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RAFFY T. NAPAY

Araw-Araw

Araw-Araw - R. Napay.jpeg

For Raffy Napay, he sees himself as a sun that shines light into his son’s life. He is a parent who is guiding his child. In his previous exhibits, Raffy’s works revolved around the term Mananahi, and from that word he came up with the term mana. The current exhibition is entitled “Araw-Araw” because it symbolizes his day and his son’s day. It means everyday, with their daily life and routines. Like a cycle, just as how his parents share their mana, he shares his own mana with son. It’s his turn to shine light in the being of his son’s daily life. 

 

His big work entitled Araw-Araw (2025) was installed like a puzzle. It symbolizes the child’s play done by him and his son. It also means a new morning, and a new life for the next generation. Along the walls are balls that Raffy and his son made. These balls symbolize milestones in their lives. In his works titled Sealed Memory (2025), there are different objects with a family memory or an everyday experience. Covered with layers of string, they have a secret inside, like the human mind that when you internalize something it is only known to that person, while others just see the exterior. Yakap ng Dugo (2025) are threads braided to symbolize three bloodlines; Raffy’s, his wife’s, and his son’s. For Raffy, there are three bloodlines combined to make the person. For his work, Pag-ikot, the color of the sunset symbolizes his parents who are now whole and they are at their golden age. 

 

For Raffy, thread is a person’s pagkatao or being. It symbolizes the many ugat or blood vessels in a person’s body. Raffy inherited skills that he uses for his art. With these skills, he passes his own mana to his son. Like a sun, Raffy guides him to a future. His parents had their golden age of parenting and now Raffy is starting out with his own. 

- Mica Sarenas

BABYLYN GEROCHE FAJILAGUTAN

Soft Windows

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The Strength of Fragile Things

For Babylyn Fajilagutan, a window is a frame for stillness and solitude, a reminder of how we see a glimpse of sky as we look out and up from the inside. In Soft Windows, her seventh solo exhibition, she returns to imagery that she first explored three years ago. What was once shaped by the crisis of a pandemic is now reimagined as a quiet meditation on hours that drift and colors that shift.

Each piece is a testament to the artist's pursuit of simplicity, albeit never to the point of minimalism. The surfaces are built through multiple layers of paper, thread, and acrylic. Torn edges are left raw, honest, and organic. Threads pierce and bind while mimicking spider webs, blades of grass, or twisted vines. Fragments of meticulously composed and hand-torn paper cling imperfectly to canvas, lifting at the sides as though breathing, showing sculptural dips and bellows. The result is not reduction but refinement, restraint that allows every feature to carry weight. 

Fragility is both medium and message. Paper is easily torn and thread can unravel, yet in Fajilagutan’s hands, they become resilient, delicate forms that hold their own against the flatness of canvas. Works such as After Midday, Grass Below the Window Screen, and First to Wake Up capture not just the passing of light through the artist's collaged assemblages, but the quiet strength of fragile things, all placed together with intention and reflection. For the last piece specifically, it seems the artist is trying to capture that poignant sliver of blues and purples giving a final embrace to shadows and darkness while bracing themselves from the arrival of the reds, yellows, and oranges of a shining dawn, making palpable the excitement of a new beginning.

The artist’s canvases open us like windows into ourselves, offering glimpses of a vast world while quietly drawing the gaze towards tender introspection. Soft Windows beckons us to linger, to sense how fragility transforms into presence, and how a slice of silence can glow into a warm, consoling light.

- Kaye O’Yek

MICH DULCE

Nagsasalitang Ulo

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Mich Dulce’s artistic practice began in autobiography, but the self, inevitably, cannot remain intact; it opens outward. One slips into the slow coil of self-reflection to recognize the colonial legacies that still script the body, the gaze, the self, and even the craft. From training with the Queen’s milliner to designing for Maison Michel Paris, Dulce’s hat-making trajectory forged a technical fluency that bound her to a lineage canonized in European craft histories.

Despite being schooled in the rigors of research, material manipulation, and form-building, her first year in her current role as Industry Mentor for the Chanel and The King’s Foundation Métiers d’Art Millinery Fellowship clarified the limits of that lineage. Within a field defined by European heritage, her presence compelled her to question her place in millinery’s canon and ask what role her culture might play here. It is in this disjuncture that her practice found the possibility to speak otherwise.  

Extending the limits of the craft of hat-making towards sculpture, Nagsasalitang Ulo makes audible her exploration of identity. Dulce grafts millinery’s Western codes onto Filipino traditions, terrains, and cultural memory, unsettling a fashion system that has long upheld its illusion of a single, universal order and its disavowal of other histories. What emerges is a counter-archive of memories and inheritances: The salakot unraveled into scarlet ribbons of grosgrain, flaring into the air; hand-carved rice terraces transposed into a green-upon-green blocked crown; the Ilocano gourd hat worn by farmers and revolutionaries, re-skinned in latex and buckram; the kubo or payag rendered in buntal and crinoline, an afterimage of Victorian petticoats.

