A Weekend At Art Fair Philippines
February 18, 2023
Manila, PH — After a fifteen hour bus ride from Tuguegarao to Manila with little sleep, leading into my family and best friend’s visit from the States, I wasn’t sure I would even make it to ArtFair Philippines.
But I was determined to hear fellow Fulbrighter Nicolei Buendia Gupit speak about the Linangan Art Residency and see what the ArtFair fuss was about. My friend, artist and event planner (and former ArtFair organizer) Jean Abordo, had been telling me I just HAD to go for months, so after binging the Venom films back to back (the second one is much better), I put on my best long pants (proud that I can now wear pants in the heat!) and headed into Makati.
Art Fair Philippines sprawled in pods across several floors, reminding me of the inside of an anthill or intricate bark beetle carvings on a tree trunk. Each twist and turn revealed something new and unexpected. After strolling solo, I met up with fellow Fulbright-National Geographic Storyteller, Jordan Winters, and Fulbright multidisciplinary artist, Bhen Alan. Along with Nicolei’s thoughtful multimedia exploration of water access in the Philippines, here are a few artists and works I had the opportunity to learn about:
Dagupan artist Nunki of the Anakbanwa Creative Residency Project spoke excitedly about the art scene in District 4, Pangasinan, including their spring Galila Art Festival. Each piece in the project space had a corresponding QR code, adding a fun layer of artists Q/A's and additional digital art to the experience.
The Liongoren Gallery space was honoring the late Norma Crisologo Liongoren, and Bhen introduced me to his friend Hannah Liongoren, a Filipino illustrator and designer. Hannah graciously shared a little about mourning while in the process of curating the exhibit from her mother’s storied gallerist efforts.
When I walked into Hersley Casero’s space, I felt a deep urge to cry. His huge prints engulfed me. Gazing at FREE FALLING, one of three photographs, I wanted the water in my hair, the sun on my face, to be floating above - not even walking on - water like the new kind of messiah depicted before me.
Independent filmmaker, UP Diliman professor, and director of the New Center for Cinema, Nick Deocampo, delivered an animated take on the history of alternative cinema. He detailed the urgent, rebellious, and truth-telling nature of alternative film in the Philippines and shared a clip from his 1983 documentary, OLIVER.
Before leaving to meet with my family, I stopped by IsTorya Studios, a narrative design studio featuring children's books and card games about Filipino history and Filipino historical figures. Included in their exhibit was an illustrated short story collection aimed to educate kids on how to identify, avoid, and seek support in the face of abuse. Artist Marina Cruz mentioned an interest in working on a project about adoption next. Of course, we exchanged details.
Echoed in many of the works were the same questions of identity, belonging, and history that my Filipino friends and I keep asking each other here; reflections of yet more questions that remain ever present in communities of Filipino-Americans and Filipinos in diaspora. Many of the pieces that appealed to me were created in direct response to artists’ experiences with political upheaval in the country, and didn’t shy away from a critical, even revolutionary, lens. This also made me hungry to learn more about lesser known artists, those not yet on the national or global stage, the ones laying low for their own safety.
Living in a new country, especially my country of origin, has been overwhelming. Though the process of filmmaking can be long, and differs in many ways from other visual arts, I was comforted by the vast collection of work by artists of all ages and mediums. I’ve been moving through waves of insecurity and imposter syndrome throughout my time here, but for the hours I spent cocooned in ArtFair's labyrinthine halls, I was soothed by feelings of awe, rejuvenation, and an urge to learn and create more myself.
(Read this post in my NatGeo Field Notes!)
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More about the fair and artists mentioned / shown in this post below:
Nicolei Buendia Gupit: https://www.nicoleigupit.com/
Linangan Art Residency: www.instagram.com/linanganartresidency/
Nunki: https://www.instagram.com/nunkikikiki/
Anakbanwa Creative Residency Project: https://www.instagram.com/anakbanwa/
Hersley Casero: https://www.hersleycasero.com/
Liongoren Gallery: https://liongorenbackroom.com/
Hannah Liongoren: https://hannahliongoren.com/
IsTorya Studies: https://istoryastudios.ph/
Center for New Cinema: https://centerfornewcinema.net/
Kapitan Kulam: https://web.facebook.com/kapitankulam
Don M. Salubayba: https://kulay-diwa.com/artists/don-salubayba/
KANTINA: https://www.instagram.com/kantina.rxs/
ArtFair Philippines: https://artfairphilippines.com/
The Judge: Tuguegiraw Film Festival 2022
December 23, 2022
TUGUEGARAO, PH — I had the absolute pleasure of sitting on the jury for the FIRST EVER annual Tuguegiraw Film Festival.
