art

This is the zeitgeist of Los Angeles, I suppose.

“LA Angst”, billboard at Citywalk, Universal Studios, Los Angeles, California. Photo taken 9 July 2009.

I haven’t found out who the artist is, but it’s got a very Roy Lichtenstein flavor to it.

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There are mornings when I sleep in and wake up with the sun high up, with nothing more on my mind than to spend the day the way I want to – in unhurried Web surfing, writing, and reading whatever takes my fancy.

The Italians call it dolce far niente – “pleasant idleness”. Literally, the phrase means “sweet doing nothing”.

“Dolce Far Niente” (1904) by  John William Godward, English artist (1861 to 1922). Image at the Art Renewal Center gallery here.

Let’s not begrudge ourselves the time for the kind of idleness that calms and heals; not every moment needs to be filled up with the frantic scurrying that is merely make-work and leads to the stress that is the bane of modern society.

Sometimes we need to recharge, reconnect with ourselves and remember what matters to us most, in an afternoon of dolce far niente. Light a scented candle or burn a stick of incense; curl up in a favorite armchair or on a pile of pillows covered with white eyelet lace, book or Kindle in hand. Read, or allow your thoughts to wander to the happiest moments of your life. Dream for the future, for it can be as sweet as you make it.

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From my bookshelves: Filipino Style (Archipelago Press, Singapore: 2007). With photographs by Luca Invernizzi Tettoni and Tara Sosrowardoyo; text by Rene Javellana, Fernando Nakpil Zialcita, and Elizabeth V. Reyes.

The book cover shows Philippine-style Art Nouveau decorations and furniture in the ancestral Bautista- de los Santos house in Malolos, Bulacan, “built in 1812, painted in tendrils and foliage in 1877, and re-conceived in Art Nouveau terms at the turn of the century.”  Art Nouveau, which was popular from the end of the 1800s until the 1930s, enjoyed a longer run here than in Europe. The style gave way to Art Deco in the 1930s.

First published in 1997, this book gives brief overviews of Filipino architectural and interior design style. Beautiful photographs make the articles come alive. Most notable are the spreads on bahay-na-bato of the 19th century, perhaps the architectural style most suited to the tropical climate. Such homes are characterized by certain elements: a stone or cement first floor, where horses were stabled and carriages kept; and a wooden second floor, the living area. Wide windows were covered by capiz-and-wood shutters; more windows below the sill, called ventanillas, ensured that practically the entire living area could be opened up to cooling breezes.

From the first floor, a polished and gleaming wooden staircase swept up to the open-plan second floor, designed that way to allow the free flow of air. Areas such as the drawing room (sala) and dining room were marked off by carpets and by arrangements of furniture. Wooden floors bounced light off their shiny surfaces, creating the illusion of  wide spaces. A mesa altar for religious images was prominently displayed. Bedrooms featured four-poster beds and elaborately-carved aparadors, almarios (pillow racks), and dressers. Walls often had filigreed transoms to allow the passage of air (and light and sound) through all the rooms of the house. Furniture was of carved wood, the styles imitated from Europe, but the seats, rather than being stuffed with horsehair and covered with dark fabric as in Victorian England, were covered with solihiya (woven cane), making them cooler, lighter, and airier.

From the chapter “Traditional Houses”, by Fernando Nakpil Zialcita:

Another aspect of Filipino style has yet to be recognized. This is what I call “a fondness for the translucent”. Filipino creations love to half-reveal and half-conceal forms and colors. Capiz windows pretend to block off the outside world but actually reveal aspects of it. Capiz catches the shadow of a branch swaying outside. The moods the shell panels create change as the sun passes; at one moment, they are quiet and still; at another they shimmer like the sea at noon. The oily smoothness of the wooden floors, often uncarpeted, reflect changes in the light and give the visitor a sense of walking on water.

Similarly the cloth favored for the upper garments of the national dress for men and women is made of translucent, rather than opaque, materials: sinamay is made from loosely-woven abaca, jusi is made from Chinese silk and pineapple, piña from pineapple gauze. The barong Tagalog delicately reveals the torso, while at the same time concealing it. Hre, as in the wood-and-stone house, the Filipino fondness for open tracery, called calado, adds elegance while daring the eye to explore the field.

