Bagong post, lumang sulatin

After losing most of my back files to (now) non-functional floppy disks and house-hopping, I tried 'googling' (aba! verb na pala ito!), hoping to locate previous articles and art reviews I couldn't find copies of (archiving has recently become a pastime).

Some offhand results: old reviews of shows by Pete Jimenez, Rock Drilon, Briccio Santos, and Pete Daroy in the PDI, circa 2003. Art for Oust's Sake, an article for Bulatlat which I thoroughly enjoyed doing. And a review of Displaying Filipinos way back in 1998.

Also found the text of a tribute to Anakpawis Mindoro Oriental Secretary-General Isaias Manano Jr., who was murdered by assassins on April 28, 2004. Isaias, a dear friend, was among the first Anakpawis leaders to have been killed under the Arroyo administration during the 2004 elections. Th statistics have risen to atrocious highs since then; rarely does it sink in that the victims were real people with hopes, dreams and stories to tell.

Of Dissidents, Déjà vu and the DOJ

There was a forum on the ‘Cuban Five’ held a few days ago at UP Manila sponsored by Amistad, the Philippine-Cuban Friendship society. After rushing around QC the entire morning and afternoon, we figured that we could make it to the activity and went to attend.

I don’t know why, but entering the CAS Building in UP Manila for the first time suddenly filled me with saccharine distaste and dread. Maybe because of its startling nearness to the Department of Justice (both in terms of proximity, architectural structure and design motifs), which certain odious, ethically-unstable and morally-bankrupt mammals are known to inhabit on weekdays, office hours mostly (yuch!).

Maybe all had to do with the architectural history of the Padre Faura compound, where UP Manila, the PGH and the DOJ all are. But it was an eerie perception nonetheless: stepping into the cramped CAS Building and feeling as if I had been transported into the bowels of the Justice Secretary’s fiefdom just a stone’s throw or a bakod away. A few months back, after a picket in front of the DOJ to protest the political harassment against Ka Bel, I spent a few minutes inside the DOJ building to look for an acquaintance, secretly hoping that I wouldn’t come across my favorite character, a certain antiquated loony, there.

Anyway, we managed to make it in time for the forum, catching the first few minutes of a documentary on the five Cuban nationals arrested in Florida in 1998 and convicted by the US federal court in Miami on more than 20 counts, facing life sentences. For monitoring the movements of exiled groups suspected of carrying out US-sponsored terrorist activities which have killed around three thousand Cubans, the Cuban Five were subjected to a year and a half in solitary confinement while the trial was ongoing and are now jailed in total isolation from the world. But in Cuba and in other countries, thousands of people are clamoring for their release and hailing the five men as heroes for their motherland.

The appalling judicial spectacles in the case of the Cuban Five in the US were all too familiar, hit too close to home: after an Appeals Court in Georgia unanimously overturned the Miami court’s ruling convicting the Five, its plenary inexplicably and suddenly issued a reconsideration of its finding August last year. This indefinitely extends the Five’s unjust detention—definitely an unwelcome development since they have already spent around eight years alone in jail to date.

Suddenly, the US court’s flipflop painfully reminded me of Ka Crispin Beltran’s legal quest for liberty under the Arroyo dictatorship, the prospects of gaining a just and prompt resolution seem to be equivalent to winning the Sweepstakes jackpot thrice in a row (in short: asa ka pa!).

Take this: a day after the declaration of a ‘State of Emergency’, Ka Bel is accosted by fully-armed police and ‘invited for questioning’ to the Camp Crame. There, he is arrested and detained using an antiquated and void 21-year old warrant (normally you’d think that such a document would have more historical than utilitarian value). Absolutely absurd! His lawyers prepare to haul him out of jail. Then, in the middle of the night, Ka Bel is brought to a QC court where charges of sedition are to be filed against him. His lawyers patiently point out that Ka Bel as a congressman has immunity from arrest in such cases, so please quit the pathetic charade and set him free. The police don’t, and keep him in solitary detention instead. Then, Ka Bel is ‘invited for a medical check-up at the PNP Hospital’ but is brought to the CIDG instead where this time and against his will, (tadaa!!!) DOJ prosecutors hold another “inquest” where rebellion charges concocted out of thin air are used to further justify his arrest and detention. Given a chance, maybe the DOJ would have also accused Ka Bel of killing Jose Rizal and Andres Bonifacio.

