It is most definitely rare for someone to find his or her vocation in the strictest sense of the word.

Oftentimes, people, who don’t get to do what they really want and what their heart and soul yearn for in life, are just happy enough to have a job that puts food on their table and pays the bills. In most cases, these people are left with no choice but to pursue a money-making career and eventually forget their feverish reveries of, say, being a noted singer on Broadway or of being a simple teacher in  a far-flung community heaving with eager kids hoping to learn the ABC’s.

No one can blame them really. It’s hard enough to find a job these days, what more to chase after an impractical dream. But as if the universe conspires to make everything go according to plan, there are some people who no longer find themselves at a crossroad. Visual artist Fidel Sarmiento is one of the lucky ones. Although the young Fidel was set on becoming an architect, his passion for the fine arts won the best of him that easily. And it turned out that this passion would define him in wonderful ways even he couldn’t fathom.

In elementary, he was considered the resident school artist—making educational yet humorous comic strips for their school organ about the good morals and conduct of his fellow students and lending his artistic hands if and when a school production is needed to be staged. He didn’t see himself as one, though, not until in high school when he found himself immersed in art competitions and when he won first prize in one.

“Pero pangarap ko talagang maging architect kasi gusto kong magtayo ng mga bahay at mga building,” he says. “So in college, I took up architecture in Mapua. Naramdaman ko naman na nasasakal na ako noon. So I only stayed there for a year because I was looking for something different. Gusto ko ‘yung maging malaya ako. What I did was to quit architecture and transferred to FEATI University to study fine arts under Ibarra dela Rosa.”

As a struggling advertising student, Fidel was very much conscious of how hard life has become for him and to the rest of the country. He saw poverty and oppression eating the life away from Filipinos, turning them into savage beasts that would do anything just to survive another day. He greatly empathized with them, and so he started painting still life images, seemingly trivial and nonsensical objects that subtly and indirectly say something about our country’s burdensome situation.

The things that Fidel painted were realistic pieces of currency alongside pieces of tuyo or daing fish and tomatoes arranged in sheets of newspaper reading perhaps the most harrowing news that day. His intricate works that are aptly and wittingly titled “Tag-tuyo na naman” or “Daing” (as in hinaing or complaint) bore the brunt of the average Juan dela Cruz. Obviously, Fidel’s approach towards tackling social issues differs from what we know as social realism. His is more understated and inconspicuous yet poignant at the same time. What Fidel lacks in powerful and revolutionary imagery of the social realist bloc he makes up for his wry, playful, and easily relatable titles.

One opus that Fidel remembers is his piece about a commentary on the perilous lives of journalists, specifically the coercion the Manila Times faced when former President Joseph Estrada ordered it closed. “Nakakuha ako ng huling kopya ng Manila Times noon. Gumawa ako ng piyesa na ipinapakita ‘yung daing naman ng mga peryodista,” he recalls.

What Fidel did was to meticulously copy the broadsheet’s last issue, adding in it pictures of journalists who were protesting against the former president. Billed as “Daing sa Dyaryo,” the artwork also boasted of pieces of daing fish, standing metaphorically for the many grievances of the members of the press against the injustice and curtailment of press freedom served to them.

Fidel says that his penchant for drawing stills is a result of his fondness for realism. “Mahilig akong magkutkot. Gusto ko ‘yung madetalye. Gustung-gusto kong i-capture ‘yung lines, for example, sa pera,” he discloses. “Kumbaga gusto ko rin kasi na magkaroon ng partisipasyon ‘yung audience kapag nakita nila ‘yung mga gawa ko. Natutuwa ako kapag nakikita ko sila na lalapit sa painting ko at parang gustong tanggalin ‘yung picture o ‘yung pera na nakikita nila sa canvas,” he adds.

The artist’s preference to realism became more evident when he began rendering old houses and structures onto his canvases. Perhaps it’s because of his interest in architecture that Fidel opted to paint his chosen subjects. But when asked, Fidel tells that his fascination towards old and grand architecture spawned from his dreams of someday having a house, a home that he and his family could call their own.

“Wala kasi kaming bahay noon at pangarap namin na magkaroon ng sariling amin, kaya tingin ako nang tingin sa magagandang bahay,” he relates. “Noong elementary at high school, palipat-lipat din kasi kami ng bahay. ‘Yung magagandang bahay naman noon, luma na ngayon, kaya ganoon ang mga ipinipinta ko.”

Rendered with utmost precision, Fidel’s works emit this sense of palpable nostalgia to viewers. Looking at them is like seeing houses or parts of it that you want to live in or call your own. Seeing them is like entering another dimension where harmony is king and where stillness is supreme. Fidel says that he used to take photographs of old houses in Bulacan, Taal, and Vigan that will serve as references for his acrylic opuses. Now, as if having seen every antique house in the country, Fidel just uses his mind’s eye and artistic license to compose pretty and relaxing pictures of quaint happiness.

In over 30 years of his inspired career, Fidel has done it all. Aside from his stills of subtle social realism and painfully realistic old-fashioned houses, the artist has also explored the surreal and the abstract. When his eyes and hands get tired of perfecting every detail of a realistic work, he gladly shifts to surrealism and abstraction and harnesses the liberating qualities that the two art genres bring forth. If Fernando Amorsolo and Johannes Vermeer are his idols in realism, it’s Salvador Dali and Mark Rothko whom he admires in surrealism and abstraction respectively.

One thing about Fidel’s pieces though is that remaining central to them is the artist’s attraction to old houses. His surreal and abstract paintings still feature parts of a house—a minimalist capiz window or weathered wooden beams that support a structure, for example.

“Ayokong nakukulong sa isang art genre. Mas gusto ko ang free at walang magsasabi sa akin na mali ang ginagawa ko. Ako ‘yun eh. Kesa naman kimkimin ko ‘yun. Gusto ko na ngang mag-abstract, pipigilan mo pa ako? Or gusto kong mag-realism pipigilan mo pa rin ako dahil mas gusto mo ang abstraction ko? May time na kailangan talaga ‘yung transition eh… kailangan na ring mag-move forward eh,” he offers.

An example of him moving forward with his artistic path is him accepting the position of president of the Art Association of the Philippines (AAP) despite knowing it would hinder him to fashion artworks in his own pace. As AAP president for six years, Fidel took a break from painting, took under his wings many artists who are just starting out in the industry back in the day, and forged many art projects for the local art circuit.

“Trabaho ka rin. Walang sweldo. Ang benefit mo lang doon eh ‘yung title. Magtatrabaho ka kasama ng mga member. Gagawa ka ng projects. Tutulungan mo ‘yung mga young artists na makapasok sa mga gallery,” says Fidel of his responsibilities as AAP president.

But Fidel was unmindful of what the job required of him. Even if he wouldn’t get something in return, most of the time, he was just happy to be of help to his peers and colleagues. In fact, Fidel boldly considers his tenure as AAP president as one great opportunity that allowed him to not just  be a leader but also to be a faithful servant of the fine arts.

“Naisip ko na inilagay pa ako sa serbisyo at hindi lang sa studio eh, kaya alam ko na dapat mag-serbisyo rin ako sa kapwa ko artist at kahit sa hindi,” he admits. “Hindi ko lang passion ang pagpipinta at ang pagiging pintor, ito’y bokasyon ko na… isang calling,” he ends. For knowing and accepting that, Fidel is truly lucky.