Notwithstanding the American twang and his US citizenship, New York-raised graphic designer Nico Puertollano is a Pinoy at heart.

The son of Filipino immigrants who moved to the United States in 1985, Nico Puertollano, then nine, was uprooted from the quiet Mapayapa Village in Quezon City and thrust, first to New Jersey, where he was the only brown boy in class, and later to Manhattan in New York City, where he absorbed the urban music and art scenes and the skater culture.

“I was always the oddball,” Puertollano, now 30, recalls. During his first year in New Jersey, he bonded with fellow “goofballs” (his own word)—an African American kid and a geek.

“Nung una, chink pa ang tawag sa akin, and when I found out what the word meant, I thought, Hindi naman ako Chinese!”

When the family finally found an apartment in New York, the teenage Puertollano was sent to Xavier, an all-boys Jesuit high school in Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood. His barkada (clique) consisted mostly of Asians, African Americans, and Latinos—no Filipinos. He couldn’t identify with first-generation Filipino Americans who were born in the States.

Keeping his Filipino identity was a struggle, and Puertollano found himself missing home—and balut, super mocha Magnolia ice cream, pandesal, bottled Magnolia chocolate drink, mango, and pastillas.

Without any Filipino friends to converse with—the only time he’d get to use the language was when he was arguing with his parents—Puertollano tried to keep his mother tongue by mentally translating English words in Filipino.

“That was the only way I could think of. Like when I’m walking in the street, I’d think, walk is lakad,” he says.

Urban kid in NY
Growing up the culture capital, taking in jazz and street art influences, and doodling anime at home, Puertollano initially wanted to study music at Berklee School of Music in Boston. There wasn’t enough time, however, to put together his demo reel, so he opted for Hunter College or New York University but got denied.

88storey films DVD intro

His mother decided to take matters into her own hands, wanting to make sure that her panganay (eldest) would get to the school of his choice.

“My mother called up the admissions at Hunter saying, ‘Please give my son a chance.’ And so I went there, all dressed up with a tie, and the first thing the interviewee told me was, ‘Wow, you don’t look anything like your mom described!’” Apparently, his mom had pictured him as an anarchist and a hooligan.

Because his grades had improved consistently in high school, Hunter College took him in.

While majoring in philosophy and media studies in Hunter, Puertollano worked part-time as a Web designer. Into his junior year, however, the artist in him was getting restless.

“I really wanted do art and go to the School of Visual Arts,” he says. His teachers at Hunter were also encouraging him to move since he had exhausted all the school could offer.

“I felt I was competing with other people who had traditionally learned art, and although I was already in the industry, I would always be kulang [inadequate].”

At SVA, where he would complete his BFA in computer arts, Puertollano started working with RhinoFX, a post-production house providing computer effects, animation, and graphic design for commercials, music videos, and broadcast, and among the top ten graphic effects companies in the US.

27+20’s first solo show at Saguijo Cafe’s Theo Gallery was inspired by Nico’s fascination with skating.

Coming home
In 2003, after almost two decades of being away, Puertollano came back to the Philippines to attend a cousin’s wedding and was surprised at how everything had changed.

It was not the Manila of his childhood.

“One of the first things I looked for was the statue of the eagle on Guadalupe that greets commuters passing through Makati City,” he shares with excitement. He also remembers the railway in Mandaluyong near his grandmother’s house. “I think the government bought the property and what’s left of the tracks are the grooves,” he says.

It was during this homecoming that he reconnected with Katwo Librando, his next-door neighbor, a visual artist and vocalist for the indie bands Narda and Duster, now all grown up. “She was two years old when I left!” he exclaims.

The two started corresponding by e-mail when Puertollano went back to New York City, and when he realized that he was smitten, Puertollano went back to Manila. “My co-workers were like, ‘But you just left!’”

When Puertollano announced his plans of seriously moving back to Manila, his parents were understandably shocked. “They said, ‘That’s why we moved to the States, to give you a better life, and now you’re going back!’”

While his parents eventually gave him their blessings, his mom advised him to consider being an American citizen.

