The British author and satirist Sue Townsend quotes Bertrand Russell: “The aristocratic rebel, having been well fed, will look for other sources of discontent.”
I argue that Fernando Zobel is an aristocratic rebel who managed to explore and experiment while never really being detached from the contradicting identities of being diasporic, of having to navigate a different kind of “Filipinoness,” and of being a part of the ilustrado imagination that shaped the nation.
Among his discontents was the insistence on a modern turn in an art world mired in the European classical past and modernist American domination, without the presence of the Philippines and with a marginal tokenization of the East.
Aristocracy here is not about having blue blood or entitlements of wealth but about accessing modes of existence that typically elude most Filipinos. Harvard Professor of Spanish Art Felipe Pereda discussed Zobel’s different trajectory, brought about by this rebellious aristocracy, at the Routes and Roots of a Cosmopolitan event at the Ayala Museum last Feb. 15. Pereda claims that Zobel was a “complicated intellectual who broke barriers of past, present, future.”
I would further argue that Zobel’s position as mestizo was another barrier broken—much to the chagrin and discomfort of those who insist that Filipino culture should be cultivated solely by Filipinos. This frames Zobel as inadequately Filipino, but this is a shallow argument from ethnonationalists who have a limited view of the operation and presentation of “Filipino.”
Zobel’s participation and place in Filipino art history are relegated to that of a dilettante. This is an insult to his body of work, which is largely a conversation between a European past and a mestizo outlook that is comfortable experimenting with different techniques.
Zobel’s tenuous presence is evident in his “erasure” from the landmark UP Church of the Holy Sacrifice. That structure is historic and culturally significant, as it embodies the presence of National Artists Arturo Luz (the patterns on the aisles leading to the main altar), Vicente Manansala (the unfortunately disintegrating murals of the Via Crucis), Napoleon Abueva (the main crucifix showing Christ in Agony and Ecstasy), and Leandro Locsin (the architecture).
In the Ade Bethune collection of the St. Catherine University Library and Archives, a photograph of the structure’s exterior shows abstracted marks, the clearest being that of the Holy Spirit emerging from a flurry of dark lines. These lines are reminiscent of Zobel’s mark-making approach, particularly his syringe paintings, in which he used a medical injection apparatus filled with more fluid oil paint. He applied the strokes in calculated, slashing more concentrated movements—not like the nebulous, inchoate splatters that abstract expressionists later found Zobel’s participation and place in Filipino art history are relegated to that of a dilettante.
Zobel’s slashing strokes create depth, resembling shafts of light or wounds like Christ’s spear injury. He developed this technique in the 1950s and perfected it by the 1960s, making it his trademark.
This was just one of his contributions to the UP Chapel of the Holy Sacrifice—now erased. The chapel, a pioneering modern liturgical structure, showcased Zobel’s abstract approach to capturing the Divine. His work embodied Philippine liturgical modernism, challenging tradition and redefining religious art.
It would be invaluable for art historians to examine Zobel’s full participation in this collaborative work on the Holy. Why were his works erased? Recognizing them would further solidify his presence and contributions to the pantheon of Philippine art. Prof. Pereda describes Zobel’s position as a “chronotope” in how art can suggest a new future. After all, Zobel and the Filipino cultural hybridity of the mestizo are shaping the paths and possibilities of tomorrow.
You may reach Chong Ardivilla at kartunistatonto@gmail.com or chonggo.bsky.social
