A report from the front
I was walking through the Wineshop the other day, on my way further on to a shop where, among other things, they have a photocopier. I had some documents that needed to be photocopied.
Just then, Errol Marabiles, better known as Budoy cut across the traffic on his motorcycle – as singularly distinctive as he is with its impossibly wide arching handle bars -- to park it at the Wineshop's parking lot. I had not thought about stopping at the Wineshop but Budoys appearance then made it imperative that I do; to speak with him.
I went inside and saw Jason 'King' Lavides. I knew immediately that Budoy was meeting with King. I had known that King was going to be in town, particularly to be at the Bob Marley Fest that happened over the weekend. King, together with Budoy and a few others, is the reason why there is even a Bob Marley Fest here and why here Reggae is so rooted now, more than anywhere in the country, among the young and no longer so young.
I knew that King was there for the same reason that I was, though I was a bit surprised that this was the case. I imagined that they would have meet sooner. But, we both were there to get Budoy's report on their gig in Manila, fronting for Ziggy Marley's concert there; the kickoff concert for the Asian Tour to promote his latest album.
This was the reason why, for the first time in the 12 year history of the celebration of Bob Marley Fest here, Budoy could not be present. I don't know if this was explained at the Festival, but I had known this in advance and understood very well why Budoy would forgo being at this festival he has diligently nutured and continues to do so. In fact, before leaving for Manila, Budoy was very much involved with the organizing of the festival.
For those who do not know, Ziggy Marley is one of legendary Bob Marley's sons who are now following their father's footsteps, though Budoy and King agree that this really more like laboring under the father's staggering shadow.
For any reggae musician worth their dreadlocks, to play in the same stage as Ziggy Marley is an honor of earth shaking proportions. For any reggae enthusiast, being in the same room with Ziggy Marley would be like being in reggae heaven, which would, in that concert, take 1,600 pesos to enjoy.
So, Budoy and Jr Kilat got invited by MTV Asia, the producer of this Ziggy Marley concert. Then, not only to play, among the cream of Manila's musicians – Spy, Jun Lupito, Pepe Smith, etc. -- but to play right before Ziggy Marley. This is like being invited to a dinner with the President and asked to sit right next to her.
But, even in heaven, there is always a bit of hell. First, the front man of one of Manila's top reggae bands, who is not in speaking terms with Budoy, the history of which I am not familiar with, maneuvered to have their band play one more song with some Singaporean visiting singer.
In itself, this shouldn't be a problem, except that, this would eat into Jr Kilat's playing time. So instead of playing the allotted 20 minutes, Budoy only had 15 minutes left. Worse, though, was that the Singaporean turned out to be a total disaster, which, Budoy says is the just oats that this Manila singer had to swallow for trying to bite off more than he could chew.
Then, Budoy's home made gadget – one that is really or the guitar but he had refashioned so that the guitar effects can be applied to his voice – that he wears on his arm jammed. Budoy thought that his prancing about must have loosened the jack from off the amplifier.
Still, their performance went off very well, with the crowd singing along, especially with Budoy's signature single, 'Sigbin,' with its classic call and response routine.
Ziggy's performance also suffered technical glitches. At one point, while singing his signature song, 'Shalom/Salaam,' the microphone choked. Yet, like all professional troupers, he kept on while the drummer and the bassist stepped up with some emergency licks while the techies frantically tried to figure out what was happening and remedy the situation.
The disappointment of all disappointments though for Budoy was that he wasn't able to speak with Ziggy Marley or even shake his hand. Security was super tight, he said. Not one of the local musicians were able to breach this cordon. Pepe Smith was bodily carried away, though they didn't need to as they could just have puffed him away as he is light as a feather and equally as thin.
Still, King was visibly proud of Budoy and Jr. Kilat's success. Though U.S. based now, King still has Cebuano reggae in his heart. He has written to Ziggy Marley and other reggae singers promoting local reggae and is always on the look out for opportunities to introduce international reggae acts to the local scene. And, now with Budoy's achievement, vice-versa.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
3.27. 07 art review
The return of the natives
Opening just three days apart, the exhibits of Ronniel Bercero Compra -- his is an epynomous exhibit with his name being the title of the show -- at the CAP Art Center (March 16,) and Michael Wharque Edpalina, “Raw Coco,” at UP Cebu's Small Gallery (March 19) close this season of annual thesis exhibits of the graduating class of the UP Cebu Fine Arts program.
