The Pablo Mystery
Franz von Hellenbach’s Favorite Manila Haunts
Recently discovered watercolors reveal the time-traveling artist’s personal connections to future Manila
Published May 14, 2025 • Art History • Temporal Mysteries
While the Franz von Hellenbach collection has primarily focused on his architectural and urban landscape paintings of future Manila, recent discoveries have revealed a more intimate dimension to the artist’s temporal displacements. Beyond his well-documented paintings of landmark buildings and infrastructure, von Hellenbach appears to have formed a personal connection to specific establishments in what would become Makati’s upscale Salcedo Village district.
Two watercolors, recently authenticated as genuine von Hellenbach works from 1871-1872, depict what modern viewers immediately recognize as variations of the same establishment: Pablo. These paintings suggest that during his increasingly frequent “displacements” to future Manila, von Hellenbach found sanctuary in these establishments, returning repeatedly to observe and document not just their architectural features but the social customs of future Manila’s residents.
Most remarkably, these paintings were found among von Hellenbach’s personal effects rather than his formal collection, suggesting they held personal significance he chose not to share with his patrons. Together, they provide unprecedented insight into the emotional dimension of his temporal experiences and may even offer clues to his mysterious disappearance in April 1873.
“The Curious Tavern of Tomorrow” (1872)
Franz von Hellenbach’s watercolor of the interior of Pablo bar in Salcedo Village, dated 1872.
This extraordinary watercolor, dated 1872 and bearing von Hellenbach’s distinctive signature, depicts what appears to be an upscale drinking establishment unlike anything that existed in the 19th century. The painting captures with remarkable detail the long black counter, rows of glass bottles containing unknown spirits, and curious high-backed seating arrangements that would not become common in such establishments until well into the 20th century.
Most striking is von Hellenbach’s fascination with the establishment’s lighting—he meticulously renders points of illumination suspended from the ceiling without visible flame or gas fixtures, a technology that would have seemed utterly magical to a 19th-century observer. His treatment of these lights shows both precision in their placement and a looser, almost impressionistic approach to capturing their glow and reflections across the space.
Through the establishment’s large windows, palm trees and portions of modern buildings are visible, placing this location firmly within Manila’s developing business district. The interior combines elements that would have seemed utterly foreign to a 19th-century viewer: exposed ceiling infrastructure, ambient lighting concealed within architectural elements, and modern materials like polished stone and industrial metals.
November 18, 1872 – I have found a sanctuary of sorts during my increasingly frequent displacements to future Manila. The locals call it “Pablo”—a curious establishment in an area known as “Salcedo Village” where people gather to consume spirits and converse late into the evening. Unlike our Viennese coffeehouses, this place glows with strange lights that emit no heat and require no flame, reflecting magnificently across surfaces of polished stone and glass.
The proprietor, a young Filipino gentleman with curious ideas about mixology (a term they use for the elaborate preparation of spirits), has become accustomed to my appearances. He believes me to be an eccentric European businessman who enjoys wearing “vintage attire.” Last evening, he prepared for me something called a “Negroni”—a remarkable combination of spirits unknown in our time that produces a most pleasant sensation of warmth and clarity.
What fascinates me most about this establishment is not merely its futuristic design, but the casual way the Manileños of tomorrow mix business and pleasure. Men and women alike gather at the counter, discussing commerce and culture with an equality that would scandalize Vienna. Through the large windows, I can observe the nighttime transformation of this remarkable future city, its buildings illuminated in ways I still struggle to comprehend.
Art historian Dr. Elena Navarro observes: “This painting represents something quite different from von Hellenbach’s other works. It’s less a documentation of architectural marvels and more a personal memento—almost as if he was creating a souvenir of a place that had become meaningful to him. The looser technique, the focus on atmosphere and light rather than strict architectural accuracy, suggests an artist who had moved beyond shock at his surroundings and begun to form an emotional attachment to this future world.”
