August 2008


A few hours from now, it will be September.  That means Buwan ng Wika (month-long celebration of Filipino Languages) will be over.  For the past two weeks, I wanted to write a post in honor of Buwan Ng Wika or Linggo Ng Wika (depending on how long you want to celebrate it) but I have been too busy finishing up all my trimester requirements for grad school, i just couldn’t find the time for it.  Nevertheless, as they say… huli man at magaling ay magaling pa rin… um, that’s not right …ano nga ba yon? …huli man ang matsing ay magaling pa rin? or huli man at magaling ay matsing pa rin? …oh, heck, di bale na…ingglisin ko na lang: Better on the last day than never!

(AFTER TWO HOURS OF THINKING…)

As it turned out, I have nothing to say pala!  Haha!  So I will just do what all bloggers do when suffering from ‘writer’s block‘ (or so they claim, hehe)—pose pictures instead!

Here’s to all things Filipino:

In schools, Buwan ng Wika is celebrated with programs, contests, fiestas, etc.  It is an occasion to mainly celebrate Filipino languages but as it turned out, we celebrate anything that is traditionally Filipino. Students and teachers are tasked to wear Filipiniana costumes, too.  Over the years, the only costume i can come up with during occasions like these was a malong draped over black t-shirt and jeans.  Not very imaginative, I know but if I were to wear a Filipino costume for Buwan ng Wika, I would wear this:

filipino tribal costume

…But not this:

If I were to eat a Filipino snack right now, I would like to snack on this great combo of crispy-thin ukoy (shrimp fritters) dipped in spicy vinegar and puto biñan:

puto ukoy binan laguna

…But not this (I haven’t tried balut or duck embryo and probably never will):

balut duck egg embryo

If I would want to see a Filipino movie right now, I would choose this (classic suspense 1971 film noir, Lilet by Gerardo De Leon-remake! remake!):

lilet gerardo de leon movie

And this, too… 1961 ensemble fun movie, Beatnik (feeling nostalgic):

Before: At TLC eleven years ago, I was usually tasked to make stage decors and props for Linggo ng Wika (and sometimes, to host as well):

Now: Still doing it, a prop (100 peso bill painting on a 20″ x 60″ illustration board) that I made for Linggo ng Wika stage program at my practicum school eleven years later:

And lastly, if I were to try out a Filipino ride, I would try this (but not when I’m in a hurry, of course):

Pinoy funny picture photoshopped

Sakay na!

Maligayang Pagtatapos ng Buwan Ng Wika!

i still dream about you, ma, from time to time…

in my dreams, i see you…

wearing one of your long house dresses or daster as we call it; cooking by the stove in the kitchen; laughing and chatting with lola azon and the maid while we lie on the marble floor watching a young ariel ureta on early morning tv…

in my dreams, i see you…

and the rest of us…complete; sitting around the old dining table; having a noontime discussion about politics, school, religion; the lazy susan spinning with your tinolang manok and steamed bangus slowly disappearing from their serving plates and into our bellies …while you refill your saucer with calamansi juice and more of that sinful bagoong…

in my dreams, i see you…

watching the carol burnett show late at night when everyone else was asleep; laughing your heart out to the point of tears at carol, harvey korman and tim conway’s antics; while peeling the largest santol that i’ve ever seen…which you kept from us…apparently to enjoy it alone since you deserve a reward after a long, long week of working and commuting from home to philcoa …back and forth, back and forth…you saw me catching you, and you smile and i smile; and then you offer me some; i accept, reveling in this special moment which was our little secret…

and in my dreams, i still see you…

happy, beautiful, and alive; grayer yet healthy and strong; and that you never left us; you whip up a batch of your macaroon cupcakes setting them on the old dining table in its new room filled with framed photos of your smiling grandchildren…you take off your glasses to wipe the lens with the hem of your daster, while you sit down, facing me to ask how my work is doing; and if i have already eaten; and if i needed anything; and if i’m happy, too…of course, i’m happy, ma, i would reply as i bite into one of your soft cupcakes…

but i’m at my happiest when i get to see you in my dreams…for in my dreams, you’re still here.

i love you, and happy birthday…

You have grown up so fast…now you’re 18 and a lovely lady whom I believe can be whatever she wants to be.  As long as you trust and believe in yourself.  May God grant your wishes and shower you with the blessings that you deserve.  We love you, darling!

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(My friend ,Ton wrote a moving piece, paying tribute to her dad, the sculptor, Ros Arcilla, Jr. right after he passed away last two years ago…I was moved by what she wrote and wished it could have been published in a major daily.  This may not be what I had in mind but at least somebody [probably an art major] who may want to research on current Filipino sculptors may hopefully find this information useful…With her permission, I am posting a copy of her In Memoriam for her dad. -SL)

In Memoriam:

Rosalio B. Arcilla, Jr.

May 1, 1939-July 24, 2006

By Fortune Arcilla-Concepcion

Rosalio Beltran Arcilla, Jr. was born on May 1, 1939 in Caramoan, Camarines Sur.  He was the fourth of nine children sired by Rosario Arcilla, Sr. and Trinidad Beltran.