Introducing Edpalina and his work at the opening – a similar honor or chore he also did for the eight other students in this batch -- Prof. Dennis Montera, the professor for this thesis class said,”Here is the future of Cebu contemporary art.”
Having been at the thesis deliberation of this class, seeing the sample works that became the basis of the deliberation and having seen some of the final exhibits with many of the final works evolving, some drastically based on the critiques and inputs in that same deliberation, this enthusiastic stamp of approval from and fearless forecast of Prof. Montera is understandable.
This, I believe, without too much extrapolation, also extends to Compra's work which can be gleaned from another of Prof. Montera's pronouncements in that same introduction about this exhibit following, though in an unplanned manner, the tradition of “saving the best for last.”
Indeed, these two exhibits share, beyond the approbation of Prof. Montera, many similarities, the least of which, is their being heavy weights. And, literally, too.
These two exhibits show how any attempt at moving forward, in this case towards a stylistic practice within the western canonical history that is now supposed to be encompassed into the post-modern or contemporary, always casts an eye backwards, impelled even obliquely by nostalgia.
Here, these two artists dare look backwards all the way to the beginning of creation, to nature. And, more importantly, not just to mimic nature, to appropriate nature and capture or re-present it in a two-dimensional picture.
Consequently, their works are heavy. Their works are made from organic materials and large scale. This bulk inherent in their works, is a statement that, by itself, already speaks volumes of their artistic ambitions. A reach, as we shall see, that is matched by their creative and technical grasp.
Still, their works cannot be more different.
Compra's work is more earth bound. His dense tangle of corn cob husks, animal (cow or carabao) skull -- notably jaw -- parts, bones and various twigs, stalks and branches woven together, stuck or glued on a background of dark, ash or murky green and burnt ochre speaks of inevitable and permanent decay. This despite, or more so because, in some works, they are fashioned, for example, into a kite that defies flight or an arch -- a l'arc de triomphe, as it were -- that celebrates chaos instead of classical triumphalism.
Yet, in an acceptance or a resignation that any work about natural decay or entropy must finally surrender to the logic of ultimate disappearance, all these are held together with a technological product, that contribute greatly to the destruction of the natural environment; resin, the precursor of modern petrochemical plastic. Copious amounts of it, actually, giving the works an unnatural embalmed sheen.
This irony -- uncommented upon in his exhibit statement, perhaps undiscovered as yet by the artist -- makes Compra a realist, but not a naturalist. Or it makes him an anti-natural naturalist. This innocence lends gravitas to his works where otherwise it would be dangerously close to simply being cute, as in grunge cute or junk cute.
For his part, Edpalina, seeks loftier, thus, lighter ground: The incredible lightness of being. Immediately, one senses in his pieces a master conjurer at work; playing off the heaviness of materiality with the sheer grace of sensuality in organic, or, as he prefers, biomorphic form.
The material of choice for Edpalina also makes us sit up and take notice: Raw coconut shell. Incidentally, this material suffers from a bad press by being referred to, complete with the gesture of knocking the head, as being akin to an empty or slow brain. Not in the hands of Edpalina, though.
He takes this assumed emptiness and makes it bloom. With sheer inventiveness, he fashions this humble hero of the once king coconut industry into wry works of art, at once softly tickling our funny bones while lighting up our wonder wands at how something so familiar can be so fresh and different; At how they can have the same sensual qualities of a soft insect and yet, with it – the pointed leaf-like protuberances in the free standing and mobile works, for example – there is also the chilling hint of danger and pain.
Clearly, Edpalina's naturalism is an abstract one. His naturalism references the natural world or natural materials in so far it is the original source of form and texture. Beyond that there is only the constructs of an artist who realizes that this is the ultimate power of art; the power of creation, recreation and even destruction, mostly of the still dominant mimetic myth of the 'realism' or 'naturalism' of the plastic arts.