Dreamt into reality by North Luzon Cinema Guild’s Jerome Dulin and Sef Arcegono, in collaboration with Bloggers of Tuguegarao, the festival held its premiere at the new SM City Cinema One. The festival name is a play on the words “Tuguegarao” (the city where it takes place), and “giraw,” which loosely translates to “watch” in Ibanag.
As a jury member, I wasn't sure what to expect. I've applied for and attended festivals, but never sat on a jury. And in this case, each film was made specifically for the festival – the filmmakers were given around six weeks to take their projects from concept to completion, prompted by collaboration with local government departments. Jerome and Sef, long-time film educators and makers, offered expert guidance along the way.
In my experience (in the U.S.), filmmakers are pressured to migrate to big cities to access resources and get “discovered.” But the Tuguegiraw Film Festival called for local artists and the premise of the competition focused on their hometown. As a recent Tuguegarao transplant, I can recognize certain locations, languages, and even interactions, but of course, each film looked much deeper, leaving a trail of personal notes about life in Tuguegarao for us to find. The six films also spanned across genres! Though I had expected quiet, slice of life dramas, there was action, thriller, and even traces of horror and magical realism. The films touched on poverty, healthcare, and abuse, weighed the beauty and the struggles of rural life, reflected on realities of mental illness, and challenged the notorious influence of false information. Though these are all universal themes, the films captured uniquely Filipino and specifically Tuguegarao-esque attitudes through familiar visuals and signage, clever references in dialogue and language, and even costume, props, and set design.
Along with the premiere, festival organizers and the Cagayan Museum and Historical Research Center co-hosted a public outdoor screening in Rizal Park at the center of town. Folks young and old flocked to the square in sweatshirts on the chilly Friday evening before Christmas to watch and celebrate.
In film today, there is often a strange balance between the personal, the fictional, and the relatable. Sometimes the personal draws more connection, sometimes that appears in fictional or fictionalized moments. Always, a film’s perception depends upon the audience members and their own interpretations. Finding the right balance and also accepting that you cannot control another’s outlook can feel overwhelming, and has been on my mind constantly since my arrival. Cheesy as it may seem, there is a touch of bravery to sharing within one’s own community, and I felt emboldened watching fellow filmmakers share their films at home.
Artists often say we want to “bring community together” with our work. Sometimes, that outcome is hard to measure. But as I watched the crowd gather, heard them laugh and cheer, and even occupy each other happily through technical difficulties, the togetherness felt warm and powerful.
The Corner Cafe in SM City
NOVEMBER 18, 2022
TUGUEGARAO, PH — Opening night at a mall might not seem like something to write home about, but here I am, writing home about it.
In fact, before SM City Tuguegarao opened in November, my friends in Manila texted me excitedly that Tuguegarao was about to get a KFC! We also got a second Starbucks there, only a week after the first one opened at another mall across town. In the States, Starbucks is (not-so-) jokingly a sign of gentrification. Here, I suppose it’s a sign of globalization. Not the only one.
Along with Tuguegarao’s malls, I’ve already spent many hours in malls in Manila, Mandaluyong, Pasay, and Quezon City, and I think the most shocking revelation I had was that there’s a Shake Shack in the Philippines! Not because the Philippines can’t or shouldn’t have Shake Shack, but that I still feel like it’s still a big deal when they open up any non-New York U.S.-based locations!
Anyway, on a Friday night in mid-November in Tuguegarao, no American Thanksgiving in sight, the biggest event of the month was the SM City opening.
On my way there, it took me two tricycles and over an hour to go the 4KM from my apartment to the “new SM.” Traffic can be rough in Tuguegarao, but usually it takes me about 15 to 30 minutes to get anywhere I need to go, even during rush hour. While I was stuck in one tricycle or another, I missed a famous actor's speech, a DJ set, and a fireworks show at the celebration.