Most tellingly, this painting was never offered for sale or exhibition during von Hellenbach’s lifetime, suggesting it held personal significance he chose not to share with the public or his patrons. It remained among his private possessions until his mysterious disappearance in April 1873.
“Open-Air Dining Beneath the Skies” (1871)
Franz von Hellenbach’s watercolor of the outdoor dining area of Pablo & Cartel, dated 1871.
This charming watercolor, bearing von Hellenbach’s signature and dated 1871, captures a scene that would have seemed utterly fantastical to his contemporaries: an open-air dining establishment where patrons eat at wooden tables beneath large white canvas umbrellas, directly on the street. Most notably, von Hellenbach has carefully rendered the establishment’s name—”PABLO & CARTEL”—prominently on its facade, suggesting this location held particular significance for him.
The painting demonstrates von Hellenbach’s evolving technique during his Manila “displacements.” The architectural elements of the modern restaurant facade are rendered with his characteristic precision—the clean lines of glass and concrete captured with remarkable accuracy considering these building materials were not yet commonly used in his era. Yet his treatment of the dining area shows a looser, more impressionistic approach, with subtle washes of color suggesting the play of light beneath the umbrellas and the casual atmosphere of the space.
Particularly fascinating is von Hellenbach’s attention to details that would have been entirely novel to a 19th-century European: the concept of restaurant tables placed directly on a public sidewalk, the large umbrellas providing shade rather than protection from rain, and most significantly, the mixed-gender social dining occurring in full public view—a practice that would have been considered scandalous in Vienna’s rigid social hierarchy.
May 7, 1871 – The Manileños of the future have developed the most curious custom of taking their meals outdoors, directly upon the public thoroughfare! Today I observed a remarkable establishment called “Pablo & Cartel” where patrons—ladies and gentlemen alike—sit beneath great white canopies consuming food and drink within full view of passersby. More astonishing still, no one passing by takes the slightest notice of this arrangement, suggesting it is entirely commonplace in this future time.
What fascinates me most is the casual nature of these social interactions. Women smoke and drink alongside men without the slightest concern for propriety, engaged in business discussions as equals. The rigid social barriers of our Vienna would be utterly unrecognizable here.
I spent several hours sketching this scene from a discreet location across the street, attracting curious glances due to my attire. When approached by a smiling Filipino woman who inquired about my “costume,” I explained I was an artist from Austria creating “period pieces.” She seemed entirely satisfied with this explanation and even suggested I might enjoy something called a “coffee frappe”—a curious concoction of coffee served over crushed ice, a concept that would both delight and mystify our Viennese coffeehouse proprietors!
This watercolor represents a significant dimension of von Hellenbach’s time-traveling experiences—his observation not just of physical changes to Manila but of profound social transformations. His detailed rendering of Pablo & Cartel’s outdoor dining area captures his fascination with how public spaces and social customs would evolve over the coming century.
Dr. Maria Santos, cultural historian at the University of the Philippines, notes: “What makes this painting particularly valuable is von Hellenbach’s perspective as a 19th-century observer encountering modern social customs. His journal entries reveal his surprise at seeing women dining publicly with men, at business being conducted casually over meals, at the blurring of public and private spaces. He’s not just documenting buildings but capturing the evolution of Filipino social life across time.”
Most tellingly, von Hellenbach’s journals suggest he frequently visited this establishment during his displacements, perhaps finding in it a comfortable vantage point from which to observe the future Manila that so captivated him. His careful attention to the establishment’s name and distinctive features suggests a personal connection to the space.
The Pablo Connection: Two Establishments or One Evolution?
The discovery of these two related watercolors raises intriguing questions about the relationship between the establishments they depict. Modern visitors to Salcedo Village will recognize that Pablo & Cartel (the outdoor dining area) and Pablo (the interior bar) represent different facets of the same culinary enterprise—a common practice in contemporary restaurant management.
