komentaryo

the good, the sad, the ugly —

— or the life and death of critical discourse.

so carlos celdran takes jim paredes to task for being, in gay lingo, a negatron, i.e., a nega, a negamall, about the philippines. what paredes had said seems irrelevant now, because what came to matter as far as ANC’s Media in Focus panel that included celdran was this: can you blame media for showing just the bad news? isn’t celdran mouthing government rhetoric that says we must see the positive in all these? and was celdran, praytell, correct in saying that there’s something good in GMA, and that well, it’s worth the news? and for the more exciting part, does paredes’ migration to australia matter in any form or manner?

THE GOOD — or why i was with team carlos for a while there.

between celdran and paredes, it is the former that has me listening. this man just has the balls, you know? he publishes what’s on his mind, then takes responsibility for it regardless of the outcome.  which is really what made for fascinating viewing as well, of the twitter exchanges and that fateful MIF show.

it’s also quite refreshing to hear someone from the same social class dishing it against his own, and well, not minding being at the receiving end of it. i mean of course it’s easy to dismiss celdran as just a konyo boy, at the same time, he is one who seems more involved than his kind, seems more daring in terms of taking stands and having convictions, and really, he seems to have a better sense of his limitations at the same time that he lives his freedoms.

and so yes, he will critique government at the same time that he will openly campaign for gibo; he gets angry at lisa macuja for saying no to the RH Bill campaign, and celebrates lea salonga for being on his side; he will keep the fire going — as many middle and upper class netizens did — throughout the ondoy tragedy and aftermath, even as he has gone on to talk about other things that are more current and well, that are a little happier.

which is why it’s no surprise that he will say, there must be something good to write about the philippines, here and now, right? we must not want to be negatrons, and instead start building a pinoy identity that’s more positive. we must consider what it is that so many in the world think about us, given what it is they know (or not) about the philippines. so he demands for a balance between the bad and good. he also says there must be something good about GMA, even if it’s just that spanking new train.

but here is where celdran’s limitations become clear.

THE SAD thing isn’t so much that we must even thank GMA for the good news of a train that is her responsibility to renovate to begin with, it’s really that as we thank her for you know, the elevated u-turn on C5 or the highway to Subic, we cannot but imagine who was marginalized in these processes of “development”.

how must it feel to deal with that elevated u-turn, when you are the commuter who’s public transport isn’t allowed to pass on it, and instead must contend with thetraffic it creates beneath it? how must it feel to be the farmer or worker who now has to contend with destroyed mountains and land, plus a highway that’s impossible to cross, in order to maintain a living?

and yes, how do we imagine the train being a fantastic thing when the impoverished that exists in its immediate vicinity are blamed and ostracized, made to feel unworthy of its existence given it’s new beauty?

carlos conde, who was also guest at the MIF panel, has it right: much of the good news we do have is premised on something sad, if not altogether bad. efren penaflorida‘s success is really about poverty and the sad state of education in this country; manny pacquiao‘s athleticism is based on the fact of necessity, and so is charice pempengco‘s singing style and success.

these successes are plenty true, and there are tons of good news, but context — the bigger picture — is all encompassing. the sad truth is that where we do come from, there is no escaping the sadness. and maybe there is no reason to. because the moment we do, then we might forget. and i imagine that forgetting is also the last thing that celdran wants to happen. or paredes for that matter. regardless of whether they live with it everyday or ehem, have it in theirhearts, as filipino-migrant-apple-picker-and-writer Carlos Bulosan already said decades ago.

THE UGLINESS of this all lies really, in the way things were resolved between celdran and paredes. the catfight via twitter was exciting to say the least, but for it to have been resolved beyond the confines of the online world where it had happened, and then for it to just be concluded without explanation or further discussion, seemed like a cop out. it seemed like the quickest life-and-deathof critical discourse as we know it.

it would’ve been great to get the discourse going, on many things that the celdran-paredes argument had raised. there’s media responsibility, the fact that news are chosen, and yes, that there are certain kinds of news that appeals to the international audience. there’s also the question of tourism and world perception and filipino identity. there’s the question of citizenship and migration, and the right to complain, as well as the need to do something about it.

butmaybe the ugliest thing to come of this is the fact that in the end, as spectator, i am made to realize that there is sameness here. both celdran and paredes are actually in the same boat, and when celdran says at least he’s doing something about changing the philippines even as he complains about it, maybe he only thinks himself better than paredes.

because while there is value in celdran’s daring, his limitations are very clear: the status quo is where he’s at. systemic change, making sure that the problems that create a pacquiao and a penaflorida and a pempengco, an ondoy and extrajudicial killings and an impoverished majority, is not his point here. his is a band-aid, a way of making the healing of wounds a little faster and a little less painful, which is noble in itself. but this won’t keep the wounds from not being inflicted again, won’t make for real change at all.

in that sense, while he is no negatron like paredes, and while he has stayed in the philippines instead of making a big deal about migrating elsewhere, and while there is value in the ways in which he wears his heart on his sleeve, celdran doesn’t seem to be any different from paredes when and where it matters.

maybe that’s good enough for him. and maybe that’s not ugly after all. it’s just downright sad.

kultura

happiness and melancholia

It is difficult not to be happy at 1/Off Gallery when Farley del Rosario’s works are on display. Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t the simple joy that’s brought on by childhood images of cartoons, nor is it about the bright happy colors on del Rosario’s canvasses. Instead it is a happiness that’s premised on a sense of nostalgia; a joy that’s grounded in a seeming melancholia.

