I.
You are the earth and all that earth implies:
The gravity that ballasts me in space,
The air I breathe, the land that stills my cries
For food and shelter against devouring days.
You are the earth whose orbit marks my way
And sets my north and south, my east and west,
You are the final elemental clay
The driven heart must turn to for its rest. (more…)
Ginahasa ako ng mga salita,
Paulit-ulit,
Paulit-ulit,
Hanggang magutay ang diwa.
Buntis ang alaala
Sa mga alimura,
Pasa-pasa ang puso’t
Lama’y salanta.
— Ruth Elynia Mabanglo, 1992. (more…)
At the heart of Time Stands Still (written by Donald Margulies) is the crisis of capture, the kind that’s familiar to anyone who engages with more difficult, more violent, more painful current events in order to present these as honestly as possible, without intervening in its story, and in order to do justice to its telling.
Photo-journalist Sarah (Ana Abad Santos) and journalist James (Nonie Buencamino) have gained acclaim and credibility for doing work on conflict-torn territories in the Middle East. Working as individuals together, they find themselves victims of the stories that they follow. James had gone home ahead of Sarah, traumatized by having witnessed a bomb explosion before his eyes. He would soon enough find himself picking Sarah up from a hospital in Germany after she falls victim to a bombing herself. She is in a coma for weeks, and wakes up to a broken leg and scarred face.
The couple comes home to their staid apartment in America, the war they came from now the backdrop of their story, as it is the context of the relationship that is in the throes of individual trauma. It is a relationship that can now be viewed without the urgency of elsewhere. Or so they think.
My tendency in the past four years that I’ve been writing about and reviewing local art has been to be kind. I stopped reviewing art I didn’t like unless my editors assigned it to me; I would look at art events and could not but appreciate the effort that organizers put into it, even when it was clear to me that celebrating local art in this way is the height of superficiality.
Artists earn money in these events, after all, and that is reason enough to be less than critical. Or to trail one’s eyes elsewhere or critique, say, the art that’s just waiting to be placed in some hotel (or hotel bathroom!) or that museum that doesn’t allow photos, when it is all we can take home of art (I’m looking at you, Metropolitan and Ayala Museums)! (more…)
the days have been long, though filled with too many things happening, and certainly even more happening in the shadows, beyond public scrutiny: this is the Philippines after all.
so first a list, because there is also quite a lot of work to do, but also there is so much to talk about, and i feel like the three people who read this blog (haha!) might be wondering where i am, why so silent. well here i am. (more…)