The facade of Casa Manila in Intramuros. This is a bahay-na-bato turned into a museum and is a must-see.

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From my bookshelves: The Pillow Book (Makura no soshi) by Sei Shonagon (Penguin Books, London: 2006).

As a creative writer I am more comfortable writing non-fiction rather than fiction, and as a reader I find myself drawn to CNF books such as memoirs and biographies. In order to study the genre I’ve built up a collection of representative works, and this one is among my favorites.

Written by Sei Shonagon, one of the most lettered women of her time, the book reveals the mannered, elegant world of the court in 11th century Japan during the Heian period.

Shonagon was a woman of delicate taste and deep aesthetic sensibilty; the sight of an autumn leaf would send her into paroxysms of rapture. What set her apart from others of equally sensitive nature was her intelligence and immense writing talent, that allowed her to set down her thoughts into a work that is regarded as one of the gems of world literature.

The Pillow Book is written in diary format, but contrary to the popular definition of ‘diary’ as a private exercise to be seen only by the writer, Shonagon knew from the start, after she was given the gift of paper (see excerpt image above) that it would be seen by the public.

She was one of the stars of Queen Teishi’s court, invited to join it for the high esteem people gave her learning, wit, and talent as a poet. Teishi had assigned Shonagon to come up with a work that would show the accomplishments of her court, as opposed to the second consort Queen Akiko’s, which boasted another highly regarded writer, Murasaki Shikibu (author of the Tale of Genji).

Much of The Pillow Book is in the form of lists:

[84] Things of elegant beauty – A slim, handsome young gentleman of noble birth wearing court dress.
A pretty girl dressed somewhat casually…
A bound book of fine paper.
A letter on fine green paper, tied to sprig of willow covered in little leaf buds.
A three-layer fan. A five-layer fan is too thick, and the base looks ugly.
Long stems of sweet flag, laid elegantly on a cypress-bark roof that’s neither too new nor too old, are wonderfully fresh and green to the eye…
A charming cat with a white tag on her red collar walking along by the railing of the veranda beyond the blinds, trailing her long leash behind her, is also a lovely and very elegant sight…
A knotted letter of violet paper, with a long cluster of wisteria blossom attached…

[143] Things that make the heart lurch with anxiety – Watching a horse-race. Twisting up a paper hair-binding cord…
Your heart naturally lurches when you hear the voice of your secret lover in an unexpected place, but the same thing happens even when you hear someone else talking about him. It also lurches when someone you really detest arrives for a visit.
Indeed the heart is a creature amazingly prone to lurching. It even lurches in sympathy with another woman when the next-morning letter from a man who stayed with her for the first time the night before is late in arriving.

[160] Things that are far yet near – Paradise. The course of a boat. Relations between men and women.

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Plucked from eternal obscurity by chance, the work of a talented amateur photographer surfaces to delight the world with a different perspective.

New York-born Vivian Maier lived in France on and off as a child until she was in her 20s, when she returned to the US to toil as a nanny for various well-off Chicago families until close to her death in 2009. She was an outspoken yet fiercely private person who shared her photos with very few people. Even the families she worked for who wished to have copies of the photographs Maier took of their children had to buy prints from her.

Most of the images are of 1950s to 1980s Chicago, but Maier also traveled to and took photos in exotic places – Manila, Bangkok, and Egypt among them.

As far as it is known, she never married nor had children.

Vivian Maier (1926-2009). Self-portrait. Image here.

When she died, most of her things went into storage and were auctioned off later on upon non-payment of the storage fees.

By chance, John Maloof, a young real-estate agent, stumbled upon the trove of prints, negatives, and rolls of film, took them home, and was astounded at the richness and depth of her work in street photography.

On his blog devoted to Maier, he writes:

Her discovered work includes over 100,000 mostly medium-format negatives, thousands of prints, and a ton of undeveloped rolls of film. I have approximately 90-95% of the work.

