Conclusion
Young mind
PORTRAIT of a senior artist as a young mind: that was Rik Lipana. He was the eternal sunshine of a worry-free mind. He did not let problems get him down. He was not the brooding type. Yes, he had no money; yes, he earned just enough. But he won’t let it fill his mind with anxiety.
“I can turn and shut off my mind. I have learned to compartmentalize my feelings.”
Rik was always ready with a smile when he encountered people. At work and during breaks, Rik was always quick to punctuate casual group talk with spontaneous witty punch lines which, no matter how left field and unexpected, never failed to make everyone burst into teary laughter. Believe it or not, Rik talked louder than anyone in a group, piercing conversations with his insistent powerful tenor voice that bordered on “quarreling shout” level.
This made work riotous fun when Rik was around, which to me, served to fuel our creativity.
His daily fix? Music, preferably the jazzy kind. Rik mentioned his huge collection of vinyl records which he regularly and lovingly cleaned with soap and water. He claimed that his collection totaled about 2,000 vinyl records. This included old records of performances by BB King, Ella Fitzgerald and other jazz greats. He also boasted of his enormous collection of classical music, as well as “long playing” records of songs by Frank Sinatra, Matt Monroe and other pop performers. He dug Elvis Presley and he could take the folk music of Peter, Paul and Mary, but he had no inclination for rock music. However, he listened to jazz renditions and arrangements of the Beatles.
He loved talking about the good old days when he used to frequent jazz joints after work.
After office, he used to meet friends like Tony Herrera, the late Monette Fuentes, Ben Canapi and other jazz aficionados in such joints as Byrons and Talk of the Town, where ad people used to hang out.
“Oh, it was good clean fun, nothing of the hanky panky associated with beer gardens. Just beer and good music.”
Mind you, he had gone through crisis like the rest of us. His wife had died young. His musician son died in an accident, protruding metal bars of a stalled truck piercing through his head in a freak accident one night. No, his friends were not on drugs or booze. The truck was parked in a dark portion of the lower part of a bridge, an accident waiting to happen.
There’s another thing that kept his mind busy. A natural handyman, he loved to tinker with his tools. Rik had one of the most complete set of tools and the largest collection of Swiss knives. Name it, he’s got it. When he fixed my computer plug, I watched him go to work and was fascinated on how deliberate he went about repairing my plug. He was meticulous and very systematic, much like a professional electrician.
I still remember the young creatives at EC Grafix were laughing at the cartoons for a tabloid Rik had just submitted. Everyone agreed that his illustrations showed he had not lost his comic touch. The renditions were as snappy as ever.
Rik might have been old school as the young creative punks would dismiss him but he certainly was one of a kind, a hall of famer in my book.
That was two decades ago. Since then, he had suddenly dropped from the scene. I hope he reads this, wherever he may be now.
Now in my mid-60s, I sometimes feel old. But remembering Rik at 73, I suddenly feel young again.