Photography: First Love
For John, his falling in love with
photography came with thunder and lighting effects, so to speak. He was a high
school graduate, and quite lacking in confidence that he could make a name for
himself. One day, his sister’s husband, Ric, showed him a camera, and he
“borrowed” it. The word “borrowed” is in quotation marks because he did not ask
permission to use it. His curiosity got the better of him, and he took that
little camera – a Canon QL17 rangefinder – loaded it with film and pointed it
at everything he could see – plants in the garden, frogs and even cockroaches.
He was thrilled! It was in the days of film, and in order to save on cost of
films and processing, he limited himself to one roll of film. He challenged
himself to produce at least one good picture from each roll of film.
Ric was excited that someone shared his
interest in photography, and invited John to see his darkroom. Again, John was
filled with wonder upon seeing images begin to appear on papers soaked in
developers. With whatever savings he had, John began to build a darkroom under
the stairs of his mother’s house, and went on to do black-and-white printing. He
wanted to see his photos right away, and could not wait for photo shops to
process and print his pictures, which in those days meant a wait of a few days.
He was showing off his pictures to anyone
and everyone who cared to look at them. At that time, he had no concept of
portfolios, so all he was carrying around were 5”x7” photos.
One of the people who appreciated his
photos, and thought he had “an eye” for photography, was the general manager of
a printing press whose client was the publisher of a small, low circulation
travel magazine, “Manila This Month.” He took a few of those photos and showed
them to the publisher. The publisher offered John P500.00 a month (just for
comparison, the minimum wage then was P120.00 a month) for his photography –
but that was to be inclusive of use of his equipment, films and processing, and
prints; plus all his travel expenses, as
well as the salary of his assistant. Obviously, P500 a month was not enough to
cover his “cost of doing business.”
This was in 1970, I was 24 and working with
that magazine as a writer. Our first assignment together was to do an article
on rattan furniture manufacturing. When I was advised that the photographer
assigned to this project was waiting for me infront of the building, I went
down. On the driveway, I saw a huge white American car – a Pontiac Parisienne,
a young Chinese in his early 20’s, wearing white long-sleeved trubenized shirt
with rolled up sleeves, black rimmed glasses, and hair stiff with pomade. An
even younger assistant was carrying his black camera bag, while inside the car
sat his (actually his mother’s) driver. I worked with other photographers
before, but they usually came alone, so I was shocked to see a three-man party,
and said to myself, “All who’s missing is his mother!”
During the long ride from Manila to Cavite
where the factory was, I tried to engage him in conversation, but he was
painfully shy and answered me in monosyllables or one-word answers, so after a
while, I gave up trying. At the factory,
he went straight to work, and was quiet the whole time except for one-word
instructions, “dito” (here), or “doon” (there) that he mumbled to his
assistant. On the other hand, I was having an animated conversation with the
owners of the factory, and sometimes with the workers, whom I also interviewed.
We were done by noon, but the owners would
not let us go without getting us to accept an invitation to a seafood
restaurant for which the town was known.
John sat with his assistant and driver at one end of the long table, and
quietly and quickly finished lunch – I believe in two minutes flat – while I
savored the food – oysters in vinegar and onions – and the conversation with
our hosts that lasted about an hour. As he waited quietly and seemingly
enraptured with his camera, John was simply oblivious to all of us.
In the next few months, I gave him a few
more assignments to accompany my articles, sending him to photograph the
University of Santo Tomas a few times, and handicraft products at S.C.
Vizcarra’s. I also introduced him to my other photographer-friends.
After I quit my job at Manila This Month and
in the next couple of years, we went from magazine to magazine, offering our
partnership with me as writer and he as photographer. At a men’s fashion
magazine that we briefly joined, I quit when my boss decided not to publish a
story on a restaurant manager because the restaurant was not going to advertise
in the magazine. Besides, while my pay
was okay, John was only being offered gift certificates for his photography and
I did not think that was fair.
After a couple of years of partnering
together, John and I talked about what we liked to do, and we agreed that we
both liked travel and adventure. From that analysis, it was easy for us to
decide that we would do travel articles. We boldly approached Sunday Times
Magazine, and offered them a story on the Moriones Festival in Marinduque,
since we were planning to go there with friends. I asked how much they would pay for the story
and photographs, and the editor said “P100.00.”
John and I discussed the offer and while we found it low, we rationalized
that we were both inexperienced, and were willing to start at the bottom by
accepting the low fee. However, when I asked further, “How much would you give
for travel expenses?” I was both disappointed and aghast when I was told that
P100.00 would cover all – payment for the article, photos and travel expenses. It
was a rude awakening and we very quickly realized that we could not live on income
from travel photography, at least not from local magazines.
At that time, John had a friend whose
brother owned Trebel Industries, makers of pianos and inventors of the
one-man-band (precursor of electronic pianos that can produce music as if from
different instruments). They needed a photographer to photograph a young
protégé named Cecille Licad. The company was then handled by an agency called
Nation Ads. John got the assignment, and so, we got introduced to advertising.
Since advertising work was still quite
irregular, John volunteered to assist a British Broadcasting film producer,
Hugh Gibb, who was doing a 16mm documentary film on the Philippines. In the course of this assignment, he and Mr.
Gibb went all over – Manila, Cebu, Banaue and later on Mindanao. In the
meantime, I decided to enroll as a special student in the College of Fine Arts
and Advertising in UST, but stopped without finishing the semester because
President Marcos had declared martial law.
John was in Marawi in Mindanao with Mr.
Gibb when martial law was declared in September, 1972, and both hurried to fly
back to Manila. Mr. Gibb returned to Hong Kong, unsure if he could finish his
film on the Philippines.
The young art director at Nation Ads,
Veyong Rollamas, introduced us to other advertisers– Motolite Batteries and
Apex Motors. Even though there was political turmoil and the economy was down,
there were photo assignments streaming regularly from this advertising agency. We decided to establish our own studio and to
rent a place where we could hold office and build a darkroom. The ad agency
offered us the space (bodega) where they kept all their old newspapers and
magazines, but the next day, the offer was withdrawn as the owner’s husband
said he would use the space for his law office.
I felt bad – being edged out like that, so
I got a copy of the Manila Bulletin to look for office-for-rent ads. Although John was picky about where to set up
our studio (No to certain areas of the
city, and no to certain streets), he did not have the patience to inspect
places. I had to do this all by myself. Then when I found a place that I liked,
he came along. After a few days of searching, and inspecting different office
spaces, I found one – Room 306 Rufino
Antonio Building on 60 Buendia Avenue, Makati. This was our first studio. The
landlord, represented by his young daughter – younger than John and
myself, gave us a generous offer. The
monthly rental of P215.00 included free electricity and water, and while we
were moving in, the landlord’s carpenter, electrician and plumber would serve
us for free. All we had to do was buy materials (1/4 plywood was P4.00 each,
while ¾ plywood was P25.00). Aside from putting up partitions so we could have
a darkroom, the carpenter also built our cyclorama.
We had earned P1,000.00 from supplying the
Nayong Pilipino Ethnographic Museum with black-and-white prints of John’s shots
of Ifugaos and Maranaos, and subcontracting the printing of photographs done by
Dr. Robert Fox, and we used this money to pay the deposit and first month’s
rent, and buy construction materials.
As soon as the darkroom was built, and the
enlarger was installed, we had our first printing order – from another
advertising agency.
To be continued…
