Turning the big five-oh can be a daunting task for most people. There's so much to look back on and time seems to be collapsing as the realities of aging sets in. Reminders of mortality and snippets of the past lurk, as an existential parallax stares you right in the face.
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But Ronald Ventura isn't like most people. The artist celebrated his 50th birthday last June. For him, it's just another number in a career defined by virtuosity and excess. In fact, if you ask him about it, he'll tell you that the best still lies ahead.
"Ito na 'yung prime," he says. "Nakakabit 'yung challenge doon sa 50, kung going up or maintaining ka pa," he says. "Kapag 'yung number may nakakabit na zero, parang laging start. Kung 20 ka or 30 ka, 'yung zero parang gauge kung paano mo titimbangin ang sarili mo."
PHOTO: SHAIRA LUNA
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If it was about scales, then Ventura would have broken his own a long time ago. As one of the highest-selling contemporary Southeast Asian artists in modern history, he has been smashing auction records left and right, year after year.
The gaudy numbers speak for themselves. In December 2022, "Blind Mechanism" set a Philippine record at León Gallery’s Kingly Treasures auction at a staggering P57.2 million, dislodging his previous Philippine record set by “Crack in the Hull" at P25.6 million. Even more staggering was the record he set at Christie's for "Party Animal" the year prior, fetching HK$19.45 million (roughly P120 million). He shattered the previous record he set with Sotheby's in 2011, when "Grayground," the piece that catapulted him into rarefied air, sold for HK$8.42 million (about P58 million).
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"Nandoon 'yung secret talaga ng art: sa play. Doon pala ang naging start."
"Hindi talaga ako tumingin kung ano 'yung gusto nila o kung ano 'yung binibili nila. Hindi ako ganoon," the artist notes. "Una ang pagpo-produce ng trabaho o ng art. Second na 'yung kung bibilin mo 'yan o hindi. Gumagawa ako for the sake na kung ano 'yung gusto kong gawin. Not for the sake na may market tayo dyan."
His triumphs come during a time when the global art market has shifted its focus to Asia, particularly Southeast Asia. We've seen the robust interest in contemporary Southeast Asian artists in ART SG, Art Basel Hong Kong, and the like. Ventura chalks up this heightened recognition of the region's visual language to the overall internationalization of art, and how it has generally become more accessible in the social media age.
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"Ang problem naman natin ngayon," he posits, "is paano i-digest [lahat] sa dami ng klase ng information na bumagsak sa iyo. So 'yun naman ang problema. Marami ding false information. Pag nag-boom kasi marami ding basura. Maraming debris. Hindi lahat worth it."
If it were about the globalization of the Filipino artist, we'd think of Ventura. Rare are the paintings at par with his in the contemporary art scene in the region. There's no exact science to describing the brilliance of his figurativism. Ventura operates in the intersection between the historical ("kasi may kinalaman lahat ng images or visual representations [dito]"), cosmic, and personal. His works are a tête-à-tête between him and the truths and untruths of man's place in the world: how he reckons with the vastness of the universe and smallness of his being, flanked by vignettes of fantasy, memory, and disarray.
"Most of the time, I just set everything up to make things flow. 'Yung flow na parang wala ka doon sa system. Medyo complicated na 'yung mga bagay 'pag masyado mo sinunod yung sarili mo."
We often find Ventura's themes and subjects twiddling the dials of pop culture, graffiti, hyperrealism, and parody bleeding through the canvas, erupting from the surface. Image upon image is imposed on top and through each other, revealing a particular kind of psychic surplus, a specific chaos that only he can expose. "Meron ako organization siguro sa paano ako mag-compose. Meron din ako parang computer na meron ako mga files ng mga different themes or subjects."
What would we say are the Filipino elements in Ventura's work? It can be argued that, of all things, it's the clutter. Filipinos have always had a penchant for maximalism and expressiveness. Professor Felipe M. De Leon Jr., former National Commission for Culture and the Arts chair, once said: “The common Filipino is a maximalist, filling up every available space with forms and things. It springs from an expressive exuberance deeply rooted in emotional sensitivity and the strong urge to connect.”
