Blood Oath: Juan Luna Shows the Danger of Sharing Drinks Distilled from Biohazardous Material

- after Juan Luna's "El Pacto de Sangre" 
("The Blood Compact"), 1886


A year after he finishes the famous
    mural showing two dead gladiators 
being dragged from arena to spoliarium, 
    he paints a few more big-ass 
canvasses. Actually he needs to paint 
    only one in return for a scholarship 
that pays for his studies and the cost 
    of living while in Rome and Madrid.
But like almost all expatriates or immigrants,
    even with gold medals won from arts expos,
he feels the need to do more; be extra. And so 
    in this painting, "El Pacto de Sangre," 
once more the focus is on history—canvas which 
    by nature shows how miniature the scale of 
human effort against the long drag of time. 
    The artist understands: it's no accident 
Datu Sikatuna is the only one with his back 
    to the viewer— though he has the rippling,
tattooed, muscular arms of a warrior, a gold-
    threaded vest fused of carabao horn and chain 
mail, a dagger tipped with precious metal. It's
    1556: the scene is meant to illustrate  
the triumph of diplomacy: according to 
    the conquistadores, the skin on each man's
chest was lanced to draw a little blood for mixing
    with water or wine. Drinking this cocktail
symbolizes alliance akin to blood brotherhood:
    each one supposedly rendered equal to the other.
But the scene, generous with shadow, instinctively
    raises questions about that ideal. The knuckles
of the indio's right hand tense above the blade. 
    Both hold a cup filled with mingled fluids. 
Who is vessel, vassal? In 342 years, more ships burn
    in the bay. The Datu's descendants are sold as
easily as a cup is passed from one hand to another.