Showing posts with label practice/projects. Show all posts
Showing posts with label practice/projects. Show all posts
Ang maging artista sa panahon ng digma, 2020
This has been featured in Gatherings Project, an art and poetry based experiment in giving and receiving (USA, 2020).
Tanglin Halt (Queenstown, Singapore), 2019
Once a year (or more) (for few days) (or longer), for a decade now, I have been going back to Singapore. Almost always I stay and conduct all my affairs in the same place…always somewhere close to Bugis.
But sometimes I have the benefit of free time and able to go elsewhere. Tanglin Halt is my elsewhere this time.
Tanglin Halt is a pocket neighbourhood in Queenstown. A good friend, Grace, and her husband, Victor, moved there few years ago, and got involved with their community heritage group (called My Community). Part of their service is a small historical museum called “Our Stories” that contains: (1) stories of the people of Queenstown— like a wall with photos, audio recording of interviews and other memorabilia of some old residents of Queenstown, including the homegrown band, The Quest; (2) stories of their their industries, like Setron (a black-and-white television factory, c.1960s), Matex paint, tin can that were used for Van Houten chocolates, among others; (3) stories of daily lives; (4) and stories of infrastructure development and redevelopment.
My friend explained that Tanglin Halt was called as such because the Malayan Railway, that brought people and goods between (Johor Bahru) Malaysia and (Tanjong Pagar) Singapore, had a track halt within the area. This halt and the rest of the train track is now converted into a “green corridor”, where people go for leisure or to exercise.
Tanglin Halt, the community, started developing around the 1950s. It was intended to be a living+working community, which means that there are residential places, industrial installations, schools, places of worship, of entertainment, among others. There are structures that were built under the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT) (from 1950s, with some even slightly older) and others that were built by the Republic of Singapore (such as HDB flats). Two such structures from SIT are row of two-storey shophouses— for living and business (brown ones), and slightly similarly formed row-houses that are exclusively for residential purpose (red and white ones).
At present time, some of the shophouses' tenants have been there for several generations, including a medical clinic (Meng’s), flower shop (Universal Orchids), salon (Salon de Benzimen), a provision shop (Kian Seng), and hardware (Sim Huat and Co.). Adjacent to it is a “half-and-half” market, where they sell fresh products on one side, and a hawker centre on the other side, where people queue-up for their favourites. One of which is Mr. and Mrs. Teng’s Peanut Pancake, with curious store hours of 3:30AM to 11:30AM (the pancakes are to die for! i kid you not!).
There is nothing much to see on the residential SIT. It was very interesting though that in this community, one can stand anywhere and see a sampling of government housing estates— there are the very new ones with 40 floors, slightly older ones with 10 floors, and the very old SITs that only has 2 floors. These residences are surrounded by lush greens, so it feels a whole lot cooler than city centre.
Perhaps my personal favourite about this place, which unfortunately cannot be photographed or audio recorded is the feeling of the place— its vibe. It felt so much like an old town where everybody seem to know everybody (or at least friendly with each other) (including a very old dog!) (maybe except for that one bored cat!). It felt like they are used to visitors, but it doesn’t feel anything like a touristy place. And none of them were in a real rush to be somewhere else except where they are currently, which I find very interesting considering that people are familiar with the continuous redevelopment projects of the government, which requires them to move physically.
My tapao from all these is to experience a particular brand of heritage preservation at work. The kind that preserves not to freeze the past, but to take what was left of it to present, and make it as part of their daily lives.
The kind that is initiated and embraced by the community, not only because it was programmed by the state, but because they have a sense of ownership, of connection, of belonging. It’s like taking your parents’ gene— the one that makes the colour of your eyes a particular shade of brown, or your hair a particular volume of curls, it came from them, but you live with it and own it, even after the time you had passed it on to somebody else’s life or memory.
But sometimes I have the benefit of free time and able to go elsewhere. Tanglin Halt is my elsewhere this time.