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Look no further than the everyday Filipino home. Look at how we adorn our walls, tables, chairs, beds, and more. We attach meaning to various objects stored in every nook and cranny, hoarding them with this irrational fervor; reflective of how, as a people centuries divided, we've long been stripped of our right to possession, identity, and worse, connection. Maybe we can say the same for Ventura's art.
PHOTO: SHAIRA LUNA
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"Although, marami naman marks kasi din na makikita mo sa kultura ng Pilipino," he says of the inherently Filipino elements in our iconography. "Pero siyempre, siguro dahil bago tayong lahi. I mean, bago tayo na lahi na ini-introduce globally. 'Yung pag-influence sa atin (colonialism and Western homogenization), kasama sa kultura, sa tradisyon. So may mga nasira, nadagdagan, nabawasan."
But then again, that's just my own take on it. Ventura himself would never be caught dead trying to define his work. Most of the time, it's simply freedom of expression. "'Yung system, nagkataon lang pinanganak ka sa Pilipinas, pero hindi ka naman pagmamay-ari ng Pilipinas."
While he knows the value of embracing your heritage, he sees no reason to restrict himself, opening himself up to the world and, well, the rest of the universe. "'Yung qualities ng art, siguro personal 'yun. Kasi 'yun 'yung parang papaano ka manamit," Ventura says. "Paano mo haharapin sarili mo sa tao o sa kausap mo."
"Kung puno ka, gusto mo mas madaming sanga. Hindi ibig sabihin na nandito ka sa isang branch, e hindi ka na pwede mag-branch sa kaliwa. So mas marami din 'yung fruits na mangyayari dun sa sanga na tinitingnan mo. Mas marami kang magagawa."
The mastery of Ventura's work lies in his sense of rhythms or in the lack thereof—how it fluctuates, how it's exploited. He pushes or slows down the tempo as he goes, breaking from the convention and monotony of routines. "Most of the time, I just set everything up to make things flow. 'Yung flow na parang wala ka doon sa system. Medyo complicated na 'yung mga bagay 'pag masyado mo sinunod yung sarili mo." Every part of his process, he says, needs to feel natural, with a cadence entirely its own. The more natural it is, the more he can look at himself and his motivations to dig a little deeper. Hence, a beautifully twisted way to produce great art.
"Kaya nga gumagawa ka, according lang doon mismo sa moment na gusto mo. So para honest ka doon sa ginagawa mo." Some of his pieces can take as long as seven years to make because of this. The artist does each of them simultaneously, too. Think of his methodology as a tree, with branches, stemming from shoots and bearing fruits as it grows. "Kung puno ka, gusto mo mas maraming sanga. Hindi ibig sabihin na nandito ka sa isang branch, e hindi ka na pwede mag-branch sa kaliwa. So mas marami din 'yung fruits na mangyayari dun sa sanga na tinitingnan mo. Mas marami kang magagawa. Mas magiging productive ['yung bunga]. At mas buhay 'yung puno mo."
Ventura has a collection of material to sift through, from magazines to past studies and more. "Meron kang nakikita na gusto mo, pero hindi mo alam sometimes kung bakit, di ba? Nagkakaroon kayo ng connections." As he goes, he adds, subtracts, bends, and adapts his work as he pleases. From there, a wildly new rendition follows.
He also likens the act of making art to preparing a meal. Like cooking, art can have myriad rituals to it. Some need more preparation than others. It's something he picked up from all the years his father worked as a cook in Saudi Arabia, and how he would cook for the family back home. "Gagawa ka. Maghahalo ka. Mamimili ka ng ingredients na gusto nilalagay mo. Tinitimpla mo kung ano 'yung eksaktong lasa, kung maalat, matamis, etc. So, para ka lang din may palette. Hinihiwa mo 'yung mga piraso at as gigisahin mo siya," he continues. "Tapos io-offer mo 'yung [pagkain] sa close sa 'yo. Traditions natin 'yan. Ganoon din sa proseso ng art."
