Sunday, March 29, 2009
The News Next Door
The News Next Door Raul Agner
Pen and ink on acid-free paper
2001
An inconsiderate neighbor can be a pain in the a__. His whole household can disturb your simple luxuries like reading the morning paper. You, an unlucky guy, have no choice but grit your teeth and bear the cacophonic repertoire of conjugal fights, videoke singing, the sizzle of mah-jong tiles at midnight and other “ear-ritants.” That’s the subject of this drawing.
Friday, March 27, 2009
An Old Work
Geronima
Raul Agner
Acrylic on canvas
2001
Acrylic on canvas
2001
The “Balangiga Massacre” or “Balangiga Encounter,” as some prefer to call it, happened in the small town of Balangiga in the southern part of Samar Island in September 1901. A company of American soldiers sent there to help clear the island of Filipino insurgents was nearly wiped out by sundang (long knife)-wielding townsfolk who became fed up with the restrictions and abuses of the soldiers. The townspeople, far inferior in arms than the occupying forces, hatched up a plan for a dawn attack on the soldiers. Dressed as women, and pretending to carry coffins of child cholera victims – which in truth contained bladed weapons, the men assembled in the church at midnight purportedly to say prayers for the dead. A brave woman risked her life by carrying several sundang hidden beneath her skirt to the church for the men to use as additional weapons. The attack on the American camp near the church was successfully carried out at dawn, signalled by the frenzied tolling of church bells, while the soldiers were having breakfast - the only time of day when they don’t carry guns. A few Americans survived the attack which the Filipinos considered justified given the superior weapons of the enemy and the unbearable extent of their abuses.
This painting was one of the artworks exhibited in the show "Echoes of Balangiga" in Hiroshima, Japan in 2002.
This painting was one of the artworks exhibited in the show "Echoes of Balangiga" in Hiroshima, Japan in 2002.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Chronicles of an Accidental Friendship
My accidental visit to an art gallery in Manila twenty-five years ago exemplifies the old saw that everything happens for a reason. It started off a friendship with a person that would be enriching especially for me, resulting in art-related pursuits that would be advantageous to others as well. After our first meeting, I gradually learned that he was playing an important, self-defined curatorial role in the incipient stages of post-Imeldific Philippine art.
Accidental Friendship
While attending a Museology symposium at the National Library on October 3, 1984, I spent the lunch break looking around Mabini St. for cheap frames for my small drawings. At U.N. Ave., I chanced upon a shop with a glass storefront whose attraction was hard to resist because the paintings inside looked freshly familiar. I had no clue then that I was at the doorstep of Hiraya Gallery. Before leaving Tacloban the previous day, I had been reading an article in Focus magazine about an upcoming artist named Renato Habulan. Noticing that the paintings visible through the glass were the same as the photos in the article, I got excited and decided to go in. My eyes feasted on everything they could set their sights on, even as I sensed that somebody was watching my visual exploration through a gap between a suspended display panel and the wall.
That guy later introduced himself as Bobi Valenzuela who, as I was about to leave, asked me to sign the guestbook. He also offered me coffee. I didn’t know what to say but any probinsyano would certainly feel important and welcome if extended this friendly gesture especially in a very impersonal place like Manila. With a hesitant yes, I found myself sipping coffee at the mezzanine. Moreover, I met the artist himself who was responsible for the moving works downstairs. Still clear in my memory is the sight of Habulan, a social realist artist, shedding a tear as he lamented the prevailing social conditions. These people, I thought, must be serious about art and life.
Letters
Back in Leyte, I wrote Bobi to thank him for his hospitality. In two days, he wrote back to say he was glad to have met me, reiterating an invitation that I drop by Hiraya every time I happened to be in Manila. That initial exchange of letters became a groundbreaking step for our regular, almost weekly, communication until the advent of e-mail and cellphones made it obsolete.
In his letters, Bobi shared his ideas about art, his work as art curator, updates on the Manila art scene, the artists who mattered, and even some characters he found hard to deal with. In return, I wrote about my museum job, my attempts at artmaking, the local art scene and artists, and culture in general. He always emphasized that art should go beyond a show of artistic skill; he disliked the done-to-death Madonna and Child. More importantly, it should have something important to say, a sensitivity to realities that affect country or community.
Projects, Events
Our friendship, our letter writing, led to many things that would not have happened had I not decided to step inside Hiraya Gallery that fateful day in October.
