11.29.07 kulturnatib

Artist talk

When the Lunâ Art Collective was still active and not quite as occupied as we are now with different concerns -- though still largely connected with art and design -- one of the things we tried to cultivate was the artist talk.

This we tried to do as a matter of course and habit with exhibits that we organized and participated in at our exhibit space. Usually, this was set a week or a few days after the opening of the exhibit.

We believed that the days of “the works speaks for itself” is long gone if it that ever was the case at all. We believed that the artists now have an equally important responsibility of explaining or expounding on their works in order that the audience or their public are able to have a better understanding of the same.

It is not necessary that the artists are able to hold forth on art history, theory or aesthetics though it doesn't normally hurt either if they are able to. Only, we believed that the artists should be able to expound on their art or art piece as if explaining to five year olds though not necessarily with the limited vocabulary of children that age nor with the mistaken idea that five year olds, like their typical audience, are not 'bright' enough.

Convinced that there is much to learn from discussion with the artists, I take whatever opportunity I can to attend such sessions myself.

My most recent attendance in an artists talk was last week at the Ottawa Art Gallery that featured the Iraqi born, Canadian educated artist, Farouk Kaspaules in an exhibited entitled, “Be/Longing.”

The talk was divided into two settings. The first was at the exhibit rooms in the presence of the art works that was referred to by the artist one by one and tied together through the process of the work, the techniques which were mostly mix-media on paper, and most important, through the common subject.

After an hour of that walking and standing tour this was followed by another hour of a slide showing and more discussion of earlier works at a conference room – sitting this time -- that also established the artists long engagement with his homeland, particularly with the present difficulties there and especially with the prospects of disintegration that he says the artists have an important role in seeing that it is prevented from happening.

The discussions were enlightening with Kaspaules returning many times to his insistence that as an artist all that he really asks for from his audience is to give time to his works, and not to rush through the works with predetermined or half-considered judgments, whether to agree or not, about it.

He also maintained that if his art is able to encourage or spark further interest in the audience by their picking up a book about Iraq, for example, then he would consider his art a success and his being an artist worth his time.

These, he said, were two things -- giving time and picking up a book -- that most people no longer afford and consider an extravagant luxury, which, he further said that if they only afforded to do then they would probably have less time for more damaging activities like waging war.

Since, I suspected, many of those in the audience were academics or cultural workers many of the questions were sharply political as well as broadly cultural that often encompassed the works or practice of Iraqi artists living outside Iraq compared with those living inside Iraq.

The answers to most of these questions reflect on many common issues experienced by other artists of other nationalities who find themselves either out of their homelands or are within their homelands who, exposed to different influences from everywhere, will have to, sooner or later, deal with issues of identity.

Here is where the artist has another important role; that of the public intellectual. More and more artists now recognize that to be serious about their art is to consider and address the public nature of art, to realize that not only it is beyond private communication – even if the language can be intensely personal -- but also that art does have something to say about what's happening outside the canvas.

This is the path for artists in Cebu to develop if art in Cebu is to go beyond just being pretty distractions.

11.22.07 kulturnatib

The thrill of aerial acrobatics

In May this year, I did volunteer work. I volunteered with Jumpoff Point, an outdoor activities and outfitter company. These guys are good friends and they, indeed, are good company. The work, wasn't work as such, but really was more like play. It was loads of fun.

The group was facilitating a multi-discipline, multi-stage outdoor event for another company; A fitness gym celebrating their anniversary. As a volunteer I was assigned to be the belayer in the rapelling section. I wrote about the experience in a subsequent column and concluded that everybody should, at least once in their life, experience rapelling.

This was a very good exercise in fear management and being able to trust and let go and embrace the joy of falling and being suspended in space, briefly, if one gets it right and for an agonizingly long time -- even if it really is just a few minutes at most --, if something goes awry, which it did for many participants.

In the column I admitted not having done before what I was being asked to do: to belay. But I had seen it done many times before that I was fairly confident that I could handle it. What I didn't admit in that column was that I had not rapelled ever before either.