Yes, indeed, this is the future of contemporary art in Cebu. But, it is only one future among many. A future that already is now very interesting and we can only hope that these two artists can continue on this path least traveled; one foot in the future, the other, firmly in the past.
Opening just three days apart, the exhibits of Ronniel Bercero Compra -- his is an epynomous exhibit with his name being the title of the show -- at the CAP Art Center (March 16,) and Michael Wharque Edpalina, “Raw Coco,” at UP Cebu's Small Gallery (March 19) close this season of annual thesis exhibits of the graduating class of the UP Cebu Fine Arts program.
Introducing Edpalina and his work at the opening – a similar honor or chore he also did for the eight other students in this batch -- Prof. Dennis Montera, the professor for this thesis class said,”Here is the future of Cebu contemporary art.”
Having been at the thesis deliberation of this class, seeing the sample works that became the basis of the deliberation and having seen some of the final exhibits with many of the final works evolving, some drastically based on the critiques and inputs in that same deliberation, this enthusiastic stamp of approval from and fearless forecast of Prof. Montera is understandable.
This, I believe, without too much extrapolation, also extends to Compra's work which can be gleaned from another of Prof. Montera's pronouncements in that same introduction about this exhibit following, though in an unplanned manner, the tradition of “saving the best for last.”
Indeed, these two exhibits share, beyond the approbation of Prof. Montera, many similarities, the least of which, is their being heavy weights. And, literally, too.
These two exhibits show how any attempt at moving forward, in this case towards a stylistic practice within the western canonical history that is now supposed to be encompassed into the post-modern or contemporary, always casts an eye backwards, impelled even obliquely by nostalgia.
Here, these two artists dare look backwards all the way to the beginning of creation, to nature. And, more importantly, not just to mimic nature, to appropriate nature and capture or re-present it in a two-dimensional picture.
Consequently, their works are heavy. Their works are made from organic materials and large scale. This bulk inherent in their works, is a statement that, by itself, already speaks volumes of their artistic ambitions. A reach, as we shall see, that is matched by their creative and technical grasp.
Still, their works cannot be more different.
Compra's work is more earth bound. His dense tangle of corn cob husks, animal (cow or carabao) skull -- notably jaw -- parts, bones and various twigs, stalks and branches woven together, stuck or glued on a background of dark, ash or murky green and burnt ochre speaks of inevitable and permanent decay. This despite, or more so because, in some works, they are fashioned, for example, into a kite that defies flight or an arch -- a l'arc de triomphe, as it were -- that celebrates chaos instead of classical triumphalism.
Yet, in an acceptance or a resignation that any work about natural decay or entropy must finally surrender to the logic of ultimate disappearance, all these are held together with a technological product, that contribute greatly to the destruction of the natural environment; resin, the precursor of modern petrochemical plastic. Copious amounts of it, actually, giving the works an unnatural embalmed sheen.
This irony -- uncommented upon in his exhibit statement, perhaps undiscovered as yet by the artist -- makes Compra a realist, but not a naturalist. Or it makes him an anti-natural naturalist. This innocence lends gravitas to his works where otherwise it would be dangerously close to simply being cute, as in grunge cute or junk cute.
For his part, Edpalina, seeks loftier, thus, lighter ground: The incredible lightness of being. Immediately, one senses in his pieces a master conjurer at work; playing off the heaviness of materiality with the sheer grace of sensuality in organic, or, as he prefers, biomorphic form.
The material of choice for Edpalina also makes us sit up and take notice: Raw coconut shell. Incidentally, this material suffers from a bad press by being referred to, complete with the gesture of knocking the head, as being akin to an empty or slow brain. Not in the hands of Edpalina, though.
He takes this assumed emptiness and makes it bloom. With sheer inventiveness, he fashions this humble hero of the once king coconut industry into wry works of art, at once softly tickling our funny bones while lighting up our wonder wands at how something so familiar can be so fresh and different; At how they can have the same sensual qualities of a soft insect and yet, with it – the pointed leaf-like protuberances in the free standing and mobile works, for example – there is also the chilling hint of danger and pain.
