THE ART OF CELEBRATING LIFE
BETSY WESTENDORP BRIAS: A life full of charisma and character, charm and cheer, color and candor
"It felt it was finally time.” declared Betsy Westendorp Brias, the Madrid-born illustrious 91-yearold artist who loves the Philippines so very much— almost to a fault—as she gladly looked back the past year after the release of her eponymous two-volume book of her most significant and beloved works of a lifetime. “I wanted something beautiful and big, something great and wonderful.” she smiled.
And yet, it was not originally her idea. Friend Rita Ledesma took the initiative to suggest the anthology to the De La Salle University Publishing House, with whom she had collaborated on similar projects. The director was undoubtedly familiar with the painter and admired her art. The team immediately buckled to work and off they went to press.
Betsy’s love affair with our islands began when she met the young, dashing Antonio Brias in Madrid, who swept her off her grounded feet – and soon, wedding bells rang. The couple moved to their new home in Manila, where she could not have asked for anything more.
“Life with my family, which now included three lovely daughters Isabel, Carmen, and Sylvia and with friends dear and near to me, plus all the blessings that go with residing in Forbes Park, was extraordinarily exceptional.” she continued.
“Then suddenly one day, my husband—a Vice President of San Miguel—announced it was time to pack up and settle in Madrid permanently.” she narrated.
At this time when she was extremely devoted to her craft, her husband perhaps was a bit jealous. “He might have been right though,” she confessed. For her chosen career had gone through a series of good fortunes upon more good fortunes.
While in Spain, she started her foray into the world of canvass through portraits of her immediate family members. She began with her father Carlos, a retired military general, who would happily sit down in full regalia, with medals and decorations, all patiently waiting for his talented daughter to complete her piece.
“Sitting down must be so boring—and yet, he never complained. ¡Era un santo! He was happiest whenever he could help someone.” she recollected with a grateful smile. “Please remember us when you finally collaborate with personalities of high stature and importance,” her Dad would even tease.
“As a portrait artist, your goal is to paint someone who is somebody.” her playful choice of words lingered in the air as she narrated her origin story. And success came not long after.
“I owe it to my queridos amigos former Philippine First Lady Vicky Quirino Gonzales and her husband Luis ‘Chito’ Gonzales, who was the Philippine Ambassador to Spain back then,” she reminisced.
We somehow remember Vicky, at 18 years of age, visited Madrid, where she immediately charmed the people in power, from Generalissimo Francisco Franco— the Caudillo of Spain—down to the adoring people in the streets. And they never forgot her since.
After a couple of calls, Vicky—now a member of the social circle that included royalty and aristocracy, dignitaries and celebrities—magically handed Betsy her first most desirable appointments. Heading the sterling list was none other than the royal children of the Spanish King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia, to include Prince Felipe—their present monarch—and his two sisters infantas Elena and Cristina.
Betsy fondly recalls that in several sessions, not only did she hand carry her usual artist paraphernalia into the Royal Palace. Along came peculiar items such as a projector, a screen and a reel of cartoons—to effectively entertain the young Prince, so that he may sit still while being painted. This phenomenon became commonplace around the stately household. Whenever she would arrive, the future king would cry aloud “Pulpo, pulpo!” in reference to the main character of the TV show he often watched.
To round off the list of major subjects of her very first portrait exhibit are Princesa de Baviera and the Marquesa de Mondejar.
“Critics say you don't just become a great portrait artist,” she opined. “You are either born with it or not. Achieving the likeness of your subject is difficult. No es facil.” she opined.
“But that doesn't mean they are bad portraitists— they just have a different forte.”
Good graces never stopped. On a car ride to Cuenca, a city known for its casas colgadas, to attend a three-inone exhibit launch of Fernando Zobel de Ayala, Rocio Urquijo, and Benedicto Cabrera, popularly known as BenCab, Vicky learned Betsy had a Philippine passport.
Then and there, Betsy was offered to represent the Philippines during the Independence Week in Madrid.
“If Fernando can exhibit his pieces, I can do, too,” she reservedly motivated herself.
“This boom in recognition gave me a roster of elite clientele. And looking back, I owe it all to the Philippines,” she admitted.