Maloof has dedicated his time to scanning the negatives and prints in order to properly archive her work. The vast majority of the images in his possession have never been seen by anyone other than Maier.

With her work gathering such immense interest, a book and documentary about her will soon be released.

Here are some of my favorite Maier images. (They are untitled.)

I remember when my children were toddlers – they looked like this from behind, too. Image here.

I call this one “Urban Jungle Explorer.” Because the city is dangerous, you need to wear a pith helmet. Things might fall on your head. What things? I don’t know, but they might. Image here.

This is one of the few photos in color that Maloof has released; most of them were shot in black-and-white. I love the cherry-red ripeness of the subject’s dress and her nails – so 1950s. But why is her right first clenched? There’s a whole story here behind the tension. Image here.

Caveat: the change must be for the better, not for the worse. Image here.

This is my favorite. Maier definitely had a sense of humor! I dub this one “My Butt – Your Face.” Image here.

Read more about this remarkable artist:

http://www.chicagomag.com/Chicago-Magazine/January-2011/Vivian-Maier-Street-Photographer/index.php?cparticle=1&siarticle=0#artanc

http://www.aphotoeditor.com/2010/12/28/chicago-nanny-discovered-to-be-master-street-photographer/

http://blakeandrews.blogspot.com/2010/12/leave-it-to-investigative-journalist-to.html

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This article is the fourth in a series of research studies about Philippine communication environments. See Part 1 for an introduction to the topic of the communication environment and its relationship to culture. Read Part 2 and Part 3 to know more.

On his turn to take us on a trip to explore an out-of-the-ordinary environment, UP College of Mass Communication Graduate Studies department chairman Dr Jose Lacson chose to show us the Yuchengco Museum at RCBC Plaza, Makati City.

The museum, which houses the art collection of banker and ambassador Alfonso T. Yuchengco, was established to “foster a greater public appreciation of the finest in Filipino and Filipino-Chinese visual arts and creativity.” (from a flyer)

Photography is prohibited only at the first and second floors.

Yuchengco Museum: Art, Intimately

The Architecture

The museum is located in the Yuchengco Tower at the RCBC (Rizal Commercial Banking Center) complex of buildings along Ayala Avenue. Passersby see massive erections of glass and steel, a familiar conglomeration of materials for this area. More than a profit-oriented real estate development, it is  a monument to the power and wealth of its owner.

Yet tucked in a corner of the megaphallic mass is what looks like a thimble. An odd, even aberrant, design choice, many think. Yet once inside the museum, the structure yields up the interesting secret of its shape.

Inside, the interior is neutral – gray, white, and chrome provide a nearly invisible setting that allow the collections to shine like gems in white gold.

The first floor is a wide space with high ceilings. Here, the museum’s most significant paintings are displayed, the public kept from close contact with the artworks by blue velvet ropes. As the museum patron’s first encounter with the collections, the ground floor’s  rope barriers, though soft and of a luxurious material, seem to say, “Look, but don’t get too close.” Limits are thus set, immediately; the “welcome” into the space is not as warm as might be desired.

However, the barriers also serve to reinforce the importance of these particular pieces. That they were chosen for this form of protection highlights their value, both artistic and commercial.

At the second floor, exhibit spaces are smaller, the ceilings lower, thus more intimate. There are no more barriers from hereon, communicating an invitation: “Come closer.” Patrons may approach the artworks, peer closely at them, and inspect the brush strokes and textures of materials.

The Artifacts

The Yuchengco family’s collection of personal art (reproduction ancestor scroll, commissioned portraits) and antiques (a jade horse, a breathtaking carved ivory tusk) is impressive. Obvious in the care lavished upon these objects is the family’s love of art and history, reflected in a “timeline” display of the Chinese presence in the Philippines beginning with arrival of the merchant ships bringing  Chinese traders to these shores.

The intricately-detailed ivory faces of these tiny figures, turned upward to the viewer as if in supplication to a god, are a marvel of the carver’s art.

Rotating exhibits punctuate the permanent displays. At the time of our visit, works from paper were prominently displayed and provided an interesting look at modern art using found and discarded materials.