In 1991, Bobi and Manny Chaves accepted my invitation to redesign the Divine Word university Museum in Tacloban which I curated then. From a drab repository of artifacts, they transformed it into a more visitor-friendly place that employed the local colourful banig as design motif. We agreed to name the whole permanent exhibit “Sungdu-an: A Confluence of Leyte-Samar Culture,” the Waray word meaning ‘meeting point of two rivers or confluence.’ I believe it was through Bobi’s suggestion that the word was used as title for the group show of visual artists from all over the country initiated by the NCCA-Committee on Visual Arts in the late ‘90s. Incidentally, Archie Zabala, a member of my hometown’s art group, qualified as Eastern Visayas’ representative to the “Sungdu-an 3: Making the Local” exhibit at the Cultural Center of the Philippines in 2004.
More Activities
Through Bobi, upcoming artist Alwin Reamillo came to Palo, Leyte in 1994 to conduct an installation art workshop for the Atitipalo Art Group. It was an important learning experience for the members as it exposed them to the alternative possibilities and purposes of creating art. Ironically, Bobi, a non-Visayan, connected us to the other Visayan artists in Bacolod so that in 1994, the Atitipalo was able to join the 3rd Visayas Islands Visual Arts Exhibition and Conference in Dumaguete. From that first attendance, the other artists from Eastern Visayas were able to network with the VIVA EXCON and regularly attend the succeeding gatherings. The high point of this inter-island networking was when the Leyte artists played host to the 6th VIVA EXCON in 2000 in Tacloban, with Bobi serving as exhibition curator.
Another workshop was made available to young artists in our area again through Bobi’s efforts. Noel Cuizon and Emong Borlongan conducted a Basic Drawing and Paper Sculpture Workshop in 1995 accompanied by Bobi and Ditas Samson of the CCP.
The first local group show of the Atitipalo was in 1996 in our hometown, largely through the encouragement of Bobi. In the same year, Bobi invited me to contribute to Ang De Latang Pinoy, a collaborative exhibit at the Hiraya Gallery. In 2002, I held my first show of drawings at the Drawing Room in Makati, a humble achievement and a somewhat late-blooming output of my long letter-writing-based “art education” with Bobi.
Contribution
Bobi chose to work behind the scenes. In one letter, he wrote that his favourite line was “the tragedy of being public like a frog,” from Susan Sontag. What really mattered was that the work was carried out as envisioned. Bobi’s contributions to art in my part of the archipelago may not be known to many but then he was never after quantity. The few who understood his message continue to make art along the path that he delineated.
Bobi became my kumpare, godfather to my second daughter, in 1996. The last time I saw him was on March 20, 2008 when together with my wife and two daughters, I visited him in his BF Paranaque home. In a few months, he would finally leave for the great beyond.
A stack of his letters sits quietly at home in Tacloban, a testament to our friendship that started as a chance meeting but, because it bore so many fruits, makes me believe that it had to happen for that reason.
Accidental Friendship
While attending a Museology symposium at the National Library on October 3, 1984, I spent the lunch break looking around Mabini St. for cheap frames for my small drawings. At U.N. Ave., I chanced upon a shop with a glass storefront whose attraction was hard to resist because the paintings inside looked freshly familiar. I had no clue then that I was at the doorstep of Hiraya Gallery. Before leaving Tacloban the previous day, I had been reading an article in Focus magazine about an upcoming artist named Renato Habulan. Noticing that the paintings visible through the glass were the same as the photos in the article, I got excited and decided to go in. My eyes feasted on everything they could set their sights on, even as I sensed that somebody was watching my visual exploration through a gap between a suspended display panel and the wall.
That guy later introduced himself as Bobi Valenzuela who, as I was about to leave, asked me to sign the guestbook. He also offered me coffee. I didn’t know what to say but any probinsyano would certainly feel important and welcome if extended this friendly gesture especially in a very impersonal place like Manila. With a hesitant yes, I found myself sipping coffee at the mezzanine. Moreover, I met the artist himself who was responsible for the moving works downstairs. Still clear in my memory is the sight of Habulan, a social realist artist, shedding a tear as he lamented the prevailing social conditions. These people, I thought, must be serious about art and life.
Letters
Back in Leyte, I wrote Bobi to thank him for his hospitality. In two days, he wrote back to say he was glad to have met me, reiterating an invitation that I drop by Hiraya every time I happened to be in Manila. That initial exchange of letters became a groundbreaking step for our regular, almost weekly, communication until the advent of e-mail and cellphones made it obsolete.
