Conversing with Kidlat Tahimik was as surreal as watching his movies. His narratives unfold in different layers, steadily unraveling stories and perspectives, giving insight into his practice and the world he examines. He described his film practice and aversion to scripts, shared his life story and how his experiences translated into his works, offered his perspective of taking time and letting things ferment like tapuy [rice wine], and put forward Indigenous beliefs as a key to understanding our culture and attaining happiness. “I think of myself mainly as a storyteller; it’s what I tell people. Forget any awards you attach to Kidlat Tahimik, that I got a National Artist Award in Cinema. Yun nakakahon yun [Those things are boxed away]. I feel for the last two and a half decades I’ve been doing art installation and performance and film. And even architecture . . . I built all these structures without an architect using recycled materials and kung anong [whatever] inspiration at the moment. It’s like my scriptless films—architecture without blueprints. And maybe my whole life is like that: nothing I guess has become a solid structure. I tear up my MBA, and suddenly I become a hippie and I’m doing crazy films.”
I walked around in a cold, darkened room, and there it was—Gustave Courbet’s The Painter’s Studio. I stood in awe for a moment, taking it in. I walked near it to see the details of the paint. I moved back so I can see its entirety once I again. I sat down on the bench and I cried, the emotions overflowing. I never thought it would be like this, to sit here and wonder.
Today’s assignment is about a room with a view. If I could travel through space quickly, where would I choose to be? My immediate thought was Berlin, one of my favorite cities. But lying in bed, my mind went to Musée d’Orsay and Gustave Courbet’s The Painter’s Studio. It was the very first time that I felt so emotional while standing in front of a painting. I was exhausted at the time. Paris proved to be so overwhelming compared to Berlin, everyone seems to be rushing. I often felt that tourists will crush me. There seems to be no quiet moment here. Then I went to Musée d’Orsay, and it all changed. I remembered why I was here. I remembered the power of art. When the opportunity came, I knew I had to see what I’ve only known through books and online images.
The small reproduction in books and even the high-definition reproductions online did not prepare me for the intensity of Courbet’s painting. It was larger than an ordinary wall, at the height of 361cm and width of 598 cm. I am not so good with numbers but the best way I can elaborate the sheer size of this painting is a large, high-ceiling wall, full of images to overwhelm. Absorbing the details would be challenging at first, as you try to take in the magnanimity of the oil paint.
Yet, this is a realist work. It directly challenged the academic style of the time. It is important to note the political charge of realism. Aside from his paintings, Gustave Courbet was known to write the Realist Manifesto, in a similar vein of a political manifesto in 19th century France. He was imprisoned because of his political activism in the Paris Commune. The 19th century was also the time that Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels wrote the Communist Manifesto that inspired various proletarian revolutions. These circumstances would resonate in Gustave Courbet’s work, particularly in The Painter’s Studio.
The Painter’s Studio features a room divided into two sides. On the right, there is a formal feeling amidst the art collector, critic, writer, and lovers. While on the left are everyday people such as a priest, hunter, model, and beggar. The challenge of combining the two seemingly opposing sides lie with Gustave Courbet, as he painted himself in the middle. With him is his female muse, a child and a cat. This divide and conversation still resonate today, as one part of society thrives through elitism while another part languishes in poverty.
The most poignant part is the role of the artist in between. Art should not be a divisive platform but something that should remove such a divide. Gustave Courbet bridges the gap and in my idealist mind eventually creates an egalitarian society. The Painter’s Studio is not just a criticism of the time but also a challenge to the role that the artist and art can perform in a divided society.
The Painter’s Studio was rejected by the 1855 Universal Exhibition. This prompted Gustave Courbet to pull out all his works and create the Realism Pavilion, a solo exhibition at his own expense. This would serve as an inspiration later on for Impressionists and their Salon des Refusés. Though the Impressionists would still feature everyday life in their works, it is not as politically-charged as the Realists. Realism claimed everyday life and looked at poverty and suffering straight in the eyes. They rejected the elitism of academic art and looked at the proletarian that was historically ignored, giving inspiration and fire to the revolution.
My mind brings me back to that bench, as I was sitting there, looking at the painting. It was cold and dark. The lighting gives the painting a little glare so you need to move a little to see each part. The tourists seem to be rushing about, noisily, most times. As I stayed there for a while, I eventually caught some silent moments with the painting. I want to hold that moment in space and time, as passion burns for the labor that I love. In the vein of Courbet’s work, I hope for a revolution yet to come.
Reference:
Finocchio, Ross. “Nineteenth-Century French Realism”. In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/rlsm/hd_rlsm.htm (October 2004)
Sa isang tunay na selda—madilim, masikip, mabaho. Hindi makakilos. Walang buhay. Hindi makahinga. Nakakulong. Halos mahawakan ang katabi, naamoy ang mga pawisang katawan. Hindi makatakas sa isang kahon na walang buhay. Ganito ang selda, and kulungan. Walang pag-asa. Walang patutunguhan.
Halaman. Liwanag. Pag-asa. Ito ang selda kinse. Ito ang selda ng pantasya ni Mark Salvatus. Isang sulyap sa hindi mabuksang pintuan. Liwanag. Puno ng liwanag. Puno ng halaman. Hindi mahawakan. Hindi maabot. Hanggang sulyap na lamang. Hindi mahawakang liwanag. Hindi matamong pag-asa.
Ngunit sa pagtitig—plastik. Plastik lamang ang lahat. Hindi nasisilayan ng araw. Hindi tunay na liwanag. Ang ganda ay sira-sira lamang na plastik. Basag na pag-asa ng bukas. Ito nga ba ang tunay na pag-asa? Ang kawalan?
Nakakalito, nakakagulo at nakakapag-isip ang representasyon ni Mark Salvatus ng mga halaman sa paggamit ng plastik. Maganda at maliwanag sa malayo, ngunit sa pag-titig makikita ang sira-sirang plastik at artipisyal na liwanag. Tila isa itong kritisismo sa tunay na nangyayari sa loob ng selda, sa pag-silip, paniniwalain ka na maayos ito, maliwanag, tungo sa rehabilitasyon. Ngunit sa malapitang pagtingin, masikip parin ito, walang tunay na liwanag at nagbibigay ng hindi totoong pag-asa. Tila isang pagpapalaganap ng hindi tunay na kagandahan.