Mga loko talaga. Kung ako lang ang tatanungin, hindi na dapat sineryoso yang DOJ at ang PNP. If it were only that easy to just snub their existence and simply consign them to the dumping grounds and garbage impactors of history for being such freaks! But the sad reality is that the state is in a position to use coercive force. It’s not a simple case of deciding to ‘make patol’ or not (as GMA would say in her colegiala Tagalog), or saying ‘deeeal’ or ‘no deeeeeal!’ (complete with Kris Aquino’s hand gestures) and walking out of the studio, chin held up high. Ka Bel’s in jail for eight months and counting, his captors from the PNP, DOJ and the Palace aren’t.

If it were only that easy to say that Ka Bel’s illegal arrest and arbitrary detention will eventually be vindicated by the courts. The legal battle for Ka Bel’s freedom, unfortunately, only showcases how dysfunctional the Philippine justice system can get under the Arroyo (or any other anti-people) administration. Some notes during the past eight months of Ka Bel’s continuing ordeal: The first judge junks the rebellion charge against the Batasan 5 and allows Ka Bel’s much-needed transfer to a hospital, and is suspiciously asked by the DOJ to inhibit herself from the case. The case is raffled off to a second judge who, in a three-sentence order and in undue haste, affirms that there is probable cause in Ka Bel’s case and issues the equivalent of a retroactive warrant of arrest—then suddenly inhibits from the case when Ka Bel’s lawyers indignantly protest the ruling. The third judge reverses first judge’s decision and consolidates Ka Bel’s case with that of the Batasan 6. The fourth judge only adds another rubber stamp to Ka Bel’s detention by denying the Motion for Reconsideration on second judge’s decision on probable cause.

Ka Bel’s lawyers are now planning to bring the case up to the Supreme Court. Ka Bel also recently filed a case at the Ombudsman against his captors, but I’m not getting my hopes high in the aftermath of the Ombudswoman’s lutong macao ruling on the controversial Mega-Pacific deal.

All throughout these developments, the DOJ and its prosecutors have done absolutely nothing to ensure the dispensation of due process, or even humanitarian consideration. It has adjudged Ka Bel guilty even in the presence of incontrovertible evidence proving otherwise. It has filed charge after charge, no matter how fabricated, just to ensure that Ka Bel stays in jail. It has called for a “speedy trial”, at a time when the Batasan 6 have appealed to suspend the hearings, as the Supreme Court said. It has even coldly opposed Ka Bel’s appeal to be transferred to a REAL hospital (the PNP Hospital being nothing but a glorified first aid kit) for urgent medical treatment.

The details of their detention and their legal struggles for liberty are sordid and appalling enough, but this has not, in any way, broken the morale or the fighting spirits of political prisoners such as the Cuban Five and of Ka Bel. They may be on different sides of the globe, but they share the same dream that another world is possible: a world where imperialist domination shall cease to be, where resources and services may be more equitably distributed among the people and among countries, where people will be able to live out their full potential as human beings and not be tied down to problems as basic as hunger and survival. They have a clear perspective of what they are struggling for, and will not easily bow to the repressive mechanisms of the colluding powers-that-be.

-----------------------

Speaking of Cuba, Granma International recently published a short article by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (yes, of the One Hundred Years of Solitude fame) entitled The Fidel Castro Whom I Know. By all means, log on now to Granma’s site and do read the work, it’s an extraordinary, awe-inspiring and intimate profile of the Fidel Castro whom you and I on this side of the impoverished world do not know.

Some excerpts:

“HIS devotion to the word. His power of seduction. He goes to seek out problems where they are. The impetus of inspiration is very much part of his style. Books reflect the breadth of his tastes very well. He stopped smoking to have the moral authority to combat tobacco addiction. He likes to prepare food recipes with a kind of scientific fervor. He keeps himself in excellent physical condition with various hours of gymnastics daily and frequent swimming. Invincible patience. Ironclad discipline. The force of his imagination stretches him to the unforeseen. As important as learning to work is to learn how to rest…”

“…He has the habit of firing rapid questions….[that] he makes in instantaneous bursts until discovering the whys and wherefores of the whys and wherefores of the final whys and wherefores. When a visitor from Latin America gave him a hasty figure on the rice consumption of his compatriots, he made his mental calculations and said: “How odd, each person eats four pounds of rice per day.” His masterly tactic is to ask about things that he knows, to confirm his information. And in certain cases to measure the caliber of his interlocutor, and deal with him/her accordingly…”

