Roberto M. Lopez's stint as director, until his death in 1992, spawned activity that shifted the focus from the library-whose reputation as the research center for Filipiniana in Asia continued unchallenged-to the art collection. During Robby Lopez's time, art books were published that would further the museum's engagement with their weighty collection.
Robby's interest in art went beyond his directorship for the museum; he begun his own personal art collection, the bulk of which the museum received upon the death in 1992. Robby's collection was of course dictated by personal taste and passion; thus the museum, whose identity had relied on the 19th century masters, was besieged with a barrage of modern works. While Eugenio Lopez, Sr., Robby's father, had in fact bought a motley assortment of modern works (early Manansalas, Amorsolos, some Tabuenas, most of the Macario Vitalis and all the Nena Saguils) during his time, the gesture was more cursory than deliberate.
Selections for the new hang continues and new paneling is being built to contain the works. 'That's an AAP winner, 1961. First Prize'. Mariles Ebro-Matias, current Lopez Museum Director, informs me. I have only been in the museum for a week, and the ins and outs of the collection is still quite foreign. The AAP winner she is referring to is Orange Land (1961) by Roberto Chabet. The moment is curious as the work is very unlike Chabet, but the fact remains that he had actually been singled out in 1961 for a prize, perhaps an incident he might not have cared for then nor wish to remember now. But despite himself, the artist by his work (at least those which are not ephemeral) becomes conveniently located in art history and consequently marks his own evolution. This is the point where museum collections come in and work towards studying the development of the artist, first using the specificity of the work, and then from there the possible extrapolation into art historical context, whether local or international.
The collection's depth is actually surprising still, despite my having been there for some months. The acquisitions these past five years sheds light on the personalities behind the purchases and the interstices within art history which the museum is obviously eager to fill in. there are, for example, works by former Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) head, Ray Albano. Eager to explore new ways for art, Albano backed many exhibitions at the CCP which were conceptual in nature, as well as allocated space for installation work. These were done during his tenure at the CCP in the 70s. His works in the collection, Uva (1979) and Where will you be today? (1982), purchased in 1997 are representative of Albano's concern for other modes of representing reality within the confines of visual language. Though still not his experimental work using found objects and constructed images not overly his concern about process, the works already signal that he had found images wanting. Instead of references, one is faced instead with a different course into the sublime. And even then his sublime concedes interference from subtle linearity.
Despite the fact that personal taste dictated past purchase, a private collection that has gone public will itself answerable, to a certain extent, to a public. The museum's direction undoubtedly shifted with Robby's gift. Acquisitions is not a simple matter, but a concerned effort to maintain a balance between the publics' preference and the collector's own decisions. Acquisitions is also not mere accumulation: it is a process of selection in keeping with the institution's objectives and vision, with the dictates of art history and its own becoming. Michael Compton asks about the Tate Gallery, 'should the Tate be building up a classic collection, rather like the National Gallery? Or should it be leading taste, introducing the public to the latest developments?? Such problems are of course ubiquitous-every public gallery has to square the competing demands of critics and scholars, of artists clamoring to get their work hung?'While the Lopez Museum continues to work out its own acquisitions policy, keeping in mind the particular issues that locate the museum, the late Geny Lopez had gone the direction of modernity by aggressively buying modern and contemporary works. A course which Oscar Lopez seems to have taken up more firmly, especially with the recent inclusion of two Alfonso Ossorios into the collection.
Matias approves of a line of Roberto Chabet's colorful, Four Directions (1999) together with Navarro's white piece, Untitled (1975). The juxtaposition opens up an interesting conversation between the two pieces. Navarro known for color is represented with a white work, while Chabet, known for his conceptual works, decides on blocks of color with each canvas interrupted by a harmonica. The works balance off well, whilst the noise of their historical developments continue undeterred in the background. As Roger Malbert writes about the delightful juxtapositions that come about when putting together an exhibition and letting it loose on public: 'A certain cautious informality is in fact a hidden feature of most exhibitions of art, other than those prescribed by chronology or other logical considerations. The 'hang', the installation, is the moment of necessary spontaneity, where unforeseen effects are produced as soon as objects are positioned in space. It is a version of the creative process, speculative and personal. Then, when the arrangement is settled and declared to be definitive (it cannot be bettered), art becomes public, like thoughts committed to paper-and is exposed to the critical gaze.'
