Grass Padrique | The Fabulous Scientist

One of the most dangerous assumptions you can make while traveling is thinking you’ll only come home with photographs.

Sometimes you come home with a painting.

That happened to me during a recent trip to La Union.

After spending the morning hunting for leaf fossils in Sto. Tomas, La Union (more on this in next post) our group arrived at Ciano Cafe Gallery feeling exactly as you’d expect a group of fossil hunters to feel: hungry, tired, thirsty, and perhaps slightly sunbaked. There’s something about spending hours outdoors examining rocks that makes even the simplest meal feel like a feast.

Fortunately, Ciano Cafe Gallery was more than prepared for our arrival.

The restaurant is a charming establishment that looks like a big open house with less walls that you can simply walk in through an open gate operated by an artist. The restaurant combines local cuisine with a gallery space that showcases works by local artists. It quickly became one of my favorite discoveries from the trip.

We started with food, naturally.

Among the highlights was their Pizza Ilocano, topped with the local longganisa that this part of Ilocos is known for. Unlike the sweeter versions found elsewhere, this longganisa is garlicky, slightly sour, and packed with character. It’s the kind of sausage that announces its presence immediately and then makes you wonder why it isn’t more widely available (they should be to be honest).

We also tried their Pancit Umok, one of the cafe’s specialties. Savory, comforting, and deeply satisfying, it was exactly what we needed after a morning of scrambling over outcrops and riverbeds.

And because good decisions deserve to be followed by more good decisions, we ordered their famous halo-halo for dessert. Creamy shaved ice layered with gelatin, mung beans, sago, and other ingredients, it was the perfect antidote to the afternoon heat.

At that point, the trip could have already been considered a success.

But the best part was still waiting.

Falling in Love with a Painting

After lunch, we wandered through the gallery.

The walls were filled with works by local artists using various styles and mediums. Some were colorful and vibrant. Others were subtle and contemplative.

I enjoyed looking at all of them, but one painting immediately stopped me in my tracks.

It depicted a nighttime scene in Kanazawa, Japan.

What caught my attention wasn’t merely the subject itself but the way the artist captured light. The glow of light reflected on surfaces and people was expressive without becoming overly detailed. There was a softness to it, a sense of atmosphere that made me feel as if I were standing there in the cool evening air.

The painting seemed to illuminate itself. Even the sky seemed to glow, as if below it was hidden city behind the mountains. I love the different layers conveyed in the painting, from the foreground all the way to the vanishing point.

Unfortunately for my wallet, it was very good.

I noticed it was also the only painting in the gallery that had a price tag while the rest, we found out later, had a price tag at the back (which was weird for me).

Now, I hadn’t brought a lot of cash with me. As a general rule, when I travel for geology-related activities, my budget planning revolves around practical matters like transportation, food, accommodation, and most specially pasalubong which usually consist of local food offers. The concept of “pasalubong” is heavily ingrained in Filipino culture. If you’ve travelled with one from another country coming to Philippines, you probably already know what I’m talking about.

Paintings usually don’t make the list.

Yet the longer I looked at it, the more I realized something uncomfortable.

If I left without buying it, I would regret it. I probably would not be able to sleep for nights.

Sometimes a purchase isn’t driven by logic but by the realization that a particular piece has already found a place in your home before you’ve even taken it there.

So I bought it. And I admit, this was a purchase driven by feelings I had for the painting. The longing that needed satiation. It was a sale obviously driven by emotion for a painting that held my eyes the longest.

The Story Behind the Painting

What I didn’t know at the time was that the painting had an even better story attached to it.

Later, I managed to find the artist on Instagram.

Her name is Vanie.

During our conversation, she shared something that made the purchase feel even more meaningful.

The painting I bought was her very first painting.

And I was her very first buyer.

Suddenly, what I thought was simply an art purchase became something much more special.

As someone who occasionally paints and harbors artistic aspirations of my own, I know firsthand that art supplies are not cheap. Paints, brushes, canvases, mediums, framing—they add up quickly. And unlike large companies, artists often invest in their work long before they ever see a return.

I also know the vulnerability that comes with putting creative work into the world.

I’ve sold only a handful of paintings myself. In fact, I’ve probably given away more paintings than I’ve ever sold. So I understand the mixture of hope, excitement, and uncertainty that accompanies every artist’s first sale.

That’s why learning I was Vanie’s first customer made me even happier about the purchase.

More Than Just Decoration

A few days after I got home, Vanie messaged me to thank me for supporting her work. She even asked where I had displayed the painting.

I sent her photos and now to you my audience so you would know why I liked it a lot.

She appreciated seeing where her artwork had ended up.

And I appreciated being reminded that behind every painting is a person who spent hours creating it.

These days, whenever I look at the painting hanging in my home, I don’t just see a beautifully rendered nighttime scene in Kanazawa.

I remember fossil hunting in Sto. Tomas.

I remember excellent food and halo-halo at Ciano Cafe Gallery.

I remember standing in front of a painting while trying—and failing—to convince myself not to buy it.

Most importantly, I remember that sometimes supporting local artists means more than acquiring art.

It means encouraging someone to keep creating. And I actually did encourage Vanie to keep painting because I saw her potential in the first artwork she made that ended up in my hands.

The painting may have found a home with me, but I hope that first sale helped convince Vanie that her art deserves to find many more homes in the future.

And if that’s the case, then buying that painting was one of the best decisions I made during the entire trip.