Upon arrival, I was hungry, but all of the restaurants were jam packed. My friends and I got spaghetti, fancy hot dogs, egg sandwiches, and coffee (for them)/chocolate frappe (for me) at an oddly under-trafficked cafe tucked in a corner. Along with my uneasiness about Covid, there were multi-hour waiting lists for Jollibee, Boteyju, Peri-Peri, and McDonald’s. Though my friends' hopes were dashed, I wasn’t interested in eating at many of these places anyway, especially the franchises that already have Tuguegarao locations.
Mid-meal, when my friends whipped out some work to do, I was reminded of the time I spent in malls in my youth, getting my favorite drink at Starbucks or Jamba Juice, perusing Hot Topic, judging people at the skating rink, going to the movies, or settling in to do homework.
Admittedly, there’s a queasiness in my heart about signs of the West here, even though I, too, am one such sign. I'm pretty sure Hot Topic hasn’t made it to the Philippines yet (and it’s okay if it never does), and I’m more interested in taste-testing Tuguegarao’s local cafes rather than what was once my signature “tall Double Chocolaty Chip Blended Cream, extra chocolate, extra blended.” That was fifteen years ago.
Now my hometown malls are half empty, or boarded up, or closed down. I didn’t expect to feel their part-suburban, part-metropolitan, entirely consumerist comfort again, at 30, and certainly not halfway around the world, where I thought I might, just might, be escaping the part of the world I came from (even as a Fulbright-NatGeo Fellow). I mean, why are frappes and cafes so popular here anyway, local or no.... Though I wrote this post in mild incredulity, there’s both a gratefulness for the familiarity and a foreboding weight as I list off the brands I recognize so readily, while I can’t quite remember the name of the corner cafe we ducked into that night.
Welcome to the Philippines
September 21, 2022
MANILA, PH — THE FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF MARTIAL LAW
I made it! Thirty-plus hours, two planes, one overnight layover in Incheon, and one Kakao Friends plushie purchase later, I arrived in Manila on September 20th! I was blessed to already know folks in the city through previous jobs, remote language lessons, and a lot of cold emails that led to more cold emails, which resulted in so many warm welcomes. Multiple people even greeted me by saying, "Welcome home."
A couple days in, a Fulbright staff member asked what surprised me most so far. I told them I was totally floored by the National Capitol Region's (NCR) -- high rise buildings, malls, traffic, and general urban sprawl. The tourism industry would have us think that the country is entirely beaches, nipa huts, and a million jeepneys, and despite the accuracy of the last line item, I wasn't quite prepared to enter a metropolis that vaguely reminded me of Seoul (in some ways), but was nothing like New York, LA, or San Francisco.
The number of Western brands that proliferated the malls came in close second. Back in the U.S., Filipino friends told me to bring pasalubong (loosely translated to "souvenirs") of snacks, clothes, makeup etc for folks in the Philippines. I thought that was due to availability, but after perusing the malls, I'm realizing that though present, many Western imports just aren't affordable for families here. (I'm also realizing that the best pasalubong is probably food, though a nice purse is appreciated, too.)
Don't worry, I didn't spend all my time in malls (though I did visit them as needed to utilize free bathrooms and bask in aircon). My first full day in the country was September 21, 2022, the 50th anniversary of President Ferdinand Marcos Sr's proclamation of Martial Law.*
Rallies to recall the tragedies of the era are held every year, but the semicentennial also fell during with the first year of a second Marcos administration (Bongbong, Ferdinand's son). I stopped by the IBON Foundation**, a decades-old NGO started in response to government corruption, American-Philippine economic relations, and state violence during and after the Martial Law period. IBON had put together a small exhibit of their bulletins, educational resources, and news articles, and one of their staff told me about a rally at University of the Philippines Diliman later that afternoon.
When I arrived in Quezon City, I recognized UP Diliman's center of campus, the Oblation, from Filipino films I'd watched. I joined up with one of many groups of demonstrators waiting down the street. Dressed in all black with signs reading "Never Forget" and "Never Again to Martial Law," this org was specifically challenging poor living and labor conditions that force workers abroad, and naming the dangers that Overseas Filipino Workers (OFW) experience while away. I decided to tag along with them knowing I'm the child of an OFW -- that my birth was the symptom of my mother's own struggles. Had I stopped by the sea of red around the corner amassing outside one of many Jollibees, I would have met Anakbayan***, the Filipino youth organization whose many U.S. chapters have marched in support of queer liberation, in solidarity with Black lives, and called for U.S. support against Duterte's 2020 Anti-Terror Bill. By far the largest group, Anakbayan marched by, followed by youth groups I recognized from their U.S.-based counterparts. As we took up the rear, I pondered cross-cultural/global efforts, thoughts I'm continuing to nurse.
