A Filipino Painter in Paris: Juan Luna in the Field of Cultural Production

Eugenio Matibag

Audio by Paper2Audio.

Abstract

Academicism in France was breaking down and Manet had already redefined the criteria of artistic excellence when the Filipino painter Juan Luna won honors in the salons of Madrid and Paris. Luna's paintings reaffirmed the classical norms, and while he introduced innovations that revitalized the Academic style, he never fully committed to impressionism. Occupying therefore a fraught position between traditionalism and experimentalism in a conflictive field of forces that was the art world of late nineteenth-century France and Spain, Luna's work manifested an accumulating tension that was to lead to personal tragedy toward the end of his life.

In short, it is a question of understanding works of art as a manifestation of the field as a whole, in which all the powers of the field, and all the determinisms inherent in its structure and functioning, are concentrated.

— Pierre Bourdieu. The Field of Cultural

Production: Essays on Art and Literature

It is a damnable fact: the first Filipino to attain international recognition and honors was also one who murdered his wife and her mother, besides coming close to mortally wounding his wife's brother. The story begins with the artist moving with his family to Paris from Madrid in 1884. He had already begun work on what was to become the gold medal-winning Spoliarium. But during this time he shuttled back and forth between Paris and Madrid, earning a living by executing portraits on commission for well-heeled patrons in the latter city. He had to, money was tight, for with all his prizes and commission he could pay only half the rent on his family's apartment dwelling, depending on his mother-in-law for the other half as well as for the family's household expenses in the Villa Dupont at 28 rue Pergolese. In a hideous climax to a series of violent episodes, the painter killed his mother-in-law with a pistol on September 23, 1892, and his wife died of her wounds, inflicted with the same pistol, some days later.

He was tried for murder. He was acquitted February 8, 1893.

It was a shocking, ghastly event in the life of the painter, Juan Luna (1857 to 1899). Today it stands among the most horrendous scandals of Philippine nationalist historiography—along with the assassinations of Bonifacio and of Juan Luna's brother Antonio—one that the official history has made every effort to elide or set aside for the sake of creating a heroic national myth, for the sake of which it was essential to paper over and sanitize the image of the first Filipino ever to attain fame and prestige outside the Asian archipelago. Raquel A. Reyes, in a perceptive reading of la tragedia Luna, finds therein the ferocious resolution of a crisis of masculinity. It marks as well “an important turning point in the making of the Filipino nationalist self” in which the “political progressiveness” associated with the nationalist Propaganda Movement, in which Luna participated, “went hand in hand with misogyny and racism.” It is in the “fierce idealization of domesticity and maternity and fears of rampant and uncontrolled female sexuality” in the allegorical image of the Mother, manifested both in Luna's paintings and in the nationalist discourse, where Reyes finds definitions of the masculine and the feminine inscribed into “the discourse of political and racial identity.” I would agree that the gendered, masculinist assertion of Luna's activism and artistic practice does constitute a significant and heretofore repressed dimension of the Philippine narrative of the nation. Yet the narratization of this fait divers solely as a crisis of masculinity tells only part of the story, one whose fuller realization, I wish to submit, lies in an examination of a broader field of crossed and conflicting forces.

The gender chauvinism of Luna's work and life trajectory is closely related to the activities of the cadre of Filipinos living in Spain and France who advocated for the reform of Spanish rule in their homeland. The intellectual leaders of the Filipino “Propaganda” movement were sons of the landed and commercial upper classes; they had been sent by their families to experience life in the Spanish metropolis. They did so with the intent of accomplishing several goals: first, that of obtaining a continental education and therewith fostering a Eurocentric mindset in their offspring; and second, that of providing them with opportunities for forming relations and alliances outside the colony. Yet many of the same young scholars, as they were absorbing European language and culture and custom, developed what amounted to a wilful attitude with regard to their own class interests and the culture of the metropolis. A large number of the Filipino émigrés in Barcelona, Madrid, and Paris gathered in cafés, restaurants, and private residences to strategize, give speeches, and publish in journals and newspapers; together they formed a loose association that would come to be called the Propaganda Movement of 1872 to 1896. The activities of many of these writers would come to revolve around the organization called La Solidaridad, established in 1888, and a biweekly newspaper of the same name that was published from 1889 to 1895. Editorials written by these ilustrado youths demanded that Spain accord equality of rights to its Filipino subjects.

It is in the context of a conflictive field of forces that we may regard the event of Luna's murder of his wife and his mother-in-law and the wounding of his brother-in-law Félix as a symptomatic sign and rupture expressive of agonizing contradictions that bedevilled the painter's life. For the crime was the sort of outburst, witnessed by his five-year old son, that resolved— lamentably, in violent fashion—the explosive tensions that came to bear upon a subject caught in the toils not only of familial antagonisms and the impulse toward personal and self-assertion but also of colonial power relations, nationalist desire, artistic competition, institutional pressures, public scrutiny, and the demands of the market. In this study I want to elaborate the connections between Luna's life and works of 1884 to 1893—the Paris Period. In the process of constructing a counterpoint between a biographical account of his life and a reading of representative paintings and their institutional cultural contexts, I propose that Luna's positioning in-between and among the demands on his creative energies and political commitments can be explained in terms that are both aesthetic and sociological.

During a time when academicism in France was breaking down and an iconoclast in the figure of Édouard Manet had already transformed the canons of artistic excellence and with them values of the field, our classically trained artist from the Philippines, working in Madrid and Paris, proved that he could outdo the continental artists in their own game in the European salons. He did so by reaffirming the academic rules of art yet at the same time introducing innovations that reenergized the field without completely overturning its norms, as on the contrary did Manet. Luna thus occupied a unique position in this field of forces and struggles that was the art world of late nineteenth-century France and Spain: that of a colonial subaltern whose talents and efforts won him recognition, and thus cultural capital, within a system that was undergoing the transition from academic orthodoxy to avant-garde experimentalism, with the concomitant transformation that signified the evolving and intensifying “autonomization” of artworks. Luna's consecration as a prize-winning painter from Spain's Asian colony thus functioned to reaffirm the values of the Academy while at the same time providing for a measure of novelty and spontaneity in artworks that would be accepted for exhibit in the Salon. He thus occupied an in-between status in the shifting landscape of major “schools,” a positioning that betokened his fraught intermediary status as a Filipino man in European social worlds and as the protagonist of a transnational destiny that would generate tensions and contradictions that would lead to the climax of a personal tragedy toward the end of his life.

