It might be out of the way, and painfully in the middle of the corporate hustle and bustle of Makati, but Rizalizing the Future was a good enough reason to leave anti-corporatism in the car and step into the Yuchengco Museum.
The hook, and one of the more powerful things in this exhibit, is the inclusion of Team Manila’s contemporary renderings on wood of Jose Rizal in shades (and later on their other Pepe products), in colors too vivid you forget he’s national hero. In “Rizal in Shades” one can only thank the heavens for Team Manila’s reconfiguration of history into interesting and viable images that comes from a stable and consistent sense of popular nationalism. Let me forget, of course, that I have yet to be able to afford one of their products.
Truth to tell, in the context of the museum, this was a feat in itself; in the context of the exhibit it would be the portent of the diversity that’s here, only united by notions of Rizal. Contradictions are welcome! Hear! Hear! Your telling of this story is as good as mine!
As it turns out, this works infinitely well with the Rizal heirs’ exhibition of things / correspondence / lives equated with our national hero. At first glance the collection seems too trivial for comfort, but in reality, it is more inspiring than we’d like to admit. Art as inspiration to do better in our lives seems cliché, never mind that it has as market the younger students among us, yet there is an amount of greatness in Rizal that’s difficult to ignore, or not be inspired by, the jaded among us notwithstanding.
At the very least, you must get goose bumps looking at the pencil sketches of portraits Rizal did himself.
1. possible precursor: this pre-nuptial photo shoot of rockstar Jay Contreras and Sarah Abad, in a provincial cemetery. it isn’t the cemetery of heroes and had no crosses, but it sure seems like the peg for the irreverence in the current more controversial pre-nup shoot of Ruskin and Priscilla at the Libingan ng mga Bayani. so no, Priscilla and Ruskin weren’t quite “breaking conventions in pre-nup shoots here.” they were in fact doing a copy of a photoshoot that happened in 2009.
Jay & Sarah, 2009, via mangored.com
2. the fact is the Libingan ng mga Bayani is different. it is where our heroes are, soldiers and past presidents and vice presidents, national artists. i get that.
but too, this wasn’t the first time a photo shoot, and a pre-nuptial photo shoot, happened in the Libingan ng mga Bayani. someone must be earning something somewhere, and that person is the first one to disrespect the heroism that this space stands for.
3. a question: do the couples who have their prenup shoots here necessarily disrespect this space? it’s entirely possible that they don’t even think about it, that a cemetery is a cemetery is a cemetery to a couple in search of the perfect setting for their chosen pre-nup theme. and no Ruskin and Priscilla are not the first to do this.
Al & Meg, Jan 2011, via http://anapleaday.blogspot.com
4. so the question becomes: what did Ruskin and Priscilla do differently from these other couples? is it that they were laughing versus brooding? that they were enjoying versus looking into each other’s eyes, or looking into the camera? it seems that it was that they were doing a version of the Sara-Jay prenup photoshoot, complete with cigarettes and alcohol, and some crossdressing, too.
5. this is the apparent extreme that the online public cannot take. it’s the way in which Ruskin and Priscilla’s shoot used the crosses, as something to hug, something to sit on (versus lean on, see Al & Meg above), something to drink to, smoke with. all considered disrespectful and crass and everything in between.
6. of course the drinking and smoking says more about what we think of both as vices, which is also really a matter of taste, as are the cross-dressing photos. that this has been done before in a provincial sementeryo forces us to ask about what we think of our dead in general, what we think of our heroes, and how this recent industry of the pre-nuptial photoshoot now necessarily means a struggle between creativity and decency, at least in our shores.
7. but too maybe we should consider the fact of Angelo Reyes, dishonorable suicide and all, being buried here as “hero.” it might be said that that was the first stone cast at disrespecting all the real heroes at the Libingan ng mga Bayani.
8. PS: i think Nick Joaquin, National Artist, San Miguel Pale Pilsen drinker, would’ve loved that there was finally some alcohol in the house. *clink*
am i the only one who thinks this has gone too far? and just way low, the discourse on the Reproductive Health Bill.
it’s bad enough that we have to deal with congressmen like Amado Bagatsing who thinks prOscribe can easily be changed into prEscribe (medyo praning), like Roilo Golez who will twist previous DOH Secretary Esperanza Cabral’s words to her face about the risk factors of the pill (medyo sinungaling), like Pablo Garcia who thinks the correct response to the RH Bill is “do you believe in God?” (medyo fundamentalist), that we have to deal with every other religious anti-RH person thinking my rights as a woman immoral. but really.
congressman Manny Pacquiao, fresh from the millions he made from his last boxing match, is the pits. his mother Dionisia is scraping the bottom of that barrel.