The glory of the museum and my personal favorite is “Suspended Garden”. This is the “thimble’s” well-kept secret – a site-specific installation by Tony Gonzales and Tes Pasola.

Hung from different heights by fishing line from a metal grid in the ceiling of the “thimble” is a multitude of papier-mache rocks, looking like so many planets suspended in space. One may view the work from all sides, from the floor above, and from underneath, lying on the carpet on the floor, upon which more rocks are scattered. The rocks also line the inner circumference of the space.

The integration of space and materials into the piece is enhanced by the accidental effect of light on the “rocks”. They look like the river rocks kept in some Filipino bathrooms and used for exfoliating – panghilod – and are thus a familiar size and shape, further inviting the viewer to explore, touch, and play.

The Patrons

There is a sense of freedom in the upper floors lacking in the first floor and lobby. Visitors to the museum feel free to sit, squat, and lie down to take photographs and experience the art. This interaction allows viewers to become one with the art and absorb its meaning and beauty in a personal way.

This may have been inadvertent, but it is a happy effect for all that, enhancing one’s experience at the museum, and ensuring that one will return again and again to enjoy the carefully chosen art for the special exhibits, and revisit the permament treasures that the Yuchengco family is so generously sharing with the world.

Click on a picture, then click again to see a full-size image.

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China possesses one of the world’s oldest scholarly traditions, dating back millenia. Symbols scratched on oracle bones found in Jiahu, a Neolithic settlement, suggest that the evolution of Chinese writing began around 6600 BCE. A trove of classical works from 770 BCE onwards enriches Chinese literature; these were appreciated and added to by the intelligentsia and, upon the invention of woodblock and moveable type printing, were widely disseminated and read by the learned for generations.

From carvings on bone and turtle plastrons for divinatory purposes, Chinese writing evolved into logosyllabic characters of ink brushed on paper serving practical (record-keeping) and artistic (literary) functions. The art of writing and calligraphy became skills cultivated among the upper and middle classes.

The tools of calligraphy were highly prized. Chinese scholars called them “the four treasures of the study” – the inkstone, inkstick, brushes, and paper. Other tools used were carved seals of stone, wood, or ivory; seal paste of cinnabar mixed with castor oil and silk strands or plant fiber; sculpted or carved paperweights; and desk pads.

Calligraphy is still taught in Chinese schools to the present day, all over the world. Filipino students work with writing sets, learning to imbue characters with emotion using deft, fluid strokes with an ink-dipped brush.

UK-based AL Merginio-Murgatroyd, a friend from school days, sent me this set. The cardboard box is covered with green silk that shines bluish in sunlight; the pattern is embroidered with violet-gray thread.

Inside, on red felt, three of the ‘four precious things of the library’. This set includes a seal and seal paste.

The seal is marble, uncarved, waiting for me to choose a special sign to have engraved upon it. The inkstick has a golden dragon upon it – it’s too beautiful to use!

Inksticks were traditionally made from soot and glue. They often have carvings or were molded into whimsical shapes like flowers. Many inkstones, especially antiques, are works of art and cherished by collectors.

To use, drag water from the inkstone’s ‘well’ on to the ‘plain’; grind the inkstick against the stone until the water in the well runs dark enough.

Seals are used like rubber stamps – dab the carved side into seal paste, and gently press it onto the surface of the paper, rocking it back and forth to ensure a good impression. Remember to keep seal paste containers covered and in the box to prevent it from drying out.

As I hold this box in my lap, I think of many things – the sheer weight of the thousands of years of Chinese culture; the literature classics written with materials like these, from the Tao Te Ching to the Confucian Analects; that practical things may also be works of beauty, and uplift to an art the labor done with them; how writing tools have evolved through time in various civilizations; and more, and more.

Most of all I think of how a friend now in a cold country far from her motherland’s tropical warmth, who taught me Math and conversed with me when I was in elementary and she in high school with license to ignore the small fry yet still kindled the fires of friendship, a friend whom I have not seen for more than two decades, keeps our connection burning with this and other tokens of remembrance.