Nakatitig ang tigre. Nakalabas ang pangil. Sino ang tigre? Sino ang totoong naghahari? Sino ang totoong nakabantay? Sino ang makapangyarihan—preso, bantay, warden? Isang pangarap, kaya ba itong bantayan ng tigre? Pumuprotekta o nananakot? Kapangyarihan. Makapangyarihan siya. Ngunit para saan ang kanyang kapangyarihan?
Simbolo ng isang makapangyarihang grupo sa loob ng kulungan ang tigre—ang Commando Gang. Tila nagsusumigaw ito. Sa loob ng selda, sila ang tunay na makapangyarihan, sila ang nagpapatupad ng batas, sila ang naghahari sa lahat. Muli, sa pagtitig mauunawaan ang nais iparating, ang isang grupong naghahari sa tunay na selda. Nakakatakot na grupo ngunit sa kabilang banda, nagbibigay sila ng proteksyon sa kapwa nila preso. Higit sa pagpapatupad ng batas, sila ang tunay na batas sa loob ng selda. Sila ang dominanteng naghahari, katulad sa installation ni Mark Salvatus, sila ang nakahihigit sa lahat.
“Do or Die” Gawain? Kamatayan? Nasaan ang buhay? Ang nasulyapang pag-asa? Akala ko ay ito na. Ngunit hindi. Kamatayan. Narito ba ang kamatayan? Ano ang dapat gawin? Ano ang makapagliligtas? Ang Grupo ba? Ang makapangyarihang grupo. Nasa kanila ba ang kaligtasan? Ngunit ang malinaw—nasa kanila ang kapangyarihan.
Sa loob ng selda, kailangan mong gawin ang dapat mong gawin upang mabuhay. Kailangan mo itong gawin o mamamatay ka. Malinaw ang mensaheng isinisigaw ni Mark Salvatus. Sa isang silip lamang sa selda, alam mo na ang nararapat. Umayon ka sa galaw ng buhay, gawin ang dapat gawin at mabuhay ng naayon sa batas ng selda. Kung hindi gagawin ito, tunay mo itong ikamamatay. Ganun lamang ang buhay sa loob ng selda. Naipapakita, isinisigaw ito ng installation, malinaw ang mensahe. Gawin mo ang kinakailangan kung gusto mong mabuhay.
Bumalik sa selda. Sa tunay na selda. Sa seldang masikip, mabaho, madilim. Paano nagkaroon ng pag-asa? Ng buhay? Mula ba ito sa mga may kapangyarihan? Hindi—nagmula ito isang pangkaraniwang preso. Binasa ang lupa. Nagbungkal. Natanim. Naghalaman. Unti-unting nabuhay. Lumipas ang oras na hindi nauubos. Mahabang panahon. Pakonti-konting nabuo ang pag-asa.
Kumalat sa isang pahayagan. Sumikat. Mga takas na bilanggo—ito ang imahe ng Quezon Provincial Jail. Biglang nagkaroon ng pantasya, ng kakaiba. Nakahinga sila. Nagkaroon ng buhay, ng halaman. Mga halaman ng selda kinse. Susi sa buhay sa loob ng sleda. Nagbibigay buhay at bumubuhay ng preso. Nagkaroon ng pagkain—karagdagang nutrisyon sa katawan, sa isipan, sa kaluluwa. Nabuhay ang pag-asa. At pangarap.
Isinalaysay ni Mark Salvatus ang istoryang ito. Nagsimula sa isang tao na nagbungkal ng lupa sa Selda Kinse ang isang istorya ng sining. Sa loob ng mahabang panahon, binungkal nila at lupa at naghalaman. Lumago ito at lumago ang proyekto hanggang sa kumalat sa mga pahayagan. Naunawaan ito ni Mark at naisipang ibahagi ang istorya sa mundo ng sining. Mula sa masamang imahe ng Quezon Provincial Jail, nabuhay ang isang istorya ng pag-asa, nagkaroon ng istorya ang sining. Tunay na makapangyarihan ang sining, magagamit ito sa pagpapalawak ng proyekto hindi lamang para sa nasadlak sa Selda Kinse ngunit para sa lahat ng nakukulong sa selda ng Pilipinas. Lahat sila, may kanya-kanyang istorya. Isang proyektong pang-komunidad ang sinimulan ni Mark para sa kanila. Madami pang istorya ang nais na maisalaysay. Nag-iintay sa mga alagad ng sining. Muli nabuhay ang tinig ng komunidad sa sining. Simula pa lamang ito, humihiling na palawakin, humihiling ng boses para sa tunay na pag-asa.
Narinig, nahinuha ni Mark. Mula sa pangarap sa selda—bumuo ng sariling pangarap. Secret Garden 2. Nakakapagpagaling din kaya? Makakalakad ang lumpo? Mabubuhayan ng pag-asa? Magbubukal ng kasiyahan? Tila ba siya si Mary—nakadiskubre ng hardin? O si Frances—bumuo ng pangarap ng hardin?
Lumaki si Mark Salvatus sa panahon ng munting cartoons sa telebisyon— Cedie and Munting Prinsipe, Princess Sara at ang Secret Garden. Wala mang direktang patungkol sa nobelang Secret Garden ni Frances Hodgson Burnett, nagpapakita ito ng nagkakatulad na istorya—isang munting mundo na napapaloob sa mundo, isang munting istorya na napapaloob sa isang istorya. Ang hardin na nabuo sa mundo ni Mary Lennox ay nakapagpagaling ng lumpo at nakapagdala ng kasiyahan, ang hardin na nabuo ni Mark Salvatus ay nakapagbuhay ng pag-asa at nakapagparating ng mensahe ng mga nakakulong nating kababayan. Humihiling sila ng ating atensyon. Tingnan natin sila, sulyapan, titigan. Hanapin natin ang ating magagawa. Pakinggan natin ang kanilang munting kwento.
Ang tunay na selda—nababalot ng dilim, binabantayan. Hindi basta napapasok. Natatanaw lamang. Napapaligiran ng rehas, barbed wire, alarm. Maingay. Mabaho. Siksikan. Hindi makahinga. Paano makakalaya? Walang takas, walang kawala.
