- “morning panes” #1 oil on canvas 30×40, by Jeques B. Jamora
- “morning panes” series #1 to 3
- “morning panes” #2 oil on canvas 30×40, by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009
- “morning panes” #3 oil on canvas 38×48, by Jeques B. Jamora
Tracing the figures using my child’s eyes.
Paint it with colors just the way it was.
I feel brimful of joy that my soul cries.
(“Rendezvous” series 1 – 4 oil on canvas 20×20, by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009)
There’s the refulgent streams of the river
Flowing beneath the bamboos’ lush bowers.
Their drowsy whistles I still remember.
When winds blow through the leaves and the boulders.
There’s the rock that rests on the reef of stones,
Where the tyke sits when he would go fishing.
Silence croons him with nature’s pristine tones.
When a fish pulls his bait, his heart’s dashing.
There’s the lily that cupped the morn’s dewdrops.
Frogs stay motionless on their giant leaves,
Until an insect strays by their tongue traps.
Their prying eyes ever alert like thieves.
There’s the damselfly that hovers above
My head and the tip of my fishing rod.
A scene I always remember with love,
It never fails to cheer me when I’m sad.
There’s the sun peeping through the verdant trees;
Casting their shimmering hued reflections
On the running waters like pageantries.
Moving me to profound contemplations.
Ah, idyllic landscape, ethereal arts.
We always have that child’s nook in our hearts.
(“Childhood Nook, Revisited!” From the poetry collection by: Jesus B. Jamora, 04/21/06)
“Dreams Alight” oil on canvas 36X36, by Jeques B. Jamora, 2009
I am now beginning to slowly understand the child’s vision that used to scare me. I am now starting to polish the rough edges of the images and lay the pictures on the frames as I translate the vision to become my breathing, throbbing realities.
I awake to the present to write on the pages the stories that the child once told me. I alight to this moment where his dreams had landed long before I arrived.
I used to think I was chasing my dreams, I now understand I did not. Like the damselflies that alight on my palm as a kid, dreams, too, alight when I learned to open myself and keep my heart still.
There are times when we need to leave the safety of the harbor and answer the beaconing of the future in the horizon where the skies kiss the seas ~
The unfamiliar arched skies and the daunting blue of the ocean may appear uncertain, and there may be no written guarantee accross the seas but we take out our anchors from our sunctuaries, take the chance and sail anyway.
There are moments in life when we have to leave the roads that are very familiar.
It is our human nature to explore uncharted terrietories.
There’s that part in us that needs and longs for the change of landscapes.
And so we leave the paths that are safe and take a detour, stray away from our every day roads, throw the maps and just go ahead and get thrilled with things new.
We all need to face our fates at a certain point and take that arduous trek in the desert to fulfill the only obligation we have in this life to reach our destinations.
Such things happen many times in our lifetime. Sometimes we do it awake and aware, but often it just happens and we wake up one day in the middle of the desert, or in a new road, or sailing in the ocean’s uncertain blues like we are inside a dark hole and that only our presence could fill that void.
I chose to be aware and awake when I take a detour or sail – I don’t want to be thrown in the grounds unguarded. We can all control our destiny. We can all choose the kind of battle and our kind of journey.
Now for those who are wondering where I’ve been?
I’ve gone painting!
I feel like I need to leave the familiar roads, the safety of my harbor in writing and take a plunge into the uncertainty of the blue horizon that’s been beaconing me for the longest time. So I left the safety and the happy company of the language, of the friendly words that coquet my thoughts and the pages to answer another call of traveling alone in my journey with my art.
It is important that even how far the distances we reach in our travels, we need to be in touch with the isles that once became our harbor, and the trails that would lead us back to the roads that we once took that brought us where we are at the moment.
No matter how long we travelled in the deserts of this life, we need to be in touch with things and people that once became our oasis. Poetry and writing are the oasis of my soul. And I will always be back here, now and again, to drink and dine in the bounty of their inspiration.
You are my daily dose of life,
My daily drop of hope.
You are the reason I’m moving on,
And why I need to cope.
You are my oasis
In this life’s desert
So I can stand up
My love, you are the oasis of my heart, and I will always be back in your sunctuary, in the comfort and warmth of your presence for it is you who makes my journey worthwhile.
My creative muse prompts me to begin writing on a fresh page as I start a new process of knowing. This is the time of my life when I do things because I feel like doing them. Like, I write because I would like to read my thoughts tangible in words taking form written on pages, so I would get a better grasp of them.
Like the damselflies of my childhood, I don’t chase my thoughts anymore now that I’m grown up. My mind, like my palms to the damdelflies, I will open so dreams and thoughts could freely alight to show me their beauty. I will befriend this elusive guests instead of running after them like I did during my reckless youth. Perhaps this way, I could encourage their frequent visits.
