Tacloban City Vagabond

Being able to see is such a wonderful gift given to man. Our eyes catch every detail of the world around – every tiny movement, every change of hue, every new scene after a blink.

We are our own database of images and moving clips of what our eyes could capture. Billions of intricate details, colors, textures, light, facial expressions, gestures, landscapes, seascapes, and familiar faces all registered in our heads. Such a complex process of storage yet an insignificant thought of our everyday living.

Certain subjects catch my attention when I go around places. My eyes would always wander and yet at some point it would just stop and focus on interesting people. And then an invisible force would draw me near someone to study their movement, their mannerisms, their hair color and the like. Those random stomach butterfly feelings would indicate that there is something special right there at that moment, that particular place, that particular time.

From the world around me, to my eyes, to my memory, to my hands, to the paper, something amazing is born out of careful observation, introspection, and realization. That is probably why I have an urge to paint. That is the reason why I want to convey a message, show people what my eyes could selectively see, and share a piece of that moment with others.

Maybe at some point, you will have a glimpse of what I see with my eyes too.

Here’s a painting of an old vagabond in Tacloban city sitting quietly on the corner, his eyes fixed on the flower vendor on the other side. It made me wonder now, “How on Earth did he end up there? What’s his story?”

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