
One can't tell the story of Philippine art without mentioning the name of a certain Benedicto Cabrera, better known as BenCab. And one can't even begin to describe his artistic legacy without talking about Sabel. The mysterious woman of the artist's subconscious has come to show many things about the Filipino identity. What those things are, well, is still up to us to unravel.
Sabel has always been a great excuse for a subject matter, the National Artist for Visual Arts says. The artist first saw her in Yakal Street in Bambang, Sta. Cruz, where the Cabrera family lived in the '60s. Each variation of her likeness explores the artist's creative psyche all the while mirroring the realities of a nation torn by centuries of upheaval.
"Sabel was what you call a bag lady. When I first saw her across my window, I saw that she was wrapped around in plastic," he tells Esquire Philippines. "So I started doing sketches of her." He's been conjuring her ever since.
Salvador Cabrera, Paul McCartney, and Baguio
There's a common myth about masters that says that genius stays in the shadows—that he is created in a dark room struck by the glory of Gods to ideate and create all by his lonesome. But in reality, genius is fostered by a wealth of communities, influences, and movements. BenCab is no different.
In fact, he wasn't even the first artist in the Cabrera household. "My biggest influence was my elder brother, Salvador. I was the youngest of nine children. That brother of mine was a very good artist and he taught me a lot," he remembers. "We went out together. It was my first exposure to the arts. Seeing him draw and paint led me to draw and paint myself. When I was young, I just realized I could draw and I never stopped."

At the University of the Philippines (U.P.) College of Fine Arts, Cabrera would first build the foundation for his would-be art career. He was formally trained to draw, paint, and sculpt under the tutelage of titans like Dominador Castañeda, Ireneo Miranda, Carlos Valino, Jose Joya, and Anastacio Caedo. While there, he explored the ins and outs of studio arts, from the academic to the commercial.
But the thing is, he ended up stirring away from painting as a major, leaving the university behind in 1963 without a degree (he would, nonetheless, get an honorary doctorate in the Humanities 50 years later). Toward the end of his days at U.P., he leaned more into commercial arts. He would eventually enter the advertising business as a result, later on becoming an illustrator and layout artist for titles like Liwayway, the Sunday Times, and Mirror magazines.
In the '60s, BenCab came of age in the midst of the vibrant Bohemian crowd of Malate and Ermita. Salvador was with him, too. A Mabini artist himself, the elder Cabrera ran his own shop in the area back then. "It catered to tourists," the National Artist notes. "I was hanging my early paintings at my brother's shop to sell early on."
"I think I have had some influence [on contemporary artists] because they realize the richness of our culture [in my work]—how this can be exploited in their own art, whether it's in paintings, sculptures, and prints... I've only wanted to show how dynamic our culture is."
Always a fun story to tell, one such tourist who stopped by the space happened to be a Beatle. See, that year, the Fab Four were in Manila for what would be the Beatles' first and only appearance in the Philippines (it was a nightmare for them, by all accounts). During that small window, Paul McCartney was said to have roamed the streets of Manila, passing by Salvador's space. "[McCartney] ended up buying one of my paintings. Wala pa kasing cellphones noon, so nobody took his photos or asked him to sign it." BenCab was paid a decent sum of P70 for the piece.
In preparation for the book, Bencab, the artist would have his son in London reach out to McCartney's group to ask about the piece. "True enough, McCartney replied and sent me a four-by-five transparency. The painting even came with a catalog number. I was so glad he kept that after all those years," Cabrera adds.
By the end of the '60s, he'd find himself moving to the glamorous Chelsea district of London after marrying a British writer. While based in the United Kingdom, he'd have steady patronage well into the '70s and early '80s.