Robby's interest in art went beyond his directorship for the museum; he begun his own personal art collection, the bulk of which the museum received upon the death in 1992. Robby's collection was of course dictated by personal taste and passion; thus the museum, whose identity had relied on the 19th century masters, was besieged with a barrage of modern works. While Eugenio Lopez, Sr., Robby's father, had in fact bought a motley assortment of modern works (early Manansalas, Amorsolos, some Tabuenas, most of the Macario Vitalis and all the Nena Saguils) during his time, the gesture was more cursory than deliberate.
Selections for the new hang continues and new paneling is being built to contain the works. 'That's an AAP winner, 1961. First Prize'. Mariles Ebro-Matias, current Lopez Museum Director, informs me. I have only been in the museum for a week, and the ins and outs of the collection is still quite foreign. The AAP winner she is referring to is Orange Land (1961) by Roberto Chabet. The moment is curious as the work is very unlike Chabet, but the fact remains that he had actually been singled out in 1961 for a prize, perhaps an incident he might not have cared for then nor wish to remember now. But despite himself, the artist by his work (at least those which are not ephemeral) becomes conveniently located in art history and consequently marks his own evolution. This is the point where museum collections come in and work towards studying the development of the artist, first using the specificity of the work, and then from there the possible extrapolation into art historical context, whether local or international.
The collection's depth is actually surprising still, despite my having been there for some months. The acquisitions these past five years sheds light on the personalities behind the purchases and the interstices within art history which the museum is obviously eager to fill in. there are, for example, works by former Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) head, Ray Albano. Eager to explore new ways for art, Albano backed many exhibitions at the CCP which were conceptual in nature, as well as allocated space for installation work. These were done during his tenure at the CCP in the 70s. His works in the collection, Uva (1979) and Where will you be today? (1982), purchased in 1997 are representative of Albano's concern for other modes of representing reality within the confines of visual language. Though still not his experimental work using found objects and constructed images not overly his concern about process, the works already signal that he had found images wanting. Instead of references, one is faced instead with a different course into the sublime. And even then his sublime concedes interference from subtle linearity.
Despite the fact that personal taste dictated past purchase, a private collection that has gone public will itself answerable, to a certain extent, to a public. The museum's direction undoubtedly shifted with Robby's gift. Acquisitions is not a simple matter, but a concerned effort to maintain a balance between the publics' preference and the collector's own decisions. Acquisitions is also not mere accumulation: it is a process of selection in keeping with the institution's objectives and vision, with the dictates of art history and its own becoming. Michael Compton asks about the Tate Gallery, 'should the Tate be building up a classic collection, rather like the National Gallery? Or should it be leading taste, introducing the public to the latest developments?? Such problems are of course ubiquitous-every public gallery has to square the competing demands of critics and scholars, of artists clamoring to get their work hung?'While the Lopez Museum continues to work out its own acquisitions policy, keeping in mind the particular issues that locate the museum, the late Geny Lopez had gone the direction of modernity by aggressively buying modern and contemporary works. A course which Oscar Lopez seems to have taken up more firmly, especially with the recent inclusion of two Alfonso Ossorios into the collection.
Matias approves of a line of Roberto Chabet's colorful, Four Directions (1999) together with Navarro's white piece, Untitled (1975). The juxtaposition opens up an interesting conversation between the two pieces. Navarro known for color is represented with a white work, while Chabet, known for his conceptual works, decides on blocks of color with each canvas interrupted by a harmonica. The works balance off well, whilst the noise of their historical developments continue undeterred in the background. As Roger Malbert writes about the delightful juxtapositions that come about when putting together an exhibition and letting it loose on public: 'A certain cautious informality is in fact a hidden feature of most exhibitions of art, other than those prescribed by chronology or other logical considerations. The 'hang', the installation, is the moment of necessary spontaneity, where unforeseen effects are produced as soon as objects are positioned in space. It is a version of the creative process, speculative and personal. Then, when the arrangement is settled and declared to be definitive (it cannot be bettered), art becomes public, like thoughts committed to paper-and is exposed to the critical gaze.'
Oscar Lopez affirms that the art collection will soon parallel the library's contents in the next decade, fully aware that acquisitions run not only the voice of history but alongside those who are creating it. The passion for collecting is full-time job, a kind of blessed obsession as Stephen Gould writes in the fascinating book Finder, Keepers. But in many ways the passion, the obsession, of collecting becomes a burden shared, 'to bring part of a limitless diversity into an orbit of personal or public appreciation.' The Lopez Museum does the latter, conscious that the cost of engagement is high, but willing nevertheless, to take part in the discussion.
Adapted: BluPrint Magazine, Volume 4/6 2000. Stories From A Recent Hanging by Yeyey Cruz
NOTE: The author was curator of the Lopez Museum.
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