Thank you, AL. I hope one day to see you again, and embrace you again, and show you my gratitude for your love through the years. Be blessed.

Photos by Alex Alcasid; inkstone and seal ‘how-to’ images here.

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Here’s my first piece for a cultural studies column appearing every Thursday beginning 29 April 2010 on the Opinion Page of the Manila Standard-Today. Thank you to MST Opinion Editor Ms. Adelle Chua for giving me this chance, for believing in me.

POP GOES THE WORLD By Jenny Ortuoste for Manila Standard-Today,  29 April 2010, Thursday

Here Lies Myth

Natalie Merchant. Tori Amos. Cyndi Lauper. Kate Pierson of B-52s fame. Our very own Charmaine Clamor. These and other artists have lent their voices to a unique project- “Here Lies Love”, a two-CD rock opera on the life of Imelda Marcos.

Cover

The genius behind this ground-breaking work is himself one of a kind – David Byrne. He was prime mover of the ’80s new wave band Talking Heads; composer of the main theme from the film “The Last Emperor”, in which wailing violin evokes the haunted soul of a China long vanished; and, with ex-Roxy Music producer Brian Eno, creator of the singular album “Everything That Happens Will Happen Today”, a blend of electronic and gospel.

David Byrne (Net)

In collaboration with deejay and big beat musician Norman Cook (aka Fatboy Slim of the electronic dance hit “Weapon of Choice”), Byrne expresses in 22 songs his own take on the mythos of Imelda.

Fatboy Slim (Net)

The narrative of Imelda was evolved by her and those around her, conflated by succeeding events, until she became a creature bigger than life and entered world awareness. In one of his blog posts, Byrne tells of his visit to the Philippines in December 2005. He hoped “to catch and absorb some whiff of the Philippine ethos, sensibility, and awareness, by osmosis and conversation.”

In visits to Malacañang, Ilocos, and Leyte, he sees paintings of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos depicted as “the ur-couple of the Philippines…the strong man and the beautiful woman”; Imelda as a “nurturing goddess”. Byrne is no naïve worshipper at the altar; he is aware of how much of her image was a deliberate manipulation. A chapel in Tacloban dedicated to the Santo Niño is “really, a shrine dedicated to herself,” he observes.

In a recent interview in Financial Times, Byrne relates his fascination in Imelda grew from reading that she “loved going to clubs like Studio 54 and had a floor of her New York townhouse turned into a disco.” Here was a person of power who created her “own little bubble world…I wanted to delve into what makes this person tick, what drives them, how they can be in such deep denial about some of the things they’ve done.”

The album follows Imelda from her girlhood until she fled the country during the People Power revolution, juxtaposed with the life of her yaya Estrella Cumpas. The 3,000 pairs of shoes are not mentioned. Six music videos are part of the project, using news and archival footage of a young and dazzling Imelda in her butterfly-sleeved ternos descending from airplanes, smiling graciously, charming world leaders.

The album is a treasure box of gems. Much of the lyrics are taken from Imelda’s own words. In “The Rose of Tacloban”, Martha Wainwright asks “what lies beyond tomorrow…?” Cyndi Lauper’s breathy vocals delight in “Eleven Days”. Charmaine Clamor is smokey in “Walk Like a Woman”, Kate Pierson’s distinctive voice engages in “The Whole Man”.  Disco, funk, and electronic dance energize; crank the volume high enough, you forget the subject and become immersed in the music.

Singer and songwriter Binky Lampano says “Here Lies Love” can’t be compared to Byrne’s other works. “Musically we are dealing here with other elements altogether. There are no ‘Talking Heads’ components. As a work, it’s a worthy project. The man went out of his way to come to our country to do his homework.”

As a historical artifact, the album is a keepsake. Advertising executive Leigh Reyes bought the digital edition as soon as it was released. An admirer of Byrne’s work, she says it is “strange to watch (footage of) a fuzzy black-and-white Marcos with a pensive dance track”.

