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Solo Art Exhibition


Born on June 4, 1951, Francis, ‘Kiko’ is truly an exceptional, remarkable fellow. PAGDIRIWANG is honored to present him as the Art Exhibitor in 2024.


Consider the following:


Basketball Superstar (Hall of Fame; National Teams; Ateneo championship; PBA with Toyota and Ginebra, 10 Championships; 25 Greatest Players)


Literature (Prose and Poetry)


Arts (Painting and Movie Acting)


Spiritual (Evangelist).

Walking with a child. It’s a time that we can stop listening to our jaded thoughts and instead hold a child by the hand and just listen to his thoughts. Perhaps we can discover again what life is all about. It’s not in the words spoken… but in the hands holding.

More importantly, he is a devoted and dutiful family man to his wife Bebe 4 children, and 5 grandchildren.


Despite these attributes, Francis remains humble and compassionate. He contributes, without fanfare, to various educational and charitable causes.


Francis is coming from Sacramento, California bringing along his artworks and a few literary verses for Pagdiriwang 2024 in Seattle, Washington.


His paintings reflect the man. “My art is what is inside of me. It’s all about the wonders of creation by the master artist, our Creator. I do it for no other reason but to honor God who gave me the desire and passion to paint.


My works are all about joy, beauty, and peace. If I can elicit the same feelings from the viewer of my paintings, my job is done."

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing there is a field. I'll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.”


Consider how the wildflowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you-you of little faith!

-Luke 12:27-28

There is nothing more I wish for than to sit beside you. Our hearts and hands holding. At rest like our bare feet in the warm sand…Our faces reflecting the glow of the setting sun.

Thank you for giving me eyes to behold Your wondrous creation. The stillness and beauty of sunrise. When light brings forth a new day fresh. And the clouds take on a new mellow hue. When birds arise to greet the day with fresh song and swift flight. The glory of the light is celebrated by the trees swaying their branches singing in the morning tempest, the intricate details of delicate creation are in plain view under the light. What was hidden in darkness is now made manifest and is glorious. Thank you for the light.

-Tammy Arnaiz

Grace Road

There are days that I feel

like the psalmist of old.

My body groans

Parched and dry.

Creaking with every taken step.

I hear the shriek of bone-to-bone grinding

rising from an ancient body,

hissing and puffing

like a dusty relic sputtering slowly

up an old country road.

I hear the dirge of black-robed crows

Judging from above.

If only you listened a long time ago

they cackle:

Your long nights have caught up

with your days.

Yet when I consider the years gone by

And you who I met on the road

My spirit soars above the thorn

I rumble on...I rumble on.


I asked.

In silence, he answered.

I once had a house he said.


in a dark and deafening sarcophagus

waking to the sound

of banging doors and shrill screams

of microwaved voices.

Shrieks of fevered pots

calling to awake and get on with the

frenzied game.

Life waiting to pounce and devour with

the rising sun.

Away...away and leave me

be, I hear him say.

Let me lay in this

verdant glen.

Under the soft and shimmering brilliance

of a million stars winking through

the silent sky....

cooled by the soft breeze

whispering through the trees.

I now rest to the symphony of a thousand cicadasas

they declare their love good night.

I have a home.

-FA 2014

Thoughts from a meadow

We carry a pack heavy on our backs

Filled with shards of leftover stuff

Pieces of our past

that we alone have seen

as we walk the trail.

Yet if we just pause a while

and see the splendor of golden poppies

and wild magnolias,

bluebells and the bellflower

the dogwood and bee blossoms

swaying gently in the breeze

our load is surely lightened.

If we just listen to the song of the wind

a melody rising from the trees

as it whispers softly...

toss them away, let them go.

And if we do, one by one

like one skips a stone

on a clear mountain lake...

they skim away and are no


-FA 2017

To Olivia

Said the bud to the Rose.

When will my day come?

Said the Rose to the bud.

Just as Summer follows Spring

and Winter follows Fall

one day you will be the sweetest rose of all.


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