politician or a stand up comedian combined, and with less saliva to waste, it wouldn’t be too hard to assume that a single painting could actually summon a multitudinous sea of meanings, and words as well, that may be too deep to fathom. And regardless of its being an abstract representation of a particular object, any understanding, whether it passes comprehension or not, is already an assessment of something worth noting, worth the time, which really is what art is all about, giving shape to the things around you even if it means formless at times.

Two summers ago, my son attended a summer art program at Light and Life Christian Learning Center at San Francisco, Agusan del Sur, and participated in their painting class for almost two months. The program also included ukulele and piano lessons, along with some math and reading sessions exclusively for elementary students; culminating eventually in a recital and an exhibit for visual artists, and showcasing what they have learned in a span of at least six weeks. It was the first time my son (Gavin) participated in an activity in a school setting which, at first, he seemed hesitant to even sit in with the group the moment he stepped into the room, but when the pencils and the crayons came out and the sketching went into full swing, he somehow loosened up and was eager to go back to school the following day. And since he was the youngest among the participants (still drinking his milk bottle during recess), he was given a light instruction and treatment also as to how he’s going to flesh out every activity in the class. He was, most of the time, given a carte blanche by his teacher every time a workshop takes place. And out of it he was able to sketch his way through with his own stroke that seemed odd and promising at the same time.

Child's clay: a bus, a snake, a ball, a story.

But, of course, I could say whatever I want with my son (my bragging rights). I just couldn’t hide my excitement though seeing him doing the things I love most when I was his age. Drawing was something of a connecting link between Superman and Astroboy at the time when I was still doing my alphabet, and to see him with all the paints and the brushes and the illustration boards on his table is pretty much like reliving a fantasy that has een set aside for so long but is now suddenly heightened with him doing the dirty work.

"... giving shape to the things around you even if it means formless at times."

And so since he was given a free reign of his potentially unlimited material, he did somehow invented ways to keep up with his more mature classmates. In fact, there were times when he was actually initiating the class as to how a particular assignment should be drawn, not necessarily in a straightforward manner, but more like giving an idea to his classmates who were more linear in their approach to the subject. 

Normally he would start the day by pulling out a bond paper from his folder and immediately push his pencil without possibly giving a thought, as I have observed, how his sketch will end, except that a blank bond paper is something to be “vandalized”, so to speak, simply by letting your hands do what your mind initially wants before it sinks into that consciousness. And with reckless abandon, he immediately set out to occupy, if possible, the whole space with lines and images that initially catches his attention, mostly things inside the classroom, and immersed himself in the thick of creating it. And the effect gives you some sort of pleasure knowing that out of this spontaneous display of sentiment towards a specific object, the makings of an abstract painting is not so much an intricate design to draw upon, in the same way that reciting the ABCs is not so difficult an assignment for those kindergartens to memorize, but in letting the groove of your hand follow your initial reaction.

For weeks I positioned myself in the background, letting him discover painting without putting any boundaries. And as I have said, his teacher was doing the same thing too, only that she would, from time to time, instruct him as to the real purpose of the activity. But knowing how he treats a blank bond paper at home, any instruction, whether casually given or formally introduced, would only defeat the purpose. The only formal activity he participated probably was when they (the painting class) would all pray before the workshop started, other than that it was all abstract personified, all poetry in motion. I was quite confident he could pull through and would finish the course more equipped than when he first attended the class, the workshop was more like restructuring of his already uneven approach to art, a take even De Kooning probably tried to emulate but failed miserably in the end. And so it was all hands on and explorative right from the get-go, so open was the setup that we would go home with some stains on our shirts and some smiles on our faces, knowing that he was able to pass another sketch to his now amused teacher and me enjoying every minute of his exhibit.

Exercising your abs-tract.

He grew up with a lot of abstractions around him. Growing up in an extended family, he was already accustomed, at a very young age, with that constant comings and goings of various relatives he barely knew. Intangibles in life also played a formative system in his impressionable mind in that before he reached the age of 5 he had already witnessed deaths in the family even adults around him find it hard to explain. This may be too far off as far as painting is concerned, but somehow this gives him a rather loose treatment when it comes to his perception on things, including art. And it was even heightened when I bought the Megasketcher, a toy enabling him to sketch with the aid of some quasi sand materials in a plastic board of which he could easily erase when he needed to. All these probably contributed to his now developing disdain of anything Amorsolo. And regardless of its discombobulating nature, as was the equally discombobulating experiences he had had with the family, it is still a discipline that has to do a myriad of conceptualization, instead of treating it as a mere form of lazy expression.

A session in Landscapes turned into a political commentary

But it was a good start. Although it would be safe to say that there’s still room for some improvement if all the parties involved would be willing to invest their time and money as the painting is still in the works. It would be a letdown nonetheless if we could only reason, or make an excuse out of it at the expense of being “abstract” simply because these are just kids, who are still learning the trade. I would flat out disagree with that. Young as they are, they already have some preconceived notion how certain things work, which might be in stark contrast to our own biases and cynicism at times. I discovered this during the course of their workshop when I would insist persistently to my kid that this is how it works, that this is the right thing to do, but every time I tried to push the cake on his plate he would immediately flush it onto the sink. The idea that a fish should turn yellow, that a snake (in their clay session) playing with a ball outside a bus would make a good story, that a still life should have a “very good” moniker on it and that landscapes should have the initials of the Department of Agrarian Reform (DAR) is something that doesn’t look well on us adults, but he did exhibit it without treating it as accidental. It was just all part of the plan.

Framing Andy Warhol.

And so from then on I began to see his room turning red. Matisse went into my mind. The experience enabled me to let loose the hordes of unspoken messages that I have been keeping since he began attending the workshop, the usual expectations of a parent. And slowly I began to embrace abstract art like that of my son: fun, restive and open. I was amazed, and ashamed of my prejudices, at how he treated the subject like it never happened, while I was so anxious outside his room waiting for his snack break. At least I could relax a bit, his workshop turned out to be some sort of validation of his first love, drawing. Although initially my expectations were so delusional that I even dreamed of making him the next Dali perhaps, or any other artist who have found their way to the Cultural Center, only to find out painfully later that it was just all part of the rebuilding process, still a working process, both on his drawing and his personality.

Shirt and strokes.

In the end, he was given the moniker of “The Best Abstract Artist” by his teacher, a Psychology graduate, and was more than capable of letting out the figurative veins of her students. I thank her for her continue understanding and ready patience in keeping up with my son’s uncanny respect of Picasso and Chagall. He was probably given that title because he not only painted abstract art on a seemingly endless bunch of possibilities on a clean bond paper, but he also displayed an abstract behavior of his subjects during the entire course, an uninhibited, devil-may-care take of the things around him, regardless of what his teacher, classmates and father might think of it.

If a picture could actually paint a thousand words by simply looking at an artist’s view, I’m sure even the most learned of the arts could not even give a specific label given the possibility of an artist’s unpredictable behavior and the many perceptions that goes with it. An abstract artist is not so much interested in churning out a complicated symbol or releasing an obscure figure from the dark, he’s much more interested in getting his attitude across intricate lines and inconsistent hues on that wide, free-wheeling canvass. It’s more like an attitude really than an abstract thing.

The Best Abstract Artist?

(See more of Gavin's 2010 Summer Art Workshop on Facebook)