For years, Brother Robin’s hands were silent.
Once a young painter filled with promise, he had exchanged his brushes for deadlines and advertising briefs, colour for stability, and art for practicality. After graduating from the Technological University of the Philippines, life took him far from the creative world that had once defined him. He focused on work, on earning, on building a future and a family. Invitations from friends to join exhibits came and went, but his heart was no longer in it. The art world became a distant echo of who he once was.
Then twenty-five years later, an invitation from his former classmates brought him back to an art exhibit. Hesitant but willing, he created one artwork—just one, as a gesture of friendship.
Yet as he painted, frustration filled him. His mind knew the strokes, but his hands refused to follow. It was as if time had stolen the rhythm of creation from him. Still, that single piece became the quiet spark that would reignite his journey.
When another group of friends invited him to a TUP alumni exhibit, he joined again—not out of passion, but out of companionship. Something had stirred in him during that night. The exhibit was alive with camaraderie, laughter, and even live music.
In that harmony of art and sound, Robin felt a connection—something familiar, something he had long missed. For the first time in years, he felt joy in creation again.
Then the pandemic arrived.
The world fell silent, and so did he. Locked away at home, with the sirens of ambulances echoing outside, he was overwhelmed by fear and loneliness. He questioned his purpose and wrestled with the stillness of isolation.
Friends from the community reached out, urging him to play music, to pray, to find light again. But his heart remained heavy, until one friend reminded him: “Use whatever you have. Paint with coffee if you must. Don’t wait for the perfect moment—just start.”
That encouragement unlocked something deep within. He remembered the spirit of experimentation that his alma mater had instilled in him: to create art not limited by materials, but born of the soul.
So, he painted, not with oil, but with what was available. From that act of courage, his first patron emerged: a sister from his community who saw beauty in his rediscovered gift.
That moment became his turning point.
From then on, commissions came and were followed by invitations to exhibits. But more than recognition, what truly bloomed was his renewed sense of self. Robin was no longer just an art director at work: he was once again an artist. His children now saw what “Papa the artist” truly meant, witnessing his creations come to life.
Today, Bro. Robin’s story stands as a reminder that healing often begins in rediscovery. When life strips us of what we once loved, it sometimes returns the same but it in unexpected ways—through stillness, struggle, and grace. His art became his prayer, his healing, and his rebirth.
In every stroke, Bro. Robin now paints not just on canvas, but on the heart—a timeless testament that it’s never too late to begin again.
Credits:
Written by Pascal Quirin | Edited by Angeli Arellano| Graphics by Kelsy Labutte | Layout by Jay Lucena