The opportunity to do just that came months later. Last October 31, the performance art group XO? Did a performance event at Tapas Lounge, entitled 'Urum,' which was inspired by that famous print of the Spanish artist Goya entitled 'The Sleep Of Reason Engenders Monsters.'

This was one performance that could be said to really be a group effort. In the other performances, we would normally have individual works within the context of a shared theme. This time around, we worked together with theme that was suggested by Raymund Fernandez, XO? mentor and main mover.

As we discussed it, we came up with suggestions on how our individual performances would fit within a single narrative even while possible providing its own sub-narratives. From the way the suggestions flowed very easily and how everyone was contributing ideas to everyone other's idea or sub-production we knew we had or were going to make an important step forward in the development of XO?.

My sub-performance was going to be to hang from the ceiling of Tapas Lounge and swing around – at this point I only had a vague idea as to how this was going to be done – kissing plastic toy bats that was going to be tied with Chinese garters (long rubber bands) that were to be released from a bag by the previous performer who would, at the same time, act as the pivotal element of the entire performance.

So. I asked Doc Espina who works with Jumpoff to help me pull off this act. He is the ropes specialist in the group. As one of the more enthusiastic supporters of XO? he was more than willing to lend a hand.

On the day of the performance we went to the Tapas Lounge which, in the daytime is a beauty salon, to check on ceiling supports and to figure out the rope rigging plan in general and, in particular, how I would pull off my act.

We discussed what I wanted to do and how this could be done based on the physical possibilities with the architectural structure at Tapas. We agreed on a rigging plan. I practiced with a similar set-up, learning to work with a piece of equipment normally used in caving or in rescuing which I was unfamiliar with, at least in its operating detail.

An hour later we were back at Tapas to set up the ropes and for me to try it out. This was when I realized that this was really easier said or written about than done. I could hear echoes of Ariel, who was the' rapelling team leader during that summer event I volunteered with, saying, “Don't be afraid. Trust the rope, trust the rope!” Only this time around it was Doc doing the encouraging.

Performance time rolled around. Soon I was climbing down from the railings of the second floor. Before I knew it I was hanging from the rope. I was doing acrobatics. I was upside down. I was reaching for the bats. Paper bats not plastic. I was theatrically kissing them.

Both Doc and Dondon, another Jumpoff mainstay, were surprised. I said nothing about doing acrobatics. Doc, so much so that he forgot our exit routine. I was frantically signaling him that he had to check my descent as I saw that the rope was too slack.

I let go. I hit the floor with more impact that I had anticipated. But, I was safe.

The performance went off well. A teacher guest said so as she asked whether she could invite us to their school. Why not, I said, looking the rope rigging on the ceiling, and thinking, can I do ropes there?

11.08.07 kulturnatib

Technology

Two friends recently moved into our world of modern technology, particularly computer and computer driven technology. One, after many years of ignoring and, the other, actively avoiding it.

One of them is my mother. She is not as averse to technology as she is avowed in her belief of being too old to learn how to work technology and, in turn, how technology works.

Some years back I gave her a cellphone for her birthday. This was before the cellphone became a camera-cum-radio-cum-digital recorder-cum-organizer-cum-internet surfer-cum-almost everything else.

She was happy enough to receive it. But, she was just as happy to return it a week later. “I just don't think I can learn how to work this,” she said. “And, the keys are awfully small. These are only good for a baby's tiny digits.”

“Oh, well,” was the only thing I could say.

The other week I was on the phone with her asking if I could store some of my stuff at her house. Which stuff, she asked. This and that, I said. What about your computer, she asked next. What about it? Maybe you can just leave it with me, she said, straightforward.

Hmmm, I thought. Ok, I said. I wondered, why the turn around? Computers are practically like cellphones for her, even if its keys are slightly bigger than a cellphone's. “I still continue to write workbooks,” Mom said by way of explaining. “I have a co-teacher who will help me learn how to use the computer.”

Great, I said. But, the computer is presently with the computer doctor. There is something wrong with the power supply. I might need to buy a replacement. I will bring it over as soon as it is fixed.

