Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Yesterday's Roundup: Of Music and Mining

Gans and I attended a professorial lecture by Dr. Jonas Baes of the UP College of Music yesterday. Normally, I don't get to drop by similar events due to our respective schedules at Kalikasan, but this one was different. It was about the life and music of Jonas' elder brother, Dr. Aloysius "Ochie" Baes.

Ochie died last December. We knew him mostly as a scientist (AGHAM founding member!), an environmentalist, and a former member of the Bastes Commission on the Rapu-rapu mine spill. In his youth, Ochie was a former Chairperson of the UP Los Banos Student Council and a political detainee during Martial Law. It was only after he died that we learned that Ochie was also a musician, who helped compose many activist songs of the 1970's. Some of the recollections during Ochie's wake and tribute are documented in this article in Bulatlat.

The activity was held in one of the rooms at the College. The airconditioned space was bare, filled with monoblock chairs and a tarpaulin backdrop where sepia images of Ochie during his student days were projected onscreen. Indigenous musical instruments lay gathering dust inside large glass cabinets, like artifacts in a museum. One can hear the muffled sounds of instruments--stringed, percussion, and whatelse--echoing in the halls outside.

In this room, Jonas presented his lecture entitled "Generationloss: The Political Life of a Cassette Recorder and the Political Songs of Aloysius Baes Through the Early Years of Martial Law in the Philippines " (which hopefully shall be made available online and translated into Tagalog later on). In this paper, Jonas starts off by narrating the history of an object which many now dismiss as an artifact in this era of iPods and MP3 players, and but which was then considered as the cutting-edge in music technology in the rural Philippines of the 1970s: a cassette recorder. Jonas goes on to narrate the history of this recorder and the function of music in the Baes household and, eventually, in the political activities of his brothers in UP Los Banos and, later on, in the dictatorship's prisons. From these recollections, he proceeds to a lot of themes: the economics of cultural technology, the sociology of aesthetics, the politicization of the machine and its capacity for reproduction, the functions of memory and remembering.

Sure, there were welcome interruptions in this two-hour talk (In between segments of Jonas' lecture, Prof. Lester Demetillo rendered his version of Ochie's "top hits" Huwad na Kalayaan, Mutya, and Diwang Walang Takot. By the way, Jonas was lecturing while wearing only socks (his shoes were neatly set aside on the floor). I still can't figure out why.) But the main point of Jonas' lecture on Ochie's life was clear: about how music and its distribution could consciously be wielded as a form of potent political action, how it has the capacity to not just entertain and represent, but to resist and liberate.

It was a good and successful activity, that talk and the lively discussion that followed. Although an ample audience had filled up the room, I wish more people, especially activists involved in music production, could have been there to attend.

Ironically, for someone who just listened to a lecture which partly expounded on the power of technology as a means of memory, I forgot to take pictures and record the beautiful renditions of Ochie's songs.
-------
The Manila Times today published an article I wrote for their Special Report on mining in the Philippines. The story is an update on the Marcopper mine tragedy in Marinduque: what has happened (or not happened) so far in the pursuit for environmental justice for the affected communities. Also featured in three installments since Sunday was a piece on Defend Patrimony and how community groups have drafted a people's mining plan. Part two came out yesterday and part three today.

On the lighter side, Phil. Entertainment Portal featured our Sinekalikasan environmental film project yesterday in its indie section. The third screening's scheduled later at mag:net's Cinekatipunan, I hope everybody drops by to support the works by our CWTS students and Lomel/Miles/EJ. We will also be sponsoring a forum on climate change at UP later.
------
Here's the lyrics of one of Ochie's songs. It was produced in prison during the early years of Martial Law. Rediscovering it thirty-two years later (I first heard the song at Ochie's wake), it struck me how the state of things that the song speaks of hasn't changed, no matter how much we sadly wish they did.

Stockade 4, Camp Crame, June 12, 1975

HUWAD NA KALAYAAN

May kalayaan ba kung bayan
Ay dumaraing sa hirap?

Kung kayamanan ay hawak ng dayuhan
At masa ay salat
Kung manggagawa ay dusta
At magsasaka ay inaapi
Huwad, sadyang huwad ang kalayaan
Kung ang bayan ay ganyan.

May kalayaan ba kung bayan
Ay may gapos sa kamay?
Kung ang katotohanan
At katarunga’y nilulupig
Laksang nagtatanggol
Ay pinarurusahan at inuusig
Huwad, sadyang huwad ang kalayaan
Kung ang bayan ay ganyan.

Gapos ay lagutin, kamao ay itaas
Tumindig ka?t kamtin ang kalayaan
Hirap ay lunasan, pang-aapi ay wakasan
Ang bayan ay ipaglaban

Ang bayan ay ipaglaban.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Creativity in Context and an Experiment

Here's something I wrote last week for an exhibit at the Intellectual Property (IP) Phils, a government office whose purpose for existence, correct me if I'm wrong, revolves around the processing of patents, copyrights, and trademarks. They set up a spacious gallery at the first floor of the IP building, called the Alab Art Space. Since its located at the lobby of the building, fronting the sidewalk, the gallery and some of its contents are visible to all incidental passers-by: government employees, bureaucrats, office clerks hurrying to work, pedestrians, commuters trapped in traffic.


