It took four years in the making, and now it stands there, the big blue house at the Bolipata farm in San Antonio, Zambales, a testament to artist Plet Bolipata’s creativity, foresight, ingenuity, and project management skills.

Because Plet is popularly known for her Manet-inspired paintings, it’s surprising that the interiors of this house that shelters two great Philippine artists (she is married to painter Elmer Borlongan) is a mixture of Spanish and Mexican influences.

Think Alfonso Arau’s Like Water for Chocolate, and imagine the main character Tita stepping out from the book’s pages and into Plet’s kitchen, which is painted in inviting colors of blue, yellow, and brown. As you watch mesmerized, taking in the aroma of a home-cooked meal, you forget that this is not Mexico but a farm in Zambales, just a short walk to the coast overlooking the South China Sea.

It was the vision of this very beach that prompted Plet to plan a balcony in haste, when the contractor spotted—ahoy—sea. Unfortunately, it was not to be. When that front part of the house was complete (what she now calls “tatlong bubong” or three roofs), all that was left was an inch-small glimpse of the ocean, says Plet as she brings her forefinger and thumb together.

Tattooed in her mind
“Go with the flow” is Plet’s architectural philosophy, which is not any different from how she approaches each painting, husband Emong observes.

“For Plet, madaming possibilities,” he explains. “She usually starts with a single image, at kung ano ang maisip niya, yun na yung idadagdag.“

Plet’s mental blueprints would change over the course of the house’s construction. What was originally meant to be Emong’s studio later became the dining room, and two separate structures would later be added as Emong’s and Plet’s studios (yes, these two artists have their own work areas).

Being adjacent to the bathroom, the homey kitchen was supposed to be the master’s bedroom. Remnants of a digital work on nylon, “Goodnight Manet, Sleep Tight,” (which hangs at the living room) now cover the grills that separate the bathroom and the kitchen.

Plet must have had to work on her knees to apply the marbles between the bathroom tiles—you can just imagine the effort: “I’m crazy that way!” she exclaims.

What was definite was the house’s color. “I don’t even know what exact shade it is because I just saw it in a magazine,” Plet recalls. Some astute lookers, she relates, have called it “the blue of [the Mexican painter] Frida Kahlo.”

Something old, something new
Perhaps, if the doors, the grills, and the balustrades had lips, they too would have stories to share on how they found their way to this big blue house to serve an equally noble purpose.

Like the back door, with its carvings and embedded stained glass, which survived a four-hour all-terrain trip from an antiques dealer on Nueve de Febrero in Mandaluyong City. Or the grills on the hallway, which were bought from a similar shop also in Mandaluyong. Or a metal medicine cabinet, which Plet had repainted red, now holding blankets and bedsheets.

“The marble balustrades for the balcony came from my grandfather’s old house, which burned down long ago,” Plet relates. One post was set aside for the kitchen counter, where it supports an old shutter that now holds baskets and trays. It is a welcome, eye-catching addition to the dainty floral tiles that decorate the working area.

Plet’s finicky side is also evident even in the knobs of the kitchen cabinets: some are ceramic floral pieces that would make you take a second look. The shuttered door of the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink by the window has fork- and spoon-shaped metal handles.

While choosing the right knob or door was an exciting, creative exercise, moving the antique furniture and the materials for the house challenged Plet’s project management skills as most of these came from Mandaluyong, where Plet and Emong used to live.

“Everything had to be prepared when the truck came to bring them to Zambales, so even the act of getting ready was really demanding,” Plet says.

Painter come lately
Strolling through the Bolipata-Borlongan house is like walking through an art gallery. Emong’s paintings and sketches hang alongside Plet’s pieces. After a second round, one can tell the husband’s from the wife’s: Plet’s works exhibit a rough texture that comes from her use of a palette knife, while Emong’s “elongated figures” remind you of everyday characters in the neighborhood.

Plet wasn’t a painter for the first 28 years of her life, which gives us hope that anybody can paint, given the interest. While she comes from an arts-inclined background—her brother is acclaimed violinist Coke Bolipata; Anita Magsaysay-Ho is an aunt—Plet didn’t know how to draw at all.

The discovery happened when she picked up artist Federico Alcuaz’s kids at the Hilton during their visit from Germany (Freddie’s sister is married to Plet’s maternal uncle). She had walked into Freddie’s studio and was overwhelmed with the smell of paint.

“I like it here,” Plet had announced and immediately decided what she wanted to be.

“How do I become a painter?” she asked.

“Just go to the store and buy the paints,” she was told. So Plet went to the supplies store and bought paint and canvas and started working. But because she never had any formal training in the arts, she didn’t know about canvas priming.

“Most of my initial works, nagpapatong ang kulay kasi nagsi-seep ang paint,” she remembers. Her painter cousin, Ivee Olivares-Mellor, who was then taking formal lessons told her, “Hala, Plet, you have to bind your canvas pala!”

Plet’s biggest ambition at the time was to have her own show at 30.

“I went to Penguin Cafe Gallery [in Malate] and dropped my portfolio. I didn’t tell them I was a Bolipata or they’d just say yes to me. So I used my lola’s name, Rosario.” Needless to say, Plet did get her solo show, and the rest is history.

It was a crazy first show, as most are. “The night before my exhibit, my sister and I were still varnishing my paintings, and I was finishing some work,” Plet recalls.

“My mom was like, ‘Is this how it’s done? What will people say?’ Siyempre, her experience is in the performing arts. At the Cultural Center of the Philippines, all you have to do is to bring your instrument and perform. But ako, nagpipinta pa the night before!”

Plet was able to sell all her paintings, and because the show did well, she was able to convince her father to send her to New York to study visual arts.

Staying creative
With the house construction over with, Plet is on a slowdown. “Emong understands it because he knows how draining the entire activity was,” Plet explains.

Ever open to new possibilities, Plet held a summer exhibit, “The Hummingbird,” which includes illustrations for a series of environment stories to be published by Canvas.

There’s also knitting, a new hobby she learned when she was on a residency at the Vermont Studio Center in the US.

“I wanted to make a tapestry, but my arthritis kicked in because it was very cold in Vermont. They said I could do it here at the farm by tying the yarn to the trees and getting a broomstick and knitting. But there are no good yarns here, and the choices are very limited, so I had to put it on hold.”

Plet does worry about becoming boring as an artist.

“I sometimes wonder whether I’m just repeating myself. Are people still curious to see what I’m trying to say? Para na ba akong sirang plaka? It’s the same character. It’s Manet. I’m not sure if I’m still doing something exciting.”

But knowing Plet, and with the big blue house as evidence, we’re in for a surprise in the years to come.

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Photos by Elmer Borlongan and Plet Bolipata
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