"Tatawagin kami ni lola, may hawak na pamalo. 'Para kayong mga hayop! Ang dumi-dumi niyan! Puro kababuyan 'yung ginagawa niyo' Hahatawin kayo hanggang sa umuwi na kayo."
The Malabon-raised artist doesn't limit himself to the visceral emotional or visual experience either. His inspiration lies in the search for it in a way. "Pwede, inspiration galing sa ibang artist o reaction galing sa ibang artist o kahit sa iba pang reaction ng mga nakakahalubilo...'Yung mga images na nakikita mo sa akin, ganon din ako tumingin."
If he finds the results of one work subpar, he moves on to another project, just like that. Ventura will get back to the other one when it comes to him. It's about keeping the eye fresh, it seems. Of note, too, in his practice is the fact that he never looks at or listens to the same thing too long, which sort of explains the barrage of imagery we see in his works. Ventura's only concern is the now. And to address that, he augments and distills memory, reshaping and recreating on the fly.
"Gusto ko ma-capture kasi 'yung present. So gusto ko walang memory," he explains. "Gusto ko bago. [Dapat] na sa working mode ka lang, mabilis. So, ang gusto ko, walang [same] music, walang memory. Ayaw ko umulit ng music. Ayaw ko yung 'pag gumagawa ako, 'yung music ko pareho. Para iba, bago [lagi] 'yung music. Ikaw 'yung nagbibigay ng memory [doon]. Ikaw 'yung nagbibigay ng records, kumbaga. May records na nangyari noong maliit ka o teenager ka o kaya noong nasa 20s or 30s ka. Ako [dapat] 'yung magbibigay ng record o ng memory doon sa sound na papakikinggan ko."
There's also something about Ventura's experimentation with animals that is interesting to examine. In a show like Zoomanities, a sculpture exhibit that dismembers the relationship between man, religion, and beast, for instance, he says that he remembered his grandmother's words. When he was little, he would play at a local estero as a kid growing up in Malabon. "Tatawagin kami ni lola, may hawak na pamalo. 'Para kayong mga hayop! Ang dumi-dumi niyan! Puro kababuyan 'yung ginagawa niyo' Hahatawin kayo hanggang sa umuwi na kayo."
"Nagda-drawing ako doon sa blackboards [ng tungkol sa mga gera], mga sundalo, tanke, etc. Ito 'yung pinaka-battleground ko noon, parang battlefield 'yung blackboard."
From that fragment of his childhood, he made sculptures that reimagined religious objects as animals as toys. "Ang pinaka-question ko doon sa artworks at ang question din sa viewer ay, 'Paano mo titingnan ngayon yung combinations ng sacred images and toys and commercial images?'" If we looked at it in a traditional way, we'd say it's lewd or, if we take it to the extremes, blasphemy. Thinking back to those days playing random ditches, Ventura's concept hoped to challenge viewers' coded biases. "Iku-question mo 'yung pagtingin nila sa value ng bagay."
Challenging the viewer has been a common theme in Ventura's career since his "arrival" with "Human Study" at SM Megamall in the mid-2000s. The piece would catch the eye of the Ateneo Art Awards back in 2005, earning him a residency grant in Australia. It was a monumental piece, to say the least. At 8x12 feet, the piece was done in graphite pencil as a way to elevate how we perceive drawings. "They always think [of drawing] as a minor work of an artist. So, sinadya ko na yung pinaka-big piece ko is sa drawing on a bigger scale. Para sabihin, 'O, ano bang minor work diyan?'" It was one way to critique perception and the value of illustration in art.
PHOTO: SHAIRA LUNA
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He's been a cultural phenomenon ever since. Ventur's art has become quite the globetrotter: from exhibiting at the Tyler Rollins Fine Art in Chelsea, New York to mounting major solo shows like Project: Finding Home at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Taipei, Mapping the Corporeal at the National University of Singapore Museum, and Surreal Versus Surrealism at the Contemporary Art Institut Valencià d’Art Modern in Valencia, Spain, among many others. He's participated in the Prague Biennale and the Nanjing Biennial, too. The list goes on and on and on.