Tanglin Halt is a pocket neighbourhood in Queenstown. A good friend, Grace, and her husband, Victor, moved there few years ago, and got involved with their community heritage group (called My Community). Part of their service is a small historical museum called “Our Stories” that contains: (1) stories of the people of Queenstown— like a wall with photos, audio recording of interviews and other memorabilia of some old residents of Queenstown, including the homegrown band, The Quest; (2) stories of their their industries, like Setron (a black-and-white television factory, c.1960s), Matex paint, tin can that were used for Van Houten chocolates, among others; (3) stories of daily lives; (4) and stories of infrastructure development and redevelopment.
My friend explained that Tanglin Halt was called as such because the Malayan Railway, that brought people and goods between (Johor Bahru) Malaysia and (Tanjong Pagar) Singapore, had a track halt within the area. This halt and the rest of the train track is now converted into a “green corridor”, where people go for leisure or to exercise.
Tanglin Halt, the community, started developing around the 1950s. It was intended to be a living+working community, which means that there are residential places, industrial installations, schools, places of worship, of entertainment, among others. There are structures that were built under the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT) (from 1950s, with some even slightly older) and others that were built by the Republic of Singapore (such as HDB flats). Two such structures from SIT are row of two-storey shophouses— for living and business (brown ones), and slightly similarly formed row-houses that are exclusively for residential purpose (red and white ones).
At present time, some of the shophouses' tenants have been there for several generations, including a medical clinic (Meng’s), flower shop (Universal Orchids), salon (Salon de Benzimen), a provision shop (Kian Seng), and hardware (Sim Huat and Co.). Adjacent to it is a “half-and-half” market, where they sell fresh products on one side, and a hawker centre on the other side, where people queue-up for their favourites. One of which is Mr. and Mrs. Teng’s Peanut Pancake, with curious store hours of 3:30AM to 11:30AM (the pancakes are to die for! i kid you not!).
There is nothing much to see on the residential SIT. It was very interesting though that in this community, one can stand anywhere and see a sampling of government housing estates— there are the very new ones with 40 floors, slightly older ones with 10 floors, and the very old SITs that only has 2 floors. These residences are surrounded by lush greens, so it feels a whole lot cooler than city centre.
Perhaps my personal favourite about this place, which unfortunately cannot be photographed or audio recorded is the feeling of the place— its vibe. It felt so much like an old town where everybody seem to know everybody (or at least friendly with each other) (including a very old dog!) (maybe except for that one bored cat!). It felt like they are used to visitors, but it doesn’t feel anything like a touristy place. And none of them were in a real rush to be somewhere else except where they are currently, which I find very interesting considering that people are familiar with the continuous redevelopment projects of the government, which requires them to move physically.
My tapao from all these is to experience a particular brand of heritage preservation at work. The kind that preserves not to freeze the past, but to take what was left of it to present, and make it as part of their daily lives.
The kind that is initiated and embraced by the community, not only because it was programmed by the state, but because they have a sense of ownership, of connection, of belonging. It’s like taking your parents’ gene— the one that makes the colour of your eyes a particular shade of brown, or your hair a particular volume of curls, it came from them, but you live with it and own it, even after the time you had passed it on to somebody else’s life or memory.
Alitaptap Artists Village, 2019
My interest towards art platforms,
groupings and practices that are not (in) the mainstream is known among my
friends. I prefer examining what is not at the center, or frontline, or
dominant. A visit to Alitaptap Artists Village contributed to this long standing
interest.
I learned of Alitaptap Artists
Village earlier this year while they were promoting the Paghilom Art Camp on
Facebook. What I knew about them then was that the program was similar to most
art camps—exhibit, performance, talks and workshops; but the place looks like a
forest.
Jon Romero, a good friend and a
sound practitioner, is sort of a regular of this foresty art community. I saw
him posting about Alitaptap Artists Village even after Paghilom. He invited me
and other artists to visit AAV, to maybe jam or just tambay. Finally, after a
month talking about it, I get to go.
On the day I went I was received by
Jon and Mary Ann Jimenez Salvador, another old friend, a batch mate in cultural
work, and the Gaia-force behind pioneer-sound artist Lirio Salvador.
What’s my take away from this visit
to Alitaptap Artists Village?
