PHASE NINE

TO SCULPT IS TO IMITATE

God was the supreme carver—the prime sculptor of all things.

He was the first one who had an idea of sculpting. He was also the first one who made a sculpture of a man who he then gave life so it could breathe.

A man was the first statue that breathed—it was the first sculpture in the field of sculpting.

That's why it was given to give sculpture their life, to begin with. And whoever had the chance to be the prime in a field that was yet to be discovered, they all earned one thing—bragging rights. A prideful air that laced them said, "I was the first one to be here that's why I should be the one to make the rules."

For the gods to be a god, one must be all-knowing in their discipline. They should earn a reputation on which they could be respected and believed that they were credible.

In Michelangelo's Buonarroti's case, he wasn't the first sculptor that ever existed. Aside from the all-knowing God that started life on Earth, countless sculptors preceded the prime sculptor. Yet with the events that refrained Buonarroti to be the prime, he was able to top them all.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni made a name for himself out of the dedication that he had to his work. Though his father, Ludovico di Leonardo Buonarroti Simoni, was against him pursuing the sculpture discipline, he pursued the direction that he believed was his.

And he did, that's why his name was one of the primes now.

Is that why Michelangelo de Angelis wanted to be a god—to defy the highest and make a name for himself as who he was, not someone named after a famous High Renaissance sculptor?

The journey of making a name for oneself—establishing a foundation that was meant to revolve around our identity and creating an environment that our identity could grow in—would be suffocating once they recognized that their skills couldn't be at par with what they had envisioned.

It's terrifying that's why others chose to be stagnant.

But for people who grew up with a strong sense of direction, of course, they wouldn't see those as boulders, rather, hurdles to develop their skills and recognize their potential.

Yet those who were goal-driven and direction-oriented were just a few ones who were close to stumbling upon a cliff.

Michelangelo de Angelis was far from that. He was yet to encounter a cliff, and it would be uncertain if he would jump or find another way to go on.

"Ang pangit ng gawa mo."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," pambabalewala ko habang hinuhulma ang luwad.

The softness of clay was a drastic difference from the hardness of marble statues. The difference was—it doesn't have any warmth. The clay's warmth radiated from my hands, while marble statues are yet to be warm. They were always cold and immobile like the body of a deceased—rotting, perhaps, because the accumulated warmth lapsed.

But, of course, one would always find warmth in things that do not live.

For example—Michelangelo de Angelis.

"Hindi mo rin kailangang pakinggan," masungit niyang sabi pagkatapos ng ilang segundo.

He tsk-ed before he crossed his arms in front of me.

Bagot niya akong pinanonood habang hinuhulma ko ang mukha ng babae. Umiiling-iling pa siya habang tahimik kong inaalala ang sarili ko.

Gusto ko siyang paalisin.

I sighed. "Can you just—"

"Bakit maayos ang gawa mo sa pottery pero palpak dito? Pinagyayabang mo pang magaling ka."

I gave him a tired look. "Did my tone came out that way? Well, I'm sorry if you heard it as bragging. Hindi ko na kasalanan kung gano'n mo siya narinig."

Nangungutya niya akong tiningnan bago pumamewang. "Ako pa ang may kasalanan."

Pinaningkitan ko siya ng mata. "I swear—I don't get you. I'm just here to practice so I could master this, pero kung gano'n ka ka-iritable sa 'kin, turuan mo na lang ako."

Sininghalan niya 'ko. "Ano?"

"Teach me how to sculpt properly," panghahamon ko, ang kamay na may bahid ng luwad ay ibinaba sa lamesa.

Why were you pushing the bronze sculpture, Lael? It could explode.

Nanatili ang mainit niyang tingin sa 'kin.

"Nakita mo naman na hindi maganda ang gawa ko. Throwing pottery was just basic. I just need to make a circle and sculpt it with my hands. Hindi gaanong kailangan ng ideya para gumawa ng plato—I just only need the structure to be sturdy so it could be usable."