To The Deeps
When half the world is asleep,
The prying eyes of the nocturnal owl
Stay alert for mice dozing undergrownds.
A turtle slowly prowls in a swamp
Disturbing the resting fishes
On the shallow waters.
Somewhere, you are confined
Asleep in your room dreaming.
While I stay awake questioning.
Am I part of your dreams tonight?
Would I take part in your life
When you awake in the morning?
The night ends
With the owl catching no mice.
The fishes has gone to The deeps,
But the turtle hasn’t reach where ’tis going.
Just like me with my doubts never fading.
But nevertheless always wishing
That one day I’d stop questioning
And to The deeps I’d just let the fishes
Unhurried thoughts and dreams come pellucid like the reflection of the summer skies on a placid river. I aim to write my thoughts that way: to achieve such clarity. These thoughts, my dreams reflected on pages as I allow the readers to grasp them like viewing the river and the skies on a clear summer day.
But sometimes, words are just ain’t enough. There are thoughts and dreams conceived that come in defined shapes, definite forms and rich colors. So I capture them in sketches. Such thoughts and dreams come alive on pads as my pen and pencil give them skin and the ink give them blood and the images from my mind come throbbing alive in sketches.
But then again, oftentimes, I am haunted by vivid dreams and thoughts that not my pen and the pencil nor the ink are enough to breath them life, to bring them the colors like the coquettish fishes flirting my mind with their exotic dance moves in the river where my mind often hovers. They demand to be born and inhabit the canvas, and only my brush strokes could give them soul, only the pallette could bring to life their hued reflections flickering in my imagination ~
Conspicuous in light and shadows.
This is the time of my life when I am fully in touched with my creative muse and the river of my mind is on its calmest state, where any minute movements are reflected that could stir ripples of dreams, and rapture of colors like the blossoms in springtime. The pages and the pads and the canvas are like the verdant fields where my dreams bloom. They are like the river in my mind where the fishes swim to the deeps in their coquettish dance moves that preludes to a million dreams.
The damselfly is within reach – I am taking time to appreciate his beauty as he hovers and I, motionless wishing the damselfly would soon alight in my palms.
Who says that dreams are black and white?
Let my scribbling,
And my brush strokes
“Seed” series# 2, 1998. Pen and Ink on paper
“Seed” series# 3, 1998. Pen and Ink on paper
“Seed” series# 4, 1998. Pen and Ink on paper
“Fish Of Mind” (Oil on canvas 30×38, By: Jeques B. Jamora, Oct. 2007)
“We depart to arrive, we leave to come home. 2005. Oil on canvas.
“Pedia”, 1998. Pencil on paper
“Fish of mind” study, 2005. 2-piece oil on canvas.
“Tamed” (the original), 2004. Oil on canvas
My apartment walls are becoming an exhibit space to hang my artworks
“Tamed”(enlarged replica) July, 2007 – This is the first painting(oil on canvas, 30×30) I completed here in Chicago.
“Nostalgia” (Oil on Canvas, 30×38, By: Jeques B. Jamora, Nov. 2007)
My living room serves as show room for my paintings
“A cut of life , 1 ~ there is some story in everything we see” 2007. Oil on canvas
“A cut of life , 2 ~ there is a cut of life in every piece of me. ” 2007. Oil on canvas
“Solitude”, 2007 – finding my solitude in Chicago. Oil on canvas, 24×30.
“Reflections” 2007 (Oil on canvas, 24×30, By: Jeques B. Jamora)
“Solitude” – anchored, 2005. Oil on canvas
“Nangita Ko Nemo”, 2007 (Oil on canvas, 20×24, By: Jeques B. Jamora)
My witty take on the animated film, Finding Nemo. “nemo” in Visayan/Ilonggo dialect means “You.
“Nangita Ko Nemo – Finding You”,
“Ginpangita Man Ko Nemo?”, 2007 (Oil on canvas, 20×24, By: Jeques B. Jamora)
My witty take on the animated film, Finding Nemo. “nemo” in Visayan/Ilonggo dialect means “You.
“Ginpangita man ko nemo? – Did you seach for me, too?”
“Love, ‘Fish,’ Hope” 2004, oil on canvas
“Childhood,” 1998, pencil on paper
“to the deeps(unfinished)” oil on canvas, 40×48(pending, nov, ‘07 to date) By: Jeques B. Jamora
“The secret garden” 2005, oil on canvas
“To the deeps(unfinished)” Oil on canvas, 40×48(pending, nov, ‘07 to date) By: Jeques B. Jamora