“…When he talks with people in the street, his conversation regains the expressiveness and crude frankness of genuine affection. They call him: Fidel. They surround him without risks, they address him informally, they argue with him, they contradict him, they claim him, with a channel of immediate transmission from which the truth gushes forth. It is then that one discovers the unusual human being that the reflection of his own image does not let us see. This is the Fidel Castro that I believe I know. A man of austere habits and insatiable illusions, with an old-fashioned formal education of cautious words and subdued tones and incapable of conceiving any idea that is not colossal…

“…He dreams that his scientists will find the final cure for cancer and has created a foreign policy of world reach in an island that is 84 times smaller than that of his principal enemy. He has the conviction that the greatest achievement of human beings is the solid training of their conscience and that moral incentives, more than material ones, are capable of changing the world and driving history.”

Collegian Under Assault

I spent a substantial portion of my college life writing and editing for the Philippine Collegian. If only for sentimental reasons, being in Kule yielded experiences that I wouldn’t have traded for anything else in the world: having late-night meaning-of-life conversations, interviewing all sorts of people, documenting events in Diliman and beyond, negotiating a libel case, and engaging in confrontations of all types and intensities. Colleagues who I worked with until the crack of dawn became my closest friends or comrades—Mykel, Raffy, Boom, Iris, Faj, Jordan, Charlie, and all. And it was in the course of doing research for articles and finding speakers for the Kule’s weekly EDs (educational discussions) where I met my husband.

I had my share of political awakenings through Kule. It was here, in Solidaridad and in CEGP where we worked with other student papers struggling against repression, harassment, technical deficiencies, and financial difficulties. Through Kule, we met activists such as Donato Continente, now free after being unjustly jailed on false charges for over fifteen years.

For all the locking of horns that being committed entails, being in Kule eventually made me realize how sweet and precious it was to be able to freely fight for the right principles. And how imperative it was to protect that freedom at all costs.

Which is why I was flabbergasted, if only for a few seconds, to hear from a staffer during the September 21 rally how that the UP administration has blocked Kule from printing its issues for over a month already. Unbelievable. Never in recent history has the Kule been ever subjected to such outright and actual financial hostaging by the administration.The fact that the Kule’s funds are now being witheld against the will of this year’s editorial board only speaks of the blunt and blatant coercion being employed by University officials.

Up to this writing, the administration reportedly refuses to disburse the Kule’s printing funds. From being among the three weekly student papers circulated throughout the Philippines, this year’s Kule has been confined to merely uploading updates on its website and e-group. A few days back, its writers began reading aloud their articles in the AS Lobby, in the absence of an actual printed issue. I’m not sure if Kule has resorted to DIY publishing as a peryodikit, but wouldn’t be surprised if it does so soon. For all the trouble they’ve been through for the past few weeks, it’s admirable for the present Kule staff to be fighting for their right to remain free.

Never would I consent to the Collegian being manacled like a slave. And, I hope, neither do you. Fight for freedom and autonomy, support the campaign at www.philippinecollegian.net.

33 Daw (sfx: evil laugh)

You Are 33 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Incarcerated But Undaunted

(published in www.bulatlat.com)

Crispin Beltran, 73 years old and hypertensive, could be mistaken for an ordinary senior citizen confined at the Philippine Heart Center (PHC) for Asia in Quezon City. But having two armed Philippine National Police (PNP) personnel stationed outside his room and their companions prowling the nearby corridors shows otherwise.

Beltran, veteran labor leader turned parliamentarian, will be spending his fourth month of detention under police custody at the Room 429 of this hospital. To date, he has already spent two months at the PHC, two months at the General Hospital of Camp Crame, and one week in solitary imprisonment since his arrest by the PNP last February 25. Yet Beltran, or Ka Bel (Comrade Bel) as he is more popularly known, generally remains undaunted, knowing that these days only signify a lull before the storm.

At Camp Crame

Inside Ka Bel’s room, it is impossible not to be reminded of the political crisis. Stickers bearing the slogan Free Ka Bel Now! End political harassment! are all over the room. Decorating the bare walls is a black-and-white poster with the six party-list representatives from Bayan Muna (People First), Anakpawis (Toiling Masses) and Gabriela Women’s Party (GWP). Hung next to his bedside are two canvas ‘bibs’, with the words P125, Ipaglaban! (Fight for a P125 [legislated wage increase for workers]) and Cha-Cha, Ibasura! (Junk Charter Change!).

