From Sumulong, I drove back home to get my MacBook Pro to have it assessed at the Power Mac repair center in Northeast Square - I wanted to see if I could avail of their Trade In Trade Up promo. Shame on you Power Mac - you guys are worse than the people in Greenhills, attempting to pull a fast one on your client by downplaying the value of the laptop. That horrible experience was countered, however, because Kim's iPhone with its faulty lock button was replaced with a brand new unit right there and then (which really makes me wonder whether they were efficient, or just pre-empting the inferior quality of their product).
I didn't let Power Mac get the best of me, because, hey, it is a holiday. While waiting for the paper pushers finish the replacement of the iPhone, Kim and I drove to the Sanso Museum on V. Cruz in San Juan.
I am such a Sanso fanatic. We've been talking about going to the museum for days already, part of our plan of hitting up the other museums in the Philippines devoted to specific artists - Bencab in Baguio, and Orlina in Tagaytay.
I had given Kim fair warning that if I were to see Mr. Sanso himself, I would set aside all propriety brought about by my elitist education, and act like a rabid fanboy and beg for a picture, maybe even a selfie.
Thus, our first question to the security guard upon disembarking from the car was, "Is Juvenal Sanso in the museum, today?"
Rats, fat chance. According to the guard, he was in the museum yesterday, so he might not come today. No worries, I thought. It was after all an entire structure devoted to Juvenal Sanso. I was still going to be in heaven.
We went in and the reception was empty. We were ready with the PhP 100.00 entrance fee, but what welcomed us was a mystery as the museum seemed empty. We investigated. We went up to the 2nd floor gallery. Nobody there. But we heard voices coming from the top floor. We walked up, and the managing director of the museum was there with a visitor. She invited us to join the tour. On the top floor, we proceeded to an area showcasing personal pictures of Sanso. Old pictures that were resized and restored, and framed beautifully. There were several picture of Sanso in his late twenties to mid thirties, and he was a deadringer for Ray Fiennes.
While looking at a Persian tapestry with Juvenal Sanso's face embroidered on it - footsteps were coming up to the third floor, and in an instant, my world paused. Juvenal Sanso was there. I had to do a double take - Persian tapestry, stairs, Persian tapestry, stairs. It was him.
He approached us and he started looking at the pictures on the wall. "This guy looks familiar," he said as he stared into a photograph of him.
I held out my hand, and introduced myself, and shook his hand vigorously. I even did that classy handshake that Charlie Day taught Jason Sudeikis in Horrible Bosses 2.
He was quite the opposite of what I expected. He was neither quiet nor shy. He was boisterous, energetic, loud, vivacious - and I was able to get a picture with him!
And before I knew it, he became our personal tour guide in the museum. Its not everyday that you get toured by Juvenal Sanso in the Sanso Museum. He posed in front of his paintings, and he made faces in front of his paintings.
I did not know whether I was to get lost in the landscape or flora that he put on the canvas, or at how he would look at you with his bright blue eyes if you asked for the story behind each piece.He told me of a sketch he made of a house on stilts in Alabang, before there was an ATC, of how he was enamoured by the house only to be told by the resident of said dwelling that he should stay away because it was a whore house.
He pointed out the moon in one of his Sanso Modernos to emphasize that it was his signature, and that another artist attempted to copy his signature moon,
and then he pointed to the Sanso Moderno next to it and asked, "Where is the moon on this one?" Not finding one, I asked where, and he responded, "Silly, I am on the moon looking down on this one."
We walked down to the 2nd floor gallery,
and sat down in front of the patterns he had created for designers like Balenciaga, and noted that there were a lot of the fabrics in his home.
He approached me while I was looking at some of his reverse paintings, which were inspired by the sketches on black paper he made for an opera in Paris, and he asked, "What was I thinking when I made these?"
I replied, "Your managing director beat you to the punch already, because she explained to me how you were inspired to create your reverse paintings." He pouted.
He read aloud quotes from his past interviews, and he would teasingly ask who said those? He did of course, we would all chime in.
He hid behind some of the walls, eavesdropping whenever his managing director would take over explaining some of the pieces to us, but he would make knocking noises if he contested some of the facts.
After the tour was over, we escorted him to his office, where he had to eat a cookie and drink milk, and we continued talking. He recalled how his father, who had owned an ironworks factory, was supportive of his art, even if he wasn't able to help out in running the factory. In recounting this, he'd get distracted by the chrome and leather chair, quipping that easily, the ironworks factory could have produced something like it. He told us of stories about swimming in Pasig and Montalban, and riding in horse-drawn carriages with a kuchero whose stories you should never trust.
The afternoon allowed me to see a glimpse of his life and I felt blessed because I loved his works, and it was obvious that it was not difficult to appreciate the artist as well.
Its not everyday you get to meet a person whose artwork makes people stop in awe. All I wanted was to be able to get a picture taken with him. But I got more than that from Señor.
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