The argument of this essay proposes an interpretation of Luna's life events and major paintings in the light of Pierre Bourdieu's sociological theory of the “field of cultural production,” taking into account Luna's particular situation as a classically trained Filipino painter who, in the years after Manet's overturning of the Parisian art world, continued to seek and gain recognition from the official Academy. That Luna incorporated impressionist technique in some of his works during the Parisian period without joining the fold of the dissident artists, called the refusés, reflects his at times uneasy intermediate or in-between status on several levels—as a Filipino indio married into the aristocratic mestizo family of the Pardo de Taveras; as an artist yearning for official recognition by the Academy but striving to remain au courant with the beginnings of the French avant-garde; and as a native of the colonized periphery who would throw himself fully into the herculean task of making good in the cultural capital of Europe. The tensions implicit in this situation are manifested in his artworks but also in the tragedy that befell him and his family in Paris. Close to his arrival to Paris, he painted the highly acclaimed and very classical Pacto de sangre, Miguel López de Legazpi, and the Batalla de Lepanto, all in 1885.

Yet Luna's style as evident in other works painted during this time of transitions was evolving from the standardized and orthodox academism of his younger years: influenced by the impressionist current after his move to Paris in 1884, the “other Luna,” as E. Aguilar Cruz calls this new version of the painter, explored the play of light and the possibilities of a more self-referential technique. By the time of Luna's arrival in the city that had been reconceived and redesigned by Haussmann, the Impressionist painters, intransigents in the Parisian artistic demimonde, had staged seven of their total of eight exhibitions in sites outside the official Salon. It is known that their production was guided by the theory of plein-aire, which validated a sort of “phenomenological” approach that sought to capture the impression made by appearances that come into view out of what Villegas calls the “constant struggle between surface and space, colour and air.” Luna insinuates his awareness of the new sensibility when he writes to José Rizal, from Paris on October 3, 1888: “Mi atelier es muy bonito, grande y con muy buenas luces; además tenemos jardín para los chiquillos y para pintar plein aire” (My studio is very beautiful, big and with very good lighting; also, we have a garden for the children and for painting in the open air). By 1884, however, the art scene was making way for Neo-Impressionist currents or even Post-Impressionist drifts and eddies such as pointillisme and fauvisme.

That he would not or could not wholeheartedly subscribe to the school of Impressionism in his own artistic practice offers one indication of his precarious status within and between social fields in a fin-de-siècle Parisian art scene in which the ideal of artistic autonomy continued to be reconceived and revalorized in the wake of Manet's intervention. The question that faced Luna was a simple one: How to make good, and make a living, in the shifting artwork of a white-dominated society? How to keep one's swarthy head above the fray of competing bids for artistic prestige and glory? How to keep on selling canvases? Villegas sums up the in-between status of Luna in"an age of decadence and renewal" in Western art: given his situation and context,"Luna had to walk the wire between European and indio, between the elite and the masses, between the pursuit of individuality and commitment to national good." The role of a tight-rope balancing mediator between art worlds sums up well the positioning of the Filipino artist caught up in a field of competition and power struggles both internal to the art world, in the agon between the Academy and the Dissidents, and external to it, in the larger world of socioeconomic and political relations between metropolis and colony.

Although his paintings started out in the classic academic mode, Luna, as well as his celebrated compatriot Félix Resurrección Hidalgo, developed their styles with an eye to newer trends. The historians of Art Philippines have stated as much: that these two artists “broke away from the confines of academism without giving up the aesthetic rooted in the Renaissance in which they and their spiritual forebears had grown up.” For Luna, unlike Manet, could not enter into the sphere of cultural production as a heretic, he did not engage explicitly in the questioning of principles, he did not join the symbolic revolution that was taking place all around him. Rather, he sought recognition on the basis of reproducing the effects in the works consecrated by academicism and in accordance with its categories of perception.

In his paintings, what was said mattered as much as how it was said, meaning that, contrary to the ecumenical proclivity toward the depicting of vulgar objects displayed by a Baudelaire, a Flaubert, or a Manet, not just any subject was worthy of representation to Luna. There is nevertheless another way of seeing Luna, one that takes into account his position betwixt and between—his classicism and his impressionism, his francophilia and his filipinidad. The thesis herein developed concerns Luna's shifting prises de position or "position-takings" within the changing cultural field of European art production. Important in this regard are the relation of Luna's paintings within the cultural field to the field of power, his challenge to orthodoxy, and the transformation that the reception and recognition of his works produced in a hierarchy of reception. At the same time, or opportunely, variously at times, Luna could achieve commercial and aesthetic "success" in his paintings by way of shrewdly mastering European art conventions as he managed to introduce acceptable elements of difference into them.

Producing a "symbolic capital" in the aesthetic realm of artworks, his creative output exercised a symbolic power upon the political thought and feeling among three groups in particular. Two of these groups, the Spanish republicans and the ilustrado expatriates, sought to reform the social structure of Spanish rule in the archipelagic colonies of the empire that were still in its possession. The third group, the revolutionary Katipunan, sought to overturn Spanish colonialism and thus vindicate national self-determination.

It is by an exploration of Luna's institutional contexts and the reconstruction of Luna's own habitus as a foreign-born artist in the European artistic milieu that we approach an understanding of what was accomplished within the broader field of socioeconomic and cultural factors. It is by Bourdieu's theory of the “field of cultural production” that the collective work of creation, reproduction, promotion, dissemination, valuation, reception, and validation can be most accurately appreciated but only in connection with the multisided “struggle of power” that dominated the political processes impacting Spain's “insular empire” of the last three decades of the nineteenth century. And it was forces in the field of power-struggles, as we shall see, that moved Luna ineluctably into the unsettled state of mind in which his actions brought about the tragic climatic event in the Villa Dupont at 28 rue Pergolese.

$ ^{1} $Ed. and trans. Randal Johnson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), 37.

$ ^{2} $Raquel A. Reyes, “Private Lives, Public Passions: The History and Representation of Motherhood in Juan Luna’s Art,” Asian Studies 36, no. 1 (2000): 4–5.

$ ^{3} $Bienvenido Lumbera, “The Nationalist Literary Tradition,” in Nationalist Literature: A Centennial Forum, ed. Elmer A. Ordoñez (N.p.: University of the Philippines Press and PANULAT / Philippine Writers Academy, 1996), 1.

$ ^{4} $Ramón N. Villegas, “Luna, the Portraitist.” The Chronicle Magazine, August 1974, 70.

