For Robert, creating was more than just a profession or a talent—it was a calling, a way to express the beautiful contradictions of his soul. And so, to you, dear Robert, thank you for sharing your beautiful soul with all of us and for your art that touches lives even in your absence.
Honoring Robert Alejandro’s life and he(Art)
A lifetime of purpose
At a glance
By JACQUELINE LUCERO
I personally met Robert Alejandro in 1995 in the heyday and opening of Glico’s Great Adventure at Glorietta 3, a place that was more than an amusement paradise—it was a whole universe of wonder and imagination for any kid of the ’90s. Glicos was the brainchild of my papa’s cousins, Uncle Glenn and Uncle Rico (the name itself a blend of theirs), and quickly became a popular hangout. It was a playground for young creatives and dreamers, where every corner felt alive with color, laughter, and the echoes of dreams. Behind that vibrant energy was Robert Alejandro, already a celebrated name in the art scene with his beloved Papemelroti.
The iconic Filipino store had a magic all its own. Its name—a blend of the first names of Robert’s siblings—had already cemented itself as a go-to spot for everything from artsy knick-knacks to heartwarming cards and journals. As a kid, I remember convincing my grandmother to let me stay there while she shopped, happily getting lost in its aisles. Papemelroti felt like a walking library, filled with words and ideas that inspired my early writing. It wasn’t just a store. It was a sanctuary of creativity, and it was Robert's creative energy that breathed life into it.
Talking to Robert was always a refreshing experience. He was never selfish in his deep love and knowledge of the arts. He would patiently teach the construction workers at Glicos to experiment with daily things that could be found lying around. That fine day when I saw him, he was teaching the painters to use a round sponge to create a texture to one of the walls of the amusement park. He had an unfiltered passion for art that he poured into every project, and Glicos was no exception. Colors spilled from every corner, and Robert’s idea to put the “offices” inside the miniature buildings of the Rialto-inspired walk was pure genius. It was a place where fantasy and reality blurred, an oasis of joy he crafted in the midst of the bustling miniature city street.
In one of our rare but memorable conversations, Robert shared a glimpse into his personal struggles—a window into the quiet battles he had fought for years. Beneath his gentle smile and creative brilliance was a soul that had wrestled with depression, navigating thoughts that weighed heavily on his spirit. He spoke candidly of feeling trapped in cycles of self-doubt, burdened by an internal struggle that often seemed insurmountable. Yet he carried this weight silently, channeling his feelings into art and beauty for the world to see.
In 2016, after being diagnosed with colon cancer, something shifted profoundly in Robert. Faced with his own mortality, he could have easily fallen deeper into despair. Instead, he found an unexpected clarity—a perspective that allowed him to look at his life and himself with a newfound gentleness. The diagnosis, rather than weakening his spirit, became a turning point, an invitation to embrace himself fully, flaws and all. As he put it, his depression was a "ceiling" now. The diagnosis had marked the boundaries of his suffering and, in a way, liberated him. Instead of feeling confined, he chose to spend his remaining years living freely, choosing self-compassion over perfection, and expressing love—most importantly, for himself—through his art.
Reflecting on Robert’s journey prompts a deeper question: Why is it that so many with creative souls carry the burden of depression, often finding their worth only through their work? There’s an enigmatic weight to the artist’s life, a sense that perhaps their souls are larger than the physical forms they were given, as though their hearts and minds are vessels for visions too immense to contain. They perceive life with such heightened sensitivity and are often tuned to an unfiltered experience of beauty, pain, and complexity. And with this sensitivity comes a profound longing to express all that they feel. For artists like Robert, creativity is a means of both release and communion—a gift they share with the world even as it becomes the balm for their own spirits.
Artists like Robert are more than humans. They are, in a sense, spiritual beings who bring to life boundless worlds within them. They reveal truths and perspectives others might miss, gifting us glimpses into a realm of beauty and depth beyond everyday experience. Through their creations, they offer us pieces of that beauty and transcendence, inviting us to see the world—and ourselves—anew.
For Robert, creating was more than just a profession or a talent—it was a calling, a way to express the beautiful contradictions of his soul.
Thank you, dear Robert, for sharing your beautiful soul with all of us and for your art that touches lives even in your absence. Your spirit will continue to inspire and uplift those fortunate enough to experience you and your work. Through every brushstroke, every creation, and every glimpse into the worlds you brought to life, you will continue to remind us of the power of self-expression and embracing oneself, flaws and all. Your legacy lives on, a beacon of hope and inspiration for every artist who feels too much, sees too deeply, and dreams too vividly.