Ang kalayaan ay wala sa loob, ito ay nasa labas. Nahahawakan natin ang kanilang kalayaan. Hindi man sila makalabas mula sa seldang kanilang kinasasadlakan, tayo ang makapagbabahagi ng kanilang kwento. Katulad na lamang ng ginawa ni Mark Salvatus, naghahayag siya hindi lamang ng isang kwento kundi pati narin kritisismo. Sinasagot niya ang kalagayan sa loob ng selda. May katungkulan tayong gawin ang nararapat, gawin ang ating bahagi ukol sa pagbabago. Epektibong midyum ang sining upang mapalawak ang pang-unawa at maibahagi ang sariling istorya. Sinimulan ito ng isang alagad ng sining, at sumisigaw ito sa iba pang alagad ng sining upang kumilos para sa pag-babago, para sa tunay na kalayaan—hindi man ng katawan, kundi ng kamalayan.
Secret Garden 2—hardin ng pangarap, napupuno ng liwanag, binabantayan. Hindi basta napapasok. Natatanaw lamang. Napapaligiran nina Juan Luna at Felix Ressurection Hidalgo. Tahimik. Mabango. Maluwag—napakaluwag na kapaligiran. Natatanaw ang kalayaan. Napapaligiran ng kalikasan.
Sa ganitong kapaligiran kinatha ni Mark Salvatus ang sarili niyang Secret Garden. Tila hindi nararapat, tila hindi bagay sa ganitong kalagayan. Ang isang masikip na mundo ay pinaligiran ng milyon-milyong halaga ng sining. Ngunit tila ito ay nakikipag-usap sa kanila. Sa ilalim ng grandiyosang likha ng mga Ilustrado—ang tunay na kalagayan ng mga Indiyo—ang mga inapi, inalipusta at tinanggalan ng kalayaan. Pare-parehong nakakulong, noon at ngayon. Parehon natahimik ang mga personal na istorya ng pagkakakulong. Sining biswal, magkaiba, ngunit magkatulad—sa ilalim ng kanilang ganda ay ang tunay na kwento ng mga Pilipino, lumuluha, nakakulong, masikip, at mahirap na kalagayan sa buhay.
Isang pangarap. Magandang pangarap. Ngunit may katuturan ba? May kalayaan ba? Totoo ba ang pag-asa? O katulad lamang ng plastik—maganda, maliwanag at maaliwalas, ngunit plastik parin. Patay ang kagandahan. Walang patutunguhan. Nakakulong sa pekeng liwanag.
Katulad ng rebolusyong nasimulan ng sining ng Ilustrado, ganun din ang rebolusyon na dapat simulan ng kontemporaryong alagad ng sining. Hindi sapat ang pang-ibabaw na ganda. Sa ilalim ng liwanag ay ang dilim ng kwento ng mga Pilipinong walang kalayaan. Daan-taon na ang lumipas, ngunit hindi parin tapos ang kwento. Patuloy parin ang pakikipaglaban para sa pagbabago. Patuloy pa rin ang pangangailangan sa isang rebolusyon. Hindi natatapos ang pakikipaglaban para sa kalayaan.
Mula sa kadiliman at obskuridad. Napunta sa liwanag at kasikatan. Mula sa tapunan ng mga hindi napangalanang nilalang, nalagay sa prestihiyosong akademya ng Ateneo at UP. Nabubuhay nga ba ang pangarap? Sumisindi nga ba sa alab ng buhay? O lalong nawawala, nababalewala? Gumaganda lang ba ang kahirapan sa prestihiyosong pagtingin?
Sa akademikong lugar maluwag na natatanggap ang diskurso ng pagkakakulong at ng kalayaan. Ngunit hindi nararapat na dito na lamang matapos ang lahat. Magandang instrumento ng pagsisimula ang sining sa akademya, ngunit dapat itong mapalawig upang makarating sa isip at damdamin ng mga Pilipino. Ang pagpapalaya sa kamalayan at kwento ng bawat Pilipino, sa loob at labas man ng selda ay nagsusumigaw sa midyum ng sining, at nagkukumawalang makarating sa kapwa niya Pilipino. Sinimulan man ni Mark Salvatus ang kwento ng sarili niyang Secret Garden, hindi ito dapat matapos sa kanya. Nararapat makarating ang kwentong ito sa kamalayan ng mga Pilipino. Ang mga kababayan natin sa loob ng selda, hindi man makalaya ang katawan, makakalaya naman ang kamalayan.
Dilim at liwanag. Kasikipan at kaluwagan. Halos pareho lamang. Selda kinseng nagbibigay ng buhay ngunit nananatiling nakakulong, nakapiit, masikip. Secret Garden 2 maganda, maaliwalas, maliwanag ngunit walang buhay—plastik. Magkaiba ngunit magkapareho. Nakakulong at walang kalayaan. Nakapiit. Sinisilip. Sinusulyapan. Ngunit naaintindihan nga ba? Nagbabago ba? Nasaan ang katuturan? Sana, mabigyan ng katuturan, makita ang tunay na pag-asa, tunay na liwanag.
Walang iisang istorya ang nahayag. Kwento ito ng madami, ng grupo, ng kolektibo, ngunit hindi iisa ang kwento. Pare-pareho at nagkakaiba. Hindi pa man nagbabago sa ngayon, ang ekspresyon ng mga isyu ng lipunan gamit ang sining ay makapagsisimula ng pagbabago. Nabuksan ang pinto ng Secret Garden, nasulyapan, natitigan. Maaari itong magsimula ng pagbabago, ang pagpapalaya ng kamalayan. Ngunit simula lamang ang magagawa ni Mark Salvatus, ang pagbuo ng kwento ay depende parin sa mamamayang Pilipino. Naihayag na ang istorya, ang isyu, ang kontradiksyon—ano ang kasunod? Aksyon ang nararapat na kasunod. Ano ang gagawin natin sa kwentong naihayag ng Secret Garden? Kailangang kumilos upang makamit ang tunay na liwanag.
Pantasya at katotohanan. Nagsama, nagliwanag. Nakikita, ngunit nasusulyapan lamang. Pagbabago, humihiling ng higit na pagbabago. Nagpapakita ng dilim ng katotohanan at liwanag ng pangarap. Liwanag. Isang sulyap sa selda kinse at sa pangarap—pangarap nila, pangarap ni Mark, pangarap natin.