$ ^{5} $José Rizal, Escritos de José Rizal, Tomo II. Correspondencia Epistolar, Libro Tercero, Cartas entre Rizal y sus colegas de la propaganda. Prmera Parte, 1882–1889; Segunda Parte, 1889–1896 (Manila: Comisión Nacional del Centenario de José Rizal, 1961), 215. Unless otherwise indicated in the Works Cited, all translations from Spanish texts are my own.

$ ^{6} $Villegas, “Luna, the Portraitist,” 83.

$ ^{7} $Leonidas V. Benesa et al., Art Philippines. A History: 1521–Present, eds. Juan T. Gatbonton, Jeannie E. Javelosa and Lourdes Ruth R. Roa (Pasig: The Crucible Workshop, 1992), 50.

$ ^{8} $See Pierre Bourdieu, The Rules of Art: Genesis and Structure of the Literary Field, trans. Susan Emanuel (Stanford University Press, 1995), 253, 300.

Luna the Classicist

The foundations of Luna's classical orientations had been established in Rome, where the young painter accompanied and assisted his Real Academic teacher Alejo Vera in 1879. Luna marvelled at the grandeur of the art and architecture of the Eternal City, exulted in its humanistic spirit, and, inspired by the achievements of Michelangelo and Raphael, came to feel that he too was capable of a monumental achievement. In Rome, and still in his twenties, Luna painted masterpieces that included La belleza feliz and La esclava ciega. Despite conditions of poverty that would dispirit many others, he went on to produce his Dafne y Cloë. For this charcoal sketch, he was recognized with a trophy of a silver palette by Centro Artístico-Literario de Manila in 1883. The sketch not only shows Luna's early talent but exemplifies his academic predilection for subjects of European mythology and Mediterranean history. The Death of Cleopatra dates as well from this period of classical beginnings. Monumental scenes from European history were the preferred and privileged subject matter, a norm whose power would be borne out by what would become Luna's breakthrough painting, which was destined to become the most famous of his oeuvre.

Luna titled the painting that would bring him accolades from the French critics and mga pagbati from his paisanos, his breakthrough artwork, the Spoliarium. It won him the gold medal in the 1884 Salon, where it was exhibited close by compatriot Hidalgo's Las Virgenes Cristianas Expuestas al Populacho, which won a ninth silver medal. Luna's painting depicts a ghastly scene in the theatrical chiaroscuros reminiscent of a Caravaggio: in it, the bodies of fallen gladiators are being dragged by ropes to a dark chamber situated beneath a Roman arena, where their bodies will be added to a pile of corpses. The"spoils heap" occupies the area where reusable pieces of the deceased gladiators' clothing and armor can be salvaged, before or at the same time that their bodies are given over to the grieving relatives to be taken away for burial. According to Pilar, Luna may have caught the idea for his Spoliarium upon reading a book by Charles Louis Dezobry's Rome au siècle d'Auguste, ou Voyage d'un Gaulois à Rome à l'époque du règne d'Auguste et pendant une partie du règne de Tibère (1835), which includes a scene in which a central character hears heart-rending sounds of lamentation coming from the basement of a Roman amphitheater. Descending to the basement to investigate the sound, the character comes upon an unforgettable sight: a wounded gladiator crying in pain, and, surrounding him, the family crying in grief. Pilar writes a propos of the pre-text and the painting it inspired, “This 'backstage' picture of the Roman circus is what Luna seized on for his colossal canvas; and the Spoliarium apotheosizes tragedy itself: the pity and the terror.”

The first venue for exhibiting the Spoliarium would be Rome's Palazzo della Exposizione, and none other than Queen Margherita di Savoya presided the opening of the preview. It would move on to the Madrid Exposition of 1884. A total of 773 artists at this event competed for 59 medals: 32 bronze, 23 silver, and 4 gold. It was prominently exhibited in the Madrid Salon, with the title Expoliarium. Although Luna had won the gold medal, he was denyed the exposition's Premio de Honor. Was this rebuff, it was speculated, for reasons of peninsular chauvinism? Would the gold medalists Muñoz Degrain and Moreno Carbonero have suffered the humiliation of the prize going to an upstart from the colonies? Discrimination was suspected.

Favoritism was alleged. Alfonso 12 expressed in an audience with Luna his regret that the jury had not awarded him the prize. And yet another honor would be accorded Luna for the Spoliarium anyway, when the Provincial Government of Barcelona purchased it for 20,000 pesetas. And yet another honor was to be bestowed on Luna when the Spanish Senate commissioned him to paint La Batalla de Lepanto (1887), an epic historical work dedicated to the glory of Spain that would hang next to Francisco Padilla's La Rendición de Granada. Prior to this commission, the Spoliarium would be entered in the Société des Artistes Francais in 1886, where it would win the artist a first Gold Medal in the third category.

Despite the slight he received at the National Exposition, Luna's star was definitely rising. Yet the Filipino artist continued to perform in an ambiguous position in the cultural field, from where he could serve for the time being as guarantor of the old order, of the values of the Academy, and thus serving the social function of validating the code that had now been challenged and, effectively, surpassed. The political critique of the Spoliarium was consonant with the enlightenment ideals of the Republic as it was with the nationalist aspirations of the Propagandists. Its message was plurisignificant, saying one thing to the academics and bourgeois viewers, another to the Filipino patriots abroad, another to the enfants terribles who succeeded in overturning the old regime of artistic representation. Sending out its multiple messages, the Spoliarium obeyed the canons of the Academy at a time when the artist was trying out new techniques. Subsequent to this triumph, members of the aristocracy sought him to paint their portraits, and younger artists wanted him as their teacher.

Dated the same year of the Spoliarium and in stark contrast to its academicism is Luna's quasi-impressionist En el palco or En el balcón. “In the balcony” makes no pretense of photographic realism, and the opera box in which two lady spectators are sitting is richly adorned, but with ornaments that are “rendered in candid impasto.” In the scene, the paint thickly applied in daubs and strokes of deftly overlaid colors gives the balcony itself a feeling of something like luminous depth and impalpable substance, textured by a “loose brushwork” that at the same time forms the shape of the balcony and the human figures. The stylistic bravura going into the painting of En el palco is evidenced in the heavy layering of highlights on the balcony and on the flounce and drapery of the ladies' dresses, in marked contrast to the thinness of the layering, bordering on wispiness, of paint brushed on the darker parts of the background. En el palco, painted in 1884, thus shows some elements of the impressionist style in its “daubs and dashes of multicolored paint” in which the balcony and confetti are rendered, as well as in its attention to the play of lights, and yet it eschews the pixelation of volumes or the stark juxtaposition of raw colors. Non-impressionistic as well is the definition in the detailing in the faces of the two seated women set against the dark background.