“My parents had been citizens long before, and every time my interview came up, I would always say no,” Puertollano said. “I guess deep inside, [my not assuming US citizenship] was the only remaining proof of my being Pinoy.” But after much debate and argument, he eventually gave in.

Amboy
When Puertollano came back to Manila in 2004, he had given up not only his Filipino citizenship but also the chance to work with Morgan Spurlock, who asked him to do the documentary Super Size Me, which would later be nominated for an Academy Award.

The two had worked previously on I Bet You Will, a Webisode in which people are dared to do outrageous things in public—such as drinking or eating a concoction of rotten or gross food or performing stunts.

“Sayang,” Puertollano says, shaking his head. It’s not something he particularly likes bringing up, but the idea of being this close to something big has its minute rewards.

The first thing Puertollano did upon arriving in Manila was to get a copy of the ASAP handbook. Produced by the Advertising Suppliers Association of the Philippines, the directory lists local advertising agencies and production houses.

He walked around, introducing himself and trying to get a feel of the local set-up. “I was aiming to do broadcast design, specifically movie titles, but I discovered that this does not exist locally.”

Optima, Underground Logic, and Roadrunner were interested. He politely declined an offer by Roadrunner. “I wasn’t sure if that was a good deal or not.”

While this urban kid would realize later that his exotic-sounding surname—which is actually the name of a Spanish village—provides good name recall (there are very few Puertollanos in the Philippines), breaking into the local market was not easy.

“Unlike other balikbayans who had connections, I didn’t know anybody. I started from scratch and had to prove myself tenfold to be able to do something,” he recalls. He also had to battle the misconception that he was just an Amboy who had nothing on him other than that he had grown up in the States and acquired an American accent.

Puertollano had some stickers made to advertise his newly formed design studio, 27+20, with Librando, now his fiancee (the two are getting married in July). He would slap the stickers anywhere they could be seen. Later he would come up with the drip, which has now become his trademark.

Some of the connections he made were accidental. Puertollano met the design duo Electrolychee at an eatery in Quezon City.

“It was 2 a.m.,” he relates, “and someone from a nearby table was talking about a movie. He couldn’t figure out the movie title or the actor.”

Puertollano put in his two cents’ worth (the movie was Pointbreak, starring Keanu Reeves) and that led to introductions and later a growing network that would land him projects with Human (murals at the Trinoma branch and art direction for a number of billboards), Nestle, and Coca-Cola (Buksan ang Summer promo), among others, as well as invitations to group shows.

Milestones
It was probably the invite from the 2006 Graphika Manila—the first-ever multimedia design conference in the Philippines—that established Puertollano as a personality to reckon with in the local graphic design community.

While he had certainly built up a strong portfolio in New York, he was still virtually unknown in Manila, so the opportunity came as a surprise.

He still laughs over the mention of his name by a local newspaper, which said very little about him except that he was one of the speakers.

“I felt honored when I was asked to speak at Graphika Manila, but it was also unexpected because I feel I haven’t done enough, considering that I’ve only been here two years,” he says. “But maybe it’s because I’ve been trying to push the idea of motion graphics and broadcast design locally.”

Still Pinoy at heart
Despite having spent the majority of his growing years in the Big Apple, Puertollano is quick to argue that everything about him, and especially his art, is Pinoy—although he gets a kick out of people assuming he is American just because he sounds so.

“People may think I am very Americanized because I went to the States and was educated there, but for me, Pinoy ang works ko in the sense that I took what was there and interpreted it as to what I understood was being Pinoy. Hindi naman galing dito ang jeepney, but we made it ours,” he argues.

“Iba na ang Pinoy. When the idea of Pinoy comes up, they think it’s just old-looking art, pots, woodcarvings, bahay kubo [nipa hut]. It’s time to move on. There’s a lot of modern stuff that’s Pinoy.”

The Pinoy graphic designer can certainly make it internationally, Puertollano believes. “Being unique, not lying about your art, tsaka tiyaga [persistence] are the key. If you are true to your art, people will see it naman.”

The Amboy who has now made Manila his home still does not believe he has “arrived.” “There’s still so much I have yet to do. Wala pa to,” he shakes his head and smiles.

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Listen to Nico

Special thanks to Jayvee Fernandez for editing the audio clip.