After I copy my files into an external hard drive, clean up that computer's hard drives – it has more than one --, optimize the system, delete or uninstall vector graphics software that you won't need. But I kept this to myself. This would be information overload for my Mom.

The other friend is Ludo. He always jokes about being the other half of that famous multi-billion though now severed business duo, Ludo&Luym.

The other claim he makes is that he is only a simple farmer. That, he is. One with an extraordinary green thumb. Yet, the only farming he does much of now is planting the seeds of language, another language in students seeking to learn those.

This he does well, too. So much, that he is in demand by people who are going abroad seeking better paying jobs and jobs from abroad seeking cheaper workers here. In both cases, learning another language is essential.

A common complaint of the former group is that Ludo is inaccessible. The only way to get to talk to him is to go to him. He doesn't have a cellphone. He holds cellphones in disdain. “If it's important enough then one should take pains to say it in person,” he maintains. “Cellphones only make conversation too cheap to the point of having no value anymore.”

He doesn't put too much stock on computers, either. I have my own desktop, he says with a mischievous grin. It's a small white board he uses for his classes. It's always on top of my desk, he explains, deadpan.

But, now he is working with a real computer. He has students from as far away as France. They have to conduct their classes through computers. He is resigned to it. He is even genuinely amazed that such classes can be conducted through video-conferencing.

I'm thinking of these two as I read this book, “In The Absence of the Sacred : The Failure of Technology and the Survival of the Indian Nations.”

The author, Gerry Mander (yup, that's his name) says that the present computer driven technology will, most seriously, eventually lead to -- even as it is now -- concentrating power in a few corporations, increase the loss and invasion of privacy, drive consumption to unsustainable levels and seriously threaten our biosphere with us in it.

He says we have much to learn from the indians, indigenous people – many in our own country -- who, even now, battle against threats against their way of life, their land, their belief that everything is connected, that you cannot desecrate land by poisoning it, by disemboweling it without threatening the intricate web of life.

This is not an easy read. Mostly because it is difficult for us to imagine, let alone live, an alternate life without ringtones, sick jokes, easy access pornography, super violent games but also wikipedia, ebay, www.greenpeace.com. Etc.

11.15.07 kulturnatib

Nikel

This story from a colleague with this paper.

Late one night, as she was coming down from the newspaper's building, she saw another colleague outside chatting with the guard.

She also saw that there was a small boy, a street child, who was hiding behind one of those dead and mocking ASEAN street lamps. She thought that the boy was somehow playing with the colleague. Throwing pebbles at him then, perhaps, hiding to confuse the colleague, she theorized.

So, she called this colleague's attention to the fact of the boy who was behind them. The guard also looks towards the direction of the street lamp, a few of which decorate the sidewalk outside the office, something of a continuing dare to the press to expose the utter vapidity of this non-project.

The guard somehow had a different theory as to why the boy was there. He called the boy's attention and approached the boy.

The guard's theory turned out to be the more accurate one. As with most theories that mostly non-theorist guards have, his theory one was born of experience.

The boy instead of playing, was busy working, though disguising it as play. He was busy pulling out the electrical wiring in the lamp. In between pulls, he would prance around. An ingenious way to pull the wool over the eyes of otherwise observant journalists and other passersby.

Such is the education of the streets and the producing of street smart, if criminally inclined, kids.

So, the guard confiscates the already considerable roll of wire the boy had already managed to pull out. He then proceeds with his own brand of values formation for the boy. This constitutes of appealing to the boy's sense of class identification.

The guard says they are not so different, the only difference is that he has a job to help keep poverty at bay. So, the boy, and others like him who abound in that part of town and all over town in fact, should not threaten his job that because of what they are doing makes it look like he isn't doing it. He will turn the roll of wire over to the police. That is within the purview of his job. Guess what the police will do with it?

The boy responds by saying, but sir, that is only nikel. It is worthless.

That is no typographical error. Nikel is different from nickel. Nikel is the short of nikelado, which is chrome-electroplated metal, and which is close to worthless compared to copper that the guard said these boys could easily make P200 from from whatever they could pull out from those lamps as they sell these to junk shops.

