Habagat defeated Buhawi in a clash of strength to win the affection of Amihan. This is just one of the many myths that encourages me to work on a series of sketches I called “Unos”. From what I’ve heard, the clash of Habagat and Buhawi created strong winds and heavy rain. After Habagat won, Amihan happily went with him to the Himpapawiran. 

In “Unos”, I focused on the romantic part of the story. Using pen and ink on canvas, I tried to imitate the chaotic and easy movement of the weather that morphed into the shape of two people locked in an embrace. The red acrylic in the background implies sensual feelings. One of the important part of the process in making the series of sketches is the writing of a poem.

A poem is a visual experience expressed through language. Before I begin with the visual studies, I would write a poem first and in this instance, I wrote a poem which I titled “Unos” also. I just like the word for the title as it also sounds like “eros”, which has become the theme of the series.

storm

the sky burst out laughing
the sea burst out laughing

the sky licked
the sea licked

the sky twisted backward 
the sea twisted backward

the sky dived below
the sea dived below

the sky sank
the sea sank 

the sky went down
the sea went down

the sky stiffened
the sea stiffened

the sky trembled
the sea trembled

the sky shut its eyes
the sea shut its eyes

the sky beamed with a smile
the sea beamed with a smile

This poem was my guide in going through the first and succeeding works up to the time I charged towards the end of the series. It also helped me not to fall off course while I assess the whole concept and the details. I listen to it closely to make sense of the shade and shape of the poem’s murmurings. Creating a work of art, whether a poem or a drawing, is akin to an immense disorientation, where one needs to look at all perspective to find the way to various possibilities and truths. But, it’s also worth to remember, that there are times when straying off course results to a fascinating journey and discovery of an unintended destination.

There isn’t just a way to hold off the anxiety when we encounter things and experiences that we don’t often see or those that are new to our senses. Mystery often teases. It often makes fun. We tend to get anxious thinking if it would do us good or not, but oftentimes, it widens our imagination for us to create a new world. This is what our folklores impart to us, such as the story of Habagat, Amihan and Buhawi. 

At a younger age, I was fascinated by the stories told by my old folks. Stories about enchanted beings, monsters, wakwak, sigbin and others. According to my grandfather, he was once adored and spirited away by an enchanted woman in his youth. He was fed with a purple-colored food but didn’t eat it because, if he did, he wouldn’t have found his way home again. He yelled, “Salt!” and the enchanted woman got mad. The palace where he was moments before, suddenly turned into a huge rubber tree where he found himself hanging. With its huge size and towering height, he had a difficult time getting down from the rubber tree. Though I had doubts if I myself did encounter the beings from their story or not, they were so real in my imagination and memory. As real as the goosebumps I get on my arms and nape when evening descends. As real as the howling of the dogs when the moon is full. As real as the solitude of the mango orchard in the hills of Mahayahay in Maasin at a time when it wasn’t a city yet. It’s as real as my melancholy for those years when I was younger and we huddle around a gas lamp when the lights were off. I was with my siblings, my father, my mother, my grandfather and my grandmother. We listened to their stories until we fall asleep and the stories crossed over to our dreams. The stories of the old folks are so much like seeds sowed in my mind where they unexpectedly flourish together with the ripening of my own consciousness. It has taken roots, branched off and grew fruits of love for our history, culture and humanity. Though we won’t find it in books, it has never been erased from the pages of my memory. The images are so clear in my imagination even if I haven’t actually seen them. In fact, it has a profound influence in my pursuit as a visual artist and a writer. One can see it through in my illustrations, poems and short stories.

Our folklores are so much like mirrors, reflecting the culture, history and character of a community and the people living in it. There are folklores that amuses as in the stories of Juan Pusong, depicting the mocking and mischievous nature of the people living in the Province of Cebu. In the same manner that the story of Habagat, Amihan and Buhawi personifies the calamities that frequently hit our country. Every year, not less than twenty typhoons batter the Philippines. If we come to think about it, in simple terms, the number of people who lost their lives in calamities are just way too many to count. Just like what happened in Leyte when it was thrashed by typhoon Yolanda, the strongest typhoon in the history of the Philippines that left us with a deep trauma and inconsolable grief. There were even stories of sightings of Maria Cacao, at that time, allowing souls to board her ship. Amidst a great tragedy, it’s human nature for people to take refuge in an alternate reality where they can leave their sorrow. To ease my anxiety, I just imagine that the sky and the sea are flirting with each other, or that it’s just an effect of the brawl between Habagat and Buhawi. But what always comes to mind is that this is now the consequence of the people’s abusive behavior towards nature.

There are a lot of events, tragedies and failures that we don’t have power over. That’s why there are a lot of writers and illustrators whose usual themes in their respective work revolves around love, success and retribution. In Disney, stories often ends in “and they lived happily ever after”. But in Guillermo Del Toro’s film, Pans Labyrinth, the theme is much more complicated. It is about a tragedy befalling a young girl and her success in outlasting the evils of war through her imagination of a folklore. The folklore gave her the strength and grit to keep her humanity intact. It also gave her the courage to save her younger sibling even if it also puts her own life at risk. 

Going back to Habagat, Buhawi and Amihan. The ferocity of natural phenomenon, like typhoons, are calamities that we can’t hold off. It brings us terror and grief. The personification of Habagat, Buhawi and Amihan provides us a chance to commune with nature. They possess human images that we can love, fear or loathe. Their tale is a product of man’s creativity. The fight between Habagat and Buhawi for the affection of Amihan, resulting in fierce winds and rain, which, in my view, could claim numerous lives, is a mirror of our human nature.

It’s a mirror where we can reflect on the kind of relationship we have with nature. Perhaps, just like what we would like to happen in a story, Habagat and Amihan, are so much like the endings in Disney stories, “they lived happily ever after”, as well. While Buhawi, on the other hand, perhaps, after painfully failing to gain Amihan’s affection, lives by his lonesome in a disarrayed room, drunk on wine and writing a poem, or perhaps, splashing paint on a big canvas.