七転び八起き (Nana korobi Ya oki) on the Behance Network

七転び八起き (Nana korobi Ya oki) on the Behance Network

Papaya

Papaya. Kapayas. Colored pencil on 9"x12" Bristol board.

First published Wednesday, April 20, 2008. Revised.

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I seldom talk about my father on my blog even though he was a great influence in my life and of my brothers' and sisters'. Once I read that the best thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. That was my father. He was a devoted father and he loved my mother. He adored her and was very proud of her. My father was a photographer and worked hard in order to raise our big family at a time when the Philippines was awash in corruption and nepotism. Come to think of it, nothing much has changed. He and my mother believed in education and learning. I can still hear him say that "wealth could be lost but knowledge will always stay with you". He was very proud of all our accomplishments because despite our financial struggles we all managed to go to the best colleges and universities, graduated and became professors, engineers, lawyers, nurses and doctors without going into debt. He and my mother were proudest when the youngest of us graduated from medical school. My father also took care of our extended family. He and my mother took care of many nieces and nephews. He was very active in the community and did charitable work without much recognition and fanfare. Once he and my mother sponsored several couples who wanted to be married but could not afford the marriage licenses and fees. Poor people approached him for help and guidance. He was a very confident man, articulate, comfortable with and equally respectful of the president, the bishop, or the fish vendor. He engaged us in lively academic and philosophical discussions during mealtime. He was always properly attired and was always neat. He did not like injustice, encouraged us to stand for our rights and beliefs but put us to task and expected us to accept our mistakes. In college he forced me to apologize to my Spanish professor with whom I engaged in a shouting match that sent her to the hospital. He told me that I may have had the right to argue with my teacher but did not have the right to shout at my elder. I felt like a fifteen year old. (I was.) He taught us the values of industry, of perseverance, charity, citizenship, among others. Most of all he taught us to be loving and protective of one another. When I left for America he took me to the airport and told me to call home and write to my mother often. He was delighted that I was joining my sister in New Jersey. It was a pleasure to hear his voice over the telephone and I had many lumps in my throat when he told me he loved me and to take care and watch over my sister who lived in the next town. As a child I never heard him say a swear word. He spoke gently, was very charming, smiled and always waited for my mother and held her hand. He would have been nine three this year. He loved papaya.

Please help me pray for my sister Leah...

Please help me pray for my sister Leah. She was admitted to intensive care earlier today. When I left her last week after a visit, she was doing very well at home after her radiation therapy. She even tried to sneak in some work. She is a faithful servant of God, a true believer. She is an altruist who fights for justice for the poor; she is a brilliant and good lawyer. This is a painting in progress of my sisters Leah and Rebecca who have been each other's playmate and protector since they were little. On the photograph, Leah is on the right. She still retains that contemplative look. Please help me pray for my sister, Leah. Thank you.

Thou Swell, Thou Pretty...

Thou swell, thou pretty...

Acid-free and archival ink on 14"x17" Bristol board

It is bittersweet. I finished the drawing that my sister wanted for her own. She likes it, which is good because my other sister does not like it because "it has too much ink." I love my sisters, all five of them. They are so honest and so bold, so caring and loving, faithful and loyal, nurturing and protective. They tell me what they like and what they do not like or what they think. It's been so long since I have been with my sisters and brothers. I love every minute we spend together, even if we argue. We laugh so much, my face and abdomen hurt and I have to catch my breath. I wish we lived near one another. Each one of them remind me of my mother and father. I already miss my sisters and brothers. My sister Leah is so very good. She is such a fighter. She is undergoing treatment for cancer and she is still sharp and tough as nails. She is full of hope and faith. She is swell, and pretty, and witty and very good. We all love her very much. God bless my sisters and brothers especially Leah. Tsup!

Three Years Ago...

Three years ago, I left these drawings somewhere. I thought I lost them. My daughter and I were then traveling to New York. Oh well, last night they made their way back into my hands in a roundabout way, traveling 16,000 miles!!! I think I will try to finish these 14"x17" pen and ink on Bristol board drawings.

Featured on Adweek Talent Gallery

Adweek featured my Quercus illustrations (above) on its talent gallery for "Oak". Check it out.

...and the other projects of mine were also featured:

Inkaholic Series, Disaster Series, Quercus Series

Cessification of Steampunk, Pachyderm and Porcine Adventures, Seasons Series.

Adweek discusion board is only open to registered professionals, but all of these projects are posted on my Behance profile if you want a closer organized look. Well, I never would have believed that my illustrations will be featured on an advertising medium. Look at all the other projects of mine that made it! :)

C.P.Adorio, Pen and Ink Squiggler Supreme

Oh yes. I am not denying it. Here are 360 of my lines and squiggles illustrations. I have hundreds more to upload but it is late at night and I am getting tired. Once I was traveling overseas and the Japanese airport security stopped and questioned me why I had hundreds of pens in my backpack. They wanted to make sure they were real pens. I giggled and replied that they ought to be genuine because they are made in Japan! The security officer who was overly polite, bowed and smiled. Just then several of my acorn pen and ink drawings fell out of the case. He ran the pens through the scanner again and bowing towards me after the bin passed the scanner, let me go.

I only started using pen and ink on Bristol board and Arches watercolor pads in mid August 2009 after a trip to a tree preserve in South Carolina. I drew life-sized specimen of oak leaves but rather than shading them with charcoal or pencil, I drew them entirely with micron pens. I had to adopt a new way of drawing the black surface, I did not like obliterating the spaces with ink. I started squiggling in minute stokes. I liked the outcome. At that time someone very special noticed my drawings and left me the most inspirational comment. I have to admit it, as much as I derive inspiration from within, this special visitor became my driving force. If not for her, I would have not been able to draw this much. Oh yes, I could have drawn, no doubt, but thousands of pieces? I doubt very highly.

I have slowed down since, having returned to oil painting but now and then I feel an aching for pen and ink. There is something gratifying in penning a forest, acorn or leaf but most especially, a childhood memory. As it turned out, my sisters and brothers from across the oceans have been watching me very closely and to my delight told me how much they adore my illustrations especially the scenes from our shared childhood. You have no idea how that made me feel. I often remembered how they scolded me for drawing too much when I was a kid at the expense of my chores. Now I can draw whenever, whatever, however I want!

The majority of these slides are from illustrated images measuring 9"x12" bristol boards. Some are larger 14"x17" and 11"x14"; a few measure 6"x6". Enjoy!

Perfectly Imperfect

Under every painting of mine lurks an image that strains to reveal itself. Whatever it is, it is never right. It gets reshaped, relined, repainted until it is obliterated and the outcome is perfect enough. It's like a spoiler before the show begins or a muddy rain on a sunny day.

I am done playing. I am a stranger with feelings of familiarity. I am at a place where I drew my first line and painted my first canvas. Now, all the colors turn gray. Where red, green and yellow when mixed with rain, turn to mud. Grey, dreary, slimy, smelly, sad. It stifles my brain, chokes my lungs, immobilizes my hand. Yet it holds the source of my inspiration. I turn a blind eye, so I can't see but I feel and smell. I long for yesterday. Did I not see it before? It is ugly and beautiful. It is perfect and imperfect. It is perfectly imperfect.