Memory, medium, material: Ang Nabilin ni Al Provido

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By John Anthony S. Estolloso

If memory is a canvas, which images and figures would you paint on it?

Al Provido’s collection of new artworks currently on display at the Gawang Art Space of UPV’s Museum of Art and Cultural Heritage attempts to provide a visual peroration to the

query. Titled ‘Nabilin’, the exhibit is an exploration of the artist’s past, one which does not necessarily delve into specific details. Rather, the works offer iterations and artistic elements which, as the exhibit notes word it, ‘potentially transport viewers to another time and place… drawn upon the experiences of the artist at the different stages of his life.’

Nabilin connotes multiple understandings. It could refer to the remnants of things, of what was left after consumption or use. Or it could mean the state of being left behind, of staying without being forgotten – or at least, until things fade from memory. In whichever sense of the word, it implies the juxtaposition of what stays and remains, against the awareness of what leaves or moves away.

Understood through these varied definitions, Provido’s artworks reveal a remembering of both what left and what stayed: materiality is recognized through both interpreted presence and implied absence. Given the context of the artist – a stroke survivor who had to learn to paint with his rather inadept left hand – his artworks have become testaments of personal struggle on regaining what seems lost or compromised. On the canvas, the artist’s lingering memories and undimmed artistic flare are palpably juxtaposed with the transcendent overcoming of physical incapacities.

In a certain sense, the canvas as shared space for this juxtaposition becomes a sounding board of Provido’s encounters, both human and circumstantial. Shadows of human figures in sundry poses of intimacy or portraiture are perceivable yet they remain only as misty versions of themselves, devoid of identity or personality. An assortment of objects punctuates these figures, akin to annotations giving cryptic hints and suggestions to the viewer’s appreciation, if not essentially interpretation. As such, navigating through the artworks on display, the viewer participates in an examination of the psyche of one who has seen much, felt much, and suffered much.

Observably, there are common elements of style weaving through his artworks. Vibrant silhouettes tinctured in subtle yet sharp hues. Textured, fingerprint-like waves rippling up and down the canvases and cutting through the figures’ outlines. Overwhelmingly solid masses of color constituting alternatingly stark and bright backgrounds in contrast to the textured ridges and figures. The curious material ephemera dotting and embellishing the empty spaces of the canvas. Other than providing stylistic identity, the choice of elements piece together a pastiche revealing a belated albeit welcome artistic shift, one which saw a marked transition from Provido’s earlier abstract works.

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In a 2023 interview for Manila Bulletin, Al Provido shares the poignant and gloomy experience he had to undergo in his recovery from stroke. In the aftermath of his illness, he felt much hatred for the circumstances which engulfed him. It was art that proffered a way for him to extricate himself from his pathos and albeit the difficulties, he was able to mount an exhibit during that year.

Nearly two years have passed and now, Provido has the grit to look back and reminisce: ‘Nabilin’ is the experience bearing fruit. In the ripples of color, in the faceless figures, in the corrugated impasto, there is the persistence of memory, of “something that can be dismissed and left behind… [or] an irreplaceable remembrance of something when everything is gone, or of someone when everyone has left.”

(The writer is a teacher in one of the private schools in the city. The photos are from Mariela Angella Oladive and Shas Hobilla.)