But this is what I'm (slightly) excited about: I'm trying to post this entry straight from my gmail inbox. Normally I post by writing the entire text in gmail then logging in to blogger to attach image files to it, which can be tedious sometimes. This time, I'll try posting the entire thing straight from my email. Wanted to see if the images, colored texts, and lay-out in the forwarded message would come out the same in my vblAg. [Roll eyes]

A postscript five minutes after: I declare the experiment a partial failure. The texts, lay-out and colors came out okay, but the images weren't appended. I had to log in to blogger all the same and upload all those little thumbnails below.
---------------------
exhibition notes

Creativity in Context


"Left Over Project Series" Racquel de Loyola





"Creativity, it has been said, consists largely of re-arranging what we know

in order to find out what we do not know." --George Kneller

To celebrate creativity—its potentials, procedures, and processes—is to
celebrate and acknowledge the potency of our histories, traditions, and
struggles. To celebrate creativity is also to embrace the force of change,
in whatever manifestations and dimensions it may take, and see how this can
spur us onwards as individuals and as a whole.

A celebration of creativity necessarily considers context. For rarely does
creativity thrive in a conceptual vacuum; nor does always it occur
sporadically within self, without heed or reference to one's surrounding
history, society, and systems. Whether in affirmation or interrogation of
one's past, present, and plans for the future, creativity spurs the need for
change (in its various manifestations) and freedom from immobility,
stagnation, strangulation.

The wordplay of the exhibition's title, DIWAng, itself denotes the
liberating potential of the power to create.The Tagalog noun from which the
exhibition takes root diwa, when roughly translated, generally means thought
or a state of mind. Diwa—when attached to the correct linguistic
modifier--can also morph into the word magdiwang or pagdiriwang (to
celebrate/celebration). Yet the title (as a word, 'diwang' is almost never
used by itself, but always in reference to another) also hints at the
incompleteness of the act—both of thought and of celebration--unless further
defined in relation to its contexts.

"How The Carabao Learned English" Don Salubayba








DIWAng
features the works of seventeen acclaimed Philippine visual artists,

spanning a broad range of generations, styles, artistic media and
standpoints. Yet more than merely testify to the diversity and range of
talent, the exhibition aims to gather a selection of works testifying to a
rich tradition of highly-contextualized and situated creativity on the part
of the Filipino artist.

Seen in this perspective, several of the works in DIWAng attest to the
potentials and needs for scientifically-driven creativity in the field of
agricultural productivity, such as the painting entitled Anihan (Harvest),
by Gene de Loyola, where fields go from green to gold in their bounty. Boy
Dominguez's works, entitled Karagdagan and Pitong Ritwal, may be seen in the
light of how inspiration and sources may be derived from the motifs,
traditions and knowledges of the country's national minorities, many of
whose ways of life are threatened by foreign and local incursions and
assaults.

In the exhibition, works such as that of Emmanuel Garibay take the viewer to
previously unexplored yet familiar worlds. For instance, the work Goddess by
Garibay, repositions a larger-than-life image of the female deity away from
her earthy paradise and sets her in what seems to be an industrial yet
ethereal setting, filled with geometric shapes and shadows. Masquerade of
Enlightenment, a hand-colored lithograph print by Benjie Torrado Cabrera,
lulls the viewer into an exquisite realm which is later on shattered by the
significations of the work's title.

Other works literally remind us of how present-day imagination can be
situated in historical realities and traditional iconography. For instance,
Brenda Fajardo fuses both religious references and historical symbols in the
Apocalypsis series. The series appropriates the image of the Four Horsemen
in the Biblical Book of Revelations, said to be allegories for Pestilence,
War, Famine, and Death, and recasts the four dreaded figures not as
harbingers of suffering and evil, but of hope and righteousness. For the
latter, Fajardo takes inspiration in both the historical archetypes of
Philippine revolutionaries and struggling women: the anti-colonial
Katipunero, the indigenous bagani warrior, the Filipina fighter. Noel Soler
Cuizon takes on deeply-personal issues of identity and situates these in
history and ethnicity in the work entitled Act of Contrition.

Other works in the exhibition focus on the creation of metaphors for nation.
For instance, the works Epilogo by Mark Justiniani and Sa Kagitingan, by
Karen Ocampo Flores present commentaries on the roles of historical figures
and hero/ines on contemporary conceptions of nationhood. Flores presents the
image of a mother giving birth, framed by the blood of fallen heroes and
stars who light the way. After a Lost Original, a collaborative painting by
Wire Tuazon and Tanke Reyes, appropriates the historical images of the
United States of Americas' Declaration of Independence from Britain in 1776,
and juxtaposes these with images associated or hinting at the subsequent
conquest of the Philippine islands: monkeys, a bulol figure, effigies from
the manunggul jar, a dog and apple. The work strongly indicts the logic of
colonialism, pointing at how one nation's liberation ironically ended up in
another's slavery.

