Art exhibit #1: Mysterious Diseases - Igan D'Bayan

It is a Tuesday evening at a bar on Guijo Street. My curfew blinks intensely in my subconscious as the night progresses, recapping that I am a fingertip closer to getting ejected from my lodging. Yet, I find myself in SaGuijo Café+Bar, romanced by its vintage Filipino rock n’ roll motif, enamoured by the different world it altogether holds upstairs.

Here lies a grotesque display of the vilely entrancing unknown. Aptly called “Mysterious Diseases”, it is summoned from the mind of a self-professed “nobody; a drunk and lonely painter”. Anchored by the belief that it is the mystery that endures rather than the explanation, he greets the Beloved Customer with handcrafted dermatologically sick faces repeatedly tinted with oil, zombie Nazis straight out from horror films, stolen X-rays, and perverted secrets and illnesses.

Evidently, only Igan D’Bayan can play mastermind to this latest stretch of artistic curiosity.

Although learned in the field of visual arts, Igan admits that, for better or for worse, he has never taken an art lesson in his life. It is through literature, rock music, conversations with artist friends, and David Lynch’s Dadaism that he was prompted to paint on his own will. Hence, tonight, we see him with his usual craft: putting oil on canvass, with a few tricks up his beret.

His idea is to see in the world of art a niche for ugliness, and not just beauty. The diabolical and the disturbing can, in fact, become oracular. When we least expect it to, fear jolts us wide awake, causing an intricate vortex that distorts our perception of reality. It is inarguable that one is capable of taking extreme measures to avoid that anxiety. We take the case of Dorian Gray whose fear of ageing prompted him to sell his soul in order to keep his youth. In “Portrait of the Artist as a Zombie (Dorian Gray 2012)”, Igan D’Bayan depicted himself as a modern version of the sick soul that was trapped the infamous Basil Hallward painting.

More often than not, we get the most fear out of history and watching horror films. Inspired by the movie of the same title, “Dead Snow” introduces us to a Nazi colonel, who, some fifty years ago, fled from a village’s uprising, never to be see again. Now, not only has he returned, but he has also brought the entire troop with him. So, what is scarier than a band of Nazis coming to take over an entire nation? A band of zombie Nazis with the same mission.

Nightmares do not necessarily point the paranormal. Some fears are too eerie or too weird to even mention. These are the hardest to deal with because they are suppressed within our core, mummed by rationality. Igan’s idea is to map out the inexpressible. “Porky’s Revenge” depicts the story of an animal that tore off his own skin to make it into the likeness of cloth, only to later find out that he has been devouring his own body all along.

Free drinks!

Distortedly complemented with a mysterious disease, this picture presents an illness that crawls deep under the skin, triggered by one’s past and the terrors that accompany it. “Our Lady of Thistles” is the portrait of Thistle Guevarra, who relates to the artist her childhood fears and apprehensions, which were elicited by a parent’s bizarre occupation. A close observation will show that the lady in this picture is clothed with a number of sharp-toothed, omnivorous fishes that are found in the South American waters – the very same fish that the muse’s father used to tend when the former was a mere child. Another observation will testify that the painting seems to be alive: the eyes follow you, never letting you out of her sight. Consider her as a dark angel?

Then there is the ugliness within; the nonexistent cyst that we feel growing in our core. This may perhaps be the tragedy of human life, humans who were, in fact, born with goodness. And, it is only a matter of time before we are all found out. This is where Igan brings in the modern method of acrylic painting: with the use of “pilfered” X-rays and ultraviolet lights, which is the mode applied to the “X Rated Series”.

The introductory art ominously stands by the far corner of the gallery. It is a towering 76x23x23 sculpture called, “Why am I not a Sculpture No. 1 (Black Sabbath)”. Created out of fiberglass and steel, the daunting figure seemed to have had its heart ripped out of its cage. On the other hand, the closing art is propped atop a coffee table. “Why am I not a Sculpture No. 2 (Pink Floyd)”, is a brilliant sculpture made out of bone, resin, and wood. The two might as well force-feed the viewer the realities of human life: that after death, the mysterious diseases will not entirely evaporate. We will become the ugly ashen bones that we are so terrified of.

The thing about an art gallery by Igan D’Bayan is that every piece in the collection is an intrigue. Every detail has a subliminal story that the mind cannot help lingering on. At the end of the day, it is the spectators’ response that makes the affair an utter success. Whether it is a nod of approval or a horrified gasp (“Ano ba ‘yan?!”), isn’t it elating to know that there was an authentic reaction? That is what’s fascinating about the grotesque and the unknown: it grabs you by the scruff of your shirt.

Photo with Igan

Some cool souvenirs

Igan D’Bayan calls his art a “wellspring of despair”, “one strange experiment in itself”. I don’t believe that we all have the same interpretation of these mysterious diseases. The artist has done his part, and it is a job well done. So now, what about our train of thought? The rules are simple: that we let the characters rule the roast. That we let the objectless ones wet the paintings. That we let the auction stars do it for the slaughterhouse of king currency. And that we let the lonely drunken painter “paint and repaint, paint and repent”.

It was an exhibit that made me think.