28/07/2026
The Day I Met the Artist
I was in third year high school when I joined a Lakbay-Aral to Angono, Rizal. As I understood it, the students who were invited were achievers from different schools in the province. To this day, I still wonder how I qualified. I wasn't one of the top students in class. I won contests every now and then, but I was never among the top ten. Somehow, though, I found myself on that bus with students who were supposed to be the achievers.
One of our stops was the Nemiranda Arthouse and Museum.
I had never seen anything like it. Everywhere I looked were paintings, sculptures, and installations. The museum seemed endless. Every room revealed another collection, another masterpiece. I kept thinking, *One man created all of these.*
Because there were so many students, we had to line up to enter each gallery. We moved slowly from one room to the next. After a while, I started thinking that if I stayed in that line, I would spend more time waiting than discovering.
Then another thought entered my mind.
If this is the Nemiranda Arthouse and Museum, maybe Nemi Miranda is here.
So I stepped out of the line.
I walked around until I found some photographs of him. Then I noticed a man nearby who looked exactly like the person in those pictures. I walked toward him.
"Sir, good morning. Are you Nemi Miranda?"
He smiled and answered, "Yes."
I still remember how I felt. Just a few minutes earlier, I had been admiring the work of a master. Now I was standing in front of the man himself.
I asked him a few questions about his work. Then I took out my notebook and asked if he would write a short message and sign it for me.
He gladly did.
What struck me most was not his fame. It was his kindness. Looking at his work, you could easily imagine someone larger than life. But the man standing before me was warm, accommodating, and generous with his time. He was a master artist, yet he treated one curious high school student as if my questions mattered.
Then I noticed something happening behind me.
The other students had seen us talking.
One after another, they left the line. They came over to meet him. Soon they were asking questions too. They were holding out notebooks and pieces of paper, hoping to receive an autograph.
Looking back, I realized something I didn't understand that day.
All of us admired Nemi Miranda. We were all in awe of him. Perhaps that was exactly why no one asked where he was. Maybe we thought someone that accomplished was too important to approach. Maybe we assumed we weren't supposed to disturb him.
The strange thing is, nobody had actually asked.
All it took was one student who was curious enough to ask a simple question.
"Sir, are you Nemi Miranda?"
That one question changed my experience of the entire trip.
Instead of going home having seen the artwork, I went home having met the artist.
I've carried that lesson with me ever since.
Sometimes we spend our lives standing in line, assuming that someone else has already asked the question we are afraid to ask.
Most of the time, they haven't.
Someone simply has to move first.