At an early age, he was showing signs of artistic promise by moulding figures out of clay.  His grade school notebooks were filled drawings and sketches while his high school years provided him with the opportunity to showcase his talent through his school paper and by undertaking art projects for school plays as well as in town fiestas and special events.

Arcilla and Ninoy’s bust which now stands at the NAIA (photo via CRANE)

In 1960, he graduated at the University of the Philippines with a BFA, Major in Sculpture.  I remember him reminisce how he had been tempted to take up Fashion Design but was afraid, to my amusement, that he would turn into a bakla.  He knew a lot of designers then who were of the third sex.  And he was serious about it!  I still wonder, sometimes, how our life would have turned out had he pursued it.

Every time I dwell on my father’s youthful days, I cannot help but be proud of how a probinsyano like him had the guts to brave the jungles of Manila.  He used to regale me with details of how, to earn extra money and keep up with his rich friends, he would write stories and illustrate for Extra, Sampaguita, and Family Komiks.  It gave him unending pleasure writing and drawing for these publications and getting paid for it at the same time.

When I look back on his accomplishments, I know these pages are not enough to cover the breadth and depth of them, nor can I capture my father’s spirit or his inspirations for those wonderful pieces of art he created.  My recollections are only glimpses of his genius, although I can say authoritatively that his foremost inspirations centered on love, family and parenthood.  I guess it was his way of paying homage to his parents and expressing his love for us, his family, that he rendered these themes over and over again in countless sculptures.

I remember all of the projects he had undertaken while I was growing up.  The bronze sculpture of a lady with a jar in her arms that was privately commissioned by Skyland Plaza in Makati; the 8-foot tall figures of Handiong and Daragang Magayon from Bicol’s myths and legends and now standing in the provincial capitol of Camarines Sur; the Bonifacio Monument in the old PNR site that took years to build and many more years to be fully paid by the government.  I also recall with much clarity how I envied him for having gone to Paris to study at the Ecole de Beaux Arts and to travel to nearby European cities to visit museums and artists’ studios.  I used to pore over the pictures of his stay in the City of Lights.  I can still see in my mind that picture of him at the airport looking so groomed and cosmopolitan, every inch the artist.  We were witnesses to these moments of triumph and success but were never privy to plans that fell through or projects that never materialized. He felt that he did not have to share those with us.

Arcilla’s 18 foot high bronze sculptural relief, Bonifacio and the Katipunan’s Initiation Rites in Tondo (picture via Traveler On Foot)

There are certain memories that stand out vividly in my mind when I think of my dad.  My earliest, fondest memory was of riding in circles in a slightly rusty tricycle in our garage when I was five.  My dad was working with clay, surrounded by his various tools and humming smartly while he molded and shaped his medium.  He had a look of deep concentration and satisfaction on his face that only kids who are hard at work playing can understand.  Now that I dwell on it, I am thankful to have this wonderful image of my father, the artist, at work.

I recall his endless sermons that I had to “endure” while growing up.  There was one time when he was mad at something my brothers, sisters and I did.  I do not recall exactly what but I distinctly remember sitting in a circle with them while my dad launched into his hour-long lecture on proper behavior.  I also remember thinking that, to make up for my part in the misdeed, I would sit there and listen no matter how long his sermon took.  The others, sly foxes that they are, had quietly slipped out one by one, unnoticed by either of us.  Yes, I did miss an hour-long, lecture-free play time they so thoroughly enjoyed but I am glad I stayed.  I learned a lot from him.  About how we must always be respectful of others, especially our elders; how our deportment must always be above reproach as all of our actions are a reflection of our parents; how I must strive to be independent so that in the event that I get married to the wrong man, he will never be able to drive me out of the house (he suggested I should be the one to do it); and how I must never allow anyone to take away my kumpyansa.

Arcilla’s sculpture, “Family” in Changchun City in China (photo via CCFAO)

I remember so well how he loved telling ghost stories on stormy nights when electricity was out.  How he always insisted that the entire household pray the Rosary together every Friday evening.  He loved to hear us recite the prayers and have a special after-Rosary “snack.”  It did not matter that it was bicho-bicho, pulvorones or ice cream so long as we kids had something to look forward to.  I also recall feeling special to be assigned to memorize and recite the prayer of St. Francis at the end of the recitation of the Rosary.  Dad, do you remember?

Peace Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

And it is in dying that we born to eternal life.

Dad, this prayer has not been something to recite so much as a guide to life that I know you tried to lead, the life that I also follow and the things I seek to teach my children.  They may not have met you but I will make sure they never forget their grandfather’s gentleness, generosity of spirit and love that continue to touch and sustain us.  We will miss you so much but are comforted in the knowledge that you are now resting in God’s arms.

You have always been our source of strength and inspiration.  I will be miss seeing you draw, of our reading newspapers together very morning, of listening to oldies music each and every Sunday, watching you dote on and enjoy your grandchildren.  I will hold these memories forever in my heart.  You may rest in peace knowing you did your best, both in your personal and professional life.  I love you, Daddy.