Visual Narrative of Contemporary Filipino Mythologies
by: Maria Portia Olenka C. Placino
Engulfed yet segregated—Rodel Tapaya elicits into visual imagery the contemporary Filipino mythologies amidst the post-colonial re-interpretation of folklore in his exhibit “Bulaklak ng Dila.” Reminiscent of platilya for Filipino saints, heavily detailed frames of silver-coated tin sheet on wood emphasize six portraits of everyday characters deified by contemporary Filipinos. Tapaya re-tells various Filipino mythologies through the Vargas Museum space as they succumb to and deteriorate through imperialism and colonization evolving towards the deities positioned on a high pedestal of the museum landing—the rich, the popular and the powerful.
Kabunyan, the most powerful deity represented by Rodel Tapaya is replaced by everyday deities. The gods and godessses defy their pantheonic sources and filter into the ordinary icons, more prominent and resounding in the Filipino consciousness. The worship of an all-powerful god is reconstructed with the worship of power, beauty and money. The magnificent is replaced with the familiar. The images of the ordinary are elevated and separated from the rest, yet still surrounded by the powerful mystical imagery of Filipino dieties. The system of valuation is questioned as the ordinary converses with the mystical, as the everyday encounter the rare, and as the earthly elevates into the heavenly.
The pilgrimage towards the contemporary deities begins with the persisting stigma of the american uncle sam. Balat Kalabaw portrays a white-skinned imperialist wearing a coat and a top hat on the foreground shadowing the Filipino farmers. The americans are the balat kalabaw, the thick-skinned imperialist powers, hiding their repressive rule underneath their white skin. Unlike other colonial powers, Filipinos idolize and deify the white-skinned americans and their clothes, focusing on the mythology of american liberation and forgetting the true victims and heroes of american imperialism.
Luha ng Buwaya continues the narrative of the contemporary mythologies. The fake tears of an imeldific image foregrounds the portrait, once again shadowing the true suffering of the Filipinos. The visual critique carries on—the journey confronts the viewer with the cruelty of deifying the tears of a false martyr placed back into power, her background suggesting brilliance. She is portrayed as a woman regaining the spotlight through her tears albeit fake tears. The threat underneath the simulated sorrow is her true power and brilliance, once again gaining prominence, once again gaining notice. An image poised to earn sympathy and power in her woeful manipulation. Imelda lives on, deified and frozen in imagery.
A veiled face in ordinary clothes then confounds the visual narrative. Kakaning Itik depicts the stereotypical Filipino worker in the usual work clothes for a day in the sun. There are neither tears nor conflict, just the background of a farm land and the echo of the ordinariness, such as the balut in the Filipino life. This is perhaps the true deserving underground deity, though alone amidst the true mythological powers within the Philippine framework. This image confuses as it seems out of place amongst its surroundings. Yet, this visuality deserves the utmost respect, the deification given to other undeserving entities. This presence is a visual reminder of what reality is, and at the same time what should be the true focus of artistic discourse. The plight of the ordinary Filipino should be taken to account, yet it remains silent. This quiet reminder provides a resounding echo to the heart and mind of the Filipino.
Nagmumurang Kamatis creates a shift, pulling the narrative from ordinariness of Filipino life towards the colors of vanity. The redness of the lips and the revealing pink slip contrast with the dull background, screaming the contemporary mythology of youth and beauty. The vain imagery of madame auring ang vicki belo bring forth empowerment through deification in the preservation of youth and defiance of old age—the strength of women reduced to their eternal frozen state. Beauty in the Filipino culture has become an everlasting struggle to look young. Fashion, make-up and bright vanity has become the recurring theme in popular culture. Deified are the young looking elderly. The goal has become to save up enough money to become a vicki belo poster girl. This critique of the culture of contemporary vanity screams at the deteriorating valuation of Filipino beauty.
The endearing hero of the contemporary Filipinos penetrates the narrative as he is portrayed through the image of the action star—Naglalaro ng Apoy. Contemporary Filipinos appear to be blinded by the camera’s flashing lights and are mystified by the mythology of the fighter, deifying their big hair, leather jacket and moustache, disregarding lawlessness and incarceration and the innumerable guiltless infidelities as the background echoes such images. The visuality of erap and fpj obscures the woman and makes nothing but a shadow of her, the supporting role of namelessness. Such mythological heroes would advance to be the desired leaders of the country as the narrative of the story endures to its conclusion. No longer are power and leadership equated with the mystical—true power and leadership has been grabbed by the blinding limelights of Philippine cinema that has penetrated the Filipino sensibilities.
Tulak ng Bibig—the flowery promises of a politician finalize the pilgrimage through the deified mythological figures. Reminiscent of the song, promises made are immediately kabig ng dibdib, taken back and broken, as predicted and expected by the Filipinos. The better life foretold and failed by a stereotypical politician and religious leader, posing as the savior donning a barong, ironically with the only direct gaze in the series. This is the future of the contemporary Filipinos, living each day through false promises of a false prophet. They lead, they create, Filipinos are aware yet are still blinded. Lost on what should be done, they follow the new deities on their pedestal.
Critique of popular culture dominates the series. It expounds upon the ugliest sides of the contemporary Philippine culture. The worst side of the story is dug up and created into a visual imagery of critique and irony. The Filipino language game is used to emphasize what is wrong in the present situation of the country. Yet, the series is not mired up in hopelessness and loneliness. The critique of the everyday deities slaps the face of the viewer and confronts them, not just to see what is wrong, but also to contemplate on what must be done. The platilya is not a silver lining to this vicious critique. It confronts the viewer on what is valued and if it is in fact worth it. Breaking the pantheonic code, these new Filipino dieties are firmly placed in the consciousness of the nation. The series remain silent on what must be done, rather, it is the confronted, confounded and slapped viewer, the one that took this pilgrimage, who must answer to this silver-lined realities.
Rodel Tapaya potently manipulates Filipino idiomatic expressions in concocting new mythologies of the Filipino heroes and deified personas, often with the strong whisper of irony and cynicism. The series is engulfed yet separated from the traditional mythologies injected with a post-colonial visualization—appropriately raised in visual along with the esteem of the contemporary Filipinos. Mythologies and deities are re-created and created, enunciated through the effective visual language and critique of “Bulaklak ng Dila.”
Performativity in Aesthetics and Theoretical Practices
by: Maria Portia Olenka C. Placino
“Artworks must be conceived not as products (decontextualized or contextualized) of generative performances, but as PERFORMANCE THEMSELVES.”