These are the same issues that Ka Bel has been advocating as Anakpawis party-list representative before being arrested without a warrant by the PNP on February 25, 2006, a day after President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo declared a state of national emergency through Presidential Proclamation (PP) 1017.

PP 1017 was later declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court of the Philippines. But Beltran continues to be detained under false and fabricated charges of inciting to rebellion—a charge that the Department of Justice (DOJ) also slapped against at least 51 other individuals, including Beltran's colleagues from the progressive party-list bloc in the House of Representatives.

Beltran was the only one among the six who was caught and detained at Camp Crame. Despite suffering from hypertension and a minor stroke two years ago, Ka Bel was forcibly detained in an isolated cell at Camp Crame and subjected to a sham inquest proceeding a day after.

At first, the PNP jailed Ka Bel at the Custodial Center of Camp Crame for a week, treating him like a high-profile criminal. He was confined in a solitary cell: a bare rectangular space measuring around 2 meters by 4 meters with steel bars on one end. Fully-armed police personnel guarded the hallways, and food was served tied up in little plastic bags, he said.

“Kung ano ang sitwasyon ko noong 1982 ay ganoon din ngayong 2006,” (My situation in 1982 is the same as now in 2006.) Ka Bel recalled of that period of incarceration at the Custodial Center.

Beltran was jailed and tortured as a political prisoner under Martial Law, along with the late Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU or May First Movement) Chairperson Felixberto “Ka Bert” Olalia, in Camp Crame in 1982. Ka Bel eventually escaped from prison and fled the city, while Ka Bert eventually succumbed to a heart attack while in prison. The rebellion charges filed against Beltran were eventually dropped by the Aquino administration after Pres. Ferdinand Marcos was overthrown by People Power in 1986.

A detention cell

Despite his resolve to remain strong, Ka Bel experiences recurring nightmares about being tortured again and even assassinated while in the Custodial Center.

This contributed to the further deterioration of the 73-year old solon’s health. By March 2, Ka Bel's dangerously high blood pressure levels compelled the police to transfer him to the camp's General Hospital—not much of a difference, in retrospect, as the place did not have adequate medical facilities or services.

The transfer did little to lessen his agitated state. Nonchalant and inconsistent medical services forced them to double-check his health, Beltran's nightmares about being assassinated while in police custody continued, and sudden incursions by police clad in full battle gear into his room kept him in a state of red alert and worry, he said. Reporters were also barred from visiting his room.

“This is not a hospital, this is a detention cell,” Ka Bel and his family members said.

“Sa PNP General Hospital, wala akong panahon para mag-relax. Palaging okupado ang isipan at apprehensive kami sa mga guwardiya, dahil nasa bituka kami ng kaaway,” ( I do not have time to relax while at the PNP General Hospital. My mind is always occupied and we are apprehensive of the guards. We are right inside the enemy’s territory.) Beltran said.

To keep him distracted, Ka Bel's family and staff began bringing him newspapers and documents for him to read. An old typewriter and pad paper were brought into the room, where he would compose letters to friends and colleagues and statements to media about various issues. A laptop belonging to one of his kids was also brought in, as Ka Bel wanted to learn how to use a computer.

Change of scenery

On April 24, the Makati Regional Trial Court finally granted Beltran permission to transfer to the Heart Center for humanitarian reasons, despite the objections of the PNP and the DOJ. After nearly two days of waiting, Ka Bel was finally transferred to Room 429 of the PHC.

The transfer to the Heart Center was a change of scenery for Ka Bel. There, he was finally able to undergo a battery of much-needed medical tests, monitoring and rest.

It was also there where Ka Bel spent his first Labor Day away from the traditional street demonstrations in Manila. As a former chairperson of the KMU, the largest militant labor center in the Philippines, Beltran registered a “perfect attendance” at all Labor Day rallies since People Power 1 in 1986. His frustration and sadness over this year’s absence was somewhat eased by a fellow patient's celebration of her birthday party on May 1, in the adjoining room, he recalled.

Deprived of the right to go home, Ka Bel's family and 27 grandchildren regularly attend to him at the hospital, bringing fruits and running small errands for their Lolo Di (Grandfather Di). On weekends, his grandchildren cuddle up on Ka Bel's bed to watch cartoon reruns and sports matches on TV.

During the long afternoons, Ka Bel avidly watches boxing, his favorite sport, on television. His love for the sport is such that even his family and visitors find it hard to distract him from glancing at the blow-by-blow matches every now and then.