Thank you to all of you who paid respect and remembered my father.  To you whose life he touched with his art, his boundless generosity and his unquestioning loyalty, may you be inspired to live your life fully as he did and may you find full expression of spirit as he was able to do with his art. –Ton Arcilla-Concepcion (August, 2006)

I haven’t been ‘browsing’ in nbs for quite some time now.  There’s this book I have in mind that I wanted to buy but alas, I learned that it costs more than a thousand pesos.  Grabe...have to rethink now…and rethink a hundred times whether I should push through with it or not.

Anyway, I saw these books on the shelf:

I have heard about Viking Studio and Penguin publication of these books, Dracula and Jane Eyre, last two years ago in some site, I think.  It is only now that I saw them here, available for us Filipinos.  Graphic illustrators Jae Lee and Dame Darcy‘s artworks on the covers and in the inside pages give a modern (goth? emo?) take on the classics.  These elegantly dark and striking covers catch your eye, beckoning you, and before you know it, the books are in your hands, and you’re scrutinizing them, checking the price tags and contemplating of buying them (I almost did but then I still have the more-than-1k-peso book in mind).

Illustrations are important. They’re one of the main motivations that made me learn and want to read. I applaud Viking’s efforts to bring new readers to the classics.  Some students think that these books are passe or a bore or not worth the time.  Maybe making them look hip and ‘with it’ may bring more converts into the fold.  Are there going to be more books like these? Like Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, or Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, perhaps?

These are just more snapshots of what i saw and experienced in Indonesia–the art, culture, and some crazy moments:

Art, Koi, and Rain

…A country should take pride in its identity and culture. One way of doing this is to put up public statues, sculptures, and monuments that best speak of its history and heritage. And these should also be of fine quality and elegant taste, as well. Statues in Indonesia are everywhere from national symbolism to religious purposes. Left: An elegant neoclassical equestrian statue of their national hero, Javanese Prince Diponegoro at Monas Park.  Middle: a beautiful life-size statue of Hindu/Balinese Goddess Saraswati at the entrance of Rumah Mode.  Left: another life-size sculpture of a Hindu Goddess at the lobby of Hotel Panorama Lembang.

Artworks at the Art Market in Bay City. (Left) East meets West: a wooden statue of the Balinese mythological diety, Garuda, alongside Christianity’s Pieta; (Right) Indonesian artists depicting their way of life–from folk dances to everyday scenes of crowded trains.

(Left) I was thrilled to see lots of koi fishes in Bandung, in public parks and fountains.  Kung dito yan, ninakaw ko na sila! hehe.  (Right) Rain is also consistent, much to our chagrin.

….I like the details and elements that I see…even if they are just for decor, it speaks volumes about one’s culture and taste. (Left) Cute Keisja posing with a sign by the restroom at the hotel.  (Middle) Washing area at Rumah Mode. (Right)A ‘bilao’ slash light fixture.

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The Language

Bahasa sounds like Ilocano (that’s according to Ly who has been living there for two years and has acquired a fairly wide Bahasa vocabulary by now) because there are a lot of ‘J’ consonant sounds in the language.  She says it is easy to learn because we share the same Malay root words with them like: bunga means ‘flower;’ sakit means ‘sick’ and ‘timbangan’ (as the sign says on the left in a supermarket) means… ‘timbangan’ .

But of course, when out shopping in factory outlets (right), all you need to know is “Berapa harganya?” (Magkano?); “Mahal!” (Mahal!); “Mura!” (Mura!); “Boler tawar?” (puede tawad pa?) and my favorite: “Gratis!” (Free/Give-away!)

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Joblogs: Kalokohang Pinoy

Lighten up! Being too serious all the time can be bad for the health…So here comes the naughty part! Haha! I swear, all these things I found in Indonesia…this is only funny just for Pinoys…

(Left) Yummy “Pok__” Chicken Nuggets was our first meal.  Try it…you’ll like it!  (Middle) How about Pocky, you like?  It’s widely available in supermarkets….  (Right) What’s in a name? Find out this local celebrity’s name…just click on the pic and see.  😆

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Acknowledgments

Closing this series of posts on Indonesia (finally, tapos na po)…I can’t thank all my friends enough who were with me during this Indo vacay. Kung wala kayo naligaw siguro kami (jok!) …Kaya heto pa muli ang aking taus-pusong pasasalamat:

Ly and Ros: Thank you for taking time out from your busy schedule to accommodate us.  You were all great and generous.  Your kindness and concern meant so much to us.  I hope you guys will live a full life and may God guide and bless the both of you where ever you guys go.

Den: Thanks for bearing with me during this trip.  I know that being with me 24/7 for one week requires patience and understanding.  You’re a great companion and friend.

Donna, Vince, Shem and Keisja: A wonderful family like yours deserve all the blessings in the world! Thank you for ‘adopting’ us for a short while…and for spoiling us rotten.  We don’t deserve it but we are forever indebted…

Terimah kasi…Godpeace…lovyaz!

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