My stay in Manila was extended due to Super Typhoon Karding (aka Noru), which reached Category Five. The whole country felt on high alert, farmers lost entire crops, and riverside barangays experienced extensive flooding. In the following week, I returned to UP Diliman several more times to help out with relief efforts by a student union. Undergraduate student organizers shared their perspectives on the country's political and economic landscape with me. As we sat undercover from the rain, folding clothes and organizing toothpaste, soap, and coffee packets, they told me about their courses (Creative Writing, Communications, Linguistic Anthropology, to name a few), and asked about my film projects and experience growing up in the United States.
In 2012, I briefly considered applying to study abroad in the Philippines through UP's Creative Writing program. Would I have found myself under that same structure, next to the same mural of a poem named "Pasista," lamenting the power of both fascism and complacency? Hard to say. But my adoptive family was concerned I would want to move "home" permanently, and more importantly, I needed to solidify ten years of Spanish language lessons, so I went to a different former Spanish colony (Argentina), and told myself I'd have time for my homeland in the future. Ten years later, I wonder if I would have felt the tight grip of consumerism and class struggle in the nation as acutely as I do now.
(Read this post in my NatGeo Field Notes!)
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FOOTNOTES:
*Or at least the date on the page. Historian Ambeth R. Ocampo wrote about an important clarifying note regarding the actual signing here: https://opinion.inquirer.net/156814/history-its-complicated
**IBON Foundation: https://www.ibon.org/
***Anakbayan Philippines: https://twitter.com/anakbayan_ph
Remembering Resilience: Expedition Background
AUGUST 4, 2022
WASHINGTON, D.C. — I’ve never been to the Philippines before.
I was adopted at birth in Portland, Oregon, USA, thousands of miles away from my birth mother’s home in Cagayan River Valley. Like many people in diaspora, I often feel out of touch from my community and history. Living alone during the Covid-19 pandemic, I felt further isolated from any form of family or community. Quarantines rose and borders closed. After years of thinking "maybe I'll go to Philippines next year" or "the year after that," I wondered if I'd ever get to go at all.
In an effort to reconnect with my roots remotely, I reached out to Filipino (Ibanag and Itawis) researchers at the Cagayan Heritage Conservation Society in the Valley through social media. Culture inevitably shifts over with time, and we bonded over our interest in observing and documenting that shift while recognizing how we are a part of it. The researchers as lifelong community members giving back to their families and ancestors, myself as an adoptee and filmmaker returning home for the first time. We wondered if we could work together to further explore our identities and celebrate local heritage together. Fast forward to this year, and I'm in Tuguegarao City, along the Cagayan River, with my diary, a camera, and a lot of sunscreen.
While developing a collection of documentary short films here, I am meeting with elders to learn about oral traditions, attending LGBTQ+ community gatherings in the region, and gently unpacking my own complicated emotions around adoption and homecoming. My Filipino collaborators bring their own experiences to the project. In my field notes, they may each expand upon who they are, their role in the research and larger Cagayan community, and short and long term research goals for heritage conservation. I will also include fragments of their/our shared and separate observations, reflections, frustrations, and excitements. The expedition itself is a study in the complexities of "theirs" and "ours" and "mine." I refer to these field notes as fragments knowing entries may appear incomplete or in process, bringing up more questions than answers and asking us to engage in conversation and further investigation.
At the National Geographic Society, The Fulbright Program, and in the Western documentary filmmaking field, researchers, academics, and storytellers can either erase or cement history. Whose history gets preserved? Whose is washed away? American presence abroad resulted in my domestic transracial adoption, and now I carry with me the weight of my impact as an American living in the Philippines. I carry the weight of my family separation, and I carry the anxiety and anticipation of reunion -- with my land, my language(s), and my community.
As a filmmaker, I have the opportunity to engage directly with the personal, with my collaborators, project participants, and myself. The resulting collection of films (and any additional projects we envision) will feature their/our kaleidoscopic points of view and allow for Cagayan Valley communities to share their/our distinct identities and cultures, asking us all to reflect on globalization, growth, and change.
(Read this post in my NatGeo Field Notes: Remembering Resilience!)