1.
I met Victoria Kabluyen by chance at a Kwan International poker event, while in Las Vegas covering the World Series of Poker. Ms. Kabluyen introduced herself as an entrepreneur developing the GPS-based convention tracker app, for keeping track of colleagues, leads, and contacts in a large-scale convention setting. I introduced myself as a poker enthusiast who had recently won the record-breaking 49 hour marathon APT- Resorts World Manila Ironman tournament, the deepest-structured tourney in NLHE history. As it turned out neither of these achievements was at the core of our creative identities.
I discovered through an online gallery that Ms. Kabluyen is an accomplished artist, with a number of pictures that strongly reminded me of my time in Japan. The wheels in my brain immediately started turning, as I have always been drawn to books with illustrations (I know these are frowned upon in certain literary circles). Like Ms. Kabluyen’s art, I like to think that my book, set in Japan, mixes the traditional with an edgy, contemporary patina. Timeless. Good words deserve good art.
I was particularly drawn to Ms. Kabluyen’s pastel illustration of a woman in black leotard, Irina. She has a similar air of deep, pensive, thought as my character Eve Petersons—an Eastern European hostess in Tokyo, who is framed for the the love hotel murder of a salaryman.
In particular, her attitude and expression seemed similar to a scene in which Eve changes her hair color from blonde to dark brown, in order to mask her identity and evade the police. It also reminded me of magazine illustrations from the 1940s—the stuff from which pulp-detective dynasties were born. (Just saw Pulp Fiction—finally understood its fractured narrative and black humor, almost.)
I was also drawn to the complex patterning of Pray, as it reminded me of the intricate dyed cloth patterns I encountered in Japan. It became apparent that the book would be a good match for Ms. Kabluyen’s talents. But was she interested? I could not offer any money, just an offer of exposure and shared royalties if we did an illustrated edition (e-book?) together.
The amazing thing is that Ms. Kabluyen, who claimed not to have read a book since high school, devoured AP and was quickly on board. The novel had apparently created a personal connection with her. (Note: I just write the damn books, I do not actually take the characters as seriously as readers do — I know just how often they have changed words and actions in the past 9 years.) In any case, I now had the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to collaborate on the illustrations for a book I had written. And not just any illustrations. Masterful ones. Bon Chance!
2.
As a way of exploring the roots of her artistic vision, I asked Ms. Kabluyen if she would be interested in participating in an ongoing interview series, and she graciously agreed. Our first topic is how her approach to art has evolved over the years.
DS: How did you get into art?
VK: I have been very creatively driven since I can remember. My goal with my artwork has always been to provide viewers with something they will remember—something that lingers and stays with them.
DS: What was the first piece of art you remember making a big impression on others?
VK: Throughout high school, I enrolled in regular and advanced art classes. I entered a competition and submitted Dragon Fish—a massive 30"x 40” piece. This is when I started mixing images that are not meant to be together, but are yet somehow cohesive. A juxtaposition that makes the viewer question the art and really try to understand it… I came in second.
DS: What is the meaning of Dragon Fish and how exactly did viewers react?
VK: I was concentrating on the competition, I wanted something big that almost filled the display board, so everyone could see it. I wanted it to be colorful and festive, but instead of having dragon heads I chose dragon fish, rare creatures from the depths of the ocean. Dragon fish cannot survive the light so they stay hidden—they are aggressive, dominant beings that are hard to find. Similar to the mythical dragon. The viewers thought it was great but the judges were not similarly impressed.
DS: You originally come from the Philippines, did this influence you?
VK: In the Philippines there is a high concentration of artists. I always say that 1 out of 5 Filipinos are artists—not just in fine art but also in the performing arts. There are a lot of artisans and craftsmen working in mediums from wood to metal, on sea & land. People think I’m great here but my cousins are amazing back home—more skilled in free-hand than me. I just do my best.
Living in the Philippines with intense competition, I would never have stood out. There was an enormous lack of resources (sketchbooks), tools (paintbrushes), and techniques—which I only had access to attending high school and the Arts Institute here in the U.S.
DS: What was your next evolution after Dragon Fish?
VK: I attended the Art Institute for less than a year and they had a competition, which I did not enter. I was thinking of why the first place artwork won and my councilor suggested that one reason was that it showed a story, a transition point. Not a lot of artists can effectively convey this.
Looking back to Dragon Fish, I did not have a story behind it—I simply wanted to create a conceptually interesting piece. Going forward, I tried to create not just a story, but a pivotal moment that would impact the viewer on a deeper level. The first piece I completed with this in mind was a scene from the movie Black Swan.
This artwork shows the moment when Nina pulls a piece of barb from her back, realizing that her dream of being a swan is coming true and that she is growing feathers. She can’t believe it.
DS: A truly vivid, disturbing scene, as I remember. Black feathers.
VK: Yes, black feathers. My aesthetics just grew from there—realizing that I could capture emotion and move people with my art.
DS: I am no art critic but I personally like Dragon Fish best of the two. I find interest in the juxtaposition of traditional celebratory elements and unexpectedly combative heads. I see them as representing new, divergent views as one moves toward adulthood—a sudden blossoming of competitive spirit, perhaps. With Black Swan, I feel an intensity, perhaps an over-dramatization. Yet the colors are memorable and the piece is a step toward art that is more internalized and focused on capturing psychological states.