Marian Pastor Roces has written of the Filipino head as the site of “animated culture-making”—Dulce takes up that inheritance through an elsewhere that is neither ethnographic revival nor Western mimicry. Her improbable material entanglements, with whorls of local adaptations and ironic refractions, attest to her mastery of craft even as they stage memory as insurgency, producing rebellious temporalities that posit what it means to (re)fashion a national identity out of fragments and refusals. 

From that elsewhere, each hat becomes a talking head. The grammar of haute couture bends until it begins to speak another language. Across the phantasmagoria of fashion, what was once catalogued and classified opens its mouth—wild as abaca fiber, cutting as wire.

 

Text by Zea Asis

Vakul A  dome-shaped traditional headpiece made from the vuyavuy palm, the vakul protects Ivatan farmers in Batanes from both sun and rain. It reflects the Ivatan people’s adaptation to the harsh climate of the northernmost islands of the Philippines. Palm Sunday In the Catholic ritual of Palm Sunday, woven palm fronds are carried to commemorate Christ’s entry into Jerusalem. In the Philippines, palms are shaped into birds, flowers, and other designs, then blessed and placed in homes as symbols of honor and protection.  Samar Inspired by the limestone formations of Biri Island, Northern Samar. Sculpted by centuries of waves and storms, these rocks bear the drama of the island’s landscape and its exposure to the elements.

Tangkulu The tangkulu is a headcloth worn by the Bagobo people of Mindanao. A flat piece of cloth that was Folded and tied around the head to create shape, it signified rank and authority, and was reserved for warriors (Bagani), chiefs (Datu), and ritual leaders (Mabalian). Gumamela Bubbles A recollection of the artist’s childhood practice of crushing gumamela flowers to make suds, which were then used to blow bubbles. Banig The banig is a hand-woven mat made from pandan, buri, or seagrass. Used for sitting and sleeping, banig weaving varies by region, with distinctive patterns and colors. It remains an important craft and symbol of community life. Pagsanjan Falls A tribute to the Philippines’ abundance of natural water landscapes.  Pagsanjan Falls in Laguna is a well-known three-drop waterfall, with clear turquoise waters flowing from mountain springs.

Tabungaw The tabungaw is a traditional Ilocano hat made from hollowed gourds. Once used by farmers in the fields, by schoolchildren at graduations, and even by revolutionaries during the Spanish era.  Bahay Kubo  The bahay kubo, or nipa hut, is a traditional stilt house made of bamboo and palm, found across the Philippine lowlands. Its light frame allows it to be rebuilt quickly after storms. Salakot The salakot is the wide-brimmed dome hat of the Philippines, used for protection from sun and rain. Made from bamboo, rattan, or palm, the salakot influenced the design of the colonial pith helmet.

Rice Terraces The Banaue rice terraces of Ifugao were carved into the mountains over 2,000 years ago. They demonstrate advanced engineering and sustainable agriculture, and remain central to Ifugao culture and ritual life. Pahiyas The Pahiyas Festival of Lucban, Quezon, held every May 15, honors San Isidro Labrador, patron saint of farmers. Houses are decorated with vegetables, fruits, and brightly colored rice wafers called kiping, celebrating harvest and gratitude. Sampaguita Sampaguita and ilang-ilang garlands are commonly sold outside churches and along streets. These fragrant flowers are often offered to saints, placed on altars, or hung in vehicles. Cebu Gold Death Mask Gold death masks were used in fifteenth-century Cebu precolonial burial practices. Thin sheets of gold were placed over the eyes, nose, or face of the deceased, believed to ward off evil spirits and signify social status.

ANNIE CABIGTING

five formed from two

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Five From Two, Annie Cabigting’s latest exhibition, unfolds with a restrained clarity: a meditation on the block, a site where pigment gathers and settles. One block—brought from her former Cubao studio, and once a buffer between shipping crates—and another—encountered during a wander in Singapore—are transposed from their utilitarian origins into vessels of accumulated paint, and finally, into subjects and objects of art.

 

In their form, these works stage a dialogue between structure and accident: the strict geometry of the cube juxtaposed against the spontaneous, almost luxuriant, accrual of color. What emerges is a still life where the rigor of shape and the unruly exuberance of pigment lean into each other, neither fully dissolving into the other.

