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by Rachel HolazoA tribute to the life and art of Joe Ayala
Joe Ayala was a painter that I myself had long wanted to be. He was a PROLIFIC ARTIST. When I first saw his studio in his seaside cottage at Hijo Plantation 22 years ago, I was very impressed. Paintings hang on every wall, from the ceiling, and even on the windows. Stacks of other artworks piled neatly on several shelves and his art materials were stowed neatly in several drawers. I did not know where to begin to look. My clients who I brought there to buy his works were as excited as I was. We were like children who found a secret treasure. If only we had the money to buy all his works, we would have bought the whole cottage. However, Joe Ayala just laughed at this thought because even to buy a few paintings was difficult enough, how much more for the whole house. You see, Joe was so possessive of his art; he did not want to part with even a single one.
In 1980, I was able to convince him to exhibit his paintings. I chose him from among the Davao artists to inaugurate the Davao Museum Contemporary Arts Gallery. Joe Ayala’s artworks reflect a mind that journeys into a vast mental space. Where his work might begin with a simple solitary line, oftentimes done in a very small-size paper, it moves and progresses in labyrinthine passages creating music that only the mind can hear.
Joe Ayala as a painter has inspired many young artists in Davao to explore the far reaches of their minds in creating their art. There are no isms to fortress his art-surrealism, symbolism, expressionism, these are all barricades of creativity and Joe Ayala explored and traveled through them all.
When he was already bedridden, Tita and the girls, Cynthia, Monica, and Bopeep brought me to Tagum where he moved his studio. If I said at the start that I was very impressed with his studio at Hijo, the one in a Tagum is a marvel and a dream. There, in a huge, high-ceiling hall were all his works –paintings, drawings, and sketches, done in oils, watercolors, and pastels, even in ballpoint pens. He had floor-to-ceiling tapestries, several banigs filled with a collage of found objects and a library of books. His art materials, sadly untouched for many years, were as before stored neatly in several drawers. I had to sit down to take it all in. I suggested to the girls –“Make a Joe Ayala museum”. I still say the same tonight.
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