And Byrne’s choice of Imelda as a subject? “She’s a global character,” says Lampano. “It’s not like Byrne went out of his way to look for her. She’s part of the world’s common currency as half of the ‘Conjugal Disco-tatorship’”.

Love her or hate her, Imelda and all that she is part of world culture. In the same way Filipinos have taken Western pop music and made it our own, with, for instance, insurgents in Mindanao call two opposing forces “The Monkees” and “The Beatles”, the world picks and chooses from our narratives to inform creative expression.

Thereby is mythos -  story – continually created, added on to, until boundaries blur, and art becomes a commonality. Here, indeed, in the music and the inspiration, lies love.

*****

The column title is that of an ’80s hit song by Men Without Hats. Lyrics go like this: “Johnny played guitar, Jenny played bass/ Name of the band is ‘The Human Race’/Everybody, tell me, have you heard?/ Pop goes the world.” and so on for more stanzas, where Jenny plays keyboard and Johnny drums, they have kids, they get into movies, they get their pictures in the magazines,  and so on.

In other words, Johnny and Jenny live a life within media, producing content for media, which is distributed to the world. The song’s narrative fits smack into what I want to explore in this column – culture, as created by artists, musicians, and other content providers, selected and filtered by the news media through agenda-setting processes, and distributed through a channel with global reach – the Internet.

Culture, as seen through the lenses of postmodernity and social constructionism, in many instances can no longer be strictly defined as “high” or “low” – the boundaries are blurred, and the Internet has the effect of making the homogenizing process much faster – in fact, so fast that we see it taking place before our very eyes. Via semiotics, we also see how incidents, people, places, etc. may become symbols or signs for concepts that already exist in the different national cultures, or may be appropriated to give meaning to new concepts that have entered consciousness through media consumption.

Yet this does not mean that culture around the world will become one bland mass, like a bowl of oatmeal. Each country’s unique cultural vision will still inform the content produced in that milieu, or provide inspiration to artists from elsewhere. It is the appreciation of the varied types of content that contribute to the creation of a global culture through media.

In this column I will look at what’s trending in world news, perform textual and content analyses as appropriate,  deconstruct concepts, and give insights into why this subject matter is relevant or irrelevant to Filipinos. In other words, the column deals with cultural studies informed by a multi-disciplinary viewpoint (anthropology, sociology, communication, media studies, psychology, etc.). It’s a social scientist’s way of bringing awareness of how global culture is becoming Filipino culture as well as vice versa (as in the way Imelda Marcos and Manny Pacquiao are now part of the world mythos).

Pop Goes the World – everything in the world will be popular eventually. ***

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On the Coastal road to Naic, Cavite, last Saturday, I saw these funky passenger transport vehicles in Imus, Cavite. They were smaller than a bus but larger than a jeepney, and as flamboyantly decorated with folk art. Let us call them “beeps”.

Beeps have the characteristic artwork common to jeeps – the “title” on the signage above the windshield; the names of the owner and his family painted all over the vehicle; and colorful motifs.

The design on the back of this beep reminds me of Hawaiian quilt appliques.

This artwork shows Mickey Mouse as a cruise director – implying, perhaps, that this beep is your own cruise ship to your destination.

The backs of beeps, like taxicabs, often bear the names of the owner’s wife and children and some motif that has special meaning for them. The splashguard at the bottom will often have either the name of a patron saint or some quotation.

This beep’s rear splashguard bears a quote about love. Filipinos are, in general, a romantic folk. Why the matching prawns? No idea. I saw several beeps with the prawns.

The airbrushed art on this beep is eye-catching. Note the color-coordinated passersby. Photography is a serendipitous activity.

Motifs from popular culture are often used. This is an anime-decorated beep. The side panel shows characters from “Kingdom Hearts”.

The bishop’s miter and crook are also common motifs for Cavite beep artwork. The back art of this one – a  guardian angel watching over two children crossing a log footbridge – is beautifully and painstakingly rendered.

Since beeps have more surface area than jeeps, there is more scope for folk artists to let their creativity run free in creating large designs. This kind of art work, executed on a moving canvas, reaches a wider audience than if it were just hung on the wall.

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