Ka Bel's family time is occasionally interrupted as visitors from all walks of life drop by during hospital hours: legal counsels and human rights lawyers, activists, congressional staff, religious leaders, fellow solons and government officials, labor and peasant leaders, foreign visitors, writers, students, and—somewhat ironically--people seeking medical assistance.

Virtual office

Ka Bel has been kept immobile by his detention, but strives to keep his body and mind strong. Although he devotes an hour each morning for a few rounds of push-ups and stretching exercises along the hospital corridors, Ka Bel said that is still a far cry from his previous dawn “work-outs” of planting vegetables at home as a practicing farmer before going to Congress in the morning.

“Dito [sa ospital], hindi ako gaanong pinapawisan,” (Here in the hospital, I do not sweat a lot from working out.) Ka Bel said, obviously missing the small plot of soil and vegetables he has carefully tended for months.

Nowadays, Ka Bel is usually clad in the PHC's standard hospital gown and slippers. But he quickly dons a red Anakpawis cap with a small Congressional seal, whenever visitors arrive.

This hospital room has also turned into a virtual office. Ka Bel spends his extra time poring over newspapers and books, as he used to during breaks at the House of Representatives. He keeps a can full of pens and pencils beside him, to underline important passages in news stories and quotes.

Barred from attending events ordinary citizens are free to go to, Ka Bel keeps himself updated on the political and economic developments of the day by constantly monitoring the news. Stationed next to his medicines are stacks of documents and reading materials: newspapers, congressional reports, legal documents and books. A small television is kept on for most of the day, and Ka Bel's trusty old radio set is occasionally turned on in order to monitor radio reports.

Prevented from visiting his constituents, the people have taken it upon themselves to go to Ka Bel. Pickets, masses, and group visits are frequently held outside the hospital, the largest to date being a 200-strong strong contingent of peasants from Central Luzon and Southern Tagalog last week.

The hospital room is also turning to be a virtual library. A voracious reader, Ka Bel also finished reading several books while in detention. He barely finished with John Perkins' Confessions of an Economic Hit Man and the handbook Health for the People published by the Council for Health and Development, when he picked up Dante Simbulan's The Modern Principalia and Ibon Foundation's Empty Promises, Empty Stomachs.

Visitors also drop by to give him reading materials. The copies of The Poverty of Memory: Essays on History and Empire (by Red Constantino) and Renato Constantino: A Life Revisited (Rosalinda Pineda-Ofreneo), for instance, are gifts. Outside the room, Ka Bel's custodians are also occasionally seen reading pocketbooks to fight boredom.

Raging against complacency

Despite the lull he experiences in between court hearings, one can sense fire burning inside Ka Bel's calm exterior, especially at this time of intense human rights violations against activists.

“Gusto kong makaganti,” (I want to get even.) he said whenever he hears of more extrajudicial killings of activists, many of whom he has known personally.

At times, sadness and anger overwhelms him whenever visitors and comrades arrive to share stories. Ka Bel's voice breaks, and he temporarily excuses himself for a few minutes inside the comfort room.

Yet the veteran labor leader finds inspiration in the fact that younger mass leaders of progressive organizations continue to remain undaunted and militant despite intensifying political repression.

“They are generally dedicated. Hindi sila natatakot,” (They are not afraid.) Ka Bel said of this younger generation of leaders, perhaps seeing in them the qualities he possessed as a trade union leader decades ago.

Among other things, Ka Bel is now looking forward to critiquing President Arroyo's upcoming State of the Nation Address (SONA) as Congress resumes the remainder of its sessions this July.

“GMA will be drumming up the false gains of her labor export policy and development councils. She will be reiterating her so-called God-given qualities for the Presidency and brag about her non-existent accomplishments, which is so insensitive in the midst of so much landlessness and poverty among the people,” Ka Bel said.

The Arroyo administration may have temporarily prevented Ka Bel from fulfilling his duties as a duly-elected party-list representative of the toiling masses. But from the looks of it, this temporary spate of political repression has affirmed Crispin Beltran's resolve to prepare for a longer fight ahead. Ka Bel may have been slightly immobilized by his arrest and incarceration, but he remains unbent and unbound, remembering how periods such as these have always signified the lull before the coming storm.

