SAINTS and religious icons serve as important anchors for people going through the darkest of days, when they must keep a steadfast hold on their faith to stay sane and to ultimately stay alive. At the Admiral Hotel Manila, one man’s paintings hang on the walls, a testament to how it’s possible to turn grief into hope.
Titled “Fidem,” which is the Latin word for “faith,” photographer-painter Jayson Vicente-Isaac’s very first exhibit shares the power of art in his journey of healing after losing his husband, photographer Raymund Isaac, to the coronavirus.
Making this even more tragic was that their happy marriage was very short lived. In July of 2021, the couple tied the knot in Las Vegas in the United States, but shortly after Raymund contracted the virus. He died in September that year.
This is when Mr. Vicente-Isaac sought solace in painting to express his grief and process his emotions. He had taken up painting during the pandemic, something he had never got to do in all his years as an interior design professional and later as a photographer.
The most striking example of how he dealt with grief through art is his acrylic work Nazareno, which emerged from his constant prayers to the Black Nazarene all throughout his husband’s 43-day hospitalization. It shows neither the entire body nor the face of the famous religious image, instead zooming in on the minute details of the Nazarene figure’s robes, from the maroon velvet cloth with embroidered gold lining to the firm, secure golden ropes that hold the intricately made vestments together.
When Mr. Vicente-Isaac unveiled the painting at the exhibit’s launch, a respectful hush fell over the room as everyone pondered the attention to detail it must have required, compounded by the painter’s need to revisit so frequently the memories of staring up at the religious icon during his darkest days.
He admits that he was never really a religious person, and only truly became so when he fervently prayed for Raymund’s recovery at St. Patrick’s Church in San Francisco, California. “I feel mixed emotions. I can’t even say if I’m proud of this work. I just want to share what I worked on during that time,” he said.
That his devotion led to a remarkable body of work that would become his debut art exhibit, is a cruel twist of fate that is not lost on him.
“I just had to keep busy. The level of grief I experienced is something I wouldn’t want anyone to experience. It’s the darkest ever,” said Mr. Vicente-Isaac.
Aside from Nazareno, his acrylic works on canvas and wood are all named after the various religious images he prayed to in his time of despair, his own perspective shining through by zeroing in only on their partial images. These works include Padre Pio, Guadalupe, Divine Mercy, and St. Expeditus.
Another part of the exhibit shows magnified details of buttons, zippers, prints, and fabrics once worn by Mr. Vicente-Isaac’s loved ones who had passed on. They are named 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019, and so on, referring to consecutive yearly losses, from Jayson’s parents to Raymund’s mother and younger brother.
The 16-piece art exhibition may seem dark, but it is ultimately a love letter and an avenue for healing and deep faith.
“People who will buy my works are lucky because so many prayers and emotions were invested in it,” he said at the launch.
Most of the pieces are for sale, with proceeds to go to the Positive Action Foundation Philippines, Inc. (PAFPI), a group dedicated to empowering and helping people living with HIV and AIDS.
“Fidem” is on view at the Admiral Hotel Manila until Oct. 10. — Brontë H. Lacsamana