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Art as Performance by David Davies is a challenging book that uses philosophical and logical approaches towards aesthetic practices. His main thesis, as stated above, points out that artworks are not simply products of performance, rather it is a performance in itself. Though he applies his theory in earlier works, the book mainly creates an aesthetic and theoretical framework that accomodates late modern works and beyond. An artwork is not viewed as a product of an artist’s creativity, rather, an artwork is viewed as a process completed by the product. Davies’ theory is a good starting point in the study of the emerging trend of performativity in aesthetics and other art practices such art art criticism.
Davies questions the accepted form of art theory which he refers to as the common-sense theory. In the common sense theory, the instances of works and a direct experiential encounter is necessary as it is an intrinsically valuable experience. This perspective also views artworks as artifacts with aesthetic value conferred by their creator. To counter this, Davies uses Marcel Duchamp‘s The Fountain. This late modern work creates a new perpective in art history, art theory, aesthetics and art criticism. To view The Fountain formally through its form, color, line, proportion, etc., would be missing the point of The Fountain. A person may not have the direct experiential encounter with the work, yet the meaning and the point of the work may still be understood. The Fountain creates a shift in the way that artworks may be viewed, experienced, critiqued, and theorized. Perceiving The Fountain as a performance makes more sense rather than viewing it formally as a generative product of artistic creativity.
Common-sense theory is attacked by Davies in its three fronts, common-sense axiology, common-sense epistemology and common-sense onthology. Axiology deals mainly with value or a valuation of art work while epistemology deals with the knowledge and definition of an artwork and onthology deals with the nature of an artwork. These three fronts of the common-sense theory are completely altered upon the introduction of late modern works particularly of Duchamp’s The Fountain. The long established system of valuation, definition and nature of an artwork is no longer applicable to the contemporary works introduced. Because of this, Davies’ performance theory comes into play as it accomodates the works that is outside of the common sense theory.
Performance Theory states that “artworks are performances, more specifically, they belong to the class of performances whereby a content is articulated through a vehicle on the basis of shared understandings.” This perspective diverges from common-sense axiology, epistemology and ontology. Going back to Marcel Duchamp’s The Fountain, in terms of common-sense axiology, its artistic, economic and art-historical value is very different as compared to Pierro dela Francesca’s The Baptism of Christ. Looking at the material, it is an ordinary urinal, so it will not have a high economic value. In terms of artistic value, it is a bought object, Duchamp did not make it or sculpt it, so in the common-sense axiology, it also has no artistic value. In terms of art-historical value, maybe it does have a high value, because it changed the way artworks are to be viewed and perceived, yet it will not meet the formalistic sense of an art-historical value in the same way as the academic, historical, allegorical or religious paintings and sculptures. It is in the performativity of the art work that a value is established.
Examining the epistemology of art in the performace theory, art is a performance rather than a product of a performance. The production and the product is as one, it is perceived as a process rather than an end in and of itself. The immediate and direct experiential encounter with the work is not necessary in the appreciation or the understanding of an artwork. Rather, it is conceived of as a performance which expresses its thought and meaning even without a direct experiential encounter, an encounter which common sense theory finds necessary for an artwork to be understood and appreciated. The artistic genius is not a mystical entity, rather, it is a product of a group consciousness that is shared by human beings. Though it is the artist that makes an artwork, the consciousness wherein that artwork comes from and where that artwork is formed, is a group consciousness, not a mystical and individualized artistic genius. Once again, this is a significant shift upon how an artwork is defined and conceptualized.
Another shift happens with the ontology of art or the way that the nature of art is understood. Davies states that, “Artworks, come to existence through the intentional manipulations of a vehicular medium. Through these manipulations, artistic statement is articulated in virtue of shared understandings as to how those manipulations are to be characterized in the vocabulary of an artistic medium, and as to the import of particular manipulations characterized.” The ontological shift made by Davies is significant because it lays the foundation of the premise of performance theory, wherein art, from being a product of a performance of the artist, becomes an actual performance. The object became a completion of the performance rather than just being a product. This is a radical divergence from the way the nature of art is understood in the common-sense ontology wherein the object is simply a generative product. There is a drastic shift in the way the nature of art is understood with Davies’ performance theory.
Such shifts introduced by Davies is significant in contemporary art theory and criticism. The weaknesses of his arguments comes from his philosophical and logical styles. Though such manner is effective in philosophy and logic, aesthetics and art theory still needs to go back to the artwork. Leaving the artwork too far behind while the theory or argument is being pursued depreciates the merit of the argument presented. Furthermore, aesthetics and art theory still needs some material basis in an artwork conceivable by people, particularly in the contemporary times. Theorizing an artwork as it would have been produced and consumed in Mars, a twin Earth or another galaxy is too far off a person’s experience that the argument becomes too abstract. Aesthetics and art theory cannot be simply deduced into a formula. For at least in the present time, there should still be an actual artwork (or an actual performance according to Davies) that is referred to by aesthetics, art theory, art history and art criticism. An artwork or performance outside the experience and understanding of an ordinary human being (such as the supposed artworks in Mars, twin Earth, another galaxy) does not make sense in the practices of aesthetics, art theory, art history and art criticism. Davies himself states that group consciousness come into play in the performance, understanding and appreciation of such works, if a consciousness too far removed from human experienced is factored in, then the argument fails in its merit.
Davies considers jazz improvisation as an excellent example of a pure performance work. The pure performance of a jazz improvisation fits well into his performance theory. Yet, the premise in jazz improvisation is that it is spontaneous and unplanned. There are various complications that can arise in this argument, for instance, what if the jazz improvisation performance is recorded, reproduced and repeatedly played, is it still a pure performance work? Would that recording played over and over again still be a pure performance work that is theorized by the performance theory? Or does it become part of performed works that can belong to the conception of a common-sense theory? Such arguments need reconsideration. Some of Davies’ claims, though valid, are more easily explained through theoretical and philosophical examples rather than by artworks in the real world.
In art practices, performance theory is best applied to art criticism. As a growing trend in the art critical practice, more papers are written not just on the art object or artwork but more critics are looking into the performative aspect of an artwork. Such writing utilizes performance theories such as that of Davies’. Though Davies’ performance theory is well-developed in his writing, it still needs to go back to the artwork itself and be more understandable to the existing artworks of the world, rather than being understandable towards an artwork in another world or universe. The theory needs to be applied more effectively on existing artworks of this world and the art world rather than spending so much time theorizing on other galaxies and planets with different system of valuations, epistemologies and ontologies.