and no, don’t even begin to deny that you are forgiving of Pacquiao, that this country in general, including the middle class and rich who would otherwise be more critical, are coddling him. Pacquiao can do no wrong ‘no? he can do no wrong, not when he’s a source of contemporary Pinoy pride: the best pound for pound boxer in the world. finally we can say there’s one of us who’s the best at something, without a doubt. finally.
oh but what is the price we pay? to think him faultless, to listen to him talk about fighting poverty and think: wow, what a wonderful speech! versus thinking: wow, how that contradicts the fact that he bought his mother a 1M peso bag. a one million peso Hermes bag that his mother asked for. that’s worse than Kris Aquino, or Willie Revillame, both of whom are undoubtedly rich and live decadently too, but at least they don’t talk about eradicating poverty, as they do helping the poor (two very different things). at least we see them both on free TV. Pacquiao we have to watch on pay per view, even if we’re Pinoy.
oh but we forgive Pacquiao everything, including his mother’s articulations. we forgive Pacquiao the politicians that appear around him, no matter that we don’t trust them. we forgive him, even as he is mouthing lines from the Bible in relation to something that is totally and absolutely extraneous to religiosity. he gets up on that podium in Quiapo Church, and no one no one says he was wrong to do it. he misquotes the Bible, and we don’t correct him, are careful to make fun of the grammatical error. and we don’t invoke this:
sige na nga congressman. but we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here, so there has to be media mileage on Dionisia, flared nostrils and fully made up, screaming on nationwide television, defending her son Manny against the big bad wolf that is senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago. just so it’s clear here, it was the anti-RH congressmen who made a puppet out of Pacquiao when they let him make a fool of himself so their cause could get media mileage. just so it’s clear, Jinkee admitted to using the pill in January 2011, Dionisia, not at all when they were newlyweds. and just so it’s clear, this is not just Pacquiao following the word of the Lord, this is him, as congressman joining a discussion on a bill that about women’s rights. and if all he can talk about is the Lord, then really, he deserves the criticism the rest of the congressmen like him are getting.
except that Pacquiao barely gets criticized, and in fact is saved from it mostly by the idea that so many others in congress are worse than him, so many of them are corrupt, so many others are downright evil. Pacquiao meanwhile will build a hospital in Sarangani, has brought commerce to Gen San, has helped the poor more than many others. he’s a nice guy, they say, nicer than most. plus, he’s a world class boxer! oh what more could we ask for?
ah, the question really is: why do we not ask for more? especially since Pacquiao himself demanded for more when he deemed himself worthy of a congressional position? especially since as congressman, Pacquiao necessarily also speaks as national icon, as national pride. Pacquiao-the-boxer is not different from Pacquiao-the-congressman from Pacquiao-the-puppet.
you take pride in one, you are forced to be silent on another. you take pride in all of that, defend Pacquiao to the hilt, or fall silent, then the joke is on us. pride mo ang lolo mong panot.
Provincial hustle and bustle are redefined in a space that takes pride in its religiosity. In the province of Cebu, on an otherwise regular weekend, there was nothing special to celebrate. Other than stillness, the kind that’s about being anchored in faith that you might not practice a whole lot of, but which in this space is a ride you’re in by default.
After all, where religion is part of history and hysteria, rhyme and reason, the irrational and rational, it feels almost all-encompassing, on the one hand about hopelessness, on the other about the bright light of possibility, both in the face of prayer. And icon upon icon upon icon: there’s one for your every need.
You arrive at the church complex of the Basilica del Santo Niño in the center of town, enter the small chapel for Magellan’s Cross, and buy into the idea of candles: a color for your every need, all ten of them not to be lit but to be offered. Leave it at the Cross, bring it to the icons of your choice inside the church, but only after the manang has chanted your name with the rest of her prayer, only after she has promised that your wishes will come true, her prayers will do all the work for you.
very few things survive the stretch of Bonifacio High Street, save for tents selling real estate. after all there’s “public art” here, ones that don’t change and are mostly closely guarded: a two dimensional mickey mouse here, an unconventional slide there, an inverted fountain further down. in this context, art of any form, installations of any other kind, would just seem out of place.
but the way of the cross as reconsidered and reconfigured by Church Simplified succeeds in this space, both as art installations, and as a popularization of what is a ritual that has ceased to be simple, with Catholicism that’s everything and difficult to deal with given our own human rights and the Church’s insistence on moral authority. but i digress.