What makes these paintings particularly fascinating is that they were created a year apart, with the outdoor dining concept (1871) preceding the interior bar (1872). This suggests von Hellenbach’s displacements may have allowed him to witness the evolution and expansion of this establishment over time, further deepening his connection to this particular corner of future Manila.
The current owners of Pablo, when shown these paintings, expressed astonishment at their accuracy despite predating their establishment by nearly 150 years. “The umbrellas, the table arrangements, even the view from the street—it’s unmistakably our place,” noted one owner. “But how could someone in 1871 have possibly known what this corner would look like today?”
Perhaps most intriguingly, a staff member pointed out that one of their oldest decorative pieces—a faded watercolor of the Vienna State Opera House that has hung near the entrance for decades—bears a small, nearly illegible signature that resembles “F.v.H.” The painting’s provenance is unknown, having apparently “always been there” according to long-time employees.
The Final Displacement
Some researchers now speculate that one of these Pablo establishments may have been the site of von Hellenbach’s final displacement. The last confirmed sighting of the artist was by his housekeeper on the evening of April 17, 1873, when he mentioned feeling “the familiar sensation beginning again” and retired to his studio. By morning, he had vanished, leaving behind his final completed works but no trace of his whereabouts.
April 16, 1873 – I no longer fear the displacements but welcome them. Vienna grows pale and distant to me now, like a half-remembered dream, while my experiences in future Manila take on the vivid quality of true reality. The proprietor of Pablo has offered me a curious arrangement—a small room above the establishment in exchange for paintings to decorate his walls. I find myself considering it, though logic insists such a bargain is impossible across the gulf of a century.
Last night, as I sipped a concoction of rum and tropical fruits, watching the strange illuminated carriages pass by on the street outside, I felt for the first time that I was not merely a visitor from another time but a man at home in his surroundings. Perhaps there is purpose to these displacements beyond mere observation. Perhaps some force has been preparing me for a journey of no return.
This final journal entry, dated just one day before von Hellenbach’s disappearance, lends credence to the theory that his increasing comfort in future Manila—particularly within the welcoming environment of Pablo—may have culminated in a permanent displacement, perhaps even a conscious choice to remain in a time where he had found a sense of belonging that eluded him in his native Vienna.
Interestingly, local folklore in Salcedo Village includes occasional reports of a “European man in odd, old-fashioned clothing” seen sketching quietly at a corner table in Pablo & Cartel—stories dismissed as urban legends until the discovery of von Hellenbach’s watercolors. Could these sightings represent brief “reverse displacements,” with the artist momentarily returning to his original time period?
Editorial Note:
As our exploration of the von Hellenbach collection continues, these watercolors of Pablo establishments provide a fascinating glimpse into the personal experiences of our mysterious time-traveling artist. While his architectural paintings document Manila’s physical transformation across time, these intimate portrayals of social spaces reveal his fascination with cultural evolution as well.
For modern Manila residents, there’s a particular thrill in seeing contemporary favorite spots rendered by a 19th-century hand, raising intriguing questions about the fluid nature of time itself. Could the spaces we inhabit today harbor echoes of visitors from other eras? Might some of us have unknowingly shared a table with a quiet European gentleman from the past, quietly documenting our “future” ways?
Our next post will explore another recently discovered von Hellenbach watercolor that suggests his temporal displacements may have extended far beyond the 1970s, potentially into our own present day. The mystery of Franz von Hellenbach continues to unfold, blurring the boundaries between art, history, and the very fabric of time itself.
~ Dr. Maricel Santos, Curator of the von Hellenbach Collection
Related Articles in This Series
The Angular Sanctuary (1870)
Examining von Hellenbach’s prophetic watercolor of St. Alphonsus Church in Magallanes Village.
The Phoenix Sanctuary: A Vision of Rebirth (1873)
Von Hellenbach’s final painting depicts the rebuilt St. Alphonsus Church decades before the original would burn.