 

Valiantly, this insistence on form is sharpened by Cabigting’s choice of the monochrome, a visual language aligned with the act of documentation. By stripping away chromatic excess, the artist foregrounds the block’s presence as record, its authority as witness.

 

Evidently asserting their “objecthood,” the blocks and the paintings invite the gaze from every angle. None claim primacy; each perspective is provisional, partial, and shifting. In this suspension of hierarchy, Cabigting gestures toward the instability of seeing itself. To observe, the works suggest, is less about mastery than about the recognition of fractured apprehension.

 

Traversing the exhibition, we are placed inside this multiplicity of viewpoints: a simultaneity of truths and their denials. The blocks stand before us as both anchors and enigmas. With the reference at hand, the question reverberates—what do we do with the truth we think we see, when it is never singular?

 

What confronts us is not only the object in its material density, but also its passage into the space of art. The block persists as block, yet also unfurls as translation, as image, as metaphor. Literalness here entwines with literariness, each deepening the other.

 

Opening three questions, Five From Two inquires: what names an object as art, how it becomes painting, and how it seizes attention within the exhibition space. Cabigting gathers and releases these objects at once, holding them inside the frame of art while keeping open the lives they had before.

 

 

-Carlomar Arcangel Daoana

KATHLEEN GOBASCO

Fleeting Glimpse

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In “Fleeting Glimpse”, Kathleen Gobasco looks at her works and thinks it is a meditation for her. The idea for the exhibit came from a fleeting thought that came while commuting in a car, jeep, train, or any other vehicle. While a person gazes outside the window and catches a glimpse of the interiors of a stranger's house, they have brief moments that trigger involuntary recollection. It is as if they catch people’s traces. 

 

The traces of something or someone leaves evidence of the person’s past actions. It could be a lingering scent, an object left on the table, a memory imprinted on someone’s mind, an emotion that still lingers, or simply by being someone. It is evidence of their past selves. 

 

These lingering traces and passing moments can give people a glimpse into the past.These traces show that even in the present moment, we can often find evidence of what has come before, and may use it as a guide towards the unknown tomorrow.

 

Gobasco’s process involves a scenario or narration of some abstract idea or words and turning them into a drawing. The main subject of her drawings are hands that she uses as a symbolic representation of these ideas. She makes use of graphite pencils for her artworks. Over the years, she has enjoyed exploring more of this medium which has become a staple in creating her drawings. (Mica Sarenas)

RYAN JARA

BERSIKULO

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Ryan Jara’s Bersikulo is a monumental chapter in the artist’s ongoing visual chronicle of the Filipino spirit—his most expansive exhibition to date. Through a Cubist idiom that fractures, refines, and reimagines the human form, Jara crafts a sweeping narrative that merges mythic scripture with the intimate terrain of family life. In his hands, Biblical stories become prisms through which to contemplate the soul of the nation and the Filipino family.

 

At the heart of the exhibition lies “Mapagtalimang Kawal,” an 8 x 18-foot epic that revisits the story of Gideon, the unlikely general who led a dwindled battalion of 300 against a vast enemy force. Here, Jara conjures a maelstrom of bodies and flame: soldiers in mid-charge tumble across a somber terrain, their forms jagged and bristling, flickering in torchlight. The darkened landscape is alive with the upheaval of battle, capturing not only the fury of physical confrontation but the spiritual crucible from which deliverance arises. The painting becomes an emblem of improbable triumph—of clarity emerging from chaos, of faith as a weapon sharper than any sword.

 

While the exhibition opens with divine warfare, its subsequent “verses,” as Jara calls them, pivot to the domestic realm. “Gabay sa Aking Buhay” is a family portrait whose Cubist configuration resists sentimentality while magnifying the symbolic. The father’s limbs and heart, while dismantled, are held tenderly. It is a visual metaphor for the family as a living body—each member an organ, a pulse, a lifeline, sustaining and protecting the emotional center of the home.

 

This deeply personal approach finds its most poignant expression in “Perpektong Regalo,” inspired by the verse, “Before I formed thee in the belly, I knew thee.” The painting depicts Jara’s son, who is on the autism spectrum, not as a figure to be resolved but as a constellation of radiant fragments. The son’s being is rendered as a kaleidoscope—disjointed but luminous, imperfect only in the human sense. Here, Jara’s radical distortions achieve something rare: a portrait of unconditional love unburdened by the need for coherence. Wholeness, he suggests, is not symmetry—it is presence, acceptance, and grace.

 

In Bersikulo, Jara’s visual language becomes a kind of scripture—one that eschews dogma in favor of revelation. Through jagged geometries and layered perspectives, he unearths both the magnitude of collective struggle and the sanctity of everyday life. His is an avowal of faith not merely in the divine, but in the frailty and resilience of human connection. Each painting is a verse, each distortion a deeper truth.