A certain hybridity is evidenced in this combining of styles. Diverse and divergent movements and techniques, indeed, were drawing Luna's attention during this Parisian period, such that Luna's innovation could be read as an attempt to reconcile the traditional and the avant-garde. The plein-aire feel of the Barbizon school, of the first half of the nineteenth century, and the influence of its artists via the Impressionists can be sensed in the lightness and airiness of The Bay of Biscay and an interest in atmosphere expressed in the Picnic in Normandy of the 1880s. On this latter work, Alice G. Guillermo insightfully states:

One might say that the work verges on Impressionism because of the soft-focus of effect of the brushwork and on the grass and flowers, but the lighting is even and the colors too solid, the outlines still undisturbed by the vagaries of light that the Impressionists loved to capture.

Guillermo herewith replies to the critics who fault Luna for not having gone far into the Impressionist or Post-Impressionist camps. The innovations of the new styles, their response to rapid social change, and their subversion of aesthetic canons could not suit the orientation of an artist for whom tradition and the authority of feudal values had laid the foundations. Luna “could only be a reluctant participant in the audacious and irreverent exercise of Impressionism.” It could be adduced that the position assigned to Luna by the art system and taken to heart by the artist was that of an outsider, but an outsider who had already been accepted and acclaimed by the art establishment. No heretic, Luna; overt iconoclasm would have jeopardized his privileged standing and fortune in a French European world already wary of his social presence as a Filipino.

$ ^{9} $Villegas, “Juan Luna: Filipino Painter and Patriot,” 68; Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, 42.

$ ^{10} $E. Aguilar Cruz, Luna (Manila: Bureau of National and Foreign Information, 1975), 9.

$ ^{11} $Cited in Tet Defensor, “The Painter and the Revolution.” Philippine Tatler, June 2005, 150–51.

$ ^{12} $Santiago Albano Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, ed. Nick Joaquin; photographic reproductions by Dick Baldovino (Pasig: Eugenio López Foundation 1980), 50.

$ ^{13} $Villegas, “Juan Luna: Filipino Painter and Patriot,” 68.

$ ^{14} $Ibid., 68.

$ ^{15} $Cruz, Luna, 94.

$ ^{16} $Villegas, “Juan Luna: Filipino Painter and Patriot,” 69, 70, 75.

$ ^{17} $Alfredo Roces, Rage! Juan Luna / Antonio Luna / Trinidad Pardo de Tavera (Manila: Solidaridad Publishing House, 2008), 38.

$ ^{18} $Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, 78.

$ ^{19} $Ibid., 126.

$ ^{20} $Cruz, Luna, 42–45.

$ ^{21} $Eugenio López Foundation, A Guide to Luna and Hidalgo Paintings in the López Memorial Museum (Pasig: Eugenio López Foundation, 1979), 21.

$ ^{22} $Alice G. Guillermo, “Juan Luna and His Times,” CAS Horizons 2.2 (March 1976), 69–70.

Luna in Paris

It was on December 8, 1886 that Luna married the twenty-one-year-old Paz Pardo de Tavera y Gorrico, younger than he by eight years. The Pardo de Taveras were a family of wealthy “Manila Spaniards,” the paterfamilias lay claim to the title of the Marqués de Magahón, and despite their rancio abolengo the family sustained political affiliations with the Liberals. The Gorrichos were of the new Filipino aristocracy: they had made a fortune in land speculation and investment in the Banco de las Islas Filipinas, the country's first commercial bank (which was to become today's Bank of the Philippine Islands). And Paz's brothers were longtime intimate friends of Luna's.

Luna changed residences, from a shack on Boulevard Arago in Montparnasse to the comfortable apartment with studio on Avenue Wagram that his mother-in-law owned. Later on, they would all move to new lodgings at Villa Dupont at 28 rue Pergolese, where the rent would go for 5,000 francs, double of what Luna had been paying for the previous studio on the Boulevard Pereire. Luna was moving up in Parisian society and in his artistic production as well, but, with all his commissions and prizes, he still could not by himself raise enough to pay the expenses of a Parisian household. At this juncture, Luna's mother-in-law, Juliana Gorricho, would move in with the family, coming to the rescue by agreeing to pay half of the rent and a good part of the household expenses to boot. Virtually, then, Luna's own rent payment remained the same, though his income would not. Brother Antonio came to Paris to study medicine at the Pasteur Institute and later, in 1891, moved in with Juan's family, increasing the size of the household and the burden on the Pardo de Taveras' resources. Abiding the discomfiture of having to depend on his wealthy mother-in-law for his and his family's sustenance, feeling obligated to repeat the triumph of the Spoliarium, Luna sought a way to come to terms with his position between groups and institutions.

Luna at this time distanced himself explicitly from his renowned compatriot painter: “I belong to the dissident salon,” he wrote, “while Hidalgo belongs to the old and routinary.” Torres observes that the painter here differentiates his artistic practice from the more conservative one of the academic M. Bouguereau's salon: by its preference for the “invisible brush” or even “no-brush” technique, this salon itself standing as heir to the classicism of Ingres. The dissident salon, on the other hand, sought, first, to depict objects in terms of visible effects and surface appearances, with emphasis on the light and dark contrasts in the subject, thus “minimiz[ing] its solidity and its tactile relationship to the surrounding space—hence, a picture without much illusory 'depth.'”³⁰ Second of the tendencies of the dissident salon was its penchant for emphasizing the brushstroke, even to the point of showing off the painter's “bravura” with such “vigorous brushwork.” During the same period in Paris, when Luna was falling under the influence of many predecessors, it was Delacroix, the painter “whose art, with its theatrical glamour, brooding chiaroscuro, dramatic color and movement—who appealed most to Luna's fiery temperament." Whereas the boldness of the dissidents referred back to that of Delacroix and the Dutch portrait painter Franz Hals, we recognize in the surface play of light and the dramatic, self-referring technique in later artists. Torres remarks on the way in which Luna, in painting the portrait titled Dama Francesca, loaded up his brush such that its edge would "track a ridge that becomes the outline of a shape."

