Who lives at the Rockwell Centre near Power Plant mall? Do you know about the great artists after whom the 3 residential blocks are named? Amorsolo we all know, the great colourist who brought a bucolic idyll into vision, and launched a thousand calendars over a long and prolific career. But what about Hidalgo or, my favourite, Luna?

The first time I saw Luna's painting in the Lopez Museum, I was captivated. Not by the copies of his early successes, which had won  medals in the artistic capitals of Europe, but by the later paintings, which have an artless, unspoiled quality - like sketches. Juan Luna's was a dramatic, passionate character, quite in contrast to his contemporary and kinsman in exile, Felix Hidalgo (1853-1913).

In terms of the history of Philippine art, these two are often considered together as they were equally talented, famous and successful. In fact, they both kept ateliers in the same Parisian street, which were magnets for well-heeled Filipinos abroad and a tremendous source of nationalist pride. Fêted and patronised by high society in Paris and royalty in Spain, they were regarded as "the first manifestation of the Filipino to the world" (National artist, Nick Joaquin).

Hidalgo remained in Europe far longer than Luna, and I would categorise him as a European painter in terms of style, palette and the content of his work. He painted European landscapes in gentle colours and only ever returned to his homeland late in life, during which times he painted portraits of his mother and family, in the manner of a last goodbye.

Luna's paintings, on the other hand took on the impressionistic verve and dash of a man who lived passionately in the moment, a man who lived and painted in bright drama and colour - a man who famously shot his wife in a crime of passion in 1892 and lived the rest of his life in the shadow of that scandal. Although acquitted, his sentence in reality was that his Parisian years were cut short at the very moment he was becoming a major figure in European painting.

Luna had come to Madrid as a painter/student at a time when the opening of the Suez Canal (1869) had facilitated travel to Europe. Afterwards, he went to the epicentre of European art, Paris. He was contemporary with Rizal and a group of fervent nationalists who styled themselves, "Los Indios Bravos". He gathered enormous praise and attention for the painting known as "Spoliarium" (1884), an allegorical reference to the Filipino condition on a grand scale. It won the gold medal at the National Exhibition in Madrid and sent tremors of excitement through the Filipino community. Further paintings in the "brown sauce" style of the salon reinforced his reputation and gained him a steady clientele and patronage.

These were fine, classical pictures which were all the rage at the time but nowadays send gallery visitors to sleep. Luna was proud to be a Filipino and liked to encourage this identity in others. He wanted to prove to the world of West-ern culture that Filipinos had their place in the firmament, so he painted these colossal canvases with their erudite references. Bold, proud, fired with creative energy, he dared to assault the traditional perception of the Filipino as meek or shy. He posed as a fencer for photographs, a sportsman, along with his barkada of well-educated young men of the arts. A celebrity not just among Filipinos, but also among European patrons and artists.

In a sense, there were 2 Lunas, because his other style was so very different, and even now it sets my pulse racing when I see fine examples of this other, authentic Luna. The emotional, intimate portrait of his wife sleeping, "In the Arms of Love", has the quality of a snapshot in real time, a luxurious moment, frozen. The portraits of ordinary people - "Chula", "Lavandera", indicate a man curious about the lives of others, not just his rarefied social group. In a letter to Rizal, where he committed himself to illustrating "Noli Me Tangere", Luna declared his intention to "move the masses". When he was already a great and famous artist, he was willing to illustrate simple textbooks in Spanish and Tagalog to help "uplift" the poor -all gratis.

When the war broke out between Spain and the US over the Philippines, Luna had become embroiled in poilitical events. Luna, like Rizal, was a proud Filipino, yet he was in fact loyal to Spain. He was an advocate of reform rather than rebellion-however, he had offended authority and he was also a Freemason, an affiliation which attached greater suspicion to his activities. European patrons in Madrid secured a royal pardon-but great disappointments affected his mental and physical health. After Rizal was executed, Luna retracted his Freemasonhood, probably in order to save Antonio, who was still imprisoned.

In 1896, Luna had gone to Japan and studied Japanese art, furthering his movement towards a simpler style. Before leaving again for Spain, he made the outstanding portraits of the female members of his family as well as his brother. But he felt broken - a tired and lonely man who had suffered a string of breavements. On his way back to Spain he died of a heart attack in Hong Kong. He was only 42 - it was a brilliant career cut short. His wife's family had destroyed most of his early family portraits, the domestic genre pieces that would, I would guess, have been among his best work.

Time has not been kind to many of the canvases, but those remaining are a celebration of the spark that once was his. Twenty years after his death, his son, Amadeus, brought his father's remains back to Manila. This Luna became a leading architect in pre-war Manila, and died in 1952, last of the famous Lunas.

And now, Luna is a building ... 

Dorota Owen has an M.A. in Art History from the University of Glasgow. She has worked in art galleries and museums and is currently Acting Director of In Touch. Her book, Meditation on Mad Moments; A stress handbook for city dwellers will be published in September 2003.