"Superpower" Mideo M Cruz











DIWAng
also exhibits a number of works that not only reflect the country's

histories of colonization, but also chart how the cultural systems and ways
of thinking brought about by these experiences have persisted up to now,
decades after the period of direct foreign rule. How The Carabao Learned
English by Don Salubayba is a witty yet nonetheless compelling critique of
the colonial imprint left on the collective mentality of a nation. The
carabao (water buffalo), a quintessential symbol for the ordinary Filipino,
and how it has its mind attached to that of its master. Mideo Cruz
constructs Superpower, a figure fashioned out of odds and ends that is also
clearly a reference to robots depicted in cartoons as "saviors of the
universe". Cruz delivers a jab not only at the economic influx of imported
items (such as the cheap plastic toys used as components of the piece), but
also the importation of mentalities and frameworks that the foreign machine
facilitates.

Some of the other artists featured in the exhibition have contributed works
that depict contemporary social realities in the Philippines, attempting to
infuse new ways of seeing and documenting realities and everyday problems.
Social Realist stalwart Antipas Delotavo, for instance, subtly captures the
sense of isolation, disenfranchisement and alienation felt by many in a
country with a population of over 75 million people in his works Dambana and
Tansong Tala. Fragile, a diptych by Yko Umadhay, is a fitting tribute to the
present-day phenomenon of massive labor migration, the Overseas Foreign
Worker (OFW) boom that speaks of a fragile economy underneath the heavy
influx of remittances.

"Prusisyon/Crucifixion" Rene de Guzman








Creativity enables one to confront anew the realities that one often

ignores—or wishes to ignore. The pervasive issue of record-breaking poverty
levels and the rising economic disparities between the elite and the
downtrodden is eloquently alluded to in the work Elegy for the
Disenfranchised, by Iggy Rodriguez. The steel structures signifying supposed
development and progress are portrayed by Rodriguez as a skeletal frame, a
signifier of death to the downtrodden and dispossesed. Meanwhile, the issue
of extrajudicial killings of civilians and activists is alluded to and
articulated in works such as Prusisyon/Crucifixion by Rene de Guzman and the
Left Over Project Series by Racquel de Loyola. De Guzman's dismembered clay
heads and De Loyola's soft sculptures hanging from the ceiling take on a
chilling signification when arranged in this particular manner, resonating
in their images the countless victims of extrajudicial killings, abductions,
and human rights violations of late.

As a whole, the works in DIWAng are generally rooted in realities,
histories, and social truths—far by among the best sources of material for
the creative mind.


diwang
Celebrating Creativity
10th year Anniversary Exhibition of the IP Philippines
June 22 - August 10, 2007

participating artists:
  • Antipas Delotavo
  • Benjie Torrado Cabrera
  • Boy Dominguez
  • Brenda Fajardo
  • Don Salubayba
  • Emmanuel Garibay
  • Gene de Loyola
  • Iggy Rodriguez
  • Karen Ocampo Flores
  • Mark Justiniani
  • Mideo M Cruz
  • Noel Cuizon
  • Racquel de Loyola
  • Rene de Guzman
  • Tanke Reyes
  • Wire Tuazon
  • Yko Umadhay

curator: Mideo M Cruz



Saturday, June 02, 2007

Free Ka Bel NOW!

It's about time!

Yesterday the Supreme Court thumbed down the rebellion charges against the six progressive solons. In a strongly yet lucidly-worded 21-page decision, the SC finally affirmed what Atty. Romeo Capulong, Ka Bel, and the Batasan 5 have been saying all along, over and over again, for the past fifteen months: that the charges of rebellion by the Arroyo administration and the Department of Justice are flawed, baseless, malicious, utterly bereft of scrupulousness and impartiality.

Ka Bel, particularly, is vindicated in the decision, which only underscores the fact that the government had no legal basis or right to detain him. The SC also reprimands government prosecutors of their abuse of discretion and lack of impartiality in handling Ka Bel's case, particularly in the way that they proceeded with an inquest despite fully knowing that the Philippine police illegally arrested Ka Bel, without a warrant in the first place.

This reminds me of something that Atty. Joel Butuyan wrote and dissseminated in an e-groups, about the rights of would-be abductees in this time of enforced disappearances. Taking off from the case of Jonas Burgos, who was arrested by "policemen" in civilian clothing, he writes:

The rule is that policemen do not have an inherent authority to arrest by reason alone of their uniforms and guns. Their authority to arrest arises only when either of two exceptional circumstances are present: ONE, when the policemen have a warrant of arrest, and; TWO, when the policemen are personally in the presence of a person in the act of committing a crime.

Any policeman who takes any person into custody without either of the two exceptional circumstances is not making an arrest. He is in the act of committing a dastardly crime. He is the criminal.