Performance theory paves the way of accomodating late modern works and beyond in the aesthetics, art theory and art criticism practices. Though the argument style of Davies may have lacks and glitches, it ushers in the contemporary artworks into theoretical practices that would have been impossible within the formalistic, empiricist and common-sense theory. This is very important as it can bridge the gap between contemporary art and earlier artworks because the performance theory may be applied to both of them. This more detailed take on family resemblances on the relationship of artworks as a performance rather than a generative product of a performance offers a new way that artworks may be understood, accepted and appreciated into an ever-changing world, particularly the art world.
Work Cited:
Davies, David. Art as Performance. Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., 2004. Print.
So it goes for gender studies. As a heterosexual woman, I have to admit that I encountered difficulties in writing this critique since this is not only to write in a personal phenomenological style but also to write in a perspective outside of my personal experience. Usually, this is not an issue for a writer and a researcher in the art studies discipline, but when it comes to the gay and lesbian discourse, personal experience is the foundation of the issue. Must I really be constructed as a lesbian to engage in lesbian discourse? What about in the discourse of gay, transgender and bisexual? Is the discourse exclusive to their groups or could the walls be broken down for a heterosexual woman or man to engage in the discourse?
Tabi-tabi sa Pagsasantabi: Kritikal na Tala ng mga Lesbiana at Bakla sa Sining, Kultura at Wika is a collection of essay that makes the reader experience the gay and lesbian discourse as written and critiqued by people within the community, mainly—the gay and lesbian. This proves to be an intimidating challenge as I delve their personal experiences and share my own insights into a room which is not my own. Often in the text, heterosexuality is equated with conformism to the heteronormative-patriarchal society that we live in. A part of me rebels in this image because as a woman, I had have my share of marginalization in a patriarchal world. At the same time, I feel that it is much worse for the gay and lesbian community as they are viewed as the incomplete man or woman, the sick, the deviant within the heteronormative-patriarchal society that I am also placed in. Like it or not, we do share this space—the marginal space.
How do we break the barriers? The barrier between the male and female, heterosexual and homosexual? How do we break the silence on the gay, lesbian, transgender and bisexual? The queer? The bakla? How do we break the bondage of society strengthened by myths, legends and stereotypes? How do we move forward?
The Book
The text is an experience in itself. The language that is not wholly familiar to a heterosexual other is an exploration of the gay and lesbian experience wherein you are not fully welcome. Yet as the other opens the door into the self, a glimpse is provided. The barrier is there but it can be broken, bit by bit, piece by piece. For once, it is they who are talking and should be listened to.
The book has four general parts—Sipat at Siyasat sa Kasaysayan, Teorya at Estetika, Pagbasa at Kritika and Testimonyo. Each part has a number of essays that embody the theme. The first part, Sipat at Siyasat sa Kasaysayan shows the development of gay and lesbian art and literature in the Philippines as well as the different groups and movements that support the gay and lesbian discourse. The second part, Teorya at Estetika uses different theories and aesthetics of gay and lesbian art and literature in the Philippine context. This includes the deconstruction and construction of identity, the morphology of the image, the representation of the gay and lesbian. The third part, Pagbasa at Kritika applies the various theories discussed in the previous part into other artistic expressions and statements such as in literature, visual arts, cinema, architecture and even pornographic materials. The fourth and final part, Testimonyo shows two testimonies—one of a lesbian and the other a gay. However, the last part of the book, which is the shortest, shows its most provocative part, as it is a direct testimony of a gay and lesbian on their experiences and their analysis of their current situation in the Philippine society.
I experienced the book in a very logical and cohesive manner. It is in the close reading and internalization that I am overwhelmed. I am friends of gays with different personalities and beliefs, from the parloristang bakla to the gay yuppies. As for lesbians, most of my friends are of the literate middle class lesbians, some are directly out, some are assumed to be, I have never asked nor questioned. Although, these personal experiences provide me additional insight, at the same time, they also limit because it is not my experience—it is theirs. The book is very clear on this separation between the self and the other. There are common issues encountered by the gay and lesbian community in the Philippines, such overlapping themes are expressed in the different essays. I will explore such issues through the eyes of the author at the same time, through my eyes—an outsider looking in. Particularly, I will focus on the issues of sexuality and identity, the gay and lesbian body, invisibility and space, their freedom from bondage and the breaking of their silence.
This point is where we are most different. I am a heterosexual woman studying and critiquing gay and lesbian texts. Once again, a separation between the self and the other can be felt. This is not my personal prejudice but almost an insecurity developed while reading and analyzing the text. Time and again, the construct of the heterosexual reader is assumed as a conformist to the heteronormative-patriarchal society. The separation is almost painful. So is the label. Label on one hand is useless. But unfortunately, it is also powerful. We have to face the fact that labels exist in the society we live in. Labels have definitions. They have implications. They have connotations. More importantly, labels hold power. Man. Woman. Gay. Lesbian. Transgender. Bisexual. And numerous others that are now surfacing.
Sexuality is the most defining factor in the discourse of gay and lesbian art and literature. The idea of sexuality and the identification to gay and lesbian art and literature is open to various opinions and limitations. Rodriguez identifies the gay not just in the subject-matter but also in the person. The art or literature will be recognized as gay even without the validation or acceptance of the individual, especially in the case of closeted gays (181). This issue is critically problematic because if the artist is closeted and does not identify himself as gay, then how will he or his artwork be identified as a gay? Would the assignation of an artist or artwork as gay without the self-identification be correct?
Lesbianism in art and literature is specifically characterized in the identification of the self as a lesbian. This is pointed out by Pineda in her essay Pagbasag sa Katahimikan: Pagpapakilala ng Sining-Biswal ng Lesbiana sa Pilipinas. Self-identification as a lesbian is key in the characterization and analysis of lesbian art and literature. Thematically, there is no identified lesbian art. The expression, particularly the assertion of one’s self as a lesbian is the factor taken into consideration in lesbian art (56). The difficulty arises when an artist, even if a lesbian, does not wish to be identified as a lesbian artist because of the constrictions that the label gives such as in the experience of Tata Lim. She wants to be recognized as a photographer first, rather than being boxed into a definition of a lesbian artist (78).