The boy was merely and ingeniously making his own feint in claiming copper to be mere nikel. I bet my college educated nephews would not be able to make such a feint should they be caught in the same bind.

In any case, as Raymund Fernandez has been writing about the Golden Shopping Bag Awards that he says should otherwise now be the Doggie Bag Awards, ordinary citizens like this boy are already submitting their entries, not in the way that the awards stipulate. But, in the way that allows them to win instant prizes, even if, every time they do so, they run the risk of running afoul of the law, or conscientious, if forgiving and sympathetic, security guards.

And this, apparently as the security guard further theorized, is happening in a widespread way across the city or cities of Cebu, Mandaue and Lapu-lapu. He says that most of these lamps would no longer function. Not because they were never really meant to function. How will these cities fund their operation when such operation is not part of their budgets?

Besides, why will the mayors care if they function at all? They did for a while, right? It was meant to make us look good before the ASEAN delegates and it did, right? At least, until the stink of corruption in the cities of Mandaue and Lapu-lapu exposed the terrible irony of these 'beautification lamps.' But, by then the delegates were already gone. And they couldn't really care less, anyway.

So between the 'beauty' of a corrupt project, with the responsible mayors still laughing all the way to the bank, their chances of prosecution getting dimmer by the day and the 'beauty' of necessity that boys all over the city resort to in order to eke out a living, a dim proposition to begin with, is the middle-class 'beauty' of the Golden Shopping Bag or now Doggie Bag awards.

Who wants to bet whose 'beauty' will prevail?

10.30.07 art review

Artpostles

In religion, humility is among the most desired of virtues. In art, it is audacity. Audacity is not the same as pride though it is often mistaken for such, making it appear like the antithesis of humility.

In "Art Diocese : Why Art Thou?," a show on-going at the SM Art Center, SM City Cebu, and up until November 6, audacity is as palpable as their subject is as deeply entrenched culturally if not spiritually amongst us.

There is humility, too, it should be said immediately, though this is more deferential as can be expected of confessed faithful members of the flock ("the exhibit is not intended to make a pun to the authority of the archdiocese"), yet cannot be any more than that as expected from artists whose gospel, contained in the exhibit statement (from where the above quote is also taken), proclaims at " . . . revisioning to a point where the artists investigated its old traditions to come up with conceptual forms attuned to post-modern times."
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The Tuslob-Buwa Ltd. (though it should more properly be UnLtd.) Artists Group, composed of Evan Bejec, Dennis 'Sio' Montera, Ritchie Quijano and Lucilo 'Jojo' Sagayno have put together a show that, in all humility, they call a 'major' show, their last for this year, but for all its audacity should be seen as the best show for this year. Even in many years so far. And not only for their group, but for art in general in the city.

For one, more than in their previous two outings this year, this show exhibits an almost seamless cohesiveness that is nothing short of miraculous for a group of different or individual artistic temperaments, stylistic leanings and technical or conceptual proficiency.

This can be attributed largely to the fact that many of the pieces are collaborative works, which could really be the strength of groups though it could just as well be the cause of schism, as with many unfortunate cases. Here, thankfully, it is most of the former and, evidently, none of the latter.

On this score, "Santisima Nombre de Jesus," a large scale wall installation made of rattan skin and abaca rope that dominates the wall opposite the entrance, is an immediate case in point.

Together with the the life-size reinforcing steel bar, wood and assorted images crucifix of Ritchie Quijano ("Crucifixion de Kabilya") that stands very imposingly in the middle of the wall and divides the wall installation into a very dynamic symmetry, this sculptures-cum-installation recall the triumphal entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday that ends many days later in Golgotha.

These are by no means the cute and handy palm fronds peddled outside churches on Palm Sunday. They are huge bunches of clearly organic material whose chaos is barely restrained by a wound abaca rope giving it a quality that strongly strikes one as sinisterly chaotic grace.

Going back to Quijano's crucifix, this work is the pivot of the entire exhibit both spatially and thematically. Quijano's choice of material feeds very well into the conflicts or weights of the broken Christ; strength and weakness, grace and rigidness, salvation and despair, mortality and immortality and, for the church herself; orthodoxy and heterodoxy. This, then, also contributes to its very striking visual impact.