In a letter to Rizal dated May 5, 1890, Luna commented on the works exhibited in the Salon des Artistes Indépendants and declared that he had joined the ranks of the “dissident salon.” He rejected in those works what he viewed as the worse qualities of the emerging trend, which were, as explained by Pilar, the mosaic-like quality of the impressionist “color divisionism”; the abandonment of “line as a shape definer”; and the overloading of detail, as in the practice of the Pre-Raphaelites. By such denegation, Luna identified his own stance as nonconforming and yet Academic enough still to differentiate itself from the soi-disant “avant-garde.”

$ ^{23} $Ibid., 69.

$ ^{24} $Ibid., 71.

$ ^{25} $Villegas, “Juan Luna: Filipino Painter and Patriot,” 76.

$ ^{26} $Pearlie Rose Salaveria Baluyut. Juan Luna in Paris, 1884–1893: A Representation and Narrative of Becoming (Master's thesis, University of California-Los Angeles, 1997), 27.

$ ^{27} $Raquel A. Reyes, “Private Lives, Public Passions: The History and Representation of Motherhood in Juan Luna’s Art,” Asian Studies 36 no. 1 (2000), 23 n. 42.

$ ^{28} $Roces, Rage!, 89.

$ ^{29} $Cruz, Luna, 34.

$ ^{30} $Torres, “Luna, the Portraitist,” 19.

$ ^{31} $Cruz, Luna, 34.

España y Filipinas

In Paris, Luna's thematics and style continued evolving—in the direction opened up by Courbet and Daumier. And yet at the same time his artistic production shifted during the same period of his “biloction” between Paris and Madrid, from the painting of large canvases to the painting of miniatures and portraits. In this shift, he had turned toward an older form of patronage, that of the private sponsor with whom the painter maintained personal familiarity and ties of dependence, as would a servant, albeit a uniquely talented and celebrated one. Yet he maintained his ties of dependence to the government of both the colony and the metropolis. This not unproblematic relationship is figured forth in a painting of the period that revisits the very origins of the relationship between Spain and the Philippines.

Luna continued to master the conventions of Salon painting, as exemplified in the Pacto de sangre and Batalla de Lepanto, with which Luna could satisfy its judges by his display of the “French manner,” but at no point did Luna abandon the classical clarity for which Velásquez was the paragon. His painting in the romantic-inspired neoclassical style did reveal the academic influence of Velásquez and Goya, and something of Ingres, Delacroix, and Géricault, especially in his large historical canvases. It was in his easel paintings of the 1890s, which included portraits and landscapes done on wood and include his well-known Ensueños de Amor (Dreams of Love), Mi Hijo Andrés (My son Andrés), and the acclaimed seascape, Playa de Arcachon (Arcachon Beach), that his impressionist affinities became all the more evident. Yet there was one painting, classical in its mood and temper and officially commissioned, the composition of which hewed faithfully to the dictates of the Academy and whose sponsorship confirmed Luna's at least patronal complicity with the Spanish colonizers. That painting was Españay Filipinas.

Luna painted several variations on the theme of Spain and the Philippines from 1886 to 1891. One version of España y Filipinas is dated “Paris 1887”—the year that saw the publication of José Rizal's revolution-stirring novel, Noli me tangere. On this canvas measuring 1.50 meters wide and 4.00 meters high are depicted two allegorical female figures ascending a staircase strewn with roses and palm leaves. Luna would later paint a similar piece titled España Guiando a Filipinas en el Camino del Progreso (Spain guiding Philippines on the road of progress), which is signed “Paris 1891.” This 2.50 meters by 8 meters painting hangs today in the Museo-Biblioteca Balaguer, Villanueva y Geltrú. The version of 1891 debuted only seven years before Spain would lose a war with the United States of America and lose, therewith, the last of its three remaining overseas colonies: Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines.

España y Filipinas shows no signs of the coming debacle. The 1887 canvas displays the scene of a staircase awash with light. On it, an allegorical “Madre España” is ascending alongside a young Filipina maiden—a dalaga—whom she guides upward and in the direction of the rising sun. Spain is wearing a garland in her parted and plaited hair; she is clothed in a flowing dress of crimson red, which is draped over her left shoulder and gathered behind her back in classical European style; she points to the radiant orb that illuminates the stairway and the mist-enshrouded mountains set further off in the background. Her other arm wraps about the waist of Filipinas. The dalaga Filipinas, shorter than her Iberian mother and of darker skin, wears a “camisa” with dark blue skirt and gauzy camisole.

The steps are deep and high, so the staircase ascends sharply, mirroring the steepness of the mountains. Everything in the painting is illuminated, drenched in light.

An article on El Comercio dated February 5, 1888 reported the news that the Spanish Overseas Minister Victor Balaguer had commissioned España y Filipinas, which may be the same one that hangs in the López Foundation museum: the minister had seen an earlier treatment of the subject in a study that Luna had given to friend Pedro Paterno. Balaguer requested that Luna paint one for his offices. Luna completed his commission; he later painted yet another version of it, which was reproduced in La Ilustración Artística. It is not certain which of the versions was created under commission for the Ministro de Ultramar. The Overseas Ministry commissioned the painting after Luna made his breakthrough to international celebrity for the Spoliarium, beginning to produce studies for the painting in 1885. The finished España y Filipinas debuted at the Exposición Universal of Barcelona, 1887 to 8, but it was declared hors concours along with the painter's Batalla de Lepanto (1887), Legazpi (1885), and Sandugo (Blood Compact, 1886) due to their having been commissioned by the government. España y Filipinas came to be displayed eventually at the Ministry's Library Hall in Madrid.

As the preceding descriptions indicate, España y Filipinas, along with Pacto de sangre, gave a visual, aesthetic basis to the reformist agenda of the Hispanophile ilustrados, those who still—in the prerevolutionary period of the 1880s—advocated for their country's assimilation to the madre patria, representation in the Spanish Cortes, and acceptance into Spanish society. Luna's continuing adherence to the norms of the Academy and adhesion to what is arguably a nationalist vision consonant with the ilustrados' reformist project guaranteed him a modicum of commercial success. At the same time, this habitus of production relegated him to the margins of what Bourdieu has called a process of autonomization, the ongoing revalorization of art as art that had been energized by the revolution of Manet, resulting in new canons of legitimacy such as the criterion of “disinterest” for symbolic goods. It was the lessened dependence on art patrons and collectors as well as on direct commissions, and the increased reliance on a more impersonal art market that characterized the formal liberty of the more prominent art producers in this period. And despite his forays into the impressionist idiom at this time, Luna did not abandon for the most part the hallmarks of academicism: rationality, message, drama, linear perspective, idealization.

