My Lunch with Nune Alvarado, National Artist

(SPOT.ph) On the 31st of March 2025, at 8 p.m., I walked into an art gallery where I was greeted by the Gallery Assistant who tried to sell me on the merits of four large artworks. “It’s a good investment,” she said. (What a bad pitch, I thought to myself.) Just when I turned to leave, that’s when the lady introduced me to “Nune Alvarado.” They told me that they had more of his works, in their other (nearby) gallery. The poster described the exhibit, “Bitter Sugar: the HeArt of Nune Alvarado” as a “[celebration [of] his five-decade career as a pillar of the Negrense and Visayan art communities” and that the “show [was] organized in support of the artist’s nomination to the Order of National Artist.” Summing it up, “Bitter Sugar” was a “tribute to Nune Alvarado’s iconic visual idiom and dedication to presenting the realities of Negrense peasant life on the national stage. From his innovative body of work to his advocacy of local artists, it is clear that Alvarado’s heart remains with the marginalized of his home province.”

Floored by the scale of the work—and the price that was quoted—I walked away, only to find myself rushing back, minutes before closing, to ask if the asking price was still negotiable.

That same evening, I posted pictures of the two artworks, to which a friend promptly replied, asking if these paintings were mine. (It turned out that my friend loves Nune.) “How I wish,” I said. “I think I want to sell my kidney,” I jokingly added, hinting that the dream of having this artwork is far from the reality of my bank account.

The morning came, and I still could not get Nune out of my mind. (I called up my brother-in-law, to ask him to collect two newly-installed artworks, from a few days prior, all because I wanted to “reclaim” my wall space for Nune. I told him that I wanted to wake up, everyday, conscientized by the artist, and reflecting on my past actions and contemplating what lies ahead.) I spent that holiday, the special day of Eid’l Fitr, reaching out to (nay, bothering) friends about where I could find Nune Alvarado’s works. Impatient and obsessed, I took to Google and found several names which I considered to be leads: his wife and grandson (both of whom, I promptly messaged on Facebook), an art gallery in Bacolod, and Orange Project. To my pleasant surprise, April 1 being a holiday, I received a reply to my inquiry from Orange Project.

While waiting for their further reply, I decided to call, and was able to speak with their Projects and Exhibition Director who told me they happened to have a Nune in their backroom. Entitled “Bagnas ni Inday,” the work from 2021 depicted a lady carrying a basket of fruits on top of her head. Was I interested? Immediately, I said yes, and made arrangements for my first “Nune.” That evening, I messaged my friend, referring to the artworks of Nune as my “moral anchor.” I told him that, at some point, we should make our way to visit Orange Project, and see Maestro Nune. (Later that evening, I received several other new Nune artworks from Maestro Nune’s grandson, who had sent them in response to my query.)

It was only the days that followed that I learned the full import and significance of that first yes to my first Nune. While thinking about the first Nunes that I saw—and how I could pawn and sell my internal organs, in order to afford them—I went on a frantic search to find other Nune Alvarados. A tip led me to the oldest art gallery in Manila where I promptly scheduled a viewing of two pen and paper works. Sometime during our chat, the Gallerist told me that if I like Alvarado, I would probably like another prominent contemporary Filipino painter; but between that artist (known for his use of figurative expressionism) and “her best friend,” she told me that she preferred Onib. Of course. 

As we leafed through their catalog, she showed me my first Onib, a still life that left me teary-eyed. A few pages later, there it was, a “Pieta” by Onib Olmedo. I dare not ask how much this will cost, I told the Gallerist. She confessed that she did not know either; and so, she rang up her Gallery Assistant, had the work brought out, and promptly told me the price. And while I asked if she could give me “until after Holy Week” to decide, I woke up the following morning convinced that I could not wait any longer; thus, came an important lesson—that, in many ways, my quest was partaking of the “Parable of the Hidden Treasure” (or the “Parable of the Pearl”).

A few days later, while waiting for my first Nune to be shipped and to arrive, I leafed through the catalog of Orange Project and noticed there was another artwork bearing Nune’s name, a collaboration with Orange Project Founder, the esteemed artist, Charlie Co. I messaged the gallery's Projects and Exhibitions Director to ask about this artwork—which, she would inform me, was a collaboration that happened during the pandemic, entitled “Balancing the Cross.”