Clearly, Edpalina's naturalism is an abstract one. His naturalism references the natural world or natural materials in so far it is the original source of form and texture. Beyond that there is only the constructs of an artist who realizes that this is the ultimate power of art; the power of creation, recreation and even destruction, mostly of the still dominant mimetic myth of the 'realism' or 'naturalism' of the plastic arts.
Yes, indeed, this is the future of contemporary art in Cebu. But, it is only one future among many. A future that already is now very interesting and we can only hope that these two artists can continue on this path least traveled; one foot in the future, the other, firmly in the past.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
03.22.07 kulturnatib
My rice is nice
The Outpost Restaurant in Veterans Drive, at the foot of Busay Hills and the start of the Cebu City end of the Transcentral Highway is becoming not only the scene for some great local music, but the site for great – as in interesting -- art as well.
In particularly, performance art where the management has been quite tolerant, if not actually very supportive, of this rather new art form, as far as art practice in the city is concerned.
The other venue that has also, of late, been hosting performance art is Tapas Lounge at Crossroads. But, it is at the Outpost Restaurant where a particular kind of performance art, the guerilla type, has been taking place. The guerilla type involves almost no preparation, except by the artist/s doing the performance piece/s and not much prior notice to the management and the clientele except for a few minutes prior to the performance itself.
Last Wednesday, the 15th, I received a text message from a friend. A series of messages, actually. In all, they asked for support for the campaign of Greenpeace Philippines to stand up for our rice that is threatened with the application for the introduction of GMO (genetically modified organism) rice in the Bayer LL62 strain.
This application was set to be approved by Department of Agriculture Secretary Yap. Greenpeace's campaign included asking concerned Filipinos to text Sec. Yap not to approve the application and that, on World Consumer's Day, to remind him that his paramount responsibility is to ensure that our rice supply is not endangered by the introduction of GMO rice that has been roundly rejected in other countries and has been approved only in one country, the U.S.
I had already been mulling about doing another performance art piece, once more in support of a fund raising drive some friends and professors of the UP Fine Arts Program were engaging in for a student who had recently succumbed to a non-fatal stroke. He and his family badly needed funds for medication and further diagnostic tests.
I did a performance art piece, among other performances, to start off this fund drive a day before, during the closing activity for an art exhibit at Tapas Lounge. The guests there responded very generously.
A UP Fine Arts based band was set to be relaunched at the Outpost Restaurant over the weekend and they had agreed to have their relaunch be a part of this drive.
These text messages clinched my decision to do another performance art piece. Here was the classic two birds with one stone opportunity. Three birds, actually.
First, I can promote appreciation of performance art, second, I can further contribute to the fund drive and, third, I can support the campaign led by Greenpeace for the rejection of GMO rice and the protection of our food supply from the unnecessary and insidious technology that contaminates the environment, threatens biodiversity, poses unacceptable risk to human health, and increases multinational corporate stranglehold on agriculture.
So, on Saturday, I did a performance art piece, entitled, 'My rice is nice. No to GMO.'
After a ritual-like gesture, the creating of a liminal space, that included throwing rice grain on the audience and playing the kubing, I continued with the main element of the performance. This consisted of my going around the tables and asking from those seated around for a small space among their food and drinks on the table.
In this space, I laid a place mat. On that mat were messages, one each, informing that our rice supply was under threat from GMO rice. Secondary messages outlining the nature of the threat, how it was discovered that imported rice from the U.S. was contaminated by an illegal GMO rice strain – Bayer LL61 -- was already being sold in local supermarkets, how we should stand up for our rice and others were also included.
On the mat, I then put a small paper box wherein put a handful of grains of organic wild red rice mixed with organic white rice. After which, I lit a small candle.
Those at the tables read the messages intently, wondering among themselves what this was about and, some, openly asking about it. To which I replied, further explaining the campaign, the issue at hand and, very importantly, the need for our vigilance when it came to protecting this most important of staple foods for us.
The evening ended late. But for many there their education on GMO had only begun. I am glad to have been a part of it.
The Outpost Restaurant in Veterans Drive, at the foot of Busay Hills and the start of the Cebu City end of the Transcentral Highway is becoming not only the scene for some great local music, but the site for great – as in interesting -- art as well.