Now a resident of our islands, she recalled globetrotter Benny Toda gifted former First Lady Imelda Marcos during her birthday celebration a portrait of her daughter Imee. It must have impressed the country’s Art Patron as she then commissioned Betsy, to include almost the whole family tree!
As an artist, she does not allow compromises. One of her most iconic rules: she never creates portraits based on photographs. “I paint for life,” she firmly stated. Even the late President Ferdinand Marcos patiently sat in Malacañang Palace every morning for 15 days as she busily toiled.
However, she has broken her own law though—just once! Mrs. Marcos wanted to present Princess Margaret—the only sibling of the United Kingdom’s Queen Elizabeth II— with her own portrait, during her visit.
She had to bow to their request for there was simply no time for a sit-in session.
The results were still spectacular. Predominantly blue to reflect the lady emerging from what she loves—the sea, corals, shells, and a Gloria Maris shaped like a tear, in reference to her love life with Peter Townsend.
For portraits, her subjects must always have to be positioned higher than her.
Betsy does not pencil in sketches on the canvass— everything is done as she goes along. “When I start, I don't know how it will look like yet. I begin with the forehead, then the hairline. I work on the left side of the face before the right one, as my hand rests on the canvass. It's like a jigsaw puzzle!” she exclaimed.
She does not have any favorite colors—though white and ultramarine blue are staples for backgrounds—nor any preferred tool—she uses brushes, sponges, and paint knives as she sees fit.
“The ideal spot is a window facing north of the sun so that the light does not hit the canvass,” she advised.
If given the chance to open her own museum, she has select pieces in mind to showcase, and among those are the largest orchid paintings that belonged to Nene Quimson and Liding Oledan, portraits of Maria Carmen Franco y Polo, Duchess of Franco and Dowager Marchioness of Villaverde— the daughter of Franco, and all her popular granddaughters.
While Betsy lives a beautiful life, she likewise has her own scars to show. First, she has nursed her husband over a lingering illness. Her favorite grandson Ian, who grew up to be an adorable young adult, passed on quickly too soon due to fulminating sepsis. In turn, her daughter Isabel—Ian’s mom—was devastated over his demise, and experienced complications brought about by a broken heart, where she never recovered.
When Betsy shared when she received a call that her Isabel was in comatose and wouldn’t last the night, she immediately started to paint.
The not-expected-at-all outcome of this particularly unforgettable evening full of sadness was conversely very bright—a brilliant sun piercing through clouds that filled the sky—and in between, what seemed like a shadow of a tunnel.
Betsy claimed she kept her daughter company as she made her way through the channel and to the world beyond the veil.
This masterpiece is called Passage.
In remembrance of the duo is a treasured obra— which her peers adore—where her daughter and grandson were huddled by a glass window in their home overlooking a river. It was dubbed to have reflected “the face of happiness.”
Due to the times where counterfeits are deemed aplenty, she has anticipated the issue of authenticity.
Ever since 1980, each of her art pieces is autographed on the front. Behind the canvass has a smear of paint— where she writes the date, the size, the medium used and a number to prove that it is legitimate. She then imprints her right index finger— como lo hacen en España— not a thumb mark, she pointed out, to seal the deal.
While sitting in her living room recently, she reminisces Dewey Boulevard—now Roxas—during its glory days. “Whenever I would paint Philippine landscapes, I would play Dahil Sa'yo by Pilita Corrales. And the melody would set me in. The sunset of Manila Bay is one such obsession for me.” she admitted.
“How can people in fast vehicles simply drive by such a sight!” she said, bewildered. “This is a daily miracle!”
Before we said our long goodbyes, we noticed two framed recognitions in her pasillo.
Awarded in Spain with the Lazo de Dama de la Orden de Isabel la Catolica, as bestowed by King Juan Carlos, and Presidential Medal of Merit for Art and Culture, as lauded by President Gloria Arroyo, she has had a blessed and decorated career.
A bit frail and fragile and accepting reality, she has refrained from huge murals and now concentrates on the smaller ones. "I may have somewhat retired, but I don't give up," she said with fervor in her voice. "Even though I might not be able to paint today—perhaps, maybe, tomorrow I can” she conceded.
She pointed to the piece of paper taped on her wall which proclaims Vamos al parque (Let's go to the park), a gentle reminder to keep on pushing and to always keep on fighting.
"I always expect that I can go to the park." she beamed.