'KPC," said Manuel Ocampo (in red slacks, photo left, with Gerry Tan; click any photo to enlarge) Saturday night as he was showing the backside of one of his canvases. "Keeping people clueless," he explained. There was lots of stuff behind the canvas, including a beat up can of Spam and several calling cards. It was the opening of his exhibit Monuments to the Institutional Critique of Myself at Pablo Gallery at the Fort, his most radical, cryptic and anti-art to date.
It consisted literally of junk. In one piece (detail, photo right), there were two stuffed SM bags suspended from wood rod, sheathed on one end with a sock. Gerry Tan said it was a penis. The same piece had a plastic flower arrangement with a Winnie the Pooh mounted on it. Under the vase was a case of San Miguel beer. The pieces were mounted on two metal grid panels joined by hinges, something like a gate.
The opening was attended by the creme of the art world of course, including artists Ringo Buonoan, Jayson Oliveira, Poklong Anading, Lena Cobangbang, MM Yu, Mawen Ong and Sandra Palomar, heavyweight collectors Rina Ortiz, Marcel Crespo and Norman Crisologo, gallery directors Richie Lerma and Vita Sarenas.
Although this was his most anti-art show, the artist himself was uncharacteristically dressed to the nines, in a new dove gray, slim peak lapel wool jacket and blazing red pants. Very dashing. As a point of (surely) deliberate irony, he had a pocket square in his jacket that was a paper napkin.
Like many, I am a great fan of Mr. Ocampo. He has an inexorable compulsion to turn on himself, a mad drive to break every constraint of artistic production. But I am an admirer not just of his work, I hold him in affection as a person. He has a real artist's tendresse. And yet he's also a bona fide bitch. Which is really a more succinct way of saying he has an unflinching criticality and the courage of his convictions.
Last month, he organized an open forum discussion with Berkeley-based Fil-Am artists whom he had invited to show with him at Mag:Net Katipunan. They titled the event 'The Bitching Hour: Theory-han sa Mag:Net Katipunan', a smart spin on kapihan fora of politicians and journalists and the art theory-making of academics.
However, it was an episode of méconnaissance. The Fil-Am and the Filipino artists did not understand each other. It began well enough. Mr. Ocampo noted how in the Philippines reality tends to out 'art' art. This led to issues of identity, identity politics and authenticity, which simply do not figure in the discussion here (unfortunately). (Actually, there is no discussion here.)
A Mindanao-based artist asked what were the advantages of being based in the US for an artist.
"I do not like that question!" railed balikbayan artist and long-time Paris expatriate Sandra Palomar. One Fil-Am artist took great offense, evidently hearing in the question perhaps a challenge to his authenticity or an accusation of privilege. "Maybe it is we that are at a disadvantage here," he said, voice brimming with emotion.
The author of the question was completely taken aback, but stood his ground. He said he had asked the question in earnest and was shocked by the reaction.
After a few awkward exchanges, Mr. Ocampo said, "OK, that's it. I hate talking about art," thereby declaring the forum closed. Drinking ensued.
On the occasion, a review of art shows current at the time was also released. It is a paragon of wit (i.e. bitchiness).