In particularly, performance art where the management has been quite tolerant, if not actually very supportive, of this rather new art form, as far as art practice in the city is concerned.
The other venue that has also, of late, been hosting performance art is Tapas Lounge at Crossroads. But, it is at the Outpost Restaurant where a particular kind of performance art, the guerilla type, has been taking place. The guerilla type involves almost no preparation, except by the artist/s doing the performance piece/s and not much prior notice to the management and the clientele except for a few minutes prior to the performance itself.
Last Wednesday, the 15th, I received a text message from a friend. A series of messages, actually. In all, they asked for support for the campaign of Greenpeace Philippines to stand up for our rice that is threatened with the application for the introduction of GMO (genetically modified organism) rice in the Bayer LL62 strain.
This application was set to be approved by Department of Agriculture Secretary Yap. Greenpeace's campaign included asking concerned Filipinos to text Sec. Yap not to approve the application and that, on World Consumer's Day, to remind him that his paramount responsibility is to ensure that our rice supply is not endangered by the introduction of GMO rice that has been roundly rejected in other countries and has been approved only in one country, the U.S.
I had already been mulling about doing another performance art piece, once more in support of a fund raising drive some friends and professors of the UP Fine Arts Program were engaging in for a student who had recently succumbed to a non-fatal stroke. He and his family badly needed funds for medication and further diagnostic tests.
I did a performance art piece, among other performances, to start off this fund drive a day before, during the closing activity for an art exhibit at Tapas Lounge. The guests there responded very generously.
A UP Fine Arts based band was set to be relaunched at the Outpost Restaurant over the weekend and they had agreed to have their relaunch be a part of this drive.
These text messages clinched my decision to do another performance art piece. Here was the classic two birds with one stone opportunity. Three birds, actually.
First, I can promote appreciation of performance art, second, I can further contribute to the fund drive and, third, I can support the campaign led by Greenpeace for the rejection of GMO rice and the protection of our food supply from the unnecessary and insidious technology that contaminates the environment, threatens biodiversity, poses unacceptable risk to human health, and increases multinational corporate stranglehold on agriculture.
So, on Saturday, I did a performance art piece, entitled, 'My rice is nice. No to GMO.'
After a ritual-like gesture, the creating of a liminal space, that included throwing rice grain on the audience and playing the kubing, I continued with the main element of the performance. This consisted of my going around the tables and asking from those seated around for a small space among their food and drinks on the table.
In this space, I laid a place mat. On that mat were messages, one each, informing that our rice supply was under threat from GMO rice. Secondary messages outlining the nature of the threat, how it was discovered that imported rice from the U.S. was contaminated by an illegal GMO rice strain – Bayer LL61 -- was already being sold in local supermarkets, how we should stand up for our rice and others were also included.
On the mat, I then put a small paper box wherein put a handful of grains of organic wild red rice mixed with organic white rice. After which, I lit a small candle.
Those at the tables read the messages intently, wondering among themselves what this was about and, some, openly asking about it. To which I replied, further explaining the campaign, the issue at hand and, very importantly, the need for our vigilance when it came to protecting this most important of staple foods for us.
The evening ended late. But for many there their education on GMO had only begun. I am glad to have been a part of it.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
03.15.07 kulturnatib
Clothesism
It is not the best judiciary building in the world but the Palace of Justice, officially, the Marcelo Fernan Hall of Justice, behind the main Capitol Building in our city is nice enough. At least its facade is, or rather the entrance area where there is a small plaza enclosed by Ionic columns is quite architecturally pleasant.
Across is the back of the Capitol building where on the roof area they, I think, have moved a group of Roman sculptures that came with this original American-era building patterned after the U.S. Capitol, that is itself Roman inspired. Similar sculptures -- different personages, though -- also adorn the UP Cebu administration building that was built at the same time by the same architect as the Capitol building.
Among these figures, towering over the entrance of the Palace of Justice -- one reason, I think, for its relocation to this spot -- is Lady Justice. She, as we know, is blindfolded and is holding an evenly balanced set of weighing scales.
And, if my memory serves me right, one of her breasts is revealed, which is, with the Romans, nothing prurient but a way to symbolize the inherent nakedness -- not nudity -- of people in face of the Law.