$ ^{32} $Emmanuel Torres, “Luna, the Portraitist,” The Chronicle Magazine (November 3, 1962), 21.

$ ^{33} $Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, 124.

$ ^{34} $See Bourdieu, The Rules of Art, 55.

$ ^{35} $See Cruz, Luna, 34.

$ ^{36} $Jose T. Del Rosario, “Nineteenth-Century Filipino Master,” Orientations (May 1971), 75; Benesa, “Juan Luna as Miniaturist,” 14.

$ ^{37} $Reyes, “Private Lives, Public Passions,” 20 n. 20.

$ ^{38} $Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, 108.

$ ^{39} $Manuel cites the National Library's Catalog of Paintings (1939) listing of España Llevando a Filipinas en el Camino del Progreso, dated "Paris 1891" and located in Malacañan. He adds that although he finds "no indication that this [painting] was a copy," there is [another?] "original" in Madrid's Museo de Ultramar and a "copy" in the Sixto Orosa Collection. The latter too is listed under the name España Llevando a Filipinas en el Camino del Progreso (Arsenio Manuel, "Luna y Novicio, Juan," Dictionary of Philippine Biography, vol. 2, [Quezon City: Filipiniana Book Guild, 1970]: 258, 259). This proliferation of versions undoubtedly contributes to a blurring of the distinction of "copy/original."

$ ^{40} $Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, 74.

$ ^{41} $Ibid., 74, 84.

$ ^{42} $Carlos E. Da Silva, Juan Luna y Novicio: First Internationally Known Filipino Painter (Manila: Juan Luna Centennial Commission, 1957), 31.

On Trial for the Murder of His Wife and Her Mother

Resil Mojares refers to the malaise that had settled upon a home that was sustained mainly by the financial resources of Luna's mother-in-law, a situation exacerbated by tensions already present in the family dynamic. Writes Mojares, “The Pardos had reservations about the relationship between the tall, wan, and fragile Paz and the short, swarthy, and temperamental Ilocano.” The parents may have felt that Juan wasn't “good enough” for their daughter, and it was already clear that he was “a jealous and abusive husband.” Racial differences between Luna and Paz may have figured indeed in the painter's jealous suspicions: he a dark-complexioned indio, of Malay and perhaps Aeta (Igorot) ancestry; she a lighter-skinned mestiza of clearly Spanish descent. An implicit racial hierarchy that subordinated Luna to his wife, mother-in-law, and the rest of the Pardo de Tavera family seems to have kindled powerful feelings of mixed insecurity and resentment that seethed in Luna, building up the pressures that would soon enough explode.

Troubles in the marriage were not always apparent. Luna's aforementioned Ensueños de amor, oil on wood of the nuptial year of 1886, lovingly depicts the artist's sleeping wife in bold, unblended brushstrokes whose streaks stand out on the canvas's surface. Its style is an assertive one that represents a maturation of a brush technique that Pilar calls “candid.” In the portrait, it is the translucency of lighting effects and the painterly look of the execution that bring it close to impressionist style. Yet all was not well between Luna and his wife, in that year in which Ensueños de amor was unveiled; their marriage, darkened by frequent and often violent argument, had deteriorated over the years.

Villegas writes that in the sensational case, “The undertones of racial and class differences in Luna's family life were exposed.” The accused, as declared by the attorney of the Appeals Court Félix Décori in his opening statement, had conceived of a conspiracy (complot) set up against him by his accusers to bring the marriage to its end in a divorce. Among the facts brought to light in the trial were the mother-in-law's initial “resistance” to the marriage, which implicated her in the purported conspiracy, as well as the accused's scarce means for supporting the family and his dependence on the financial resources of his wife's family, especially on loans given by Trinidad and the half of the rent from Paz's mother for accommodations at the hotel of the Villa Dupont, where she shared a flat with the married couple. Also presented were references to the “terrible” violence inflicted by the husband upon his wife, about which she “discreetly kept silence.” Luna spoke of the “antipathy of races” manifested in his mother's attitude toward him, and to which he attributed “the miserable state of his country,” and he accentuated the point in his own statement made at the police commissariat, with presumed reference to his victims' family: “in the end they were people who belong to this dirty Spanish race.” Décori furthermore presented in evidence a letter from Luna, dated October 2, 1885, in which the accused expressed his umbrage at Paz's belittling comments made when her brother Félix offered him an anisette with water: Luna clearly refused to be humiliated in front of his wife's family. Décori took this text to indicate the accused's own trait of “excessive self-love amor propio, the sentiment of his personality elevated to a ridiculous degree [hasta lo ridículo].” Indeed, Luna's murder of Paz and her mother could be read as an act of vindication for disparagements not only of his racial identity but also of his very manhood. For prior to the killing, he had discovered her acts of infidelity with a Monsieur Dussaq: their trysts had taken place at No. 25 Mont Thabor Street. It was adduced that Paz and Luna quarreled every day, and savagely; he terrorized her. On one occasion he forced Paz, at gunpoint, to pack for a trip to Vigo, Spain, where, he promised, she would be made to “pay for everything.” As he made her sign a confession of her infidelity; he threatened to kill her if Trinidad should find out about the affair.

Luna found support through this ordeal by those eager to prove that he was representative of the best of his race, and no barbarian: the French press rallied to his defense, as did the Spanish ambassador to France and the crème de la crème of Parisian society. A petition drive to secure his release collected numerous signatures, and it apparently succeeded. On February 7, 1893, Luna was found guilty of the “crime of passion,” but sentenced only with a fine of 40 francs and the stipulation that he leave Paris for good. Luna's sentence was suspended, and the prisoner released, but for reasons of “temporary insanity.”