The SC decision stopped short of saying that the state prosecutors from the CIDG and DOJ were coddling criminals all along. But what it makes clear is that some institutions of the state have been used for political exigency, to the extent that they would not hesitate to effect a "miscarriage of justice" (in Ka Bel's words) as a means to further their ends.

DOJ Secretary Raul Gonzales should really keep his mouth shut this time around. After he dissed representatives from the International Parliamentary Union (IPU) as mere foreigners meddling in the affairs of the Philippines for their recommendation that Ka Bel be released from detention, I don't think he will be able to comfortably assert that the all-Filipino SC shouldn't be meddling in the affairs of the DOJ or something to that effect, without making a global laughingstock of himself. Although he's come pretty close to getting there.

I'm so happy for Ka Bel's family, especially Ka Osang, who had to endure seeing her husband be detained twice over, and Janrei, who will be having his favorite lolo back. Still, I'm reserving my loudest hurrahs for the time when we all see Ka Bel actually released, when he finally gets out and goes back to Congress and the streets to continue with all the duties cut short by his detention. It's where he is happiest, and where he is most needed.

From Ka Bel I learned that victory should always be accepted with humility, dignity, and a resolve to continue with the struggle. Which is why, while recognizing the gravity of the crimes committed against him and asserting the call for justice and accountability from his captors, I'm happy to see that Ka Bel's again gearing up for the fight for workers' wage increases and other needs of the toiling masses.

Free Ka Bel NOW!

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Down Under For Sure

As if one mining disaster by an Australian-owned firm in the Philippines weren't enough!

This time, President Arroyo plans to woo bigger and more mining projects during her
upcoming trip to Australia. Among the firms that she'll be meeting up with is BHP Billiton, the world's largest mining company whose main headquarters is located in Melbourne. Compared to Lafayette Mining, that junior company which is up and running again in Rapu-Rapu island in Albay despite two mine spills and acid mine drainage, BHP Billiton is a GIANT mining firm, a global behemoth way beyond Lafayette's league.

For those who think this name sounds familiar, this is the same BHP Billiton which casually walked away and reneged on its accountability for the Ok Tedi environmental disaster in Papua New Guinea. Billiton was a major shareholder in the Ok Tedi gold and copper mine project located in the heart of the country's rainforest-covered Star Mountains. Ever since the mine opened in 1984, it has directly dumped more than 400 million tons of m
ine tailings rich in toxic heavy metals into the Fly river. This has gone on for a duration of two decades and at a rate of around 80,000 tons daily.

For purposes of comparison, take note: 400 million tonnes of mine tailings discharged from Ok Tedi is around twice the volume of mine wastes spilled by Placer Dome mining in Marinduque island.

But only in 1999 did the Ok Tedi mine owners acknowledge the state of ecological disaster in the area. By that time, thousands of square kilometers of rainforests were already poisoned, two major river systems were contaminated, marine life was dying, and hundreds of thousands of farmers, indigenous peoples, and fisherfolk lost their livelihoods as the toxic mixtures flowed downstream. Damage caused by acid mine drainage and water pollution is predicted to last for decades and even centuries more. To top it all off, BHP Billiton secured legal indemnity from none less than the Papua New Guinea government from any law suits originating from its own people. Talk about having the right to mess up with another country's land and be protected from being blamed for all the damage you've caused!

This is the
same BHP Billiton that Arroyo is practically wooing and begging to go and mine nickel in the Philippines.

It's no secret by now that BHP Billiton is eyeing a multi-million dollar joint nickel project with local mining firms in Pujada Peninsula, Davao Oriental province.
Pujada lies in the easternmost tip of the Philippines, on the borders of the archipelago. It is said to be the place where the sun shines first in the Philippines, a few minutes before dawn breaks above Manila and elsewhere. The nickel deposits which BHP Billiton covets are said to cover an area of around 11,799 hectares, which is approximately TWICE the size of the entire island of Rapu-Rapu and a little smaller than the entire area of Quezon City.

The proposed project is a destructive and dangerous gamble. Unlike Rapu-Rapu, Pujada is located outside the typhoon belt, and is therefore generally spared from the ravages of super-typhoons which can aggravate mine spills. But on the other hand, it lies across an active fault line, making it vulnerable to seismic activity that can damage mine structures. The island is also a biodiversity hotspot with its protected forests and coastal resources, which would be severely affected by any mining operations. Davao locals also want BHP Billington out of Pujada.

In effect, GMA is actually wooing a giant mining firm that killed a river in Papua New Guinea to operate in another environmentally-critical site in the Philippines. Not just one giant firm, but perhaps many more, since GMA's trip to Australia―combined with the government's refusal to uphold a moratorium on mining in Rapu-Rapu in deference to Lafayette's wishes―and her dealings with the ANZCham will only explicitly encourage more mining firms to flock into the Philippines and engage in wanton, plunderous and utterly irresponsible mining operations.

I don't know if this is her own sick way of getting the point across, but what genuine patriotic public official would ever welcome foreign troops and foreign giant mining firms the way she does?