These figures lend to this area a grace and gravitas befitting the function of the building across: The dispensing of Justice, the refuge of Right against blind and brutal might, the bastion of Reason over capriciousness and abitrariness.
Sadly, all this grace and gravitas gets stopped at the door. Here, a crude sign highlights one of the remaining social prejudices that still widely prevails over our society: Clothesism.
One cannot access justice, cannot seek legal refuge and redress, cannot do business legally prescribed for those who are, in this case, unfortunate enough to have to do anything that has to have some required legality to it like transacting marriage, securing identity documents, etc.
Here, one cannot gain entrance to these esteemed halls if one is wearing shorts, sandals, sleeveless shirts, spaghetti straps, etc. Unless one is an accused in a criminal case, who cannot afford bail and in the course of the sorting out of his or her case in these halls must be a guest in one of our city’s or province’s fine justice hotels.
This exception speaks volumes in how Justice or, actually, the Executive Judges -- day to day administrators of this building’s operation -- see or does not see the inherent equality of persons.
This exception is the very embodiment of a paternalism that used to be extended most widely and most hypocritically to women, children, the infirm in body, the feeble in mind.
This declares that those under this exception, even if they are still, in so far as they haven’t been convicted, under the presumption of innocence are already less than full persons. Thus they can be allowed in even if they are clothed in rags, as it were, and not in the finery of full persons; in clothing that do not include shorts, sandals, sleeveless shirts, spaghetti straps, etc.
It is understandable how this practice is most widespread in the ‘tourism industry,’ where, though very discriminatory against the natives, against Filipinos, it is accepted as necessary for ‘presenting the best foot or the best face forward.’ Yet, even then, it is ironic as to be hilarious that these injunctions are used mostly in places where the best foot or the best face is put on display like so much meat hung in the slaughterhouse.
Even the Church, that bastion of Godly discrimination, does not practice this. They encourage modest dressing, which is really as much as they can or should do. They have learned that the listing of what can or cannot be worn in church is an exercise in the slippery slope towards the cementing of what really is arbitrary judgment that, in any case, is subject to the whims of fashion, the most arbitrary judge of all.
As far as listing goes, it appears to be a curious lapse that the Executive Judges have missed the mini-skirt. Or, the micro-mini skirt. Or, the hot pants. Or the belly-button-in-your-face shirt. Or, the backless shirt.
And so on.
As this hall of justice is the secular equivalent of the church, they should do no less. They should just stick with the simple and commonsensical injunction for people to gain entrance to be dressed modestly.
It is not the best judiciary building in the world but the Palace of Justice, officially, the Marcelo Fernan Hall of Justice, behind the main Capitol Building in our city is nice enough. At least its facade is, or rather the entrance area where there is a small plaza enclosed by Ionic columns is quite architecturally pleasant.
Across is the back of the Capitol building where on the roof area they, I think, have moved a group of Roman sculptures that came with this original American-era building patterned after the U.S. Capitol, that is itself Roman inspired. Similar sculptures -- different personages, though -- also adorn the UP Cebu administration building that was built at the same time by the same architect as the Capitol building.
Among these figures, towering over the entrance of the Palace of Justice -- one reason, I think, for its relocation to this spot -- is Lady Justice. She, as we know, is blindfolded and is holding an evenly balanced set of weighing scales.
And, if my memory serves me right, one of her breasts is revealed, which is, with the Romans, nothing prurient but a way to symbolize the inherent nakedness -- not nudity -- of people in face of the Law.
These figures lend to this area a grace and gravitas befitting the function of the building across: The dispensing of Justice, the refuge of Right against blind and brutal might, the bastion of Reason over capriciousness and abitrariness.
Sadly, all this grace and gravitas gets stopped at the door. Here, a crude sign highlights one of the remaining social prejudices that still widely prevails over our society: Clothesism.
One cannot access justice, cannot seek legal refuge and redress, cannot do business legally prescribed for those who are, in this case, unfortunate enough to have to do anything that has to have some required legality to it like transacting marriage, securing identity documents, etc.