Despite the horror of this crime, the epic statements made by Luna's art have contributed mightily to the founding of a sense of national identity. It was “by endowing his romantic vision with classic force and monumentality,” writes Pilar, that Luna “created an image of dignity for the Filipino, at a time when the race so badly needed such symbols and rhetoric to embody its aspirations.” Such an assessment is true enough, but it overlooks the other “Lunas,” the ones that sought to assimilate and master the new artistic style; that is, to accommodate the new aesthetic in certain works of the Paris period but striving at the same time and in other works to obey the norms and rules of academic acceptability and, hence, in the broader world, for marketability, with the cost and consequences in both his professional and personal lives that may be inferred. In accounting for Luna's significance for multiple constituencies and audiences—for the European art establishments, for the Filipino community of Madrid and Paris, for the national community of the Philippines—we must not fail to account for the painter's more complex, multifaceted role in a field of cultural production, which was at the same time a field of forces and a field of struggles contested by institutions, markets, officials, and reformists in which Luna was caught up, in which he chose his path as a Filipino artist in circumstances that were determined for him. Concurrently and subsequently, the romantic-classical-baroque vision of his paintings has enjoyed a significant afterlife thanks to the part they played as a monument and patrimony of the Filipino people, and as a powerful catalyst for the movement of the Filipino nationalists who, once they came to reject the call for assimilation, took up the nationalist cause of vindication that meant separation from the Spanish empire.

Luna produced a symbol of the Filipinos' aspiration for self-determination in his last documented piece: it was Souvenir de 1899, a watercolor sketch that depicts the tricolor flag of the Philippine Republic. In the sketch, a Philippine flag rises up on its flagpole against a background that is done mostly in light blue and in which a small town, placed beyond a broadly arching river, is burning, with smoke rising to the heavens. And also in the rough painting, the diminutive image of an American flag—one can barely discern it, placed in parallel to the Philippine flag but deep in the background—waves from its own tiny flagpole. The painting is the best documented of Luna's works: its inscription consists of the title and"Leitmeritz 21 Mai 1899," naming the home of Ferdinand Blumentritt, the mutual friend of Rizal's whom Luna had visited. The simple watercolor wash is considered a national treasure.

Indeed, in Luna's paintings, the Philippines was coming into the consciousness of its own history and making its claim to nationhood. Eric Tan Florentino offers this summing-up of the artist Luna as a flawed archetype of the Filipino patriot as internationalist: “Others will look at Luna and only see failure; only Filipinos can look at him and see Icarus.” He was an exultant Icarus, we can adduce, though also an anxious one. One who soared high nonetheless, before the sun could melt his wings.

Baluyut, Pearlie Rose Salaveria. Juan Luna in Paris, 1884–1893: A Representation and Narrative of Becoming. Master's thesis, University of California-Los Angeles, 1997.

Barrantes, Vicente. El Teatro Tagalog. Madrid: Tipog. De Manuel Ginés Hernández, 1890.

Benesa, Leonidas V., Alicia Coseteng, Alice Guillermo, Cid Reyes, Luciano Santiago, Cesare A. X. Syjuco, Emmanuel Torres, and Paul B. Zafaralla. Art Philippines: A History 1521–Present. Edited by Juan T. Gatbonton, Jeannie E. Javelosa and Lourdes Ruth R. Roa. Pasig: The Crucible Workshop, 1992.

Benesa, Leonidas V. “Juan Luna as a Miniaturist.” The Chronicle Magazine, October 27, 1962.

Bentulan, Thads. “The valuation of Juan Luna, Part 2.” Business World, November 7, 2002.

Bourdieu, Pierre. The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature. Edited and translated by Randal Johnson. New York, Columbia University Press, 1993.

——. The Rules of Art: Genesis and Structure of the Literary Field. Translated by Susan Emanuel. Stanford University Press, 1995.

Browitt, Jeff. “Modernismo, Rubén Darío, and the Construction of the Autonomous Literary Field in Latin America.” In Practising Theory: Pierre Bourdieu and the Field of Cultural Production, edited by Jeff Browitt and Brian Nelson. Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2004, 113–129.

Cruz, E. Aguilar. Luna. Manila: Bureau of National and Foreign Information, 1975.

Dalisay, Butch. "Restoring the Spoliarium." The Philippine Star, July 17, 2006.

Da Silva, Carlos E. Juan Luna y Novicio: First Internationally Known Filipino Painter. Manila: Juan Luna Centennial Commission, 1957.

Décori, Félix. Proceso Segundo contra el Parricida Juan Luna San Pedro y Novicio. Paris: Imprimerie Polyglotte Hugonis, 1893. ——. Discurso Pronunciados en la Audiencia del 18 de febrero de 1893. Paris: Proceso Segundo Contra el Parricida Juan Luna San Pedro y Novicio. Paris: Imprimerie Polyglotte Hugonis, 1893.

Defensor, Tet. “The Painter and the Revolution.” Philippine Tatler, June 2005. Del Rosario, Jose T. “Nineteenth-Century Filipino Master.” Orientations (May 1971): 75–78.

Duro, Paul. “Academic Theory 1550–1800.” In A Companion to Art Theory, edited by Paul Smith and Carolyn Wilde. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2002, 88–103.

Eugenio López Foundation. A Guide to Luna and Hidalgo Paintings in the López Memorial Museum. Pasig, Metro Manila: Eugenio López Foundation, 1979.

Faurot, Albert. Review of Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter by Santiago Albano Pilar. Silliman Journal 29 nos. 3–4 (Third and Fourth Quarters 1982): 172–175.

Florentino, Eric Tan. "Articles of Faith." BluPrint 6.6 (2002): 108–11, 141.

Geringer Art Ltd. “Juan Novicio Luna (b. Ilocos Norte, Oct. 24, 1857 d. Dec. 7, 1899).” http://www.geringerart.com/bios/luna.html.

Guillermo, Alice G. “Juan Luna and His Times.” CAS Horizons 2 no. 2 (March 1976): 61–72.

Henares, Hilarion M., Jr. “Antonio Luna’s Missing Descendant.” Smart File 014 and 015 (1993): 4–15, 18.

Igloria, Luisa A. Juan Luna's Revolver. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2009.

Inosanto-Jereza, Red. “Images of Freedom: The Art and Life of Juan Luna.” In Juan Luna Drawings: The Paris Period, edited by Marita Pascual Nuque and Bayani S. San Diego, Jr. Makati City: Dr. Eleuterio M. Pascual Publishing House, 1998.

Joaquin, Nick. “The Archetypal Filipino,” introduction to Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, by Santiago Albano Pilar. Edited with an introduction by Nick Joaquin; photographic reproductions by Dick Baldovino. Pasig: Eugenio López Foundation, 1980.

Johnson, Randal. “Editor’s Introduction: Pierre Bourdieu on Art, Literature and Culture.” The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature. Edited and translated by Randal Johnson. New York, Columbia University Press, 1993. 1–25.

José, F. Sionil. Viajero: A Filipino Novel. Manila: Solidaridad Publishing House, 1993.

Jose, Vivencio R. Antonio Luna. Makati, Metro Manila: Tahanan Books for Young Readers, 1995.