Towards the right wall (or towards the left from the entrance) are the installations of Jojo Sagayno that, I confess, I find most interesting. These works stamp the group with a seriousness of purpose beyond the traffic of the buying and selling of art -- which, I should also immediately confess, I do not find inherently objectionable -- even if, or ironically since it was Jojo himself who made an impassioned plea to the audience during the exhibit opening, that they should "buy an artwork before you die."
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These works also confirm Sagayno's place as one of Cebu's most thought provoking if self-deprecating conceptual/installation artist.

Playing on the 'cross and sword'' dynamic of the Spanish conquest, Sagayno starts from the most literal imagery of nothing more than a cross and a sword. But its simplicity ends here though the fact that it continues be a disarmingly simple pieces is its poetic coup de grace.

For both pieces, the shapes are formed by sticks. For the cross, they are longer sticks: broomsticks. For the sword, they are shorter sticks: toothpick like. For both, the sticks are held in place by mounting gum, or, perhaps, playdoh.

They look fragile. They are fragile. But, collectively they are big. The cross must be around four meters by three. The sword about 3 meters in length from the end of the handle to the tip of the blade.

The cross-sticks is laid on the ground. The sword-sticks is on the wall overlooking (overseeing?) the cross. A subtle but very ingenious way to present the power relations between two institutions that underpinned the realpolitik of conquest.

Also, another thing. the cross is a positive image, though more a thick outline than a filled up object, while the sword is a negative one with the sticks radiating away from the edges that make up the figure.

But, here is the kicker: the sticks are tethered very tentatively on their mounting gum anchors. Already at the exhibit opening some of the sword-sticks have started to fall and some of the cross-sticks had started to topple down.

No power is permanent. Even, God forbid, that of the cross. Nor of the sword that propped it up.

But then, and here is an even bigger kicker; doesn't this run neatly into the there/not there paradox? Doesn't absence often become a greater presence? Ask someone in love who has lost a love.

I discussed this with Sagayno and he smiled. That's how it's supposed to be, he says. Nice.

Then there is another Sagayno, "Auction No. 1 to No.20 On the face of it, it looks out of place. But upon closer inspection the wickedly inventive art of Sagayno shines through.

With this work, Sagayno turns some tables. He shifts the spotlight. It is now on art or the art practice at the rarefied air of international art auctions (Christie's, Sotheby's) which, if art were a religion, these would be akin to the celebration of mass in a cathedral, or at the Sistine Chapel even. This is definitely Papal level, no disrespect to the Pope.

Pronouncements here are Ex Cathedra. And, what would those pronouncements be? They would be pronouncements of the auction gavel closing a sale. Contained within the reproductions of auctioned art works are their selling or closing prices.

The prices range from US$66,000 to US$ 3.99 M. Why an artwork in black with the text Mar. 31, 1975 in white sold for US$316,000 is simply a mystery as deep as the mystery of the trinity. Again, no disrespect to the triune God.

Then, there more notable collaborative pieces found on the left hand side of the space (or right side from the entrance). "Council of Trent," a collaborative work repositions that conclave, between 1545-1563, signaling the beginning of the Counter-Reformation is on a chess board, with personalities who might not have any actual correspondence in actual history, as the pieces.

Next to the chess table is the work, "Peticiones de Kwitis." This is the usual candle rack near churches where the faithful light candles or the candle vendor does the chore for them. Lighting candles assist the ascent of prayers to Heaven.

But, here, instead of candles, the rack is filled up with fireworks rockets, complete with their bamboo stick stabilizers.

On the visual level, they look like a petal-less, flame-less bouquet. On the content level, it is a tongue-in-cheek suggestion at how those prayers might be better assisted with rockets such as these that zoom to the heavens and explode with a noise that will surely wake up the sleepiest of saints, or otherwise, scare the most cantankerous of devils.

Then there are the smaller pieces, too numerous to enumerate here. They are the ones that Sagayno's earlier appeal would make sense with, for those of us who have less than deep pockets.

