Words Abe Orobia
May 31, 2024

I was personally invited by the great Junyee to the opening of his Sculpture Garden at UP Los Baños Campus on May 22, 2024. However, I was unable to attend and show my support because I had classes to teach at Benilde, where I teach painting and design subjects. We have met several times on various occasions, sharing significant bonds while serving as speakers. Thus, I felt compelled to visit him in his studio to listen to his thoughts and ideas on the creation and establishment of his Sculpture Garden, the first of its kind in the country, highlighting the life’s work of a renowned artist.

At 82 years old, Junyee remains remarkably sharp for his age. He attributes his longevity to abstaining from vices such as drinking and smoking, and to practicing slow phasing or meditation—always mindful that each day could be his last. He believes that kindness is its own reward. Summing up his philosophy, he says, “If you do good to people around you, you will be blessed with kindness. If you take care of your body, then you are taking good care of yourself. Kindness has many forms. It doesn’t matter whether you believe in God or not. Just do good.” On the other hand, I believe that Junyee’s creativity and wanderlust have shaped him into a survivor and determined individual, akin to a sage. He is philosophical, spiritual, passionate, and zen, all at the same time.

As a teenager, he worked as a janitor, mortician, and embalmer, running away from his well-off family in Agusan del Norte to prove he was not interested in his father’s inheritance and could make a living out of his passion. His twenties were influenced by the hippie culture and social activism, participating in the Philippine Collegian and street protests. His artistry never left him; it continued endlessly and, according to his own words, “consumed him.”

He lived in Japan for six years, adopting the ‘less is more’ philosophy, which further ignited his mantra of championing materiality and sustainability. “Nature has given us everything. What more could we ask for? So we should take care of it,” he stressed.

Junyee and his wife Marites never had children, but he mentored outstanding and distinguished talents who attribute their learnings to him. These include Alfredo Aquilizan, Oscar Villamiel, Jinggoy Buensuceso, and Leeroy New, to name a few. Junyee is indeed a man with an unrelenting spirit, a continuous innovator, and a magnanimous soul who keeps on sharing and mentoring the next generation of creative thinkers.

Hailed by many as the patriarch of ephemeral and indigenous installation art in the country, Junyee’s work is not for the mainstream. He pioneered the art form without forethought that it was being practiced elsewhere and considered a high form of art. He is a true definition and Asian counterpart of what Westerners dub “art for art’s sake.”

Junyee wants to be remembered “as a patriot,” and has represented the nation in several Biennale and Triennale expositions abroad. His first participation was the iconic “Wood Things” in the 12th Paris Biennale, which put the Philippines on the global stage after being snubbed for more than a decade in 1982. One historic site-specific was the memorial dedicated to Holocaust survivors in Israel titled “Open Doors” in 2009. He was offered a chance to stay abroad because of these international recognitions, but he refused. He believes his purpose is to serve his countrymen through his art.

Junyee narrates that he has been practicing the creation of indigenous sculptures long before he enrolled in UP Fine Arts in his mid to late 20s. The bucolic countryside of his childhood molded him to love nature and be inspired by it. He only uses what is readily available in his surroundings like twigs, fallen trees, bamboo, stalks, leaves, stones, dirt, or anything essentially discarded or provided by nature to execute his ideas.

He believes in the purity of Filipino art channeled through a positive mindset. For him, this is not necessarily traditional depictions of bahay kubo or romantic rural landscapes, nor modernist iterations borrowed from foreign influences, but rather “to answer what is in the air,” or in Tagalog, “kadyat na pangangailangan at pagsagot,” which, for him, defines truly Filipino contemporary art. As Filipinos are known to be resourceful, creative, and poetic, Junyee embodies these traits and lives by what he preaches: “Art as a statement and art as a form of engagement.”

Junyee’s body of work is thought-provoking, echoing his deep love for history, concern for societal issues, and environmentalism. One such example is his work before the pandemic lockdown titled “Kwarantin.” According to Dr. Patrick Flores, “Kwarantin may have been the first work in the Philippines about COVID-19. The work was completed on 22 February 2020 before the lockdown, and I am certain it is the first outdoor installation responding to the event.”

Incubator of Ideas: Sculpture Garden
By 2012, Junyee was approached and granted a 5000 sqm lot to be converted into a garden where he could display replicas of his award winning and significant sculptures and installation pieces spanning six decades of his professional practice. This initiative was led by then National Scientist, former UP President, and UPLB Chancellor Emil Q. Javier. Junyee was reluctant at first, citing a lack of funding to pursue the project, but through patrons such as government officials and some UP administrators who offered support like Dr. Luis Rey I. Velasco and Sen. Loren Legarda, the project was realized. Junyee managed the overall plan and design from start to finish, using his own savings, even planting trees and tending the garden himself. As a constant believer in transference and the gift of sharing, Junyee sought aid from his fellow artist friends and mentees to recreate and reinterpret his sculptures as planned. Contributing artists included Alfredo Aquilizan, Gerry Leonardo, Jinggoy Buensuceso, Marvin Oloris, Florence Cinco, Norman Tiotuico, Arch. Laurel Barte, and his ever-supportive nephew Ritche Yee.

Among my favorites in the garden is the “Bantayog-Wika” marker dedicated to Aurora province. It features the poem “Pag-ibig sa Tinubuang Lupa” by Andres Bonifacio written in Baybayin script. All over the country, only regions with intact languages have this kind of marker translated into local dialects. Another notable piece is the sculpture titled “Queen’s Woe,” a commentary on the plight of OFWs having affairs while their partners are away. The accompanying piece, “The Jester,” suggests panandaliang-aliw at kalaguyo (a temporary lover). This cycle, according to him, has destroyed countless families. Lastly, “Angud” (a forest once) is a commentary on the illegal log trade that took its toll on our once-majestic rainforests and hardwoods. The tree stumps, looking like gravestones tied and interwoven with red strings, originally installed at CCP, represent the battle cry of nature. They are 10 thousand strong, nagkakaisa at nagdadalamhati sa kinahinatnan ng ating mga kagubatan (united in grief over the state of our forests).

What makes the Sculpture Garden a milestone in Junyee’s illustrious career is that it not only holds a retrospective of his magnificent works, but more importantly, is accessible to students and campus visitors. Exploring the vicinity is like peeking into the labyrinths of Junyee’s mind: powerful, analytic, content, meditative, and reflective.

I have observed him gleefully thanking the students who visit. As an educator, I firmly believe that if you want to build a nation, you must start with the youth. They are the future and worth investing in. As Junyee enthusiastically said during my rainy-day visit, “Art is meant for sharing. Your visit is indeed a blessing. The rain is a gift from nature. We have the whole afternoon to talk about art.”

More than his exhibitions locally and abroad, competitions won, and awards and citations received including Gawad CCP para sa Sining (2023), perhaps this is his greatest gift to the nation. When he is not creating art, he is eagerly and patiently mentoring students at the Philippine High School for the Arts and the Humanities department on the main campus or discoursing with artists from different parts of the country on a daily basis. He told me he was offered a faculty position multiple times by then-Dean Nestor Vinluan, but he always politely declined. “I don’t want to be an employee; I do not know if I can do it right. I just want to share what I know.” I think Junyee was implying that the limited classroom hours might not be enough to educate people fully.

Twelve years since N.S Javier initiated this project, its completion and opening to the public is indeed his life’s work. Junyee does not force his leanings on everyone he meets; he simply shares and continues his journey. The tactile and ephemeral beauty of his creations is his own portrait. His influence is intangible and immeasurable, like a gentle breeze that is encompassing and enduring, yet never forceful.