Nakaka-high blood si GMA! Eh kung siya kaya ang ilublob at matabunan ng 800 million tons ng mine tailings?!



Sunday, May 27, 2007

I'm A Bear


PV of Boku wa Kuma (I'm a Bear) by Utada Hikaru.
I am a bear bear bear bear
I am not a car bear bear bear
I can't walk but I can dance
I can't talk but I can sing
I am a bear bear bear bear.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Blurbs and Saving Sally

I'm reposting excerpts from something I've written for a friend's thesis, which chronicles the production of an independent animated Filipino film Saving Sally. It has a simple but well thought-out story, wonderfully-rendered visuals, and an (ongoing) production period so bloody that all of the young artists involved in this collective project probably deserve a state citation for slugging it out the way they did, with nothing but guts, hard work, talent, and vision.

THE CITY OF MONSTERS

Marty's home is a white, wooden house topped by a makeshift antenna, a tiny speck in a city reeking of dilapidation, untoward happenings, desolate labyrinths of spoiled dreams and secrets. The city is populated by the monsters in Marty's mind: grotesque creatures on the MRT, lurking in the houses of the rich and poor alike, smirking on shiny, brightly-lit billboards, eyeing groceries in the neighborhood convenience stores, even lumbering aboard decade-old jeepneys.

There is something fantastic in the way this film renders realities and metaphors: how it (rather faithfully) portrays Metro Manila as a pre-apocalyptic enigma on the verge of closing shop, and how Marty exteriorizes his subjectivities and personal opinions of people around him into images seen and drawn. Loonies are allowed to let themselves be, and are not chained to straitjackets in some mental colony. Ogres, freaks and dickheads are portrayed for what they are: plainly, without frills, make-up or cosmetic surgery.


WHEN MARTY MET SALLY

Everybody's heart bleeds for the underdog. Which is probably why, while reeling from the death grip of a high school bully, Marty is suddenly saved by a mysterious girl who hands him a calling card and a list of items to be procured: a dozen capsules of Counter-Consti and laxatives, a roll of film, and one peso.

And salvation has a name: Sally.

SALLY

Artist, inventor, mercenary.

Her calling card tries to sum it all up but cloaks her quaint contradictions instead. Sally, who abhors bullies but gets a kick out of sneaking up on people and scaring the bejeezus out of them. Sally, the tough, beautiful girl with a nerdy laugh. Sally, Marty's sun-bathed savior and muse who lives in a desolate house atop a cliff. Sally, who invents gadgets and robots to conjure solutions to her woes. Sally, who carries the entire weight of the world by doing head stands.

There's a sadness behind Sally's smile, and only Marty knows why. Sally immerses herself in cranking out a bewildering array of totally useless and mundane machines in her garage: wet plate blowers, lens-contracting glasses to see in the dark, Chore Machines, and other things which should supposedly make her miserable life easier but which could also blow up in her face. Sally's quirky top secret projects are her way of coping with realities she'd rather not confront. Probably because she doesn't want to be saved in the first place.


Find out more at www.savingsally.com.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Birthing women artists

(Published in Issue No. 6 of Ctrl+P. To access the entire contents, please visit http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/17531_lzsdc/Ctrl_P_AnniversaryIssue6.pdf)

Birthing women artists:
Norma Liongoren and the Walong Filipina exhibition

For 17 years, the annual Walong Filipina (Eight Filipinas) exhibition of the Liongoren Gallery has collectively shown the works of close to a hundred women artists from the Philippines. Exhibiting the works of eight selected artists annually throughout different venues, the show pays "tribute to the creative contributions of women, who often have to juggle the multiple roles of wife, mother, and artist"1.

Norma Liongoren, gallery owner and curator, asserts that the Walong Filipina show has literally and figuratively gone a long way since it was first held in March 1990 at the Cubao-based art space, a two-storey residential structure converted into a gallery.

"At the time, it was unheard of [in the Philippines]. Now there are more women artists. In a way, inaabangan ito ng mga tao (people look forward to it)," she says of the curatorial gamble. Nearly two decades later, the annual Walong Filipina exhibitions continue to gain acceptance in its attempts to reflect, interrogate, and recreate social realities from the perspective of Philippine women artists.

Periods of feminist interventions

Walong Filipina can arguably trace its ideological roots from the socio-political turmoil of the Martial Law and post-EDSA Philippines2, which was characterized by the upsurge of women's organized and communal interventions in society. The early years of this era saw the births of collective feminist formations, such as MAKIBAKA (organized in 1972) and Gabriela, the largest umbrella organization of Filipino women's groups in 1984. The 1980s to 1990s were marked by more interventions in the spheres of cultural politics, such as the founding of Women Writers in Media Now, Concerned Artists of the Philippines Womens Desk, and the women artists group KASIBULAN (Kababaihan sa Sining at Bagong Sibol na Kamalayan). The contextual conditions of the times led to more women going out, getting involved, and getting together, whether in politics, media, or the arts.