Here, one cannot gain entrance to these esteemed halls if one is wearing shorts, sandals, sleeveless shirts, spaghetti straps, etc. Unless one is an accused in a criminal case, who cannot afford bail and in the course of the sorting out of his or her case in these halls must be a guest in one of our city’s or province’s fine justice hotels.
This exception speaks volumes in how Justice or, actually, the Executive Judges -- day to day administrators of this building’s operation -- see or does not see the inherent equality of persons.
This exception is the very embodiment of a paternalism that used to be extended most widely and most hypocritically to women, children, the infirm in body, the feeble in mind.
This declares that those under this exception, even if they are still, in so far as they haven’t been convicted, under the presumption of innocence are already less than full persons. Thus they can be allowed in even if they are clothed in rags, as it were, and not in the finery of full persons; in clothing that do not include shorts, sandals, sleeveless shirts, spaghetti straps, etc.
It is understandable how this practice is most widespread in the ‘tourism industry,’ where, though very discriminatory against the natives, against Filipinos, it is accepted as necessary for ‘presenting the best foot or the best face forward.’ Yet, even then, it is ironic as to be hilarious that these injunctions are used mostly in places where the best foot or the best face is put on display like so much meat hung in the slaughterhouse.
Even the Church, that bastion of Godly discrimination, does not practice this. They encourage modest dressing, which is really as much as they can or should do. They have learned that the listing of what can or cannot be worn in church is an exercise in the slippery slope towards the cementing of what really is arbitrary judgment that, in any case, is subject to the whims of fashion, the most arbitrary judge of all.
As far as listing goes, it appears to be a curious lapse that the Executive Judges have missed the mini-skirt. Or, the micro-mini skirt. Or, the hot pants. Or the belly-button-in-your-face shirt. Or, the backless shirt.
And so on.
As this hall of justice is the secular equivalent of the church, they should do no less. They should just stick with the simple and commonsensical injunction for people to gain entrance to be dressed modestly.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
03.08.07 kulturnatib
Menuet in G
Menuet in G by Johann Sebastian Bach is probably the most recognizable tune in the canons of western music. Any musician or any person aspiring to be a musician will more than recognize this tune. They will have this tune under their belt to be whipped out for their amusement, for warm up before they get into more serious playing or to impress others with their pedigree in music.
I know; been there, done that. Yet, now, some two decades after learning to play the guitar and having some rudimentary lessons in classical guitar plus an aborted detour through music conservatory, I am revisiting this tune. Not that I ever really visited this tune before. At least not the tune that Bach originally wrote.
Still, in the way that we Pinoys are known for worldwide, for picking up a tune on the fly, as it were, learning it by ear, then playing a passable version, or even mangling it often beyond recognition; I am able to play a reasonable facsimile of this tune.
I don't remember how I learned it. Most likely it was with the oido method, or really just listening and remembering the tune then playing it back note by note as far as how they are remembered. Or, it is also entirely possible that I saw somebody play it and tried to mimic the playing from there.
In any case, what I learned is unmistakably the Menuet in G.
But then, since my goal for taking up the classical guitar once again, and this time more seriously, is learning to sight read notes, I thought why not go back to the original and learn to play it the way Bach wrote it?
Here, as with many things nowadays; thank God for the internet. I was able to find, through the MutopiaProject (www.mutopiaproject.org), the original sheet music for the guitar – tablature -- of this tune. This and many others can be downloaded, distributed, shared, modified and performed absolutely free of charge from this site through an increasingly popular copyright protocol known as the Creative Commons.
This, by the way, has developed almost hand in hand with the growing popularity of the open source software movement that is now beginning to make serious inroads into the monopolistic stranglehold of a few software giants, like Microsoft and even in industries like pharmaceuticals.
But, back to music; the first thing I noticed as soon as I had printed the two-page file I had downloaded was that I had the spelling of the title to this tune all wrong, all along. Typical of Pinoys who are forever confusing or interchanging the soft and hard vowels, I always spelled it with an i: Minuet.
After that aha moment, I sat down to play. But before that I tried to read the notes aloud. Remember this was tablature sheet music I had downloaded, which has the additional advantage of having, along with the notes, the fingering and fret positioning. With this, one doesn't really have to read notes, but only to follow the fingering written as numbers where the note heads would be.
