A theatre stage, not lacking in its parts such as a backdrop and its curated props, is simulated and revolves around a backbone consisting of a triumvirate of parts that are composed of appropriated images and objects, perhaps arbitrarily culled with an air of artistic whim and chutzpah, from various points of cultural history.

The first of the three is a mural based on an Ukiyo-e woodblock print made in 1889 by the Japanese artist, Adachi Ginkō. The scene depicted in the woodblock, titled “Illustration of the Issuing of the State Constitution in the State Chamber of the New Imperial Palace” exudes the pomp and luster of any given formal function, especially if the host is the state governing body. It is interesting to note the motive for such an appropriation: is it merely a source reference for a painting that needs models for luxurious decor, elaborate ornaments, and dressed up officials and members of the elite class; or does it also entail a hidden, politicized agenda? 

It is clued in by the artist that the gallery’s physical attributes, which is a uniquely elevated space perched above another exhibition area below, led the artist to make this “mock theater,” as it “looks like a stage.” It is not far fetched to surmise a critique ensues from within, and highlights the powerful influence a gallery has as an institution of arbitration. The mural piece, given the title “Public Relations,” may very well have these subtle questions rooted in its trenches.

The second part in this “theatrical arena” is a meticulous variable work in terms of its hefty coverage, quantity of parts and hours spent for its production. Consisting of soft sculptures made of velvet and sewn in the essence and shape of fire and flames, “Feud,” is a humorous reference to an appropriated narrative, a controversial story which involves “Coco Chanel and Elsa Schiaparelli wherein both were at a costume ball and the former asked the latter to dance, and then danced straight into a lit chandelier so the back of Schiaparelli’s dress caught fire (Encarnacion).” With both parts providing context and feeding off each other, the artist’s thematic narrative has more clarity. Is it a shot in the dark about fleeting vainglory, of which is considerably the nature of the beast, of the muse called Art? 

There are many ways to get at the skinny, or a better expression, to skin the cat. This does not make fun of but rather pays tribute to the artist’s love for felines! (This writer remembers she took care of strays while she was still matriculating at the UP College of Fine Arts, where she was an exceptionally talented artist.) Encarnacion belongs to the very youthful generation of artists whom Conceptual artist Alwin Reamilo described as the product of her alma maters’ primary impetus: to “build the Perfect Beast,” or, in longer verse, a complete artist endowed with drawing and painterly skills and has been trained to think and be critical. 

Gale Encarnacion’s early forays had her examining the nature of materials other than traditional oil paints often associated with painting, and thus was able to weave brilliant tales and narratives from common materials she found handy: bread, cookies, plastic wrappers etc. Showing her range as an artist, it was also natural for her to draw inspiration from visual questions and problems that proliferated the subjects around her curriculum. 

Perhaps, post-collegiate life has posed its own issues and she has been quick to recognize and make sense of the arena and industry she finds herself in. In a way, she has turned her critical aesthetics to the dissection of the artist’s life. Thus, perhaps too, the installation piece “Season of Disbelief” is her assessment and notes to self of what’s going on. The artist and sculptor Damien Hirst, perhaps one of invincible personalities of the YBA, once said in a printed interview, “Art is about wanting to live forever.”

Making use of her adapted and honed fabulist aesthetics, Encarnacion has taken on one of art’s inevitable and romantic themes. A handful of artists of recent practice would attest to the higher difficulty handicap of such intangible themes; over the easily accessible themes with labels and handles, ranging from still life painting to art practices having advocacies, which make thematic subjects easier to discuss objectively. There is nothing lesser about these, and the point being is that to take on more abstract themes is more likely to dance with the devil and commit career suicide. She has bravely followed her gut on this dive.

“Season of Disbelief” is an installation with readable associations but it must be intended by the artist to be open to interpretation. It may be riddled with the backstories and biases incurred in the artist’s picking of images and objects, but a person once immersed in the light-hearted and whimsical geist of the work will be delightfully amused, if not inspired. A point of interest with regard to the artist’s strategies is her seemingly employed system of indexes that skin the theme of a subject by espousing tertiary or third-degree removed representations, which makes the reading of her satire more complex and seductive.

The installation has explored the aspect of the gallery involving its utility for sharing. It is no longer just a neutral space but is a sanctuary of sentiments. Appropriating, too, the installation’s title from the famous American writer Ray Bradbury in one of his short stories, it reflects the change of attitude and mindset of the main protagonist, with whom only an old soul or a man downed by life’s seasons will identify with. Summarily, one of the themes besetting Encarnacion’s theatre is the pain of loss, of losing one’s self, and of losing, with the finality of ending up facing a specter of a vacuum where its shape has been dented before repair. To satirize these depths is maybe a way to force one’s self back to community. And for that person who has just gone in and experienced the installation will highly appreciate its fanfare and comedic spirit, and just maybe, will realize, like some of us have, that the artist has hit the nail on its head at poking fun at our foibles, and egg us to rise above it. (JO)