AAV is a community under
construction. It is a cluster of houses on a hilly part of Brgy. Halang in
Amadeo, Cavite. The property is owned by, artist Henry "Bokeng" Ancanan’s family. They
sold parts of the property to friends, mostly artists too, and mostly
empty-nesters or young-families. Most huts are squares and triangles on stilts,
with details that characterizes one from another. The huts were built using
combination of salvaged materials from old houses, and harvested coco lumber
and bamboo from the same property. Utilities, like electricity and water, are
available. Access like private and public transportation and internet are
likewise available. They have vegetable and fruit gardens. And there is a good
stretch of river in the premises. Besides Bokeng’s hut, musicians Bobby
Balingit, Paul Puti-an and Omni Saroca are also building their huts; as well as
artists Winston Hernandez, AJ Manuel, Manny Garibay, Lito Mondejar and Espasyo
Siningdikato.
AAV is a community of artists. A
stranger unfamiliar to provincial life might be confused on what stage the
community formation is at, at the moment.
It looks like it is under construction, but it actually feels that the
neighborhood is old or is already well-established. In one of the
conversations, we called it “the spirit”—the spirit of the community is
familiar because the “residents” are already a community (what is under
construction then is the physical village). How is this possible? The “elders”
came from art groups called Pito-Pito, Grupong Walo, Grupong Ekis, Bobby
Balingit is one of the pioneers of Pinoy punk, and Espasyo Siningdikato are
artists too from Cavite, identified with Lirio, who are intermedia art
practitioners who have taken different names as organization in the past many
years. They belong to at least 2 generations—first are those who started their
art practice in the mid to late 1980s and others who started early to late
1990s. In other words, they came from the generation of artists who
participated in the reimagining of self and national identities post-EDSA, in
the midst of expansion/ contraction art world due to globalization, until the
emergence of this now categorically influential art market. Works around the
village and the projects that were mentioned in our conversation revealed that
these are artists engaged in production of all different sorts and forms—they favor
performance and installation, but they also do traditional forms of visual
arts, music and literature. Building their huts may also be considered an art
project as one can immediately appreciate the creative qualities far beyond
their structural and functional characteristics.
Another essence that forms the
spirit of this community, I noticed is the residents’ common valuation of art
education. Art education, not only
translated as teaching art, but more as a matter of engagement with the
community beyond the AAV.
AAV is a community for/of learning
art. While their (collective) belief that their sense of self, as artists is realized
through art making (and not satisfying an externally imposed superstructure),
they also share that the matter that nurtures their sense of belonging is
through their community art projects or art projects that are offered to the
community beyond the “gates” of the AAV—the local community. These projects are
in the form of art workshop for children from elementary schools; nature-tour
of the village; community concerts; hosting transient artists; serving as a
camp site; engaging other art groups in their art projects; among others. These
projects are mutually appreciated by the residents and the local community,
which is reflected through the support AAV receives from the Baranggay, the
Mayor and the Provincial Government. Local carpenters and other skilled workers
who are hired to build the structures in the Village, becomes project staff
during bigger festivals. Tricycle drivers even know when they have
performances. In effect, AAV art
projects is a portal in which they allow the rest of the Brgy. Halang, Amadeo,
Cavite and other guests who participate in their art projects, to enter their
world--for those who do not belong inside the community, to understand their
way of life. In return, through these
same projects, the AAV artists have more grasp of the embeddedness of their practice
with the rest of the society.
Having been nurtured by this kind of
symbiosis in their own locality, it is not surprising to hear that the artists
of AAV do not crave for inclusion in the “center of the art world.”
Participation to activities, conversations, and discourses in the art centers
are more incidental than planned or program. With this, is a clear
understanding that they, as residents of the periphery or region, are not in
competition with what is in the cities or centers. Instead, their energy is directed
towards sustaining their practice through their own efforts and ensuring
harmonious coexistence with those they encounter in their journey.
In all these, where my words fell
short to capture the beauty of this artists’ village, I bid you to sprinkle
fairy dusts, because some parts of it, I already thought is magical.
And also, did I mention they have a
falls?
Listening to sound practices in Manila, within the region: sources, intersections, tendencies, 2017//
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