Wannabe Too

I figured once before that I have to have some sort of artistic inclination, because there are all these artists in my family. My great-great grandfather, Patricio Mariano was a zarzuelista who wrote Juan Masili o Ang Pinuno Ng Tulisan, among others, and was incarcerated during the revolutionary years of the late 1800s due to the nature of his writing. He eventually died without fanfare, an alcoholic and broke. His son Rafael, my grandfather, was a handsome opera actor (who painted and sculpted) and died of a liver problem (presumably from alcohol too) in his early 30s, long before I was born. How romantic, these men, and so typically the wretched, starving artists.

I have two sisters who are painters. One is a watercolorist, which I find to be a pure and delicate medium. The other does acrylic, and turns out vivid, interesting pieces. They're both so happily into what they do, and it's just a given extra that they are able to sell their work.

I have another sister who knows to arrange flowers beautifully, then another one, who, like my mother is a wizard in the kitchen. My daughter, it seems, have inherited the talent of writing as she has megadoses of it. She seems to pluck her words out of trees and turn the most ordinary, even the absurd, into an interesting read at the very least. And then I have nephews and nieces who are musicians, painters, sculptors, surely outnumbering the doctor, lawyer, architect and the other boring ones.

And then there's me, basking in my claim to fame of being related to these talented people ... surely I can rest on my laurels knowing that the very same blood is coursing through my veins. There are times when I'd pick up a pencil and write poetry. Not really great stuff but I try. I think sometime back that the muse has made herself known to me, but somehow she packed her bag and split. And here I am, with nothing much but a blog to show for. And Grandpa must be turning in his grave.

Filed Under: Me & Mine

Tags: Juan Masili, Patricio Mariano