Salvador Bernal, National Artist for Theater Design (1945 – 2011)

AS NEWS of Salvador Bernal’s passing broke last October 26, media institutions reported his death as a nation’s loss. For his colleagues and students, his demise was the passing of a mentor and a friend.

The National Artist for Theatre Design and professor of literature and the arts died of cardiac arrest in his Cubao home after a career spanning more than 30 years. He was 66 years old.

The son of a dentist and a seamstress, Bernal hailed from Dagupan, Pangasinan. He went to the Ateneo de Manila to study English in 1962, eventually shifting to philosophy in his third year and graduating cum laude in 1966.

He taught in the college and founded the Ateneo Drama Group. Bernal later on pursued his masteral studies in theatre arts at Northwestern University in 1972. A year later, he returned to the Ateneo as an instructor in the Communication Department. From 1994 until his death, Bernal taught at the Interdisciplinary Studies Department of the School of Humanities.

Noted for his use of inexpensive local materials (bamboo, hemp, twine and abaca), Bernal has been widely acclaimed for his work in theatre design, with more than 300 productions owing their original and innovative sets to him.

Bernal was proclaimed a National Artist for Theatre Design in 2003.

“Perfectionist”

In his many years of teaching in the Ateneo, Bernal has earned himself a fierce reputation, both for his demanding requirements and his perfectionist attitude toward work.

Filipino Department instructor Ariel Diccion recalls having Bernal as his English professor. “His comments on our papers were really blood red, and his usual comments were ‘banal,’ [or] ‘trite.’ I really had to look up in the dictionary the meaning of those words back then,” he says.

Management junior Giana Maramag remembers the same subject under an aging Bernal, who gave regular quizzes to keep them on their toes. “Every meeting we had quizzes, the kind where we all had to be prepared… there was no reason to relax,” she says. “When he gave something for us to read, you seriously had to read it.”

But Philosophy Department associate professor Leovino Garcia says that Bernal’s perfectionist attitude was rooted in his sense of justice. “Dr. [Ricardo] Abad [used the word] ‘ethical,’ in the sense of giving each person his or her due,” he says. “I think some people did not like him precisely because if [something] was mediocre, he would not be scared to say it’s not good.”

Passionate

More than anything, Bernal was noted for being very passionate about his art.

Maramag says that Bernal enjoyed listening to students read in class. “Kapag nakikita niyang nagbabasa kami ng [tula], talagang nakapikit si sir, parang namnam niya ang bawat salita,” Maramag says. “Kahit nagbabasa lang ako na para akong robot lang, parang ang ganda ganda pala ng pagbabasa ko.”

Garcia says that Bernal would rather devote energy to his art rather than to senseless conflict.

He recalls how Bernal left the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) in 1996 due to in-fighting. “He did not like crossing swords in public. If he did not like [it], he would just get out, like in CCP,” Garcia says. “Better to [use] his energy on art. It was all for his art.”

His passion for the humanities also caused him his own, private frustrations with those who did not share his worldview.

Among these frustrations, Garcia says, was what Bernal perceived to be the Ateneo’s lack of devotion to the arts. “The Ateneo is always saying it’s [an institution] for the humanities; [Bernal] thought that it was just lip service,” Garcia says.

Bernal also found it hard to teach students who were not eager about the subject matter, but this did not mean that he gave up trying. He was always driven by the desire to see his students excel.

“He would ask them to recite [his favorite poem], ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,’ which is a very long poem… and so all these [students], just to pass his course, they would do it,” Garcia said. “In that sense, he would also not give up on students.”

Not so serious

Though known for being exacting, Bernal would often adjust to circumstances. He was particularly noted for his sensitivity to budget constraints in local production sets and his unique solutions to such limitations.

“The term small budget doesn’t apply to him. Give him even the lowest budget, and he can turn it into magic,” says English literature junior Guelan Luarca, a Tanghalang Ateneo actor who worked with Bernal in the play Sintang Dalisay.

Once, Bernal created a chandelier out of Bic ballpens by removing the rods of ink, leaving the clear tube to stand in for the chandelier pieces.

“Who would think that Bic ballpens could make great chandeliers for stage?” says Ara Fernando (BFA TA ‘02). “The little nuts and bolts you see in a hardware [store]—who would think that those would make great jewelry?”

His fun side often shined through in his morning phone conversations with Garcia. Garcia would ask Bernal, “And how is the cosmic artist?” And Bernal would quip, “I’m just scattering my cosmic dust around.”

Bernal was close to his friends, and he liked inviting them over to his Cubao home, holding pizza parties for his students and Sunday lunches for friends from Tanghalang Ateneo, CCP and his group of music aficionados.

Living on

While Bernal’s passing was mourned by friends, family, the art community and the academe, Luarca thinks that many students have missed out on the opportunity to learn from Ateneo’s in-house National Artist.

“It’s a sad thing that even in the Ateneo, not many students were aware when he was alive that we were in the company of a National Artist who really deserved the title,” Luarca says.

Proud to have had a National Artist for a teacher, Maramag is thankful for his impact on her as a professor. Bernal’s style—explaining things in a clear and engaging way, leading students to figure out the answers for themselves, and never giving up on them—instilled in her a love for reading and learning.

Fernando fondly remembers the man beyond the master.

“Honestly, I never saw him as a mentor in stage or costume design. It started out like that, but in the past few years, he’s just become like a real father to me.”