Still, I considered this not as an advantage but a possible hazard since my goal for getting back to the original source for this tune, in particular, and in retaking up classical guitar, in general, is to learn to sight read guitar music and by extension all music in general. Tablature then can become a crutch when the real way to walk is to stride steady, confident and unassisted.
Reading out the notes, I saw where the version I learned had added a note here, an inflection there, a rest here and a missing note there.
Playing it was another thing. Habit, embedded in muscle memory, was a difficult if benign monster to control. The way I habitually played this piece was on a head-on collision course with what I was supposed to play in the music sheet in front of me. It was slow going at first and, truth to tell, I had to lean on the crutch of the tablature to move on through some knotty passages.
Struggling through, I remembered what a former teacher, the late Tinong Abellana told us who were considered the campus radicals back then. He said, the only way to successfully break the rules is to first master the rules.
I am still pretty much a rule breaker. But with the guitar, with the Menuet in G, rule mastery is key.
Menuet in G by Johann Sebastian Bach is probably the most recognizable tune in the canons of western music. Any musician or any person aspiring to be a musician will more than recognize this tune. They will have this tune under their belt to be whipped out for their amusement, for warm up before they get into more serious playing or to impress others with their pedigree in music.
I know; been there, done that. Yet, now, some two decades after learning to play the guitar and having some rudimentary lessons in classical guitar plus an aborted detour through music conservatory, I am revisiting this tune. Not that I ever really visited this tune before. At least not the tune that Bach originally wrote.
Still, in the way that we Pinoys are known for worldwide, for picking up a tune on the fly, as it were, learning it by ear, then playing a passable version, or even mangling it often beyond recognition; I am able to play a reasonable facsimile of this tune.
I don't remember how I learned it. Most likely it was with the oido method, or really just listening and remembering the tune then playing it back note by note as far as how they are remembered. Or, it is also entirely possible that I saw somebody play it and tried to mimic the playing from there.
In any case, what I learned is unmistakably the Menuet in G.
But then, since my goal for taking up the classical guitar once again, and this time more seriously, is learning to sight read notes, I thought why not go back to the original and learn to play it the way Bach wrote it?
Here, as with many things nowadays; thank God for the internet. I was able to find, through the MutopiaProject (www.mutopiaproject.org), the original sheet music for the guitar – tablature -- of this tune. This and many others can be downloaded, distributed, shared, modified and performed absolutely free of charge from this site through an increasingly popular copyright protocol known as the Creative Commons.
This, by the way, has developed almost hand in hand with the growing popularity of the open source software movement that is now beginning to make serious inroads into the monopolistic stranglehold of a few software giants, like Microsoft and even in industries like pharmaceuticals.
But, back to music; the first thing I noticed as soon as I had printed the two-page file I had downloaded was that I had the spelling of the title to this tune all wrong, all along. Typical of Pinoys who are forever confusing or interchanging the soft and hard vowels, I always spelled it with an i: Minuet.
After that aha moment, I sat down to play. But before that I tried to read the notes aloud. Remember this was tablature sheet music I had downloaded, which has the additional advantage of having, along with the notes, the fingering and fret positioning. With this, one doesn't really have to read notes, but only to follow the fingering written as numbers where the note heads would be.
Still, I considered this not as an advantage but a possible hazard since my goal for getting back to the original source for this tune, in particular, and in retaking up classical guitar, in general, is to learn to sight read guitar music and by extension all music in general. Tablature then can become a crutch when the real way to walk is to stride steady, confident and unassisted.
Reading out the notes, I saw where the version I learned had added a note here, an inflection there, a rest here and a missing note there.
Playing it was another thing. Habit, embedded in muscle memory, was a difficult if benign monster to control. The way I habitually played this piece was on a head-on collision course with what I was supposed to play in the music sheet in front of me. It was slow going at first and, truth to tell, I had to lean on the crutch of the tablature to move on through some knotty passages.
Struggling through, I remembered what a former teacher, the late Tinong Abellana told us who were considered the campus radicals back then. He said, the only way to successfully break the rules is to first master the rules.
I am still pretty much a rule breaker. But with the guitar, with the Menuet in G, rule mastery is key.
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