(more…)

kultura

Art of Our Lives in Pacena’s Static Reverb

a version of this was published in the PDI on November 23 2010.

The noise was crazy at the opening of Jay Pacena’s recent exhibit Static Reverb. Cramped as we were in the small space of Blanc Gallery, the energy was deafening in its youthfulness, the excitement really quite overwhelming. This came in contradiction with the fact that Pacena’s canvasses were filled with the quietest colors of sad blues, grays and whites; his short film that was on loop on the flat screen TV was in black and white.

But maybe this moment in contradiction was the whole point as it forces one to embrace the cognitive dissonance that Pacena’s work requires. An act of going beyond the canvas and living with the contradictions of its quiet violence.

Using acrylic and digital archival ink, notions of what connects us and the spaces they traverse are represented here by geometric lines and shapes in various angles, interwoven with lines that link differently-sized balls. This stereotypical notion of the things that bind us – as shapes that we have in common, as the things that we hold in our hands and make us concrete – is rendered differently by the naked faces and bodies it doesn’t only co-exist with on canvas, but actually lives off of. At the same time that it allows it to die. To change. To be redefined.

The huge canvas of “The Banquet 1 and 2” is a stark representation of this dynamic, with digital images of men and women in various poses of movement. Here, the geometric shapes become weapon (held to the temple, to the nape, to the neck) with which to kill self and other, it is the blindfold that keeps sight at bay, it ties us down, encompasses our bodies and minds, the things we hide within. (more…)

komentaryo

an ongoing saga: or why Edu has some explaining to do

and no, i don’t mean in relation to pinky webb, though that would be interesting ‘no? why oh why would any sane individual choose to run under GMA’s party. and what would be so compelling that he would choose it over love?

but no, this is more about Edu Manzano, he who’s running as Gibo Teodoro‘s Vice President, being the Social Security System‘s endorser. yeah, Captain Barbel sells SSS with his Lucky son — the strangeness of that statement isn’t lost on me.

elsewhere i’ve talked about the worst times i’ve had with SSS, and yet, it could only really get worse ‘no?

and so in the age of Duds selling SSS, i try (in vain, i might add) to get money that’s due me. the difficulty of course lies, not simply in its lack of a system, but in its downright disregard for a woman’s right to her name.

it is my maternity benefit that i dream of receiving from SSS, one which requires that i show my child’s birth certificate, and which apparently gives any SSS employee the power to change my name. yes, ladies and gentlemen, while the law provides that i may keep my maiden name (an amendment to an existing law by Miriam Defensor Santiago — this is the one time i thank the heavens for her), in the SSS offices across this country, you are presumed to want to use your husband’s surname — you won’t be asked if you want it done.

if this seems petty, then try it with some of this: none of my IDs have my married name on ’em. and if this seems irrelevant, then try this on for size: you need two IDs for your request for (your own!) money to be even processed by the fantastic SSS office.

add to this the fact that the SSS people DO NOT tell you that they have changed your name, so you can’t even throw the law at their faces.  and so after waiting two weeks for the SSS computer to accept your change in name, you come with your old IDs and you’re told: “ay ma’am, hindi po kayo ito e, magkaiba ang pangalan.”

and you only say watdapak! because really, this same woman knows you to be the woman with the maiden name, and you have in your hands every document to prove that you are one and the same person as that woman with a spanking new married name. instead of SSS acknowledging its mistake here, they tell you to get IDs that have your married name. otherwise, wala ka nang benefits. benefits na dapat ay sa’yo naman talaga.

and so after about two months, you finally have these IDs (a postal ID which costs way too much in Mandaluyong) and a police clearance from the cityhall. you brace yourself for the well-mannered SSS lady who will make you feel like you don’t deserve your money. instead you face someone who says, “o, bakit kailangan pa ng bagong ID, e ang tagal nang approved nito ha, tingnan mo.” and when you say that you were told by the woman in the next desk to get these IDs, she says, “naku naman, pinahihirapan ka pa.”

you want to scream: “po.tang.inaaaaaaaa!”

but you don’t. instead you wait a month, which is the promise SSS makes: a cheque will be delivered to your house by the end of one month at most.

it has been two months and a half of waiting. for money that’s mine mine mine. for SSS to get its fluggin’ act together, and DELIVER — literally and figuratively. the SSS Mandaluyong branch, being the great office that it is, doesn’t help at all when it says: “na-release na po sa main office, in transit na ‘yon, hindi niyo na mafa-follow-up kase wala na kaming alam don, wala na kayong puwedeng tawagan.”

ah ganon. wala nang follow up. wala na kong powers. e pera ko yon.

enter Duds, he who has the gall to run for VP after selling SSS as the greatest thing an individual could have in this country. come on Captain Barbell, you have gotta save this woman’s day.

kultura

art on fire!

