Perhaps it was the freedom from academic walls that led Elvin John Villar to his healthy outburst of colors and canvas. A graduate of AB Communication Arts at the University of Santo Tomas, it did not take long before the world got a taste of Villar’s vision of emotions mounted on canvas. Born on the 12th of September, 1984, his works manifest 23 years of trial and error, joy, anguish, passion, deceit, innocence, horror, and the things in between that we all have come to accept as reality.
A constant student of the visual arts, Villar is both a pupil to none and an apprentice to all the beauty in the world. With that, he brushes and strokes, not only his colors, but his vision, the conflagration of reality, and embracing the evils present. In life, we shed tears with hopes that the future may offer happiness and in happiness we grow weary of a tragedy waiting on the next corner. With this in mind, he depicts life as a “tragic playground”. It is not the evil that justifies the need for a greater good. No. It is a truth that one would not easily see, understand, or even accept. But Villar shrouds nothing from the canvas.
Already in the midst of his search for authenticity in the world of visual arts did Villar find solace in the works of Hoffman, Dekooning, and Pollock. From a childhood fondness of awkward faces, distorted landscapes and an attack on paper with an arsenal of colors, it was fate and not choice did Villar seek refuge in abstract art. Knowing well the discomfort of not being appreciated by those who know not the blood that flow alongside the colors, he unwillingly continues his painting for the few who like him, hide nothing from life.
Villar communicates to the canvas the way his paintings shed out their intentions. To the canvas he confesses. His cigarette as his witness. His words are his colors and he punctuates them in all forms possible. And like all men, Villar will never stop from repeated sins, thus he will always return to his canvas. His dreams of one day inviting others to his sanctuary, comes closer every day. The dawn to which he shall earn the right to be called a true Filipino abstract expressionist by his nation comes closer. But he is in no rush. Not when there’s so much to tell.