Issues in the validation and identification of sexuality are important in the discourse of gay and lesbian art and literature. On one hand, anything done by a gay or lesbian could be considered as gay or lesbian art, but is their self-identification and validation necessary for this consideration? Another point of conflict is their want or need for such identification or would that supercede their identity as an artist? These issues do not have a concrete answer or resolution. The intention of the artists is a factor but the reception and opinion of the audience would also affect this form of expression. Who really holds the power over sexuality and identity? The self or the other? The artist or the audience?
The Body
Sexuality and even identity is located in the body. How do we make sense of the body in the gay and lesbian discourse? I personally find it fascinating that the body can be regarded as the actual text and a point of analysis. There is a varying interpretation on the analysis of the body between the gay and the lesbian text. The experience of the body as a lesbian text and the gay gaze is different from the traditional historicism accepted in the heteronormative-patriarchal society. The breaking out from the marginalization of the traditional society serves as a venue for the gay and lesbian discourse.
Lesbianism sees and analyzes the body in terms of the self. Pangilinan points out the concept of jouissance or the love and fascination for one’s own body and the concept of ecriture feminine or seeing the body of a woman as a text. These concepts center on the body of the woman—particularly the body of the self rather than the body of another (32). Traditional historicism sees the body of a woman as a subject of art such as in nude paintings but not as the art or the text in itself. The patriarchal “masters” see the body of the woman as the subject of their art production and as object to be admired. This breaking of the bondage to become the text itself instead of the subject is a significant development in the lesbian discourse. The lesbian can therefore admire her own body, instead of being the mere subject of admiration.
Gay art and literature approach the body in a different manner. Unlike in lesbianism, the gay perspective looks into the body of the other, particularly the body of the other man. If jouissance finds the body of the self fascinating, the gay perspective in the arts sees the body of another man as fascinating. This is pointed out in the studies of Eugene Evasco on gay literature, particularly of pornographic gay literature—Pagkaligalig ng Musa sa Paglaladlad ng Kapa: Giya sa Pag-aligwas sa Panulaan ng Bakla sa Filipino and Naisatitik sa Katawan, Nakalagda sa Pagnanasa: Paano Hinihiray ang isang Bakla. The gay gaze becomes a powerful gaze as they choose to look at and own what they see.
There is a significant difference in the interpretation of the gay and lesbian text on the body. While the lesbian text sees her own body as the self and admires her own body, breaking away from the bondage of the patriarchal gaze on the body, the gay gaze breaks away from the heteronormative demand of looking at a body of a woman instead of the body of a man. The breaking of the barrier and limitations is central to the regard of the body, especially as they oppose the heteronormative-patriarchal demands. The gay and lesbian own power through the body in their own way, expressed in their own language.
Invisibility and Space
From the issue of the body, the next question is on where should that body be placed? How do we make sense of the body in the gay and lesbian perpective and locate them in a heteronormative-patriarchal space, at the same time empowering them to claim their own space? Despite the freedom that was fought for and won, where do they go? We used to ignore their existence until they became invisible. But they are no longer invisible now. They are here, they have a voice, and they will claim their space among us.
Early historicism on gay and lesbian art and literature ignored their existence. They are not just silent, but invisible as well. This issue of invisibility is discounted by Lopez in her study of the protolesbian text in Filipino literature entitled Si Nena, Neneng, at Erlinda: Ang Sex Variant sa Panitikang Pilipino. Lopez points out how there are protolesbian images in Philippine literature even before there is the word lesbianism (131). In contemporary times, the issue of lesbian space is tackled by Pineda in her paper Mula sa Silid, tungo sa Indayog: Paghugot ng Estetikang Lesbiana Mula sa Katawan. The traditional space for women artist is the home, but with the advent of lesbianism, that space spreads outside of the home into the public sphere, yet still central to this is the actual body of the woman as she claims her space within a heteronormative-patriarchal society (219).
Though marginalized, the gay in the Philippines enjoyed a space early on, compared to their lesbian counterparts. Cabalfin shows the gay space in Philippine architecture in his paper Mala-baklang Espasyo sa Arkitekturang Filipino: Estetika, Morpolohiya, Konteksto (184). The gay space is primarily classified as a marginalized space—the space in the darkness such as movie house, bath house and bars (Evasco 105). This limited concept is broken by Cabalfin as he sees the outside, the everyday and the city as part of the gay space. The morphology and aesthetic of the gay space is examined through the overpass and the basketball courts/ plaza. The concept of the everyday is combined with the multi-functionality that embodies the day space. This extended the gay space from the indoors and the darkness into the multi-functional outside space (195).
We are no longer blind to recognize that in contemporary times, lesbians and gays are no longer invisible no matter how much some sectors try to ignore them. In the arts and literature, they are ever-present. They are no longer limited to their homes or in the darkness, instead they became part of various activities in the everyday. Though the gay still has more freedom compared to their lesbian counterparts, the lesbians are resisting and crossing the doble marginalization (as a woman and as an incomplete woman) assigned to them by the heteronormative-patriarchal society. This issue still needs to be addressed in the gay and lesbian discourse. But the fact of the matter is, they are no longer silent and invisible. They have claimed their voice and their space within the the heteronormative-patriarchal world. Who will adjust? Whose wall will be broken? What will be changed?
Freedom from Bondage
There are strong bonds that hold the gay and lesbian in their place. There are still strong cultural forces that silence and limit them. Sometimes, it is their peers that marginalize them. A friend of mine who attended a conference on the GLTB (Gay Lesbian Transgender Bisexual) Studies informed me that it is a different movement from the Queer Studies and Gender Studies. All these movements and other sympathetic or aligned movements, though they have a similar general goal have different focus and different approach on the issue. They also do not necessarily agree on the process of achieving that goal. This provides even more difficulties in the already complicated discourse on gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, bakla and other gender and sexualities that I did not mention here.
Slowly, they are breaking away from the heteronormative-patriarchal stereotypes and prejudices. They are also fighting the abuse—physical, emotional, psychological abuse that they suffered because of such prejudices. Yet, there are still powerful myths that hold the consciousness of the Filipinos. Rolando Tolentino shows such myths that result in prejudices in his paper Richard Gomez at ang Mito ng Pagkalalaki wherein he points out how power relations in Philippine society is expressed through different myths in the everyday (253). The cinema, as a powerful tool in the assignation of power relations also shows the lesbian in a very unfortunate light, never getting their happy life, their happy ending, as articulated by Libay Lisangan Cantor in her paper Lesbiana, Lesbiana, Paano ka Isinasapelikula? Ilang Pagmumuni-muni sa Pagsasadula ng mga Lesbiana sa Pelikulang Filipino (362). There is a fight against prejudice, but at the same time, such prejudices are strengthened by the popular media.
