JCRM THOUGHTS: November 2011

In an artist’s statement/exhibition notes I wrote for a 15 January 2011 one-man exhibition opening it reads, “There is that constant channel of communication connecting the internal and the external, a correlation that links what is perceived and what is experienced, and the manner by which this discourse become apparent in paint. Such transpires in and with Presence. It is for an artist to explore varied ways to draw a parallel to the macrocosm in which he locates himself.”

“Fascinated by this concept and while toiling from scrutiny interrogating the objective world, visual artist JCrisanto Martinez created paintings, all on acrylic on burlap/canvas, to mount PRESENCE, his sixth one-person exhibition. The paintings occur in relation to presence. Rhetorically the artist inquires “What is the nature of presence? Of absence? What is this unforeseen presence found in the ostensible absence? How does one intensify the sense of presence in a perceived suspected absence or the sense of absence in a perceived suspected presence? And what binds these seemingly contradictions together?”

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12 May 2009.

I woke up in the afternoon with a message in my mobile telephone that, upon decoding, reads, “Hi! Good morning. Gotta check if this is Joseph’s number. Na-miss na kita. Sana totoo ang number na ito.” No need to guess but with that encounter with Nikko Zapata during the fortnight at Green Papaya Art Projects, only one person comes to mind. Sheer gut feel. Beth Laluces.

Soon, like verbal volleyball, there were exchanges of short text messages. Soon, like mental calisthenics, there were calculated responses. And more soon after that there was no moment of holding back as emotions and excitement overrun two people who, on several occasions, attempted to locate each other in more than twenty years and have failed.

We agreed to meet right that night. The appointed rendezvous was at SM Centerpoint in Sta. Mesa, Manila. As to exactly where at that mall no one knows. Then it happened. From the left of the mall she appeared like an apparition as I approached from the right. Imagine, right smack at the center of the mall, in between escalators, with so many people witnessing, two people longing to renew that old bond finally faced each other again. That unmistakable presence.

So it has been more than two years since then. And every twelve of May for the past two years we go out to celebrate over dinner. In 2010, we dined at Va Pensare, an Italian restaurant at the Araneta Center where we received dagger-looks from the chef whom we mistook as the waiter when we complained about the quantity of the food. Last year we were at Venetto, an Italian joint at Trinoma for pasta and pizza. We did not complain about the quantity of food this time. We were overfed.

And the rest of the best is yet to happen.

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In the span of more than two years I believe three people have moved on. Like the inscription that I wrote for my mother’s epitaph which declares, “I lie here not because my spirit is not willing but because my flesh is weak.” They have run out of breathe. It is difficult to describe an emotion in their departure knowing the fact that you were once fascinated by their presence and were once connected with them.

Rodel. The Business Administration student who boldly took on the challenge of essaying an effeminate role in the streetplay “Truthfully Yours, Greggy” which I wrote and was presented at the UE Quadrangle at the height of anti-Marcos protest actions.

Ross. A giant of a small man. A multi-tasker whom I shared so many meriendas at Dory’s. He was my teacher.

Chikoy. The Doors fanatic. Oftentimes quiet. Yet oftentimes ready to burn the midnight oil for a more relevant education.

Others also went ahead of them. Unnamed perhaps. Unmarked perhaps. Unheralded perhaps. Resting finally. As we who are surviving remain surrounded by the shadows of the greatest mountains and the depths of the greatest bodies of water on earth. We feel their unmistakable absence.

~ O ~

Lewis Mumford once said, "Raw experience is empty, for it is not what one does, but what one realizes that keeps existence from being vain and trivial. It is the artist who realizes human experience, who takes the raw lump of ore we find in nature, smelts it, refines it, and stamps it into coins that can pass from hand to hand and make every man who touches them the richer."

Eight people started out the idea and worked on the fruition of establishing the Kapit-Bisig Party Alliance (KBPA). They were the modern day artisans who, in the now dilapidated structure along M. Dela Fuente St., in Manila, proved how an amalgam of individual vision, considering the unforeseen, and an artist’s enthusiasm can combine to create an organization that has affected and effected us, enriching us as we shape our view of the world and our goals in life.

In the coming year comes thirty years since KBPA was founded. Let us all take part in the preparation of what appears to be one grand celebration. Let us all share in the majesty, intimacy and timelessness of this event in a way I hope all of us can relate to. It is one occasion to take value those who still are present and feel the presence of those who no longer can make it.

It shall happen. It shall all be there. Let us all be there.

Joey Martinez

27 November 2011

I developed the serious fascination for the art of tattoos when I was just starting to pursue a visual arts career in Baguio City in the early years of the millennium. In fact the first contract I had was to develop a website for a group of Baguio City tattoo artists called Otyztyk. Also at the stall in the Baguio City public market where I procure the burlap which I use as base for my paintings is an old woman with decorated arms who, even with the constant imploring, refused to have herself and her tattoos photographed. Her bejeweled arms were enough encouragement to discover more about the culture I need to embrace in a new place I am calling home.