In his letters, Bobi shared his ideas about art, his work as art curator, updates on the Manila art scene, the artists who mattered, and even some characters he found hard to deal with. In return, I wrote about my museum job, my attempts at artmaking, the local art scene and artists, and culture in general. He always emphasized that art should go beyond a show of artistic skill; he disliked the done-to-death Madonna and Child. More importantly, it should have something important to say, a sensitivity to realities that affect country or community.
Projects, Events
Our friendship, our letter writing, led to many things that would not have happened had I not decided to step inside Hiraya Gallery that fateful day in October.
In 1991, Bobi and Manny Chaves accepted my invitation to redesign the Divine Word university Museum in Tacloban which I curated then. From a drab repository of artifacts, they transformed it into a more visitor-friendly place that employed the local colourful banig as design motif. We agreed to name the whole permanent exhibit “Sungdu-an: A Confluence of Leyte-Samar Culture,” the Waray word meaning ‘meeting point of two rivers or confluence.’ I believe it was through Bobi’s suggestion that the word was used as title for the group show of visual artists from all over the country initiated by the NCCA-Committee on Visual Arts in the late ‘90s. Incidentally, Archie Zabala, a member of my hometown’s art group, qualified as Eastern Visayas’ representative to the “Sungdu-an 3: Making the Local” exhibit at the Cultural Center of the Philippines in 2004.
More Activities
Through Bobi, upcoming artist Alwin Reamillo came to Palo, Leyte in 1994 to conduct an installation art workshop for the Atitipalo Art Group. It was an important learning experience for the members as it exposed them to the alternative possibilities and purposes of creating art. Ironically, Bobi, a non-Visayan, connected us to the other Visayan artists in Bacolod so that in 1994, the Atitipalo was able to join the 3rd Visayas Islands Visual Arts Exhibition and Conference in Dumaguete. From that first attendance, the other artists from Eastern Visayas were able to network with the VIVA EXCON and regularly attend the succeeding gatherings. The high point of this inter-island networking was when the Leyte artists played host to the 6th VIVA EXCON in 2000 in Tacloban, with Bobi serving as exhibition curator.
Another workshop was made available to young artists in our area again through Bobi’s efforts. Noel Cuizon and Emong Borlongan conducted a Basic Drawing and Paper Sculpture Workshop in 1995 accompanied by Bobi and Ditas Samson of the CCP.
The first local group show of the Atitipalo was in 1996 in our hometown, largely through the encouragement of Bobi. In the same year, Bobi invited me to contribute to Ang De Latang Pinoy, a collaborative exhibit at the Hiraya Gallery. In 2002, I held my first show of drawings at the Drawing Room in Makati, a humble achievement and a somewhat late-blooming output of my long letter-writing-based “art education” with Bobi.
Contribution
Bobi chose to work behind the scenes. In one letter, he wrote that his favourite line was “the tragedy of being public like a frog,” from Susan Sontag. What really mattered was that the work was carried out as envisioned. Bobi’s contributions to art in my part of the archipelago may not be known to many but then he was never after quantity. The few who understood his message continue to make art along the path that he delineated.
Bobi became my kumpare, godfather to my second daughter, in 1996. The last time I saw him was on March 20, 2008 when together with my wife and two daughters, I visited him in his BF Paranaque home. In a few months, he would finally leave for the great beyond.
A stack of his letters sits quietly at home in Tacloban, a testament to our friendship that started as a chance meeting but, because it bore so many fruits, makes me believe that it had to happen for that reason.
Graduation in a Time of Lent
by Raul Agner
(Editorial written for the March 2009 issue of the Adamson News)
That the graduation rites for this second semester of school year 2008-2009 falls within Christendom’s holiest week is a coincidence replete with symbolism.
Those who went through the crucible of college education know that earning a degree is no walk in the park. It is in fact a kind of agony of the body, mind and soul that the student has to go through, often peaking in a crucifixion of sorts when the going gets really, really rough. Exams, projects, theses, numerous requirements, terror teachers, you name it, they bring in all sorts of pain – including that which causes parents’ wallets to go anorexic. Thus not a few fail to reach the finish line, like runners that burn out along the way, mainly because of financial problems; which should make those who succeed feel fortunate and grateful that their dreams have been attained.
Graduation, therefore, is some kind of resurrection, a glorious moment. Not that anybody has died while pursuing a degree but there are countless tales of difficult struggles in the course of getting hold of that much-coveted diploma. We have heard of a successful businesswoman who had only a pair of shoes to wear through college. Then there’s the respected engineer who in college had only four hours of sleep as he juggled the obligations of work and study. Indeed graduation becomes sweeter if it bears the stigmata of sacrifice. It can bring one advantageous dividends in the world of work and career building later.