Intrigued by the title, I expressed my interest in the piece. Later that day, just as I was attending Mass, I was inspired to think of four conditions that I would impose upon myself, should I ever get to acquire this artwork—or any artwork, for that matter, that I acquire directly from artists or their families: (1) it can only be sold, at least 10 years after my  passing; (2) it has to be by unanimous consent of my two nieces and nephew; (3) the artist or their designated representative shall have veto power over the sale; and (4) the artist and/or their designated beneficiary shall receive 50% of the proceeds of the sale. Excited, I immediately called up the Projects and Exhibitions Director of Orange Project to share my “eureka” moment. She told me that, coincidentally, Maestro Nune’s collaborator had just called her up and that she’d already relayed the news that someone was interested. It was fate, then, that decided that I must view the painting in person.

I proceeded to invite my friends to join me for an overnight visit to Orange Project to see the painting.

My friends and I flew to Bacolod on Holy Monday, the 14^th of April 2025—a first, for me: to travel to Negros Occidental, and to travel during Holy Week. Upon arrival, we were received by my then phone and pen pal, the Projects and Exhibitions Director, Ms Princess Lira “Candy” Alvarado. Candy suggested that we proceed directly to Sagay for lunch with Maestro Nune, while it was daytime. During the long drive, we learned about what brought Candy to and how she made a home in Bacolod.

Unsurprisingly, because she used to work in film and television, we had several mutual friends; and by the time we arrived in Sagay, we were all laughing like old friends. 

As the car made its way through Sagay and approached our lunch venue, we started to see murals that bore the colors and style of Maestro Nune. A short walk from the parking lot, we could see the lovingly named “Kape Albarako”—that looked out to art installations planted in the water whose motifs seemed to call out and announce to wandering seafarers that they have reached their destination.

As we walked up the cafe, we were received by Mrs Rosalia “Mamang Sally” Alvarado. But when we saw Maestro Nune, we were not sure if we were welcome. As we gave her the boxes of donuts that we brought for their family, anticipating our thought, she explained to us that Maestro Nune was in a bit of a mood, just before we arrived. He had been struggling with health issues, we were told; in particular, his memory has been failing him and that has been affecting his mood.

Even while Mamang Sally was entertaining us and telling us stories, eventually, Maestro Nune settled by the dining table to curiously observe us: first, as seeming intruders; but, very quickly, his guests. It didn’t take long after his first donut, before his mood shifted and he warmed up to us—enough for him to join us for the sumptuous feast that was prepared for us. Mamang Sally noted the pleasant surprise that was Maestro Nune’s appetite. During the meal, it seemed that there was something else (or someone) that awakened his appetite; the sharp stare (that made us wonder whether we were even welcome) eventually softened into a loving gaze—erasing any doubt as to the object of his reawakened affection/ "Ang sexy nung babae, no?” (“the woman is very sexy, no?”), he said as he playfully elbowed my friend. It was the stuff of movies: a man whose memory was failing; and yet, unfailingly showing his love, devotion, and affection for his wife. 

As I got up to look around and got to the “work-in-progress,” a few feet away, Mamang Sally explained that Maestro Nune started working on that canvas, a week before our visit. It turns out that he started painting again, urged by a sudden burst of energy, following the recent visit of our companion and host, Candy.

Meeting my curiosity, Mamang Sally got up to show me some of the other works of Maestro Nune, including those that their grandson had initially sent me. To everyone’s surprise, Mamang Sally opened a chest to show us a few other paintings. (Even Candy was surprised to see these artworks for the first time!)

Meeting my curiosity, Mamang Sally got up to show me some of the other works of Maestro Nune, including those that their grandson had initially sent me. To everyone’s surprise, Mamang Sally opened a chest to show us a few other paintings. (Even Candy was surprised to see these artworks for the first time!)

I asked Mamang Sally, if there were other—older—works. She told me that a lot of them have been acquired by collectors, including the owner of the Gallery where I saw my first Nune. At some point, she and Candy talked about a monumental work that they would love to exhibit in the future. As we said goodbye, my friends and I took turns taking pictures with Maestro Nune—several snapshots, capturing us in shared laughter; until finally a group photo that looked more like a family portrait.

As we said goodbye, I asked Mamang Sally if she could hold some of those paintings for me, explaining that we were in town, primarily, to view the Maestro’s collaboration. I made a mental note that I would love to have those paintings, if only because of Mamang Sally’s stated affection for them; and while there are artworks that I would love to buy, I wanted to buy them because they would remind me of her love for Maestro Nune.

From Sagay, we made our way back to Bacolod and, eventually, to Orange Project where we got to view the collaboration. My fear that the masterpiece would thematically be too heavy soon disappeared, as soon as I saw it in person; moreso, when we got to meet Maestro Nune’s collaborator Charlie Co (who, later that evening, would host us for dinner).