The direct precursor of the Walong Filipina was a five-woman exhibition sponsored by the Liongoren Gallery shortly after the EDSA 1 popular uprising3. By that time, Liongoren Gallery was operating in its 5th year as a commercial and artistic space. Sculptor Julie Lluch came up with the idea of holding an all-woman exhibit, prompting Liongoren to put up a show in March 1986.

This exhibit featured works from who Liongoren considered as "women artists of the hour": Lluch, the late Philippine Association of Printmakers founder Adiel Arevalo, book designer Edwina Koch-Arroyo, printmaker-ceramic artist Nelfa Querubin and sculptor-painter Virginia Ty-Navarro.

The show was a milestone of sorts for the gallery, as all-women exhibitions were generally unheard of in Manila during this period, Liongoren says in retrospect. There was only a sprinkling of active women artists in a predominantly-male art scene, in spite of the fact that women were instrumental to setting up institutions recognized as pivotal to the emergence and development of Philippine modern and contemporary art: Lyd Arguilla of the Philippine Art Gallery, Purita Kalaw Ledesma of the Art Association of the Philippines, and even former First Lady Imelda Marcos who "[endowed] 'culture and the arts' with both capital and infrastructure"4.

Before, male artists were used to having women as organizers [of art events], but seemed not as open once the latter's qualities as artists were emphasized, Liongoren opines. Such shows, she added, initially caused others to raise their brows in skepticism but eventually became more accepted in time. The idea and practice of an all-women show persisted.

The Liongoren Gallery's Walong Filipina exhibition officially began in 1990, the same year when KASIBULAN was organized by Imelda Cajipe-Endaya and others. For this debut show, Liongoren gathered eight women artists: Ida Bugayong, Cajipe-Endaya, Brenda Fajardo, Lydia Ingle, Veronica Lim-Yuyitung, Lluch, Nelfa Querubin and Arlene Villaver. The gallery, not surprisingly, was also a venue for some of KASIBULAN's meetings later on, Liongoren recalls.

The title Walong Filipina was arrived at out of sheer coincidence and symbolic significance.

"Why eight (8)? While I was listing down all the artists I wanted to feature, I stopped at the number 8. Later on, I rationalized [the choice] by noting that the number 8 has a closed form, forming an infinite loop. I wanted to emphasize that women were infinitely endowed with talent," Liongoren says.

This time, the public proved to be more receptive to the concept. "I tried to hold a Walong Filipina show every year after that. I'd feature a senior artist and a young woman artist, or bunso (literally translated from Tagalog as youngest child) who is new in the art scene," she says. Villaver was the 1990 show's bunso.

Liongoren realized the potentials and the power of the show, and decided to pursue it as an annual art event. "Artists are encouraged by the mere fact that you highlight their characters as women. They try to put their best foot forward," she says.

Celebrating Diversities and Affinities

Walong Filipina has held 15 shows to date since that first exhibit back in 1990. The gallery has generally sustained the annual all-women's show, except for a brief respite from 1996 to 1997 when the series was suspended for operational reasons5 and 2002, when Liongoren was preoccupied with organizing a separate art exhibit commemorating the EDSA 1 popular revolt6.

Since its debut in 1990, Walong Filipina has taken on an organic and dynamic character of its own, a state of flux and exploration. From its first show at the Liongoren Gallery along New York St. in Cubao, Walong Filipina has sojourned through various other locations throughout the Philippines as a travelling exhibition: ranging from commercial to academic spaces, from government to Catholic Church offices, galleries and museums7. Liongoren Gallery also operated a second branch at the commercial shopping center Megamall from October 1992 to 1996, adding to the list of venues. At times, the exhibit would be staged as simultaneous shows, or held in tandem with workshops or discussions.

Equally varied were the artistic media encompassed by the shows. Saying that she does not want art to "be pegged to the usual paintings", Liongoren has consciously attempted to display the diversity of media, modes and materials that Filipina artists have worked with. At the start, the exhibitions featured mostly traditional paintings and sculptures, but quickly widened its range to include non-traditional media such as installation and performance art, fiber art, clay art, advertising and graphic design, craft, cuisine, fashion, dance, music, theater, film, poetry, literature8, and even ceramics, miniatures and floral arrangements.

Rather than feature a single artists' group or a pre-defined barkada (clique, coterie or group of friends, when loosely translated from Tagalog), Walong Filipina generally assembles a loose set of individual women artists converging through incidental or defined thematic affinities, which are defined in the subtitles given to each Walong Filipina show.

The women in Walong Filipina are conceptually-unified through commonly-shared territories, identities and roles, or advocacies.

At least two Walong Filipina shows have grouped artists on the basis of shared geographies: Mga Anak ni Urduja (Urduja's Children, 1999), a travelling exhibit featuring women artists who trace their roots to Pangasinan province9, and Parangal Kay Tandang Sora (Tribute to Tandang Sora, 2003), featuring works by Filipina artists who have lived, grown up, settled, or are based in Quezon City10. Although the concept may have first originated from a curatorial assertion of regional affiliation (Liongoren hails from Dagupan, Pangasinan and is commercially based in Quezon City), the shows have been reframed as a tribute to the two heroines of Philippine pre-colonial mythology and historical armed resistance to Spanish colonization, respectively.

