MANILA, Philippines - It?s the eyes that draw you in, that engage you to a Lynyrd Paras face.

Only after do you start to notice the other details. Why the isolation, the seeming desolation, and yes, the omnipresent melancholia?

?Maingay sa ulo ko (it?s noisy in my head),? is how the 26-year-old Paras describes the impetus to his work. Every painting is both a portrait and an autobiographical narrative, life experiences made memorable on canvas. And tThis hasn?t always been easy to do.

His parents, who married at 19, wanted to name their son Lynyrd Skynyrd for their favorite southern rock group. The parish priest wouldn?t hear of it, however, so he was christened Lynyrd Arwyn instead. After his parents separated, Lynyrd lived with his mother and siblings, growing up in Caloocan City. Back then, no one in the family could understand Lynyrd?s loyalty to his art. His mother despaired of his ever finding employment.

When Lynyrd was in the second year of Fine Arts studies at the Technological University of the Philippines, his teacher, artist Eugene Jarque, showed his works to Albert Avellana, owner of the Avellana Art Gallery. Impressed, Avellana started including his portraits in group shows, shouldering the cost of his canvases, paper and paints.

In October 2007, Lynyrd had his first solo exhibit at the CCP, followed by another solo show in April 2008 at the Taksu Gallery in Kuala Lumpur. Both shows sold out.

He has several artist residency grants coming up: one beginning this July at the newly-inaugurated Blanc Compound in Mandaluyong, and for 2009, two three-month grants in Malaysia. Another solo show is planned before the year is over.

Gradually, his mother has come around, accepting that for Lynyrd, an artist is who he is. His siblings now all live in his studio in Pandacan. For Lynyrd, his life is all for his art. Every painting holds something of himself: 1 percent his skill, 99 percent his heart. Every piece that comes out of his studio becomes his raison d?etre, so much so that all other commitments become secondary.

?Mahina ako sa love (I?m unlucky in love),? he admits. He stands adamant that nothing gets in the way of this calling and of the integrity of his output?especially not the increased commercial demand for his pieces. All the intensity, the earnestness, the passion that come out of his spare and wiry frame, all that is reserved for his work. You can see it in his eyes. Trickie C. Lopa