on the path of the conventional Visita Iglesia with the Nanay, we were both only surprised. she had done it countless times as a Catholic school girl, and i had done it with Lola Nena and Lolo Ding one holyweek, when I was the easiest teenage girl to drag around the city. this was the first time mother (her) and daughter (me) were out there, combing the nearby churches, and finding that for most of them the Stations of the Cross within the Church were covered up: the more important ritual was the adoration of the altar of repose, and the stations were relegated to a makeshift set-up in the courtyard or parking lot. it made for a less solemn time at prayer and meditation in front of each station, it made for a feeling that we were being discouraged to go through this Maundy Thursday ritual.
meanwhile at BoniHighStreet, and via Church Simplified, the stations of the cross are freed from the structures and new rituals of the conventional church, and surprisingly can work in the midst of commercial establishments — high end ones at that. don’t worry, the irony isn’t lost on me, though this time it does seem overrated.
no, this isn’t quite a modern take on the way or stations of the cross, as it is a popularization of it. Walkway: Reflections on the Stations of the Cross begins with step one: put it elsewhere other than a church. then moves on to step two: talk about it in words that are easy to understand, in a way that’s also about an amount of reflection, in a manner that is a conversation between equals, paraphrasing — quite well, I might add — from original texts that tell the story of Jesus Christ’s journey to death and resurrection. what is more laudable is the fact of tone: each of the 12 stations are spoken of comfortably, forcing a sense of familiarity even on the non-religious (i.e., ME).
listen in on how judgmental YOU sound
that is to say that the re-imagination that this way of the cross allows the spectator is one that is almost beyond religion and religiosity, and is about the gift of a story, one that’s told so well, it becomes believable and real, no matter if you are believer or not. this is a wonderful gift really, one that happens in stark contrast to the way in which the conventional Church talks about the death and suffering of Christ as always frighteningly about our sins, period.
the more powerful stations I thought were ones that forced spectator to deal with some quiet, if not reflection. station #5 which is the scourging, is re-titled “the whip” and talks about the process of scourging and the weapon that’s used to inflict pain on its victim. the rendering of the whip, hanging lengthwise against bloodied black walls, actually works not just as reminder, but as art installation: there is restraint here, a sense of someone taking control and seeing the value of what in the end is a quiet violence, more powerful than any of the installations on this stretch of BoniHighStreet.
the scourging as the whip as art installation
the quiet of charity was in that lone statue of a kid on a platform for station #4 entitled “the verdict”, a retelling of Jesus being judged by Pilate. the statue was made clearly into a street kid given the huge tattered shirt he was wearing, which was also ultimately about the same kind of control and restraint that’s in “the whip” and in art installation, both.
charity for one. irony in action.
the power of restraint in creating just the right amount of drama meanwhile is in station #6 re-titled “the curse” from the conventional Jesus is crowned with thorns station. here, a crown is put on a pedestal of sorts, surrounded by thorns and encased in glass. the light that shines from within the casing, would be too much given the gold of the crown, were it not a well chosen deep red light, one that doesn’t shine through the glass but stays within it. this provides just the right amount of drama, highlighting the difference of this station from the rest of the installations and stations that are mostly in black.
equally wonderful about Church Simplified’s ways of the cross is its requirement of involvement: you read about “the two simons” and are told to think of someone who has helped you in a time of dire need, and to pick other people’s prayers from a bowl and say the prayer for them, as you leave your own wishes in the same bowl. you are Simon of Cyrene as the next person will be for you.
let someone else say your prayer
then there are the acts of carrying a cross in station #8, or of nailing one’s sins as represented by black cloth from station #6 onto station #9 “the crucifixion”, or of lifting an old black telephone and listening to people talking about and prejudging somebody else. there are the acts of walking through darkness inside a tent to signify the “seeming” darkness of Good Friday in station #12, or of writing down the name of a person you wish to thank by saying a little prayer for her in station #13 “the cloth”, about the story of Easter.
what these stations required of me as spectator were surprisingly easy to get into, on the one hand as a meditation, on the other as a way of dealing with this story of one man whose story is also that of a society. one that’s so familiar, one that’s exactly where we’re at still, the one we continue to (re-)create.
what is striking though in the process of walking through Church Simplified’s stations of the cross is its ability at reconfiguring this story into one that’s current and relevant, complete with really cool Christian rock music (that i’m now hunting down), and activities that don’t fall into the trap of making things fun-without-a-point. instead what’s here is a story told and reconfigured into hope, and possibility, and light. plenty of it. and in the face of a conventional Catholic Church that’s in the throes of losing plenty of its believers, in the midst of arguing with our own Catholic selves about the contradictions between this Church and our own real lives, this popularization is exactly what local Catholicism needs. less of the preaching and instilling fear, more of the talking to us all as equals, yes? there is hope for Catholic religiosity in this country yet.