Not literally of course. Though it’s entirely possible that had the venue allowed it at least one of the 10 Most Exciting Young Artists chosen by Inquirer Lifestyle and Nokia would’ve used fire as a real live element, or burned down an artwork altogether. Which of course defeats the purpose of selling art, but then again, that doesn’t seem to be the point for many of the works here.

Winner Jumalon’s “Shady Tree”, an installation of a life-size resin sculpture of a fallen tree trunk seems simple enough, except that the tree’s crown is created by a bunch of framed black and white photographs spread sporadically on the floor, including one frame placed on the panel saved for Jumalon’s work.

Buen Calubayan’s “My Virgin Mama” meanwhile seems like a traditional looking Virgin Mary from afar, but up-close it becomes apparent that it’s a merging of the faces of the latter and Jesus Christ. Across it is stated, “Diyos dapat ito kaya lang maling medium talaga ang painting e”.  This canvas is submerged in water – which on opening night also had one live fish floating, and pieces of toothpick that Calubayan himself had thrown in for some good “Art is no God!” measure. Not far from this installation is a bottle filled with crumpled canvas in white liquid: trashed art it is!

Art buyers must have asked: how do we even begin to imagine owning this work? But maybe here lies the fire of much of the work in this exhibit: it’s an “Up Yours!” to anyone who expected easier art. There is happily none of that here.

Kiri Dalena’s three installations include “Found Figure 2”, a terra cotta sculpture of a pregnant woman on a tub of water and lilies, alongside a wooden bed filled with the same. Not far from this installation is a digital video loop entitled “Floodwaters”, of how waters rose in Pakil Laguna. These three pieces are a haunting paean to the flood’s aftermath, an imagination of what it is that remains true, without exoticizing the bodies it has rendered defenseless.

Mark Salvatus’ “Crowd”, a mixed media installation of steel birds in various forms of flight and fluorescent lights, is a statement on migration with disregard for destination. It is placed on the floor by an unpainted wooden wall that screams “Cultural Production” in huge black letters, a statement as well on the kind of copying that goes on in the kinds of cultural products we create, even when our main products are our people.

Farley del Rosario’s “Bridged” is a daring take on how communication just might be our downfall. Two miniature clay figures speak through tin cans tied by one string in front of del Rosario’s canvas, in which is his standard figure, surrounded by miniature versions of itself. All of them are bound by the lines that symbolize communication, but instead of tin cans these lines connect mouths and ears in various dimensions and colors. The seeming mess of lines and thoughts, and the way they are intertwined isn’t at all a simplistic view of bridging communication. We are already bridged because we cannot remove ourselves from this mess, this noise, these conversations.

Dina Gadia’s “Bad Art for Bad People” is a rendering of a woman in a leopard print bikini riding and about to slay a tiger. This was obviously a statement on the notions of popular art as bad art, and of bad art being for bad people. It is as well a statement on how what is bad is really intertwined with stereotypical judgments of women, and what she cannot be.

Lindslee’s abstract works stand out not just because it is amidst realism, but because its three dimensional aspect is crazy creative. “Paradox” and “Under Appreciated” appear on two sides of the same wall, bound together by two triangular beams, that seem to protrude from both works. The geometric lines and shapes of the works, its bright crazy colors, vis a vis blank spaces of white and gray, are strangely familiar in their being forgotten. Or just mis-/un-understood.

But the most fire and daring here comes from curator Jay Pacena and his vision for the exhibit. Pacena’s installations on the first floor of the exhibit area become more interesting after opening night, as the square beams in various sizes and positions seem to be installed into the floor, growing out of and into each other. These shapes are used as well on the panels reserved for each artwork, with protrusions of smaller beams unsystematically placed on its sides.

The installation of the 10 artists’ works are interactive and connected, obviously not in terms of form or content, but in terms of an energy that allows for the eyes to travel across various artworks at any given time, from any given standpoint. The panels are spaced apart, allowing for a line of vision to a piece of art by someone else’s hands. So  you stand by Jumalon’s work and see Gadia’s, Lindslee’s, Kawayan de Guia’s, and Dalena’s; you stand between Clairlyn Uy’s two panels, and see del Rosario’s clay installation, and a wee bit of Lindslee.

The possibilities of seeing things differently become endless, the experience of art as interactive happens beyond the artworks and into the curator’s head: what he imagines about this exhibit, where he wants to take you. Having done so much here, it would be most interesting – and exciting! – to see, what it is Pacena and these 10 artists can do with fire.