Mother

Last time, you saw my pen and ink illustration of my mother's family tree for my second plate in my Advanced Figure Illustration class. For that cause, she gave me the full list of her direct relatives in their clan, including her cousins and the children of her cousins although she didn't know exactly their stories and histories in full detail.

Actually, mother hardly tells much of her stories about her past and her family. All I know is that she is the youngest among the thirteen children of my grand parents, which I never met personally, and that she was the only one who was fortunate enough get into a college. She said that it was because her siblings only wanted to spend their time in the fields, harvesting rice from their vast land.

Later on, fortunately, she gradually told me her past, as well as those of the other members of the family when I asked her about their family tree. I want to compile those stories as one in here, because mother didn't talk about the stories in just one seating (unlike my father who usually does that), and usually she refuses to talk about it too long. Perhaps because she doesn't like storytelling. One of the events that maybe made her tell some of those buried details was the recent wake for my grandmother's sister, who passed away this month. She attended the funeral of the last of the children of my great grand parents, along with her siblings and her cousins, who, according to her, possessed dubious personalities. So I grabbed this opportunity to ask her about them and the funeral.

So, let me start her story.

She was born from very kind and gentle parents, Mercedes and Eulogio, who had set up their own land in our present province, in Tarlac, away from their parents from another town. I think my grand parents hometown was different from their parents, that is, my great grand parents. I recently researched my mother's ancestors through the net and other documents. What I found is that most of my mother's supposed direct ancestors, dating back to the middle of the 19th century, was in the town of Pampanga, a few kilometers away from Tarlac. Though I'm not sure of the full details, this may suggest that my grandparents moved and settle on their own land, since my mother also told me that her grandparents didn't live in Tarlac in the first place.

Back to my mother, she was very special for her parents, as well as to her siblings since she is the youngest amongst the thirteen children. They gave her everything she needed, and, perhaps, also everything that she wanted. And in return, she served her parents and siblings, though not in the rice fields, but household chores and education

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She had an aunt named Carmela, which she never dared to visit due to the woman's very, very strict and moody behavior. She was this aunt of hers who passed away this month. Her cousin's children, who took charge the funeral, also had a very very unpleasant attitude. So unpleasant that I don't want to talk about them all, but perhaps except for one. Her grand children inherited the same attitude. Her grand children, who have become very successful people, didn't want any children playing around where they were staying, and they even discriminated against their own aunts! So even if I didn't meet them in person, I can feel what mother felt about them as she recounted this. In this illustration though, Carmela's attitude is not related to what she is doing here.


My mother got into high school, and then to college in Baguio, far away from her hometown, where she graduated with honours. She even became teacher in her college after she graduated. Then she met father and they moved to the city, and set up their own land, though she still visits her siblings in Tarlac, where she and father once left my eldest sister Joyce for a while there when my sister was quite young.


Then, her siblings started to have families, except for the unmarried ones like Aunt Rosalinda--who lived in their original house, puffing unfiltered cigarettes while playing solitaire. My uncle Antonio also has no wife and lives with aunt Rosalinda. But most of the time he goes out early in the morning to visit their rice fields and guard them, or, according to him, to hunt birds or small animals in woods with his pump shotgun. But, they are very kind people, and among my aunts and uncles, those two are much closer to me, and perhaps to my siblings also. As you can see, I put a cigarette in my aunt's hands and a gun in my uncle's.




Their farm is a vast one, owned by my grandparents. But, something terrible happened to it. One of their sibling, uncle Aniceto, gradually sold their lands for a very cheap price,and without permission to those who rightfully inherited the lands. Like aunt Carmela, uncle Aniceto is a moody man. They complained about what their brother did, but sadly it was never resolved. And even my mother's share to the land was sold, all of her shares. But mother, who didn't want any trouble, just ignored it. And because she lived with father, she didn't much put attention to the conflict. I put a pouch of silver to signify he his betrayal in selling the major parts of their land secretly.

My mother's sisters and brothers usually have some conflict with one another, from the very tiniest of problems to the larger ones, and usually my mother tries not to meddle in such squabbling. But ironically, during their childhood days, they were kind to each other. Perhaps this is because, now that their parents are dead, no one can solve their problems, which is very sad to think about.

Speaking of family affairs and kinfolks, I am currently working on my thesis about families and clans due next year. Well, I also just recently realized that this is a not such an easy task as I have thought it would be, despite of my interest in the topic.

