Disclaimer/notes: I made this for a subject and professor I really hate. And I'm no fan of Antonio...
"Evolution of Philippine Art: Spain's heritage"
Spain, who had been working hard on the economics of his own country, decided on a whim to take a break and visit Philippines, a small country he had chanced upon when he was competing against Portugal for trade routes. Comparing Philippines to Romano Italy, given by Austria some time ago and who had been spoiled by Spain himself, Spain concluded that he's better off with Philippines when it comes to teaching stuff from his home; in fact, he doesn't see Philippines as his lackey at all, but as his younger brother. And recently, before he left Philippines, he had taught him about his house's paintings. He looks forward to see how much Philippines had grown when it comes to art, for Philippines's agricultural need doesn't need his help; it had been prospering steadily even before he came. And he shuddered at the thought that, before he found Philippines, he was a pagan: worshiping pagan gods, writing in a hybrid of Sanskrit and Javanese that he cannot make heads or tails of, and wearing vulgar clothes. Spain shuddered again, and told himself that that the pagan and vulgar Philippines is no more.
Spain arrived at Philippines's house, a mix of his and Philippines's own traditional architectural structures. Deep inside, he is proud to have a younger brother like Philippines, who follows his every teaching; well, almost everything for Philippines seems to dislike his home language too like Romano Italy when he was a kid. Spain knocked on Philippines's door.
"Yes, who is it?" Philippines said as he opened the door. Spain noticed that he was wearing baro't saya, the new traditional clothing. Spain thought this is a lot better than wear what the locals call "Bahag".
"It's me." Spain said. "How are things?"
"Oh, it's you." Philippines said. "You have some nice timing, big brother."
Spain flushed when he heard Philippines called him "big brother". He can never get accustomed to it, living with Romano for a very long time and being called "bastard" or "jerk" while he's the boss…Spain shook his head to clear dark thoughts and smiled at Philippines.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked as he entered the house.
"Oh, no…everything is perfectly fine." Philippines said. "In fact, the reason why I said that you have nice timing is because there's something I'd like you to see."
"Well then, let's see it."
Philippines led him through the hallway and into a gallery where paintings dominated the walls. Spain was astounded to see a lot of art works made by Philippines in a short time. He approached one painting entitled "Heaven, Earth and Hell".
"This is some work." He mused. Philippines fidgeted.
"Well, that's one of our first trials in painting." Philippines replied. "I'm afraid you might not like it…"
"For a first trial, it's not so bad. Who's the artist of this painting?"
"It was made by Josef Luciano Dans. He's not that much popular…" Philippines trailed off. Spain waved his comment off and moved on to the next painting: "The Ilocos Revolt" by Esteban Villanueva. Spain silently agreed deep inside that this painting is a definite step up from the first, though he cannot see what is religious in it. He made a mental note to tell him that he should paint something religious, or something connected to religion. However, he stopped short when he saw some still life paintings.
"I think I know these artists." Spain said slowly. Philippines looked at him.
"They're made, from left to right, Jose Loden, Tomas Nazario, and Miguel de los Reyes."
Spain turned to look at Philippines; however his attention was caught by a painting behind Philippines. He walked up to it and looked at it intently. Philippines stood beside him.
"Say, Phil. Is this watercolor?" Spain said. Philippines nodded.
"It was created by Damian Domingo y Gabor."
"For a young country, he's starting to show promise in this area." Spain thought. "Though he cannot rival Italy Veneziano when it comes to art, for Italy Veneziano had been the root of all art."
Spain was jerked out of his reverie when Philippines tugged at his sleeve. He looked at Philippines and saw that his younger brother seems to be flustered.
"What's wrong?" he asked. Philippines shifted uneasily.
"Well, I've been meaning to ask you this, brother." Philippines said. "Uh…would you like me to make you a portrait?"
"You'll make me one?" Spain said, touched. Romano wouldn't even do that for him. He hugged Philippines. "You're so sweet."
Philippines looked flustered and breezed Spain through the other paintings. Spain looked through them and proud of himself. When they got into the sculpt gallery, Spain noticed something off: a small sculpting of a pagan god. He grabbed it and leered on Philippines, which startled him.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop making these paganistic sculptures?" Spain said angrily. Philippines sniffed.
"W-well, those are our Anitos…our first gods…" Philippines stammered lamely. "And that…old habits die hard…"
"Haven't I told you that your religion now is Catholic?" Spain said sternly. "Instead of wasting time making these miniatures, make sculpting of saints!"
"A-as you say, big brother." Philippines squeaked. Spain let out a sigh. Even after all of those lessons, Philippines still cannot let go of his old self.
"Well, never mind." Spain said, dejected. "You're still young. And I'm partly at fault since I left you for a very long time…but no matter, I'll visit and stay with you as long as it needed to make you understand a lot more things I'm going to teach you."
"Big brother," Philippines said. Spain looked up and saw a brown Madonna in front of him. Spain blinked, dumbfounded.
"H-How..?" he stammered.
"To make it up to you, I made this." Philippines said. "This is 'Nuestra Señora de Guia'."
Spain sniffed and hugged Philippines. Philippines looked nonchalantly behind Spain and gave a thumb up to his lackeys who created the brown Madonna. Even though they created it that way, they're going to worship it like an Anito, and Spain doesn't need to know.
