The heART of Cory Aquino
Former President Corazon “Cory” Aquino, who would have turned 93 last Sunday, Jan. 25, is remembered for many indelible reasons, not only through monuments and schools named after her, through books and articles about her—but also through the colorful and soulful paintings she left behind, mostly to her family and close friends. These paintings throb with heart.
“There is life after the presidency,” Aquino would always say after she stepped down from the presidency in 1992. She refused to be active in politics, but campaigned for her only son Noynoy when he ran for congressman, and then senator.
Aside from going on occasional speaking tours, building the Aquino Museum in Tarlac, and supporting micro-lending institutions to empower the poor, Cory took up the paintbrush.
Cory’s former appointments secretary and confidante Margie Juico recalled to me once that during a visit to the house of Maritess Lagdameo Lopez, wife of Manolo Lopez (later ambassador to Japan), Cory noticed Maritess’ paintings. Maritess told Cory that she and a group of friends had been taking painting lessons with artist Jeffrey Consumo, and shared his phone number with Cory.
Cory, who had taken painting lessons with another artist Raul Isidro before her presidency (among her “classmates” were the late STAR founding chairman Betty Go-Belmonte), immediately organized her own painting classes under Consumo. The classes were held regularly at the home of her late parents in Forbes Park and her new “classmates” included her daughter Ballsy Cruz, her former press undersecretary Deedee Siytangco and Margie.
“For Mom, it was a great way to unwind,” Ballsy told me prior to an exhibit of Cory that I had organized with PeopleAsia and Emerson Yao of Lucerne in 2010.
Cory’s very first painting—of a tree in the woods—went to her first grandchild, Ballsy’s firstborn Jiggy, in 1993. It was her birthday gift to him.
Cory was a prolific painter (Ballsy can’t tell how many paintings her mom made all in all), and her style evolved through the years. She was also very creative, and liked to experiment with different media. She would paint not only on canvas but also on wooden trays, rocks and stones (which she noticed on the roadside during her trips to Tarlac), bags, and paper fans. I am a proud recipient of two bags that Cory painted with flowers.
She never sold any of her paintings.
“She would give her paintings to causes she cared about, and as gifts to those who had already everything money could buy, but whom she wanted to show appreciation for,” says Margie.
“My paintings may not be worth much now,” she would quip, according to Margie, “but when I die, they will be more valuable.” She would say that while still in the pink of health. She donated one of her paintings to a fundraiser for cancer awareness, and another to a foundation supporting the preservation of the Philippine eagle.
Cory converted the room beside her bedroom in her Times Street home into her own little studio. It was her inner sanctum. She let only one photographer, Jun de Leon, take her photo in that inner sanctum, in 2001. (After their mother passed away in 2009, the Aquino children saw that Cory had unfinished paintings, and one, mounted on an easel, is dated February 2009, when she was already in the last stages of her bout with colon cancer.)
Friends, upon learning that she was into painting, would gift her with oils, acrylic, brushes, and other artist’s paraphernalia. According to her household help, Cory would take breaks from her painting sessions by going to the kitchen to cook, or by retreating to her room to watch television.
“It was really therapeutic for her,” said Margie.
All her paintings were self-portraits in a sense, for they reflect her heart and soul—her belief in God’s majesty and man’s ability to reflect that majesty. Each canvas, each handbag, each stone, was a memento even before she had given it away.
“I’ll be painting again,” she told me in one of her very first interviews after she was diagnosed with cancer, while she was resting from chemotherapy. She had then moved to Ballsy’s house.
But occasionally, she would go back to her studio in Times and take up the brush. It helped in her healing, and perhaps, in her acceptance of God’s will.
Cory, in her own way, by drawing the admiration of the world for the Filipino people after the People Power Revolution in 1986, and by her memorable speech before the joint houses of the US Congress in September of the same year, painted a better portrait of the Philippines.
Belated happy birthday in heaven, President Cory!