However, shared geographies among women artists may not always be literal. In Parangal Kay Tandang Sora, the common location (Quezon City) is merely a transit point for women artists of vastly-differentiated interests and leanings. These may also pertain to shared arenas of interest or inclinations, such as the time when Liongoren chose to feature visual and written works by writer-artists, during the first Walong Filipina show held at Megamall (a major shopping center along EDSA) in 199311.

Conversely, other Walong Filipina shows chose to celebrate professional diversity: the 2006 selection, for instance, featured a selection of visual artists who were practitioners from various fields: dance, music, advertising, photography and film12. (For details of this exhibition, please see Lisa Ito's essay, Ctrl+P issue 1: www.trauma-interrupted.org/ctrlp/issue1.pdf )

Curatorial selection of participating artists is mostly done by Liongoren, in consultation with other women artists. As the shows went on, Liongoren occasionally "recycled" several artists, although always in the context of a new exhibiting group. Another unintentional aspect of the Walong Filipina series was its featuring of mother and daughter artists, albeit in separate shows: Julie Lluch and Krista, Aba and Sari Lluch-Dalena, Cristina and Maria Taniguchi, for instance.

Thematics and transits

Many of Walong Filipina's offerings and themes have been premised on shared advocacies and conceptual interrogations: patriotism and nationalism in contemporary practice, ecological and environmental struggles, questions of authorship and gender, and the delineation of personal and collective identities, for instance.

The ecological thematic was first explored in the sixth Walong Filipina show in 1995, which featured applications of clay and fiber art by women artists, who created works from volcanic ash, pina cloth, twigs, earthenware, tinalak and tie-dyed textiles and other indigenous materials. A few years earlier in 1991, Mt. Pinatubo in Central Luzon erupted, leaving in its wake a massive amount of debris that people from various professions have sought to utilize as an alternative material, Walong Filipina's artists included.

The use of native materials and concern for the environment has been a recurrent theme of many Walong Filipina shows afterwards, particularly in the 2000, and 2001 exhibitions. This may be partially attributed to society's responses to increasing environmental issues and to the strategic timing of the exhibitions: March 8 (International Women's Day) and Women's Month comes right before April 22, when Earth Day is observed worldwide and in the Philippines by environmental groups.

A more direct articulation of environmental awareness and advocacy was evident in the 2000 and 2001 shows, entitled Sa Ngalan ng Kalikasan I at II (In the Name of Nature I and II), respectively. The first exhibit revolved around the philosophical theme of nature as a site of rebirth, regeneration and destruction. The second show, composed mostly of KASIBULAN members, revolved around the theme of nature and nurturing. Incidentally, many natural disasters and tragedies occurred during this period when Walong Filipina chose to take on the environment as a priority cause: the Payatas landfill landslide tragedy in 1999, landslides and flash floods due to strong rains, and the furor over the Visiting Forces Agreement and toxic wastes left in US naval bases in Subic and Clark.

Another thematic arena explored by Walong Filipina was the process of imagining self and nation. The 2004 travelling exhibit with the subtitle Ang Paglalahad ng Walong Filipina (Revelations by Eight Filipinas), showcased two works from each of the eight featured artists13, representing who they were and what they wanted to be. The show, writes art critic Alice Guillermo, "[hints] at revelatory self-referential narratives" and "a reckoning with what constitutes one's deepest self or how one defines oneself as a woman and as a human being"14.

But the artists of Walong Filipina were not always women, exclusively. In 1998, the year of the Centennial of the 1898 Philippine Revolution, the gallery commissioned eight male artists to pay tribute to eight Filipina revolutionaries15 during the period of dissent against Spanish colonial rule. The eight participating Filipino artists were allowed to choose and portray from the book Women in the Philippine Revolution (edited by Rafaelita Hilario Soriano) eight Katipuneras (women members of the Katipunan, the lead revolutionary organization founded and led by Andres Bonifacio) who would represent the first eight provinces that revolted against the Spanish rule over the Philippine islands.

Liongoren Gallery also celebrated the Centennial of the Philippine Feminist Movement in 2005 through a back-to-back solo exhibition of Imelda Cajipe-Endaya's works entitled Conversations on Juan Luna and the Walong Filipina exhibit. Norma Liongoren infused a collaborative element to the two exhibitions by framing the Walong Filipina show as a response to or "conversation" with Cajipe-Endaya's collages, which were composed of old silk-screened images of Juan Luna's Spolarium representing each of the eight featured artists16 in turn. This process of reaction, appropriation and dialogue unifies the lives and works of the nine women artists, threading them together and subverting traditional notions of authorship.