The arts and literature are good starting point towards a breakage of bondage into the freedom seeked by the gay and lesbian. There are various movements towards this such as the visual arts exhibits, publications and even the gay and lesbian pride march held every year. This is a good start. But the the discourse needs something more. They need to move beyond. The coming out has been articulated numerous times, though that step is no less significant, there is something more to do, more challenges to face after coming out. The gay and lesbian discourse has already gone through the painful process of coming out. The next challenge is the construction of their identity after decontructing the stereotype and assigned roles and identity. The representation of the gay and lesbian identities should move beyond the body. The body is a steady starting point of the revolution but there is always something that comes after coming out. It is where they need to solidify their strength.
Breaking the Silence
“In seeking to learn to speak to (rather than listen to or speak for) the historically muted subject of the subaltern woman, the postcolonial intellectual ‘systematically’ ‘unlearns’ female privilege. This systematic unlearning involves learning to critique postcolonial discourse with the best tools it can provide and not simply substituting the lost figure of the colonized (Spivak 91).”
How do we give voice to a marginalized group without usurping their own voice? Perhaps, the best thing to be done about the past is to point to the silence rather than forcing to express a voice, a belief, that was not expressed to begin with. Yet, in the contemporary times, are the outsiders not allowed to develop a discourse on gay and lesbian issues? Or are we bound to silence as well?
This is my early attempt to develop a discourse on gay and lesbian issues without actually being identified as one. There are various contexts and discourses already available on the subject. The power relations and identification in gender and sexuality is already explored by Louis Althusser and Michel Foucault (Castle 102-3). Judith Butler developed gender theory into a model of performativity as opposed to simply being a model of performance. Performativity contests the notion of the subject rather than presuming the subject as in the earlier practice (Butler 111-12). Monique Wittig explored the importance of the body in lesbian studies while Theresa de Laurentis and Lynda Hart breaks down the canon on the beliefs regarding lesbian sexuality by disproving the psychoanalytical preconceptions and the pathologization of the male imaginary (Castle 106-7). The popular show Queer Eye for the Straight Guy helped in the empowement of the term “queer” within a heteronormative-patriarchal society (Castle 105). Meanwhile, in the local setting, there are studies such as Neil Garcia’s Philippine Gay Culture: The Last 30 years, Binabae to bakla, Silahis to MSM that enrich the gay discourse in the Philippines.
These theories and studies contribute to the development of the gay and lesbian discourse. In the Philippine setting, there are various studies on the subject, a number of which are represented in the collection of essays in Tabi-tabi sa Pagsasantabi: Kritikal na Tala ng mga Lesbiana at Bakla sa Sining, Kultura at Wika. But there seems to be something lacking still. Perhaps the discourse is still fresh from its coming out stage wherein the silence is broken and they are now newly visible. The long ingrained definitions and labels need not just a deconstruction from the heteronormative-patriarchal assumptions but also a construction that comes from the gay and lesbian community.
Another point is in the issue of the lesbian in particular. There seems to be an ongoing struggle from being doubly marginalized, as a woman and as a lesbian. How can they claim a space when feminism is still struggling within the patriarchal Philippines? Being a lesbian makes it much more difficult. There are numerous foreign studies on lesbianism but there seems to be a lack in the Philippines. The lesbian artists are struggling with the label much more than their gay counterparts. The question on the construction of a lesbian is still unanswered. How can they express themselves in this limiting construct?
The last part of the book—Testimonyo, is the shortest part, yet the most meaningful. Since the gay and lesbian experience is central to the discourse, then their actual experience should be discussed more within the discourse. Oscar Atadero’s Magarang Kotse sa Lubak-lubak na Kalye: Bakit Kailangang Makisangkot ang Bakla sa Kilusan sa Pagbabago shows the gay in the grass roots and how they can improve their own situation (379). This essay is a powerful one but where are the other gay artists? How can we hear their voice, their perspective? Meanwhile, Irma Lacorte’s Ang Makulay na Daidig ng Isang Lesbiana sa Sining-Biswal expresses the life and works of an educated middle-class artist—almost stereotypical of the woman artist identified in a patriarchal world (391). Where are the other lesbian artists? What is their experience? Can we experience it through her art, her writings, her literature, her photographs, her films? Where is she?
We should go beyond the labels and the assignation. We should try, perhaps, to construct ourselves within their constructs. But there is also a challenge for the gay and lesbian—to let the heterosexual into their world. Otherwise, there would still be the silences and the misconceptions. Discourse should be made both ways. Researches and studies must be developed on the subject. Much more, there should be a reason for each gender to get through the barrier of a different language and cultural experience. Afterall, if bondage is unwanted within the gay and lesbian context, it is just as unwanted for a heterosexual woman, and perhaps even for a heterosexual man.
How do we break the barriers? How do we break the silence? How can we understand? Perhaps the answer lies in what I attempted. We just have to try. Just as I tried to write and see on a personal level—experiences and cultures which are not my own, so should the rest of us try to see what lies on the forced margin of our world. The challenge goes both ways, to gain freedom from bondage and break the silences.
Works Cited
Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York [u.a.: Routledge, 2006. Print.
Castle, Gregory. The Blackwell Guide to Literary Theory. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2007. Print.
Evasco, Eugene Y., Roselle V. Pineda, and Rommel B. Rodriguez. Tabi-tabi Sa Pagsasantabi: Kritikal Na Tala Ng Mga Lesbiana at Bakla Sa Sining, Kultura, at Wika. Quezon City: University of the Philippines, 2003. Print.
Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality. New York: Pantheon, 1978. Print.
Garcia, J. Neil C. Philippine Gay Culture: Binabae to Bakla, Silahis to MSM. Diliman, Quezon City: University of the Philippines, 2008. Print.
Osborne, Peter. A Critical Sense: Interviews with Intellectuals. London: Routledge, 1996. Print.
Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. In Other Worlds: Essays in Cultural Politics. New York: Routledge, 2006. Print.
Portia Placino 