Fatherism

Augusto Albor Museum of Philippine Art March 1-31, 1985

Even before I was born in 1982, my father was gradually gaining recognition in the Philippine art scene. Since the 70s and 80s his work continues to build currency, and "Gus Albor" has become a household name for abstract art aficionados in this lowly archipelago I call home. Art is his whole life. It never had to compete with anything else, and still makes up his reality today. He's never tried to do anything else. Despite the very little that he had, as the youngest of eight, from a rural village in Bicol (quite a distance from Manila) he was determined to fulfill what he believed was his calling.

The Artist with a painting "Illumination" 5'x6' Acrylic on canvas 1993

When people ask me what my parents "do" and I explain that my father is an artist, they say, "oh that's nice. But what does he do for a living?". My answer; "He does art". I get it. It can be difficult to wrap your head around this idea. I know that I am myself often incredulous (and secretly resentful) at the thought of someone surviving by their art alone - and nothing else (the independently wealthy do not count). "What do you mean you do art? No job at a coffee shop or a part-time gig at a nonprofit or graphic design firm? You mean, your entire support system comes from the sale of your work? Get outta here!"

But especially back then, when my dad was I guess what we would call an "emerging artist", being an artist was unheard of. It certainly wasn't the occupation of choice, and the furthest away from living the "good life". The abstract art scene was also very small, but a force to be reckoned with nonetheless. It was a growing nucleus that was self-sustaining and resistant. And it needed to be that. It was hard enough trying to make a decent living in the country. The desire to be a full-time artist was not for the faint-hearted; and making that decision was like playing Russian roulette with your soul. Needless to say, my dad missed that bullet; or should I say, that bullet missed my dad.

Transference, 1984, Metal