But failure to finish a degree doesn’t necessarily mean failure in life. Because an Adamson education is not only an exercise in knowledge acquisition but also a total package that includes value and spiritual formation, even those who spent only some years in the university internalize it. Luisita Zarsadias Esmao, who finished only three years of her accounting course, is a case in point. Her being at the forefront today of the farmers’ struggle for the extension of CARP shows that the Vincentian value of social responsibility runs alive in her veins. That and her other advocacies have landed her a revered place in the Ten Outstanding Women of the Philippines (BAYI) awards.
Still, completing a course and graduating from college is the ideal thing to achieve. The university knows this enough that it always seeks ways to ease the difficulty of acquiring a college degree. For one, many kinds of scholarships are made available. There are also discounts for the taking, like the Alumnus’ Child and the Siblings discounts. But most of all, at a time when the economic crisis comes foisted on everyone like a heavy cross to bear, the University extends a Cyrenean hand – by not increasing its tuition fee.
And so, to those who will be graduating on April 6, we extend our most heartfelt congratulations. You have beaten the odds, you have hurdled the challenges and you deserve your triumphant moment. Celebrate and enjoy to the max.
But please remember that as you move further up your journey to a brighter future and begin reaping the fruits of your labor, it might be good to look back and reflect that those who are left behind are still in struggle mode. Helping them in any way might be a Lenten value that can lead them to their own graduation, nay, resurrection.
Happy Graduation, Happy Easter!
Those who went through the crucible of college education know that earning a degree is no walk in the park. It is in fact a kind of agony of the body, mind and soul that the student has to go through, often peaking in a crucifixion of sorts when the going gets really, really rough. Exams, projects, theses, numerous requirements, terror teachers, you name it, they bring in all sorts of pain – including that which causes parents’ wallets to go anorexic. Thus not a few fail to reach the finish line, like runners that burn out along the way, mainly because of financial problems; which should make those who succeed feel fortunate and grateful that their dreams have been attained.
Graduation, therefore, is some kind of resurrection, a glorious moment. Not that anybody has died while pursuing a degree but there are countless tales of difficult struggles in the course of getting hold of that much-coveted diploma. We have heard of a successful businesswoman who had only a pair of shoes to wear through college. Then there’s the respected engineer who in college had only four hours of sleep as he juggled the obligations of work and study. Indeed graduation becomes sweeter if it bears the stigmata of sacrifice. It can bring one advantageous dividends in the world of work and career building later.
But failure to finish a degree doesn’t necessarily mean failure in life. Because an Adamson education is not only an exercise in knowledge acquisition but also a total package that includes value and spiritual formation, even those who spent only some years in the university internalize it. Luisita Zarsadias Esmao, who finished only three years of her accounting course, is a case in point. Her being at the forefront today of the farmers’ struggle for the extension of CARP shows that the Vincentian value of social responsibility runs alive in her veins. That and her other advocacies have landed her a revered place in the Ten Outstanding Women of the Philippines (BAYI) awards.
Still, completing a course and graduating from college is the ideal thing to achieve. The university knows this enough that it always seeks ways to ease the difficulty of acquiring a college degree. For one, many kinds of scholarships are made available. There are also discounts for the taking, like the Alumnus’ Child and the Siblings discounts. But most of all, at a time when the economic crisis comes foisted on everyone like a heavy cross to bear, the University extends a Cyrenean hand – by not increasing its tuition fee.
And so, to those who will be graduating on April 6, we extend our most heartfelt congratulations. You have beaten the odds, you have hurdled the challenges and you deserve your triumphant moment. Celebrate and enjoy to the max.
But please remember that as you move further up your journey to a brighter future and begin reaping the fruits of your labor, it might be good to look back and reflect that those who are left behind are still in struggle mode. Helping them in any way might be a Lenten value that can lead them to their own graduation, nay, resurrection.