I then established the Cordillera Artists Central to serve as a venue to help promote the indigenous Cordillera art and culture. In 2007 I encountered Richard Atrero De Guzman a.k.a. “Bahaghari”, an independent photographer/filmmaker. Bahaghari was then an instructor at the Ateneo Center for Journalism which is basically an online media industry. After several electronic correspondences, Bahaghari sent me a folio of recent photographs; raw images of old-generation Kalinga elders displaying the splendor of indigenous tattoos. I was awestricken. The next turn of events resulted in a collaborated accomplishment: the first curated online exhibition of Cordillera Artists Central; photographs by Richard Atrero De Guzman and the research and annotations by JCrisanto Martinez. That was 17 February 2007.

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Tattoos were symbols of male valor: They were applied only after a man had performed in battle with fitting courage, like modern military decorations they accumulated with additional feats. Headhunting was the only reason or purpose for tattooing. From years of research, the process of tattooing are known, the deeper role and function of tattoos are revealed together with their symbols and meanings in their proper context and historical symbolism. Although it became a lost visage in the following century, the tattoos are for complex rites of passage, tribal identity, prestige, power, healing, protection, beauty and reason. (Salvador, 2004)

Caroline Kennedy-Cabrera, in her work among the tribal communities in northern Luzon, believed that women underwent tattooing on their legs, arms, and breasts to enhance their beauty. The men, on the other hand, did so to mark age, bravery, and tribal seniority. In some tribal communities, it was claimed that tattoos had magical qualities; thus, designs of scorpions, centipedes, snakes, and bats were often repeated. (Casal, et. al.)

The Kalinga men, in general, used only armlets and necklaces as ornaments, but their chests, backs, arms, and faces were covered with elaborate and beautiful tattoos. This was true mostly of the men of south Kalinga, as they wore no upper garments. The tattooing imitated the upper garment worn by the men of north Kalinga called silup, reproducing the silup's designs on the arms and shoulders. (Casal, et. al.)

Tattooing for the South Kalinga group is always in connection with headhunting. For the women, it was an honor to share in a family member’s glory. The wearing of tattoos declared this and it had the added benefit of completing her costume. Females had the right to wear tattoos if they were related to the one who had participated in a raid. Because this kinship circles are so large (relatives from the second degrees are considered “family”), almost every female could claim her right to wear tattoos. (Maramba, 1998)

In the early years, young men and women in the Cordillera were usually tattooed by an elder who occupied a high position in the community. The men who returned from war with their enemy's head, however, were allowed to get their tattoos by a maingal (warrior). The women would mostly get their tattoos at a young age to make them more attractive, while the men saw tattoos as a mark of manhood. (Salvador, 2004)

The Kalingas wore batek in the past because of the scarcity of clothing. But now, with the abundance of clothing, tattooing has lost its necessity for the younger generation. There has been no transfer of this knowledge to the younger generation. The old mambateks have died.

The bodong is the most admirable and efficient Kalinga institution. It is a peace pact or treaty between two tribes, wherein the Pagta or laws on inter-tribal relations are made. The bodong is also the Magna Carta of the Kalingas.

Thus, with the absence of tribal wars, headhunting is no longer practiced. And the young Kalingans are not even interested in this old tradition, as shown by their refusal to have tattoos. It is a lost tradition. And the last generation of tattooed people in the Kalingas who are mobile testaments of the Cordillera culture have aged, their skin art left only to be documented.

With the full enforcement of the bodong, and headhunting no longer practiced, modern education and concepts of decoration contributed to the fading out of the practice of tattooing. Beauty has come to be defined not in terms of body tattoos, but through commercial beauty aids. The only testimony now to the practice of the art of batek is the few remaining living elders who have various bodily tattoos. With their deaths, this ancient practice shall be buried with them, unless the new generation starts to appreciate and continue to share the tradition.

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Soon it was the year 2009. I have long gone back to Manila after a productive residency in Baguio City. I have moved back in late 2007 prepared to integrate myself to the mainstream Metro Manila art scene. I already established Artepinas as the premiere portal of the Philippine arts.

I was invited to an art forum at the Green Papaya Art Projects in Quezon City which was sponsored by the Arts Network Asia (ANA). Sitted directly across the stairs at the second floor, I while away the time in the friendly discourses/discussions about contemporary art as we wait for the ASEAN delegates of ANA to arrive.

Then, was it déjà vu? Or another premonition of a woman with bejeweled arms? Climbing the plight of stairs was someone I used to know. Her face and her surname were familiar. Her tattooed arms and her given name were not. She was introduced as the Philippine’s host for the ASEAN contingent and a recipient of a research grant from Arts Network Asia (ANA) in 2004. She is Senior Culture & Arts Officer of the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). She was Nikko Zapata.

After the art forum, I approached her. After which came the upwelling of yesteryears wanting to be remembered.

~ 0 ~

The Batek and Nikko Zapata. Both as mobile testaments of a tradition. In the skin of the Kalingas were confirmations of a vanishing tradition of the skin art’s last generation. In Nikko Zapata, it was hope as it was a link. A portal that led me to discover again what could be vanishing; to find the people, to start to appreciate again and to continue to share the tradition now known as the UE Kapit-Bisig Alumni Association Inc.