For this year, the Walong Filipina 2007 show straddles traditional dividing distinctions between classes and crafts, by including in one exhibition the works of women artists and artisans alike. Subtitled Daragang Magayon ('Beautiful Maiden', in the Bicol17 dialect), the exhibit features works from Bicol-based women artists: three "fine arts" artists—Lina Llaguno Ciani, Tosha Albor and Raquel Almonte and four craftswomen: handloom weavers Socorro Napa and Benita Tucay and craftswomen and typhoon Reming18 (International codename: Xangsane) survivors Mercoria Basas, Eustaquia Barce and Marissa Mendoza.

Also interesting is Liongoren's appropriation of the term bunso, to signify the "new" or "youngest" artist of each batch. Bunso as a local term of endearment does not exclusively refer to familial or blood relations but connotes informal cultural and social formations as well. The term's usage implies the creation of a community: not a competitive and strictly hierarchical one, but a cooperative and communal gathering of sisters.

Lastly, most of the shows function as tributes to historical figures or individual women artists, such as the 2005 show, which paid homage to Paz Paterno, the first Filipina painter to be given historical recognition and to the late contemporary artist Pacita Abad, known for her tapestries. The 1993 show was dedicated to the late Dolores Feria, who was Liongoren's professor in Western Thought (as the subject was then called) at the University of the Philippines. Liongoren later on found out that Feria painted in addition to writing and teaching. In at least one case, Walong Filipina is dedicated to women as a whole sector: Sa Ngalan ng Kalikasan II, was a tribute to all women who collectively engaged in the EDSA 2 popular uprising, which overthrew the administration of Joseph Estrada, now on trial for alleged anomalies, including unexplained wealth resulting from illegal gambling (jueteng).kickbacks. This year's Walong Filipina is a tribute to the survivors of Typhoon Reming, where part of the show's proceeds of show will go to a fund for art-based rehabilitation work led by the House of Comfort Art Network, Inc. (ARTHOC).

This practice of parangal or paying tribute also sets the Walong Filipina exhibits apart from other shows, as it indicates a continuity of purpose: the word connotes both gratitude and a bestowment of honor towards the subject, and, more importantly, allegiance to a shared cause.

A 'Midwife of Ideas'

The story of Walong Filipina, moreover, is a testimony to Norma Liongoren's unique though low-profile sojourn as a self-taught curator. In the Philippines, the role of curator remains a largely loose one which is often shared by artists, critics, writers, teachers, and even gallery owners out of contingency.

Liongoren's story of how she came to be is best appreciated in the context of the informal character of curatorship in the Philippine setting and in relation to her other gendered roles. As curator of the Walong Filipina show, Liongoren engages in a multitude of tasks: conceptualizing, mobilizing and motivating, contacting the artists, meeting deadlines, scouting for venues, negotiating, socializing, inviting, entertaining guests, communicating, educating, networking, promoting, delegating tasks, cooking, overseeing administrative work, supervising the set-up, even finding appropriate clothes and standing in for absent artists during photo shoots. In between these, she attends to her other duties as gallery proprietor, art dealer, wife, and mother.

"I'm an organizer, people-oriented by nature. Along the way, there are people who gravitate towards you," she says, "I get involved in their lives. I try to get them all together in a meeting, try to mobilize them, get them to contribute. They get excited." This degree of influence enables her to engage in a dialogue with others, to be a "midwife of ideas" as Liongoren terms it.

Thirty years ago, being a "midwife of ideas" was the farthest thing that Liongoren, a trained-but-no-longer practicing nurse and field worker immersed in population research, had in mind. Events, however, steered her towards the visual arts, leading her to engage in it full-time. Liongoren founded the gallery in March 1981 after marrying the renowned abstractionist Alfredo Liongoren. Her foray into art dealership, she says, was an unexpected consequence of being a painter's wife, as she would often deliver her husband's works to clients and would be asked by his fellow painters if she could bring their works along. Although Liongoren nursed a fervent interest in the arts "as a spectator", it was her family and professional background (business, medical services, and work with non-government organizations) which unwittingly prepared her for the tasks of selling works of art.

Liongoren eventually took on the role of curating most of the gallery's exhibitions, conceptualizing her own shows in the process, the longest-running of which are the Walong Filipina exhibitions.

"[The shows] go with my current involvements. It's me. It emanates from my advocacies and concerns,"19 she says. This is perhaps the reason why Walong Filipina's themes are reflective of personal passions and advocacies which Liongoren has carefully cultivated through the years: feminism and gender studies, patriotism, social justice, and environmental struggles.

She, however, remains self-effacing when it comes to her role and process as a curator. "I'm not a trained curator, I just learn along the way," she says, describing her process as oido (Spanish for "by the ear", e.g. having an ear for music, or moving as one goes along) and going by instinct.

But what accurate instinct it is. Whether Liongoren eventually acknowledges it or not, Walong Filipina has, for the past seventeen years under her care, proved to be a formidable contributor to the pursuit of the feminist discourse in Philippine contemporary art. For birthing more than a hundred women artists in the last twenty years, Liongoren has proved herself as one of the more capable midwives on this side of the artistic archipelago. ###
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