Still, this show is not about deep pockets, notwithstanding Sagayno's appeal. This exhibit is about the deep repository of poetics even folksy hermeneutics that will surely resonate with the faithful, the not so faithful and even the faithless.

In this way, even with some minor distracting pieces, the exhibit can be said to be faithfully Catholic.

10.30.07 kulturnatib

An open letter to Rep. Eduardo Gullas

Thank you for regularly sending me materials intended for members of the press, though I have not particularly solicited them.

Your last missive, I received recently, is entitled, 'Pardoning Erap Right Thing To Do, Says Gullas.”

After this title, the first sentence goes: Constitutionally perfect and politically correct.

I couldn't help thinking upon reading this that, yes, the creation of the City of Talisay was also constitutionally perfect and politically correct, including the insertion, in the implementing rules, of an exception on the residency rule that
normally applies to those running for an elective position.

This exemption allowed your candidacy for mayor in the said city where you would not have been eligible without that exemption and, consequently, would not be rhapsodized by your successor as being “responsible in the establishment of this gigantic structure . . . builder of other institutional structures of our beloved city,” etc. etc. etc.

This is rather typical of the politics of the rich and powerful of this country where legality is assiduously sought after even if to get there involves not-so-subtle maneuvers and all too obvious self-serving and cynical manipulation of the law.

But, this is directly not about that. There is nothing much to be done about the gigantic and other institutional structures that the Talisaynons are unfortunate, ignorant or unvigilant to have been ushered into cityhood with.

When you say that “We applaud the President's judgment. The grant of pardon was definitely the right thing to do,” who is it along with you that constitutes your we?

You then proceed to educate us on how constitutional, legal and correct the decision of GMA is. All that is Philippine Constitution 101. But, for all your learned elucidation, it somehow misses the point.

At least from the point of view of the most of us whose millions in tax money Erap has been convicted of having stolen, of having brazenly turned the Office of the President into the den of thieves, rackeeters, corruptors and of betraying the mandate of the majority who voted for him.

And what do we get in exchange for the pardon? Erap's shuffling into the limelight once again declaring in all confidence that of all the mistakes (!) he has committed corruption is not among them! Not a hint of remorse, instead, a defiance born of a gamblers insatiable greed and reckless faith that the loser is one who fails to risk a bet.

Except that he has bet with taxpayers money, and not at all your small-time bet at that. These were huge bets, the biggest and most damaging of which was the institutional respect for Presidency and the consequently the moral integrity of government.

Erap is, of course, not a unique figure in our history. But, he is unique in that, despite all odds and the various machinations of those in and out of government, the people of the Philippines together with a determined group of government and private prosecutors have won a landmark victory.

It is this victory that all crooks in government, and they are legion, should rightly be afraid of. For once, a clear precedent has been set. The powerful, after all, can and will be made to face the judgment of law. They will be found wanting, as the case may be, and will be meted punishment accordingly.

For too long, the rich and powerful have gotten away with all sorts crimes, not the least of which is plunder. For too long the powerless have had had to dance to the tunes of the rich and powerful, helpless and hopeless, lamenting, “What can we do?”

And, now, this pardon. Truly, what can we do?

At the ending, you say, "Whether or not he was punished enough for the offenses for which he was convicted is arguable. But what is important is that he was punished -- deprived of liberty for years. And this is what crime and punishment is all about.”

First off, there is a specific punishment for his crime. Clearly this hasn't been complied with. There is, or should be no argument here. What is important is that he was punished? How? In his own mansion? With all the amenities that by all rights every prisoner undergoing 'punishment' should also be entitled to?

Clearly, if this is justice, then there is one for Erap and the powerful and another for the ordinary Juan de la Cruz who populate our squalid, sub-human penitentiaries – notwithstanding fleeting starhood on U-Tube -- subjected to every imaginable indignity that by all rights should be considered cruel and inhuman punishment.

At least, you have openly declared your support and loyalty for GMA, while others, pussyfoot despite the largess they collect for the same support and loyalty.

As for me, I shall wear the black armband.