López Jaena, Graciano. “The Philippines in the Universal Exposition of Barcelona,” a speech delivered on Feb. 25, 1889. La Solidaridad, Feb. 28, 1889. La Solidaridad, Vol. 1. Trans. Guadalupe Fores-Guanzon. Pasay: Fundación Santiago, 1996.

Lumbera, Bienvenido. “The Nationalist Literary Tradition.” In Nationalist Literature: A Centennial Forum, in Nationalist Literature: A Centennial Forum, edited by Elmer A. Ordoñez. Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 2001.

Luna, Juan. Epistolario del Pintor Juan Luna (con un estudio grafológico de sus cartas por Matilde Ras). Edited by José P. Bantug. Madrid: Publicaciones del Círculo Filipino, 1955.

Manuel, Arsenio. “Luna y Novicio, Juan.” Dictionary of Philippine Biography. Volume Two, 1970, 240–266. Quezon City: Filipiniana Book Guild,

McCoy, Alfred W., ed. An Anarchy of Families: State and Family in the Philippines. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2009.

Mojares, Resil B. Brains of the Nation: Pedro Paterno, T. H. Pardo de Tavera, Isabelo de los Reyes and the Production of Modern Knowledge. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 2006.

National Gallery of Australia. “Paris Salons catalogues.” http://www.nga.gov.au/RESEARCH/Salons.cfm

Ocampo, Ambeth R. "Indios Bravos." Weekend, May 11, 1986.

Paredes, Ruby R. “Illustrado Legacy: The Pardo de Taveras of Manila,” in An Anarchy of Families: State and Family in the Philippines, edited by Alfred W. McCoy. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2009.

Pilar, Santiago Albano. Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter. Edited and with an introduction by Nick Joaquin; photographic reproductions by Dick Baldovino. Pasig: Eugenio López Foundation, 1980.

Quirino, Carlos. "Tragedy in Paris." In Filipino Heritage: The Making of a Nation. The Spanish Colonial Period (Late 19th Century). The Awakening, edited by Alfredo Roces. Manila: Lahing Pilipino Publishing Inc., 1978.

Reyes, Raquel A. “Private Lives, Public Passions: The History and Representation of Motherhood in Juan Luna’s Art.” Asian Studies 36 no. 1 (2000): 1–23.

Rizal, José. Epistolario Rizalino. 5 vols. Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1930–1938.

——. Escritos de José Rizal, Tomo II. Correspondencia Epistolar, Libro Tercero, Cartas entre Rizal y sus colegas de la propaganda. Primera Parte, 1882–1889; Segunda Parte, 1889–1896. Manila: Comisión Nacional del Centenario de José Rizal, 1961.

——“. “Discurso del Sr. Rizal en el banquete dado en honor de los pintores filipinos.” Los Dos Mundos 55 (8 July 1884): 6–7.

Roces, Alfredo. Adios, Patria Adorada: The Filipino as Ilustrado, The Ilustrado as Filipino. Manila: De la Salle University Press, 2006.

——. Rage! Juan Luna / Antonio Luna / Trinidad Pardo de Tavera. Manila: Solidaridad Publishing House, 2008.

Roces, Marian Pastor. "Hidalgo and Luna: Vexed Modernity." Zero In: Private Art, Public Lives. Manila: Ateneo Art Gallery, Ayala Foundation, and Eugenio López Foundation, 2002.

Schumacher, John. The Propaganda Movement, 1880–1895: The Creation of a Filipino Consciousness, the Making of the Revolution. Rev. ed. Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1997.

——“The Propaganda Movement: Driving Home a Message.” In Filipino Heritage: The Making of a Nation. The Spanish Colonial Period (Late 19th Century): The Awakening. Manila: Lahing Pilipino Publishing Inc., 1978.

Teodoro, Noel V. "Rizal and the Ilustrados in Spain." Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 8 nos. 1–2 (1999): 65–82.

Terra, Jun. “Juan Luna’s Drawings: Paris Period. From the Collection of Dr. Eleuterio M. Pascual.” In Juan Luna Drawings: The Paris Period. From the Collection of Dr. Eleuterio Pascual, edited by Marita Pascual Nuque and Bayani S. San Diego, Jr. Makati City: Dr. Eleuterio M. Pascual Publishing House, 1998.

Torres, Emmanuel. "Juan Luna: a feast for heroes." Archipelago 1, no. 8 (August 1974): 20–25.

——. “Luna, the Portraitist.” The Chronicle Magazine, November 3, 1962.

Unveiling Souvenir Program for Spoliarium. Manila: Juan Luna Centennial Commission. December 7, 1962.

Villegas, Ramon N. “Juan Luna: Filipino Painter and Patriot.” Arts of Asia 34 no. 3 (June 2004): 66–83.

$ ^{43} $Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Representation, 112–14.

$ ^{44} $Resil B. Mojares, The Brains of the Nation: Pedro Paterno, T. H. Pardo de Tavera, Isabelo de los Reyes and the Production of Modern Knowledge (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 2006), 135.

$ ^{45} $Reyes, “Private Lives, Public Passions,” 15.

$ ^{46} $Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, 18–19, 24.

$ ^{47} $Ibid., 80.

$ ^{48} $Félix Décori, Discurso Pronunciado en la Audiencia del 18 de Febrero de 1893. Paris: Proceso Seguido contra el Parricida Juan Luna San Pedro y Novicio (Paris: Imprimerie Polyglotte Hugonis, 1893), 3, 10.

$ ^{49} $Ibid., 9.

$ ^{50} $Ibid., 4, 7.

$ ^{51} $Ibid., 8; Luna's police statement is cited from parts 218, 219, 220, 221 and 222 of the trial. $ ^{52} $Ibid., 14–15.

$ ^{53} $Inosanto-Jerez, “Images of Freedom,” 23.

$ ^{54} $Decori, Discurso, 25; cited in Pilar, Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter, 187.

$ ^{55} $Nick Joaquin, “The Archetypal Filipino,” introduction to Juan Luna: The Filipino as Painter by Santiago Albano Pilar (Pasig: Eugenio López Foundation, 1980), 13.

$ ^{56} $Defensor, “The Painter and the Revolution,” 151.

$ ^{57} $Pilar, ibid., 213.

$ ^{58} $Cruz, Luna, 92–93.

$ ^{59} $Eric Tan Florentino, “Articles of Faith,” BluPrint 6, no. 6 (2002), 111.