He clenched his jaw. "Huwag mong nila-lang 'yan."

Binalewala ko ang komento niya. "Potteries are created to serve its purpose—to be usable, while sculptures are often displayed. They were created in different purposes, so, of course, I won't be good at projects that have complex structures. That's why—"

"At pinagyayabang mong art prodigy ka? Ni hindi ko man lang makita sa gawa mo." Singkit na singkit na ang mata niya.

Napabuntonghininga ako. Ito ba palagi ang idiriin niya sa 'kin?

Tinagpo ko ang matalim niyang tingin. "I told you—I'm only good at things that have structures."

Nagtitimpi niyang tiningnan ang mga sculpting tools ko sa gilid. Kaonti na lang siguro ay sasakalin niya ako gamit ang kableng pinangpuputol ko sa water-based clay.

He tsk-ed. "Sculptures need structures—armatures. Ano ba ang ginigiit mo?"

"I don't know anything about sculptures or clay—"

"But you're an art prodigy—"

"—that's why I'm here to learn because I'm not good at this, and you're here to guide me," giit ko, ang tono ay nangungumbinsi. "I want to learn from the best. That was Italy at its finest before."

He snickered. "We're not in Italy."

"But you're Michelangelo." Itinagilid ko ang ulo. "And you don't like people who are half-hearted with their work."

Pinaningkitan niya ako ng mata, ang pasensiya ay paubos na.

He clenched his jaw and pried his face towards me.

"Ano ba ang pinaplano mo?" mabagal na tanong niya, ang bawat salita ay binibigyang-diin.

"Oh!" I faked a shock. "D'yan ba dapat ako magsisimula? Then—"

"Manahimik ka d'yan," singhal niya at bumalik ulit sa ginagawa.

Palihim akong natawa nang busangot siyang bumalik sa pwesto. Pagkatapos ay binalikan ang hinuhulmang mukha ng babae.

Itinukod ko ang kamay sa gilid ng lamesa at inikot ang tingin sa kabuoan ng mukha.

The clay sculpture in front of me was not yet finished, but the features resembled that it was a human. I already defined the sockets for the eyes, added the mass of the nose, and put another clay for the upper and lower lip.

Paulit-ulit kong minasahe ang mukha, ginagalaw-galaw ang mga parte upang ayusin ang kabuoang hulma. Tanggal, tapyas, at lagay ng luwad, bago hulmahin gamit ang hinlalaki. Kung hindi natuwa sa isang parte, tinatapyas ko gamit ang ribbon tool.

Umatras ako upang makita ang kabuoan ng mukha. May ilang parte na hindi maayos ang lagay kaya inikot ko at tinrabaho ang parteng 'yon.

"Mahirap 'yan kung walang reference."

Napabuntonghininga ako.

"Michelangelo, what's your problem with me?" I hope that he could hear the tiredness in my tone!

With his arms pressed on his workstation and his face spun towards my direction, he rose his brow at me. "For someone who's not invested in sculpting, you pronounced my name correctly. Even for the first time," may pagkamangha sa tono niya.

First time? Was he referring to the Ophelia sculpture incident?

Napaismid ako.

Should I feel honored that the Michelangelo de Angelis praised me? Was that the clue to remove his hostility against me? I won't believe it because that would be petty!

Tumigil siya mula sa ginagawa at pinaipod ako. Naguguluhan ko siyang tiningnan ngunit binalewala niya ako at inilapat ang kamay sa ginagawa ko.

"They said it's better to practice without reference," saad ko.

"Ginagawa lang 'yon ng mga bihasa na," saad niya, ang kamay ay abala sa paghuhulma ng gawa ko.

"I'm trying out their techniques."

"Lael, the experts are not in the same range as the beginners. Kaya hindi mo pwedeng gawing tutorial ang lahat ng techniques at shortcuts nila."

