Layug’s unfinished sculpture
PORTABLE MAGIC
‘Book Haul’ by Cecil Robin Singalaoa, watercolor on cotton rag paper, 2020, 4×6 inches
Text and photos by Elizabeth Lolarga
On the first hour of our meeting, Wilfredo “Willy” Layug, known for art that celebrates the sacred, and I exchanged books. I thought that gesture boded well for the rest of our conversation on art and life.
Without knowing him at all, I composed a poem in November 2017 based on a Ben Razon photograph of his work, showing sweethearts in the bloom of love with a tampuhan (lovers’ quarrel) accurately captured by the sculptor. The ekphrastic poem opens with an epigram from poet Marne Kilates:
From the Mutest Hardwood
…How art can soothe a tired soul…How music is made even from the mutest hardwood.
~ Marne Kilates
in a Celine Dion hit
she half sobs how
“i hate you
then I love you
then I love you
then I hate you
then I love you more”
how much of young love is full
of such contradictory forces:
attraction then repulsion
feelings of mush & melting
followed by a sobering up
tenderness then callousness
how Willy Layug’s chisel captures
the sweetness of ay! youth’s folly
the ardor on the gentleman suitor’s
face, the sharp sulk on his beloved
señorita’s, even the strands of her hair
are combed away from her face as
though to make clear her intention
not to succumb to a kundiman’s entreaty
Layug’s hardwood may be mute
But we hear love’s call of
Half despair, half hope
Layug’s sculpture of Our Lady of Hope of Palo during Pope Francis’ Papal mass in Tacloban in 2015. It was blessed by the visiting Pope, who, it is said, threw away his prepared speech and, in the relentless rain, spoke spontaneously in Spanish. Photo by Benhur Arcayan/Malacanang Photo Bureau
Willy Layug working on a block of gmelina wood
Layug glanced at the poem after he took a break from chiseling at a huge block of gmelina wood, a commissioned work from an actor married to a politician from the Visayas. Then, clad in t-shirt, shorts and slippers, the artist marched into a room in his studio in Barangay Ursula, Betis, Pampanga, brought out and handed to me a heavy tome whose title is his name—Willy Tadeo Layug, with text written by art historian and professor Laya Boquiren and photographs by Ruston Banal.
Book cover of Layug’s ‘Ecce Homo’ on the Passion of Christ
He said it was mine, considering that I had gifted him with a poem, old though it may be, and a book. My mind churned rapidly as I asked myself, was this even a fair exchange? Three hundred and five poems and a little prose spread out over 310 pages as against his de-luxe, full-color book of 234 pages with a square format measuring 12.4” x 12.4.” My husband was prepared to purchase it to add to his library of artbooks, but Layug would have none of that. It was a swap that left me validated, and hubby’s grin stretched from Pampanga to Baguio.
Curious about the work commissioned by the celebrity, he said a company in Bulacan supplies Layug’s Betis Galleria with gmelina wood that has already been kiln-dried. The advantage of gmelina over other types of wood is it has a skin tone. In contrast, with the others, he has to apply gesso to hide the grain. With gmelina, “we show the grain,” Layug said.
He called himself ‘tambay sa vendo’ because he would stand by the vendo machine, offering to swap his drawing for a hamburger
As a painting major at the University of Santo Tomas and despite being a scholar of former Justice Minister Estelito Mendoza, he was having a hard time surviving from day to day. He called himself “tambay sa vendo” because he would stand by the vendo machine, offering to swap his drawing for a hamburger. Artist friends, especially social realist painter Federico Sievert, helped him with meals and lent him paints.
Layug said his family was so poor that his own mother never held an amount more than 5,000 pesos. At one point, he dropped out of art school to earn more for the family, but Sievert encouraged him to return.
‘Hour of Martyrdom (San Lorenzo Ruiz)’ by Layug
‘First Mass’ by Layug
Layug also does secular paintings, like this portrait of a vendor, actually a neighbor whom he costumed and provided with props
Today, people address him “Maestro” as a sign of respect for the gains, accolades and awards in his field, but he considers himself “always an apprentice, always a student.” Apart from owning two studios, including one in a huge compound, with the latest carving and sculpting machines, and a house with a chockful of ecclesiastical and secular art, he is building a chapel and a museum-café. The opening of the two buildings is timed in November this year on the 60th birthday of his wife, Florentina (“Baby”).
He and Baby eloped early on and had seven children. He wasn’t able to finish school on schedule because he lacked units in ROTC, Physical Education and Philippine Constitution, until their son Joseph, the youngest, also went to college, and they graduated together in 2016. He referred to Baby as “my boss, my manager. Her role in my life is to let me focus on my art, to see I am undisturbed. She attends to our domestic, financial and everyday concerns.”
Regarding his favoring sacred art, he said he has always been a Baroque architecture fan, an admirer of Michelangelo’s David and other masculine figures and Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Teresa. An uncle gifted him with a book on sculpture, so when it was time for college, he chose UST, known for its classical training, over the University of the Philippines, which was more into contemporary art.
His standard approach to his art is to research exhaustively, looking up verses in the Bible, then making his imagination work. He said, “Some local artists put the wrong iconography based on myths. I look at biblical references. In a way, my approach is scientific.”
The tortured Christ in detail
Still, he starts his day with prayer, requesting safety and guidance from the Holy Spirit. He plays tennis or goes biking with his children and grandchildren. A papal awardee, he said, “Clean living lang ’yan (it’s all about clean living).” He is most productive in the early morning, as early as 4 a.m.
Despite his many commissioned works, he makes time for community service by interacting with potters and mandukit or carvers. He’d seriously consider the title “master” if he is able to transfer his knowledge successfully. With the group Masu (a word for “mallet”), he is guiding young, even older artists, and teaching them to formulate concepts apart from just doing.
He noted that most of the time, they have “no clear intent. When asked why they made a carving, they’d answer, ‘Kabuhayan lang (livelihood only) or inorder ng kliyente (a client ordered it).’ I have to explain these things to them. Otherwise, they’re unaware why they are carving or painting.”
Meanwhile, he continues to like the artists Damian Hirst, Salvador Dali, and the elusive and mysterious street artist Banksy.
This ceaseless learner-eternal apprentice is planning another trip to Spain to continue picking up traditional techniques and finding more and deep meaning in religious works.
In the book, Luis Antonio Cardinal Tagle wrote about the power of Layug’s images: “For me the outstanding quality of his sacred sculptures and retablos is their ability to move people to prayer, to reach out to the divine, to that which can bring them close to God.”
I leave his studio, then his home as though I had just gone through the Stations of the Cross, and felt my soul assuaged and redeemed by the humility, down-to-earth-ways and straight talking of my subject.
To those who would like to visit the artist’s studio or acquire the book with his name, send a Facebook message to the account of Willy Tadeo Layug.