Happy Graduation, Happy Easter!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Prof. Tomoe Shitaba
Prof. Tomoe Shitaba of Tokyo International University in Saitama Prefecture, Japan was a friend. I met him through Prof. Rolly Borrinaga of the UP-School of Health Sciences in Palo, Leyte sometime in the late '90s. Rolly still teaches in that school and is also a local journalist, and an historian who did extensive research on the Balangiga Massacre in Samar in 1901. The last resulted in a book, “Balangiga Conflict Revisited” that tells the story of the incident from the point of view of the survivors or at least from the relatives of the survivors. I don't know how Rolly met Prof. Shitaba but I came to know the good Japanese professor as a person who was a peace advocate. He conducted the so-called Shitaba Seminar, a study-tour for his students for which they came to Leyte every year to immerse themselves in the life of the locals, particularly in the island-province of Biliran where Rolly was born. At one point, Rolly got hold of the memoirs of a Japanese soldier in WWII who was assigned in Biliran as a radio operator. His name was Kennosuke Nakajima and his memoirs revealed his disillusionment about the war, how he befriended the townsfolk and his interest in learning about the local culture. Parts of his memoirs sound like an ethnographic account. A special friend, a young lass, became the object of his affection at one point during the peaceful period preceding the liberation of Leyte. Prof. Shitaba became interested in this story and used it as an inspiring piece of history to further push his peace development advocacy. Together with Rolly, he established the Peace Development Fund (PDF).
Prof. Shitaba showed interest in our art group too, the Atitipalo Visual Arts Group of Palo, Leyte. He liked our being community-based artists and our own brand of artmaking that drew inspiration from local culture and history which at the same time tackled issues and concerns affecting the country and our community. He therefore sponsored several group shows that we mounted, including that which we assembled for the Balangiga Massacre centennial in 2001 (Echoes of Balangiga) and the one inspired by the Nakajima memoirs (Sunset in Biliran) in 2004. The works in Echoes were brought to Japan and exhibited in Hiroshima during the 57th anniversary of the atomic bombing. Prof. Shitaba sponsored my trip to Japan from August 13-18, 2002 where I travelled with him and his students from Tokyo to Hiroshima for the mounting of the exhibit. During my stay, I had the chance to tour the Saitama area where Prof. Shitaba resides. In Hiroshima, aside from visiting the peace memorial park and museum and seeing the sights (including the famous fireworks in Miyajima island), I talked about my group’s artmaking and the culture and history of Leyte and Samar to the viewers and audience of the exhibit. It was an interesting discussion that elicited so many questions especially from the younger audiences.
In 2005, Prof. Shitaba wrote a book “Learn How to Become a Global Citizen.” When he gave me a copy, I was surprised to see my drawing on its cover. Titled “Life Saver,” that drawing was a composite of four frames showing four ordinary folks, each holding a part of a circle which when put together as one frame appeared like they were also clinging to a hoop that looked like a lifesaver. The idea was to convey the message that cooperation in community life makes things easier to achieve and life more bearable and liveable. I gave that drawing to him as a gift back in 2001.
Prof. Shitaba, a respected professor, a peace advocate and a good friend, died in October 2007.
Prof. Shitaba showed interest in our art group too, the Atitipalo Visual Arts Group of Palo, Leyte. He liked our being community-based artists and our own brand of artmaking that drew inspiration from local culture and history which at the same time tackled issues and concerns affecting the country and our community. He therefore sponsored several group shows that we mounted, including that which we assembled for the Balangiga Massacre centennial in 2001 (Echoes of Balangiga) and the one inspired by the Nakajima memoirs (Sunset in Biliran) in 2004. The works in Echoes were brought to Japan and exhibited in Hiroshima during the 57th anniversary of the atomic bombing. Prof. Shitaba sponsored my trip to Japan from August 13-18, 2002 where I travelled with him and his students from Tokyo to Hiroshima for the mounting of the exhibit. During my stay, I had the chance to tour the Saitama area where Prof. Shitaba resides. In Hiroshima, aside from visiting the peace memorial park and museum and seeing the sights (including the famous fireworks in Miyajima island), I talked about my group’s artmaking and the culture and history of Leyte and Samar to the viewers and audience of the exhibit. It was an interesting discussion that elicited so many questions especially from the younger audiences.
In 2005, Prof. Shitaba wrote a book “Learn How to Become a Global Citizen.” When he gave me a copy, I was surprised to see my drawing on its cover. Titled “Life Saver,” that drawing was a composite of four frames showing four ordinary folks, each holding a part of a circle which when put together as one frame appeared like they were also clinging to a hoop that looked like a lifesaver. The idea was to convey the message that cooperation in community life makes things easier to achieve and life more bearable and liveable. I gave that drawing to him as a gift back in 2001.
Prof. Shitaba, a respected professor, a peace advocate and a good friend, died in October 2007.
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