"Sinasabi mo ba 'yan kasi bihasa ka na?" panghahamon ko at tinagpo ang tingin niya nang nilingon ako.

His stare stilled at me for a few seconds before he answered. "I'm saying it because..."

"Because?" I tipped my head towards him.

There was restraint in his eyes, then on his jaw, before he looked away and focused on "correcting" my work.

Hindi siya umimik pagkatapos. Pinanood ko na lang ang paggalaw niya.

Michelangelo de Angelis' fingers worked carefully on the soft material of clay. Like how I saw him work with pottery—hands careful as if it was caressing a living being—it was the same on how he molded the face of whatever physical idea that was in front of him.

The vein on his hands moved silkily under the blanket of his skin—they were all protruding like the lines of the bones on the back of his hand. How he caressed the clay with a figure that looked strong, the movements were soft and precise, scared to wake it up from its deep slumber.

They were all skillful work of a master sculptor—one who had his name all to himself.

Michelangelo's sharp glare pulled me out of my trance.

"What?"

"Ang dami mong maglagay at ang dami mo ring magtanggal."

So much for the focus that I had.

Ibinaba ko ang tingin sa iskulturang ginagawa ko. Sa paanan no'n ay may kumpol ng mga luwad.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," balewala kong sabi. "Ginagawa ko lang ang tinuro sa 'kin."

He looked offended by what I said. "Hindi mo talaga—"

He clenched his jaw again.

"Your life is not something that you sculpt with clay," he said very carefully; his last bit of patience dropped on every word. "You can't easily discard people, take parts from them, mold parts that are unwanted or unproportioned. It's closer to another material—marble, or to be more definite—gold."

"You don't sculpt gold," giit ko.

"But you can sculpt it," balik niya.

He got a point—one that enlightened a learner like me.

Was this part one of his lecture? Did this mean that he's slowly letting me in? If that was his intention, then might as well give him an idea that I was interested to learn.

"How about stone? You can carve stone, right? Like how you carve marble."

"You carve stone through instruments, measurements, and instincts—you work through there. Translate the roughness into softness with your hands, or softness to roughness, whatever you prefer. You sculpt your way towards your path; you sculpt your destiny in your hands. That's what life and sculpture are all about, Lael, and sculpture is an imitation of life."

"Imitation," I pointed out, "not the exact replica. Hindi ka sigurado kung saan ka patungo."

He tilted his head; his eyes sparked a glint of mirth. "Is there an idea that is true to itself? Everything is an imitation of things. You're blinded from the living that surrounded you."

"Abiotic factors do not breathe," giit ko.

"Statues breathe; they're abiotic. How sure were you that they're not living? It's a piece of art; all pieces of art are made by the own interpretation of the artists who molded them. Kaya kung sasabihin mong hindi humihinga o hindi nabubuhay ang iskulturang nasa harapan mo, inaapakan mo ang dignidad ng taong nagmolde ng paghihirap at pagsasakripisyo."

I couldn't understand it—I'm not in the same length as their passion.

Pero hindi ko naman kailangang intindihin ang puso ng iba't ibang disiplina—hindi ko naman inaaral 'yon para ro'n. Inaaral ko sila para palawakin ang kaalaman ko, hindi upang igapos ang sarili ko sa bagay na nagparirindi sa 'kin.

But maybe I was a hypocrite for staying.

Pinisil ko ang kamay ko. "Michelangelo, you know what—"

"Michelangelo," he said with gritted teeth.

Napaismid ako. "What? May issue ka na naman sa pangalan mo? You want to be different from Michelangelo Buonarroti? If so, ano ba dapat ang pagbanggit ko sa pangalan mo? Ayaw mo ng 'Mishelanghelo', gusto mo bang 'Maykelanjelo', 'Maykelanghelo', o 'Mishelanjelo'?"

Pinaningkitan niya ako ng mata. "Kinukutya mo ba 'ko?"

