A redemption by stories

“She has spunk, sass and innate humor in her. She’s one person that stuck in my mind for being unapologetic of who and what she was, and I celebrate her through this image. And yes, I wanted them to face each other in the exhibit space— two faces of defiance, two faces of inner beauty.”

The small gallery looks like a big storybook from a distance, but the human figures—all rotund—dominate most of the frames. Bathed in vivid colors, they are readily discernible.

The faces in the paintings in the exhibit “Reyna Elena, Libertad and other Stories” look cherubic, almost beatific, but after a while, one notices that the expressions are inscrutable, many seemingly leaning toward the stoic or sad.

One realizes that the paintings do not portray the usual storybook characters, but they are very real, present in and part of societies, only neglected, marginalized and rendered invisible for millennia. Suddenly, the colors are not of the bright kind, but rather, deep and bold; the storybook mode is not really innocent, but transgressive; and the stories are substantial, seldom told, beautiful, very human.

Artist Daniel Palma Tayona wields his skill and artistry as children’s book illustrator to bring to light LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer) issues, experiences and narratives in his exhibit of acrylic paintings at the NCCA (National Commission for Culture and the Arts) Gallery in Intramuros, Manila, from June 7 to 30, 2018, aptly timed for the LGBTQ Pride Month.

While LGBTQ people have existed since pre-colonial times and are an integral part of Philippine societies, they are mostly marginalized, restricted to ascribed roles, regarded with hostility, ignored, generally tolerated, but rarely accepted, especially with coming of Christianity and Islam. It is only in recent times, influenced by movements and cultural shifts from the West, that LGBTQ rights are being asserted, acceptance being encouraged, their image being seen in a more positive light, and their stories being told.

LGBTQ expressions are now slowly becoming more visible in the arts. Progress has been achieved in literature, theater, cinema, and even pop music and television.

Philippine visual arts, however, still have a dearth in diversity in gender expressions. The field is still dominated by men, many part of circles that operate like boys’ clubs. There are very few prominent LGBTQ visual artists. Among them are National Artist Jose Joya, who created exquisite male nudes, but remained closeted until death; and Alfonso Ossorio from Negros Occidental, who migrated to the United States and painted abstract expressionist works replete with Catholic imagery and inner turmoil.

“From the traditional Euro style of [Juan] Luna, to the 13 Modern Artists, which was a ‘barkada type of machismos,’ up to the development of the National Artist awards, all straight men patting themselves on the back. Openly gay artists, they were either fashion designers like Pitoy [Moreno] or were too much of an outsider here that they flew to the US or Europe to fully express themselves,” observes Tayona.

For “Reyna Elena, Libertad and other Stories,” Tayona gathered his works from 2015 and 2018, which glow with Latin American influences.

“I discovered contemporary Latin American art during my art history lessons in college. I love the colors, the depth of their history, from the ancient earth tones of the Incas and Mayans, to the revolutionary paintings/murals of Rivera, the passion of Kahlo, the defiance of Orozco, the activism of Siqueiros….” Tayona reveals. “These were the artists’ works and the culture they were born of that influenced me. I relate a lot to that, and it has stuck through the years.”

Above all, the paintings have deep, personal meanings and connections.

“I paint about occurrences that happened in my life. And as long as I live and new experiences come along, then I create these visual stories to ‘tell’ them,” he says.

As he breaks the glass ceiling in Philippine visual arts, he lets free beautiful and compelling stories to alight on our souls like butterflies.

The exhibit may be modest—10 paintings in all—but it encompasses almost a lifetime and many, many different lives, reflecting hundreds of years of experiences, but still remains grounded to the artist’s own self.

“I am a storyteller. I like telling about things that I lived through. And this exhibit is basically an extension of who I am—a gay man who tries every day of my life to live it to the fullest,” Tayona says. “I may not be primping a debutante’s hair or manicuring somebody’s nails, I don’t even know the difference between a mascara and an eyeliner.

I like watching Rupaul’s Drag Race while I follow the Ironman competition. I knew nothing about Miss Universe—I had to Google the crown which I painted on Reyna Elena—but I find it amusing when other gay guys I know screech at the TV screen during these beaucons.

Effeminate gay men call me the masculine type. Whatever it is, I am just plain old me—hopeful, alive, and happy to have this chance at living.”

Hope, life, joy, everything in between are richly laid out in “Reyna Elena, Libertad…” and the exhibit does not only look like a big storybook but feels like a lush library that invites you to its fold, where it demonstrates the power and beauty of stories and their telling.

When we listen to these stories, we become more connected with each other, we become more human, we understand and feel deeper, we live more. With stories, we mend the broken and we break the encasement we are trapped in. These are among the chief aims of art.

Tayona has redeemed stories that are rarely told, and in turn we are redeemed by them.