Photo above by Jes Aznar

salvaged poem

Reflections on a damp evening in a distant land

You exhibit a translucency
On nights such as these:

Tonight, as smoke
Descends on stars,

When the moon
Is a sliver of nectar
On a dew-spattered plain,

Rumors of exits
Stain monsoons

And seep through mists
Obscuring mountains.

In these dim nights of
Inchoate sadness, you are
Real: wafts of sunlight
Streaked with dust-motes; livid, like the glare
Of languid afternoons. Without you, the night
Acquires a solitary luminescence
As with transience, or rage

or silence.

Unsettling, how the recall of your face

blazes like braziers

On nights such as these.

*ca. 2000. dug this up from the archives of an old moldy notebook. i rededicate this to erika salang, whose valiant story continues to humble us and remind us of the whys and hows.

A Multitude of Muses

Whom the Muses endow, they endow bountifully. In this year's Walong Filipina exhibition last March, the Liongoren Gallery features women artists who have been precisely, bountifully endowed with a multitude of talents spanning the range of arts, and who have chosen to carve their own paths apart from that delineated by the traditional and the predictable.

This year's Walong Filipina exhibition pays homage to a wide range of arts and cultural disciplines. It, for instance, is notable in the sense that it has given space to photography, installation, and graphic art by Filipina cultural workers, as well as focus on women artists who have chosen to depict national minorities and their respective cultures as their subjects. The show has also provided space to women cultural workers who, while already recognized in other fields of the arts, continue to practice their vocations alongside their personal art-production.

Traditional genre such as portraits and landscapes also populate the Walong Filipina show, although not wholly in the predictable sense of the word. The woman artists in this show who utilize traditional artistic media and techniques nonetheless produce fresh images through their choice and depiction of their respective subject matter.

In her Taal Series, for instance, nurse and gallery owner Rollie Yusi utilizes her mastery of watercolour techniques to depict delicate vistas of the popular tourist destination. Taal On A Clear Day, for instance, is modelled through overlapping washes that delineate sky from sea; nuances of pigment evoke the whiff of breeze wafting through coconut leaves, the calm lapping of wind upon lake, islands unfolding through the haze. Works lightly tinged with rose and purple evoke the transition between dawn, dusk, or the calm before a storm. Yusi's enchanting 'lakescapes', so to speak, defamiliarize and make distant a site that has continually been occupying the State's glossy and tourism-oriented ad spiels.

Multi-awarded singer-songwriter Cynthia Alexander alludes to personal narratives in her paintings through the poetic continuity of images. Coming Back, presumably a self-portrait of the artist, discreetly depicts in the background the figure of a woman with an umbrella, back turned to the viewer. In another painting entitled Takipsilim , this same woman is intriguingly depicted as a central image, walking away into a distant and moonlit landscape. Alexander's use of blue and yellow pigments to exclusively delineate light from shadow in the works also convey a tone of mystery in the stories hidden beneath the literal images of the works.

This year's Walong Filipina also features Filipina women artists from the South, and their continuing desire to popularize and document images of traditional ethnic culture. Ligaya Amilbangsa, while foremost known as a groundbreaking scholar and practitioner of the pangalay (a traditional popular festival dance of the Sulu archipelago), displays in this show her lifelong love for the dance . Such a cultural advocacy is overtly reflected in her paintings, such as the self-portrait entitled Pangalay Rising (oil on canvas, 2004). In this work, the artist depicts self throughout the stages of performing the sinuous rhythmic movements of the dance, donning the janggay (extended metal finger nail) while positioned beside a gabbang (Tausug bamboo xylophone, decorated with exquisite wood carvings).

Amilbangsa's lifelong efforts to depict and document the living cultural traditions of the Tausug tribes in Southern Philippines are likewise seen in works such as Seaside (2004), a quaint portrait of a pottery vendor cradling her baby in their hut spanning the sea. This work on pastel depicts a traditional and nearly-universal theme in art history (mother and child) in the context of local Tausug society.

The resolve to depict woman from national minorities throughout the Philippines and the living indigenous traditions is likewise invigorated in the works of art teacher and gallery owner Lea Padilla and documentary photographer and researcher Ma. Cristina Saulo.

If Amilbangsa's channels her advocacies through scholarly studies and active pedagogical efforts, Padilla's practice as a Mindanao-based cultural practitioner is channelled through her proprietorship of the Linya Gallery in Iligan City and her personal works.