"Yes, because I'm so tired of you." Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga. "I just wanted to learn, Michelangelo. Ilang beses ko nang ipinaaalam 'yon sa 'yo at—"

"You were right with 'Mishelanghelo'." Mariin niyang ipinikit ang mata kasabay ng pag-igting ng panga. Pagkadilat ay wala na ang galit sa mga mata niya.

Is he going to calm down now? Gusto ko nang matapos ang lahat ng 'to.

He sighed. "I wa—"

"If you badly wanted to separate who you are from the person that you were named after, it doesn't start with the right pronunciation of the name." Hinuli ko ang tingin niya. "It starts with the journey that you chose."

Nanatili ang tingin niya sa 'kin, may kakaibang kintab sa mata.

"My name is my identity. Kung sa pagbigkas pa lang mali na 'yon, parang binubura ko na ang pagkaiba ko sa mundo."

I let out a breath. "Michelangelo Buonarroti is a sculptor, but you don't have to follow where he was headed just because you were named after him."

Naningkit ang mata niya. "Pa'no kung wala akong magagawa kun'di sundin 'yon? We're not the ones who gave ourselves our name, Lael. We're not the ones who gave ourselves our identity—"

"—but it's up to us to change it." Nagbaba ako ng tingin at pinaglaruan ang luwad na nasa lamesa. "You don't always have to live up to your name if that's not what you're destined to do."

Tapos ka na ba sa pakikipagtalo? I wanted to ask.

Gusto ko nang umalis dito dahil natatakot ako na kapag nagtagal pa, mahihirapan akong bumaklas.

"Paano kung..." he trailed off; I questioningly looked at him.

He gulped when he met my stare. "Paano kung... hindi mo alam kung... saan ka sa..."

I waited for him to continue what he said, but he stopped.

I couldn't see the emotion in his eyes when he bowed his head, but I could see the nerve on his jaw when he clenched it—evident as the strong facial structure of his face. His hair was short and freshly cut, faded on its nape and sides.

"Paano ka nakapasa sa entrance exam?" tanong niya pagkatapos ng ilang segundong katahimikan. Hindi siya bumaling sa 'kin ngunit ang tingin ay nakatuon sa mata ng hinuhulmang luwad.

I think this was a ceasefire.

Tinitigan ko ang iskulturang nasa harapan, sinusubukang hanapin kung ano ang tinitingnan niya. Hinahanap ang buhay mula sa walang buhay na mata ngunit nabigo nang hindi makita ang dinidikta ng pigura.

There was no life in its breathless eyes.

"I think I sculpted a hand," saad ko, ang tingin ay nakatuon sa mata ng babae.

He already added sockets and some facial creases in a short span of time. Talk about talent.

"Iyon lang?"

"Yes, because that's the extent of my capabilities. Hindi ko rin naman nahahasa sa bahay kasi pinipigilan nila ako."

Remembering about it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"E bakit sculpture pinili mo? Kasi nagustuhan mo?" he sounded interested but mocking.

Hinaplos ko ang pisngi ng luwad. "Did I really like sculpture? Or was I interested to learn about it?"

Tinagpo ko ang naguguluhan niyang tingin.

"Interest is different from like, Michelangelo."

His heavy stare stilled at me as if he was permitting his anger to take over. "I was right—sculptors don't speak that way."

Would you see me desperate if I told you things that I was incapable of?

I gave him a small smile. "Then how should a sculptor speak, Michelangelo? I want to know how."

A wandering, passionless woman was asking a question related to passion—a place that's not in the middle.

How ironic.

"Para ano? Para mameke ka?" giit niya.

I snorted, disappointment in my chest.

But, no, I won't let him know that. 

Nginitian ko ulit siya. "Since you don't sound as if you're interested to lecture me about that... I'm sad to say—matagal pa bago mo ako marinig magsalita nang gan'yan."

Matagal pa at baka hindi na.

"Because you won't stay."

Natigilan ako. "No one ever stayed, Michelangelo. Everyone leaves."