A spool of thread, pins, vintage luggage, Diana camera...

Yesterday, I had such a lovely, relaxed time working beside the Heima girls at their cool office/shop at Makati. I’ve been busy putting together the print version of their latest catalog. It’s turning out great so far! I’ll leave you with two words for now: “dollhouse craft.”

I completed a few hand-drawn elements for the catalog, like these ones here. Taking a cue from successful artists and designers, I’ve decided to start building my own collection of hand-drawn stock illustrations (on plain white board paper, ready to be scanned and whatnot). I imagine I’ll have a thick stack of these soon, organized per category. And neatly filed in sleek Muji organizers (yep, you can see my priorities…).

Finally, I also think these are great things to make and compile over time, especially for the patterns on my soon-to-be paper goods. Whee!

I love monochrome. I love how you can say so much with so little color!

I enjoy doing watercolor portraits so much. I painted this out of frustration the other day. I was running out of ideas for an upcoming project and finally gave in to just doing what I felt that night. I spotted an old copy of Wallpaper and sketched the model’s face on the cover (for lack of a better subject). If there’s one thing I need to spend more time perfecting, it’s definitely drawing the human face/figure more accurately and realistically. That’s something art school could have given me, but then again, maybe I just need to spend more time sketching and observing real people.

Oh, and I just idolize David Downton so much… I hope to meet him one day!

I haven’t had the chance to post anything for a very long time. Had to give myself some time to think things through…

And the outcome of which is… I’ve decided to leave my day job for something more exciting–going freelance!!! And definitely, going full force into art and illustration! FINALLY. Figured I had to take the leap one time or another. It took a lot of guts, yes, and it’s going to be all about preparing for solo flight from hereon! Woot.

For now, just a little something I did out of a mix of boredom, exhaustion, and frustration at work. My first self-portrait, evar! Heheh. (I’ve avoided drawing myself for the longest time, I just feel weird about it…) No sunnies in the original photo–just decided to plop it onto my face at the last minute.

Speaking of boredom and impatience–I got a pixie cut for the one millionth time. If you haven’t noticed!

My first rendezvous with black and white came about the same time I first laid eyes on impeccably tailored clothes.

It was around the mid-’90s–local fashion was defined by a few designers and an even smaller number of glossies (just two, I think). My mom loved dropping by the department store of the then-new SM Megamall, me in tow, during those lazy summer days. I was totally uninterested in fashion. I honestly dreaded those aisles (waiting for mom to finish trying clothes on made it worse). My pubescent mind could not comprehend why, really, women enjoyed shopping for clothes…

Until I comprehended Cesar Gaupo.

My mom referred to him more as a tailor than couturier. He had a section near JM Goulbourn’s. Tucked in an inner, dimly lit part of the floor that separated the casual ready-to-wears from the formal selections, Gaupo’s crisp, tapered pieces connected with me. His silhouettes were sharp yet sexy. They seemed like the antidote to the feminine and oftentimes too-casual garb I was so used to. Gaupo’s pieces spoke of power in mostly two colors: black and white. I was smitten.

Around the same year, I attended my first fashion show. It was at the Manila Hotel–my family had gotten free tickets. I suppose I’d begun to understand this whole new world, because I felt a newfound giddiness for this special, intimate affair. My mom, I knew she loved Gaupo, too. As she gestured to his streamlined, neutral-hued pieces walking down the ramp, I found myself nodding in awe and approval.

I remember what I wore to my brother’s grade school graduation, a couple of years later. It was an outfit I proudly picked out for myself–a Rhett Eala number from his DUE ready-to-wear line at Rustan’s. I paired a white, collared top with a long, black cotton skirt that fell just above my ankles (yes, it was that long). Despite the sweltering heat of the gymnasium, I knew it was worth it.

It was then I finally understood the thrill of shopping for the perfect outfit. In my naivete, I felt like a million bucks.