Roger San Miguel and the ritual dance of commissioned art
Walking down Mabini Street in Manila was a natural thing to do in the '60s. Locals and foreigners mingled day and night, creating a lively atmosphere. Colorful jeepneys and tourist buses filled the streets, competing for parking space to drop tourists at Tesoros, the most famous shop for Philippine-made souvenirs and handicrafts.
My favorite spots were the curio and antique shops, where I found collectors’ items I dreamed of owning. But most of all, I loved the art galleries. From one gallery to the next, I reveled in the paintings, which were perhaps hung too close to one another, some from floor to ceiling. They created such attractive walls that one would seek to see and examine up close. That’s also where I first saw the paintings of Roger San Miguel.
Even then, I had heard the term “Mabini Art,” which gave me the impression of being bright and colorful. However, after hearing it several times, I sensed a derogatory element from those who used the term. It reminded me of my freshman year at UP, where students in painting class would say of another person’s work, “Pang Mabini yata ang style mo’ (Your style might be of the Mabini persuasion),” which in my mind implied an excess of color. It didn’t take long for me to ask a senior what it meant, and he spontaneously said, “Pang turista” (meant for tourists). I didn’t think it was a big deal and continued to admire the artists in Mabini because, regardless of their motivation, they were undeniably talented.
Many names were known to me, but the one that remained in my mind was Roger San Miguel. He is an artist who can paint anything, and I was always delighted to encounter feature articles about him in the papers. It felt as if we were friends from the '60s, even though we had never met.
My good friend and spirited designer Tony Gonzales mentioned Roger San Miguel and eventually took me to his house, where I finally met the artist himself.
I wondered how he might have developed as an artist without the early commissions that sustained his family. He had the natural skill to paint anything at will, but no time to develop his own style. Could he have discovered another level of himself?
Roger was gracious and at ease, showing me around his home where the entire ground floor was his studio. There were different sections: the middle part for students and quieter corners where he could look out at greenery and find a sanctuary to paint on his own.
Born in Camarines Sur to a large family with limited resources, Roger’s parents struggled to provide even the basics. College was never an option. But Roger was undeterred and followed his passion for art. He dropped out of school, moved to the city, and quickly found a job painting movie house billboards. As a high schooler, I recall watching in amazement as two to three guys could finish a huge billboard of figurative characters depicting the current movie within an hour.
This experience laid the groundwork for Roger’s remarkable speed in painting. Little did he know, he was rapidly refining his skills, gaining the ability to effortlessly depict characters and objects in vivid hues. This caught the eye of a benefactor, resulting in a sponsorship to study art at the University of Santo Tomas. Although the opportunity seemed like a dream come true, the overwhelming demand for his work soon eclipsed his aspiration to complete his degree.
It was hardly surprising when a foreign art gallery owner encountered Roger in a Mabini gallery. This patron began by commissioning a dozen paintings with each visit to Manila, a demand that eventually expanded to 30 paintings per month. This arrangement persisted for decades, providing Roger with a steady income. However, the relentless production likely left him with little opportunity to cultivate his own personal style, as he was bound by the necessity of supporting his growing family.
During the Metropolitan Theater’s first renovation in 1972, it was discovered that an Amorsolo mural had gone missing—presumably misplaced, or perhaps even stolen. Esteemed painter Mauro “Malang” Santos, a well-known artist in his own right, was tasked with finding someone suitable to recreate Fernando Amorsolo’s large painting. Despite five prospective painters being reviewed by Malang’s committee, none met the high expectations. Meanwhile, with the theater’s renovation in full swing, a deadline loomed.
Roger’s name fell into Malang’s lap after initial suggestions and applications fell through. The team visited him and saw his paintings, even witnessing an impromptu painting demonstration. Roger was awarded the project and challenging commission, which the revitalization committee for the Metropolitan Theater, led by then First Lady Imelda Marcos, readily endorsed.
Roger’s “Amorsolo” mural was completed and installed in the lobby, exactly where it was before. However, by the mid-'80s, the Metropolitan Theater was closed and neglected. Years later, its revival began, and Roger was called again to restore the same painting—ironically, a restoration of his own restored work. Meanwhile, the twice-restored Amorsolo painting was installed at the GSIS Museum, where more people could view it.
I believe this is why, when the Metropolitan Theater was finally ready to reopen, it opted to leave the piece in the GSIS Museum for the public’s benefit. In the theater lobby, a printed replica on canvas was installed on the Amorsolo wall.
Roger continues to accept commissions and paints at home. His schedule includes teaching students twice a week. In person he’s quite charming: a soft-spoken man with many colorful experiences to share. He mentioned his village chapel and beamed with delight describing his artistic contribution to its look. His innate goodness shines through.
On my way home, I wondered how he might have developed as an artist without the early commissions that sustained his family. He had the natural skill to paint anything at will, but no time to develop his own style. Could he have discovered another level of himself?
Contrast that with the lives and rivalry of Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon, who came from affluent families, whom I’ve read about recently. Financial stability allowed Freud and Bacon to focus solely on their art without the pressures of commissions or supporting a family, like Roger. They had the freedom and luxury of time for introspection and self-discovery. In contrast, Roger’s involvement in his community reflects a different kind of fulfillment altogether.
This artist has conquered the odds, and I admire that. I felt enriched by meeting Roger, and encountering the strength of character that his journey represents.