16.08.07 kulturnatib

Baguio's beacons

Until lasts week, the only time I had been to Baguio City was almost a quarter of a century ago. I don't remember much of that trip except about something that kept me from having much of anything to remember.

I was bedridden most of that time. I had the most severe sinus attack. I could hardly open my eyes for the pain. The friend with whom I took this trip became my eyes, ears and even taste, for any pain, especially in the vicinity of the head, does overpower the sense organs clustered there.

Still, for all that enforced absence of memory material, I do remember something. A feeling mostly, of coldness, dampness, the smell of pines and some vertigo that all cities on hills inspire. All these, I admit, are post card feelings.

So, when a Baguio trip was proposed I looked forward to going beyond those feelings; To experience things for myself and also to validate the experiences of others, artist friends and colleagues mostly, from whom almost everything I 'know' about Baguio originate.

Traveling to Baguio, especially from as far as mid-Philippines, is a ballet. It takes meticulous planning, timing and, best, with practice. Thankfully with the help of friends and the internet, we planned well, scheduled our timing and could dispense with practice.

The weather, however, was a giant sledgehammer that could and often does pulverize the best of plans like fine china. At Mactan airport on our departure, – delayed – we were treated to the telenews of floods, landslides, avalanches, collapsing houses, fences, roads stalled with vehicles and rain, rain everywhere in Luzon.

But we pushed on, arriving in Baguio in one piece though some of our pieces were wet. Flood waters soaked through them as we, somewhat innocently, put our bags in the bus's cargo hold that, at some points, were lower than the flood water level.

Our first stop was the Tam-awan Village. But, before proceeding there we made a short detour to the house and studio of artist Ben-Hur Villanueva across Tam-awan's entrance. I had never met him nor his art before. In fact, as soon as we entered the gate and I saw the bronze sculptures, the first name that came to mind was that of the artist Solomon Saprid. But, they were Villanueva's and there he was, taking a rest from work to entertain us.

He and his wife had been to Cebu in '84, guests of the Garciases. He gave a workshop at UP though UP professor Raymund Fernandez doesn't remember when I asked him. He has taught art at Ateneo University for more than 30 years. He has traveled and exhibited widely. He sports a graying ponytail. He is a perfect host offering us cookies and soy coffee at his Disperensiya Cafe, named so because originally it was to have featured only cups and dishes that have some imperfection with them, rejects, in other words.

Lastly, and not leastly, he is the elder of Roberto Villanueva. Roberto is among the legends of Baguio. Like many legends, he appears to be bigger than life. I have never met Roberto, but my most reliable source about him is Raymund who is able to put Roberto in a more reasonable perspective that is informed by personal encounters.

After the warm meeting with the elder Villanueva, on to Tam-awan. This facility – galleries, spaces for outdoor installations, gatherings and workshops and authentic traditional Cordillera huts available for rent -- is one of Baguio's cultural gems. It was set up many years ago by a group of artists who collectively give Baguio its renown in the national art scene.

After this rain-soaked visit we retire for the day. The following day it was the turn to visit Kidlat Tahimik's domain. Born Eric de Guia of a family that is said to practically own the city, he turns his back on a career in economics, changes his name, dons a bahag and megs this world-famous film 'Perfumed Nightmare.'

The space is atop one of the family buildings in the city. As one climbs higher, – stairs, no elevators -- one feels like crawling out of a hole and onto this fabulous space with sky light roofs, a pond with carps, three mini-buildings including one that has Russian style domes, a giant cloth snake-eel-dragon hung across the ceiling space and spaces that are divided and defined by materials that seems to have grown instead of put together.

For all the seeming clutter, it is quite a meditative space. Two men were putting additional structures, the purpose for which was not immediately evident. I poked around in corners and marveled at how objects seemed to exist in this space where it didn't matter whether it was art or not.

We left soon after, but, as is the nature of Baguio, she hasn't left us. Not yet. Not ever?