Art is a compulsion, which has been second nature to him since grade school, even if he didn't know it at the time. During school days, if he wasn't playing outside, he was inside empty classrooms at the public school where his mother taught at. "Nagda-drawing ako doon sa blackboards [ng tungkol sa mga giyera], mga sundalo, tanke, etc. Ito 'yung pinaka-battleground ko noon, parang battlefield 'yung blackboard." From one empty room to another, he'd find a way to draw and draw, and then draw some more. "Nandoon 'yung secret talaga ng art: sa play. Doon pala ang naging start."
"'Yung iba, halos kapit sa patalim. I mean, kahit sa ibang field. Hindi lang doon sa art nararamdaman 'yung talagang hirap. So meron silang laging inspirasyon. Hindi mawawala 'yung hirap as part ng foundation ng struggle ng life's purpose."
That was the first stage of his lifelong practice, the pre-stage to the big stage, so to speak. His awakening came soon after in the presence of Juan Luna's "Spoliarium." It was the image that set things in motion for the young Ventura. "Dramatic. Parang theater 'yung atmosphere ng artwork," he says of the first time he saw the piece. From there, he would be introduced to the Matisses and the Picassos of the world, slowly molding his proclivity for art, taking him all the way to the University of Santo Tomas College of Fine Arts, West Gallery, Drawing Room, and, as we all know, beyond.
"Mas gusto mo 'yung cartoon kapag bata ka kaysa sa art," he says. "Hindi mo pa alam yung art noon. So, 'pag dumating na 'yung na-train ka na para gumawa ng art, doon na nagkaroon ng consciousness sa art. So, nagiging parang... nagiging kurso na. Nagiging career na. So, iba na rin yung pananaw mo nun. Nag-evolve 'yung pananaw mo o nag-iiba according to sa situation na nangyayari."
Such consciousness isn't inherent. It's earned and tried over and over again through different stages in an artist's enlightenment of the self. In the case of the Filipino artist, reconciling the realities of the third-world absurd means appraising the contradictions and afflictions that his people have to grapple with, and understanding his place among them.
"Lahat 'yan gustong mag-express na sarili nila; lahat 'yan gustong siyempre kahit paano kumain sila doon sa tinatrabaho nila," Ventura says, speaking of the relationship between expression, survival, and fulfillment. "Masyadong basic 'yun. Lalo na't nasa third world country tayo. 'Yung iba, halos kapit sa patalim. I mean, kahit sa ibang field. Hindi lang doon sa art nararamdaman 'yung talagang hirap. So meron silang laging inspirasyon. Hindi mawawala 'yung hirap as part ng foundation ng struggle ng life's purpose."
Purpose. There's that slippery niggling bastard again. You know, success and purpose feel like they're supposed to go together somehow. There’s that crowd who says that these two things are interchangeable. Or that one comes after the other or something; precursors that tell you you’ve made it. But sooner or later we all find out that isn't always the case.
But the thing is, these are two totally different goals attached with totally different variables. You can be a success, and still find that life can be devoid of purpose. Or you can have some semblance of purpose, only to realize that success is a fleeting construct that changes as the wheels of the world turn. You go along with it. We all have varying definitions of purpose and success, which is what I'm trying to get at. And in the fickle art world, both of these can be ever elusive. They must be made and remade, kneaded like dough. Somebody like Ventura with the cultural cache and life experience knows this better than most people.
"Kahit nasabi mo na you're successful in the art business, that doesn't mean na successful ka sa life mo. Iba-iba yan, or successful ka sa career mo. Merong iba kumikita pero wala namang career. Iba naman may career pero wala ding kumikita."
But if you're Ronald fucking Ventura, you can have it all.
Story: Bryle B. Suralta Photos: Shaira Luna Styling: Paolo Chua Grooming: Muriel Vega Perez Editor-in-Chief: Paul John Caña Production: Paolo Chua Creative Direction: Igi Talao Design Direction: Bacs Arcebal
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