The Tarot

Last year, the bunny showed to me her set of tarot cards in a green corduroy pouch. The cards were different from the illustrations of the most popular deck, Rider-Waite tarot deck, illustrated by Pamela Coleman Smith for a mystic Arthur Edward A.E. Waite. Still, when I first saw them personally, I was amazed by their obscure meanings behind the strange gestures and positions of the characters. I am quite interested to their symbolism and meanings, and also in their history. Somehow, their intricate allegorical details of these images still haunt me, leading to curiosity on how did these people manage to create such a bizarre and haunting symbols that are usually difficult to understand in our times, that the meaning behind the symbols of the figures had been almost forgotten, or at least arcane in the passage of time and in view of the various readings and contexts by which the present people are now able to read them with.


They said that Tarot card came from Egypt and brought to Europe about 12th century. But the first known Tarot card created about 13th century in Italy, particularly in Bologna. The Europeans added allegorical figures from the four suit deck, and they are called carte da trionfi or triumph cards. The oldest surviving Tarot card are painted for the Visconti-Sforza family, the rulers of Milan during their time. Later on, in the 18th century, the cards are filled with some sort of divination or extraordinary powers. Until the cards became not just a mere playing but possessed powers and even can predict the future.

Probably so far, my favorite illustrations of the Tarot were painted by Hieronymous Bosch. They were as eccentric as his other paintings, adding grotesque figures like gnarled monsters. Aside from Bosch, there are also cards painted by one of my favorite Flemish painters, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, wherein he usually featured peasants. There is also cards by Albrecht Durer, and he probably executed this in watercolor. You can look their works here


I illustrated my own version of the cards almost three years ago. But I did only two, The Sun and Death. The story behind it is that I had a friend who I knew could read the Tarot cards (Aside from the bunny who also know how to read it). Just for entertainment, I decided to consult her using her cards and her skills in reading it. I remembered some of the cards that appeared and I decided to illustrate two of them.
But I cannot recall now what she said about the meaning of the cards from that reading.

Forgotten Works

After Rackam's Freya the fair. One of my earliest illustrations I almost forgot.

A Seraphim

" Is that all you can give?"

They had been hiding in my cluttered shelf for years. I was about to clean my things when I discovered them. Somehow, I had the feeling that they are passed on, that I almost forgot them and they started to hide from me.Whatever that strange feeling was, I was happy to see them again that they are still in my shelves and I didn't gave them to my friends or collegues.

The wooden Floor

The wooden floor...a very random title for a very random work.

Mary Barton, in the form of a ghost, talking to an Engkanto under the Lake

We were required to create a portfolio for a final plate last year. This was one of my works included in that plate. It was inspired by the earliest story that I wrote, and which is probably the best work I have written so far. I started it in 2004, back in high school, for a friend who was brokenhearted. But in spite of this, he was always happy, and made other people happy too, besides me. Right now, as far as I know, he found his true love. I also created this story because I wanted to remember that time as one of the happiest periods of my life. This will also served as a memory book for those whom I've met, whether they were a friend or an enemy. I have no intention to publish this work yet, but maybe someday.
Anyway, this scene is from the second part of the whole story (there are eight parts, and I have a plan to condense it into two, because it was requested by a beloved girl), in which the protagonist, in a form of a ghost, is swimming in a lake to talk to the underwater beings there.

I already finished it in 2006. But lately, I revisited it, and started to make revisions to the story.

The Search for William Salter by the infanta Catherine of Arkhesus accompanied by Sir Maximus and Jeremy Clemens.

A little noble girl riding on her white horse through a dangerous woods, searching for her beloved friend William. She is accompanied by her mentor Sir Maximus and William's enemy Jeremy Clemens.

This is a work of mine from my first story for a great friend I met when I was in high school. It is for our college's Artfair held some time during August 2007. It was made with ink and acrylic executed on a 8.5 x 11 board. I was still trying to master acrylic during this time, as well as umber, amber, and moss green colors that I wanted to establish in my works for consistency in style.

I'm still revising this story until now, changing character names and altering the settings. Since I was not that done yet, I gave this work to this particular friend in quite a raw stage. The squishy bunny told me that she wanted to look at it so that she may give some comments to improve it.

The story has roughly eight books, each with have around twenty to thirty pages, executed in pen on my old notebooks. Each of the eight books represented my friend, the people around us when we were in high school, and myself; and almost every character there was inspired by a real person, although not all.