The following morning, as we were leaving the hotel, Candy passed the message from Mr Charlie saying how he felt this was just the beginning of our relationship with Orange Project—and that, for whatever it’s worth, he would be happy if their masterpiece were to find a home with me. That evening, when I arrived in Manila, I messaged Candy:

Good evening, Candy. My gosh. What an amazing two days—and two weeks! We just landed in Manila.

When Awee and I got into my sister’s car, we tried (again) to reflect on the past two days. And “Balancing the Cross” will always remind us of the “family of friends” we met and made along the way. As I shared with you, this masterpiece has been giving me a good and calming energy, despite the intensity of the imagery. It would be my honor to be entrusted with and to look after this masterpiece.

So, yes, provided that you, Charlie, and Nune don’t change your minds about letting me have it, it would be my honor to have this in my home—just as you’ve all made a home in our hearts.

Please let me get back to you next week about settling my account. Do send me a statement of account/invoice.

A few messages later, I responded with: Dios mio. I’m getting teary-eyed, thinking that I’m not just gaining a masterpiece, but I’m also being welcomed into my Bacolod family and community.

“Balancing the Cross” was going to be, at the time, the most “impersonal” personal artwork I was going to add to my humble collection: personal, because I love it and its creators dearly; but impersonal because I was acquiring it as a piece for friends and visitors to enjoy. It is the one artwork about which I never offer my opinion or thoughts; but instead, happily and eagerly await my friends’ sentiments.

Due to the size of the artwork—nearly 6 x 8 feet!—I had to prepare my humble home to receive it. Not only did I declutter my wall, but I found myself redesigning my living space around it. While there was a time when my tiny home was filled with plants—and for which reason, I never entertained guests (unless they could photosynthesize)—I have, since then, happily welcomed friends to see these artworks.

I am writing this, a few days after the announcement of Maestro Nune’s Proclamation as National Artist for Visual Arts; and while this has been a trip down memory lane, I cannot help but reflect and contemplate everything else that’s happened and changed since.

• While Maestro Nune and Mr Charlie Co, and their respective families, set a high bar for what it’s like to be received by artists of their caliber and renown, I have been very pleased to learn that other artists (and their families) can be and have been just as gracious and warm. (And yes, since then, I have had the pleasure of being called “friend” by some of them!)

• Speaking of being friends with or an admirer of other artists, I have been very pleased to know that the artists I admire—they who make good art—all happen to be good people, too. (I remembered this, at the height of the announced republication of a book made controversial by allegations against its author.)

• “Balancing the Cross” is currently on loan at the Ateneo Art Gallery, as part of an ongoing exhibition called “Orion in Sight: A View of Collective Work.” And just as fate seemed to pave the way for me to have it, it seems that it was fate that made the loan possible: one Saturday, towards the end of an unexpected visit to Ateneo Art Gallery, I told my companions that, someday, I’d love to be able to lend an artwork. (My unexpressed thought bubble was I would be very happy if, long after I’m gone, “Balancing the Cross” could be loaned to Ateneo Art Gallery.) To my surprise, two days later, I received a call from Orange Project asking if they could borrow it—for an exhibit at Ateneo Art Gallery.

• Sadly, I did not get to acquire the artworks that Mamang Sally showed us and, to this day, I still think about that first Nune that I saw as “The One That Got Away.” Along the way, I’ve learned to accept it as a lesson on letting go. (As much as I would have wanted that first Nune, I could not find it in my heart to see them apart. And because I did not have room and wall space for both of them, I had to let them go. When I explained this to the owner of the Gallery, he told me that I was the only person, aside from himself, who thought of those two artworks that way. For that reason, he respected and appreciated my decision.)

• In the months that followed our lunch, I have welcomed other “Nunes” into my home—several “Nawongs” (ie “faces”) and a large artwork entitled “Pig-Baboy”—but they are just some of “The Ones I Got Instead.” The most valuable masterpiece I ever got from meeting Maestro Nune, I received from his grandson; when, on the night that the news came out, I messaged to thank them “for kindly receiving and welcoming me into the group”—and to which, he responded, “to the family, Tito.”

In a past life, I had the honor of participating and casting my vote in the joint deliberations for the Order of National Artists Awards. It wasn’t until I encountered Maestro Nune—and I have been existing in my post-Nune life—that I truly understood the full import, impact, and significance of what that means. In the coming days, tributes and testaments will be paid by those better suited to talk about his art, his craft, and his fight for social justice. But for now, I am honored and humbled to share some recollections and reflections from that day when we got to have lunch with him, and got to witness—despite the lapses in memory—his unfailing love for his wife, our dear Mamang Sally.