Padilla similarly locates near-universal scenes in the local context, producing images that depict familiar human routines and motions (the act of genuflecting before a meal, or creating communal music, for instance) amidst the initially unfamiliar array of local ornamental motifs. Padilla's works point to a vibrant and intense familiarity with the patterns of the local. In her Pagana Maranao Series (acrylic on canvas, 2006), the artist juxtaposes solid and strung hues and flat backgrounds with intricate and painstakingly-rendered details of Southern Philippine decorative motifs, seen in the ukkil embellishments all throughout the textiles, accessories, tableware, and musical instruments that populate the spaces of her works.

Also present in this year's Walong Filipina show are notable Filipina photographers and their works. Ma. Cristina Saulo depicts the woman of the Philippines' national minorities through a different approach: the straightforward gaze of the mechanically-captured image. Saulo is one of the few Filipina cultural workers who have braved forays into documentary photography and local research into the selected national minorities of the Philippines and the South East Asian region, a rarity of sorts nowadays.

Saulo's photographs of the Filipino Amerasians in the Central Luzon region and the Batak tribe of Palawan in the Southern Tagalog region, and the Mlabri ang Hmong tribes in Thailand are intimate portraits of a people pushed to the margins by colonial incursions. Despite the appalling degree of material and social disenfranchisement that Philippine national minorities are subjected to, Saulo manages to capture portraits of a people that do not evoke pity, but quiet dignity. There is an elegant ease, even a poignant beauty, in the way Saulo's images capture the stark bareness of her subject's lives, such as in the work Batak Girl (Sepia toned silver gelatine print, 2000) or Fisherfolks' Daughter (Selenium toned silver gelatine print, 2003). Other works such as Tagbanua Woman (sepia toned silver gelatine print, 2002) evoke the graceful weight of passing time.

On the other hand, photographer and Silver Lens Creative Director Isa Lorenzo chooses to capture images of still objects and scapes, using their formal qualities to transform familiar household scenes into unknown territories. February (lambda duratrans on lightbox) captures a fog-shrouded landscape from an unknown location, presumably taken at that time of the year. Lorenzo also infuses poetic allusions through the texts of her works' titles, seen in the photograph of a silver ball suspended on a ceiling entitled Kissing, Eyes Closed, or that of what seems to be a clear plastic cap suspended on a wall entitled In Sickness and In Health. The deliberate disjunction between the text and the image projected points to the need to see beyond the literal beauty of the image and uncover an entire narrative of contexts beneath.

Interestingly, Lorenzo's works are positioned in the most inconspicuous corners of the gallery, in places where one least expects to find a 'work of art'. This deliberate curatorial choice also conveys the message that art, whether it be through painting or photography, persists even in the margins of one's world. Lorenzo also makes effective use of the lightbox as a component of her photography display, using the medium to illuminate her images.

Other artistic genres represented in Walong Filipina include installation and functional art in the works of Isabel Aquilizan and Hannah Liongoren.

Aquilizan, an installation artist and theatre director who has usually worked in tandem with artist-husband Alfredo Aquilizan on various inter-disciplinary, collaborative and communal art projects, presents her individual works this time around. Aquilizan makes use of used blankets, seemingly mundane items that nevertheless comprise the various important rituals and phases of our lives, from womb to tomb, from the sacral to the carnal.

As an object signifying social relations and structures, these threadbare and patchwork-riddled blankets convey the spartan yet strong lives that millions of Filipinas live as a consequence of prevailing social realities. The blankets symbolize a tapestry of lives, worn and weary through the years, yet still held together through common threads and painstaking initiatives to heal and repair whatever rips or tears there are. ' Alagang Perla', for instance, may symbolically attest to how impoverished women nationwide are striving to care for their kin and children even with the barest essentials, such as the cheap pink detergent sold in bars all over the country. This is a reminder that gently settles upon the viewer just as the floral fragrance emanating from the installation wafts subtly throughout the gallery space.

Contemporary graphic art and functional pieces, meanwhile, converge in Hannah Liongoren's series of handmade notebook covers on canvas. Liongoren hails from an emerging generation of Filipina graphic artists and illustrators from the University of the Philippines College of Fine Arts. Her works combine contemporary graphic technology, popular culture, and biographical vignettes, seen in the elements of works such as Lola Ada, Cut, and Fhaggi.

All in all, the multitude of Muses paid homage to in this year's Walong Filipina spans an entire range of art disciplines, subjects, and inclinations. As such, the deities of the arts, wherever they may be, must indeed be pleased. ###