 

 

-Carlomar Arcangel Daoana

CARLO GABUCO & EUNICE SANCHEZ

sa lukong ng mga palad (in the hollow of palms)

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Ang simula’y pagyakag ng kamay sa kamay na umalala. Anong bigat, anong gaspang, ng mga palad na pinangsasalikop. Anong gaan, anong lambot, ng mga daliring hinuhulma sa hugis ng mga bagay. Ang kamay na ganap na humuhuli, maging sa mga imaheng naibigan ng mata. Ang kamay na bagyong lumilikha’t sumisira. Ang kamay na may tiyak lamang na laki at lapad na siyang hangganan ng maaaring maari at hindi. At matapos ang pag-angkin ay ang tanong: nasaan ang mga bagay na nawala/nakawala sa ating mga kamay? 

 

Mababanaag sa unang tingin na ang eksibisyong “Sa Lukong ng mga Palad” ay pakikiniig nina Eunice Sanchez at Carlo Gabuco sa labi—sa mga naiwan ng walang-pakundangang paggamit sa mundo. Oo, nakatitig ito sa kakagyatan ng kontemporanyo na harapin, ng personal at kolektibo, ang mga krisis ng kasalukuyan. Ngunit ang higit na taimtim na binabakas nina Sanchez at Gabuco ay ang mga bagay na sinubukang angkinin ng kamay ngunit sadyang naging tubig—sinundan ang lukot ng mga palad, ang ligid ng mga kalyo, hanggang matagpuan ang guwang sa pagitan ng mga daliri. Nililimi ng mga obra nina Sanchez at Gabuco na ang paghahanap sa mga bagay na ito ay maaaring mag-umpisa sa kasukalan ng arkibo. 

 

Kapwa potograpo, ang lagi’t laging nakalatag sa harapan nina Sanchez at Gabuco ay hindi ang kasalatan ng imahe [na malaking suliranin, halimbawa, sa mga aktibista-arkibista ng mga marhinalisadong komunidad] kundi ang umuugong nitong kaliwanagan—ang mga kulay na walang kasing-tingkad, ang laksang larawang nakalulunod. Maaaring sa puntong ito naging mapanghalina ang kalabuan bilang udyok sa paglikha nila sa mga obra. Mula sa mga mukhang paulit-ulit na pinipinta at binubura sa kambas hanggang sa analogong proseso ng pag-iimprenta ng imahe sa di-mawari-waring asul, niyayakap nina Sanchez at Gabuco ang kalabuan. Pagsuko ba ito sa paghahanap sa mga bagay na hindi nasasakop ng kamay? At kung gayon, ay pagsuko rin sa posibilidad ng pagpapatuloy lagpas ng pag-angkin? 

 

Naniniwala akong ang layon ng nilikhang kalabuan nina Sanchez at Gabuco ay hindi ang marahas na transpormasyon upang gawing di kabasa-basa o di kakita-kita ang naiwan mula sa mga marhinalisadong ideya/lawas/komunidad. Pagtatanong itong muli hinggil sa katuturan ng pag-intindi sa mga bagay na madulas sa kamay. Dumudulog ito sa ideya ng “karapatan sa opasidad” ng kritikong si Eduoard Glissant [Poetics of Relation, 1997] na itinuturo ang pagsalunga sa legasiya ng kolonyalistang epistemolohiya, ng kaliwanagan ng pag-angkin, na siyang bumaluktot sa kahulugan ng mga bagay. 

 

Sa pagitan nina Sanchez at Gabuco, maging ng kanilang mga obra, nangungusap ang kalabuan sa kapanatagan ng sarili sa pagkakaiba. Ito ay ang hindi ganap na pag-intindi ngunit patuloy na pakikiisa sa kapwa. Sa paglinang sa rekuperatibong espasyo ng eksibisyon, na umiiral sa harap ng unti-unting pagguho ng mga istruktura ng lipunan at pagka-agnas ng mundo, nais nilang ibukas ang isang anyaya ng pagtitipon—ang pag-aabot ng kamay sa kamay ng iba upang makibahagi at magbahagi; ang pagbubukas ng palad upang muli’t muling dito dumaloy. 

 

 

[Ryan Cezar Alcarde]

ERWIN ROMULO

Greatest Hits

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Greatest Hits

 

We ascribe much meaning to sound from its source. If we are prompted with the image of waves breaking on a shore, even the susurrus of radio static becomes prelapsarian ASMR to our ears. 

 

A record that is commercially available on vinyl—be it of noise, field recordings, long-duration minimalism, live electronic music, free jazz, free improvisation— is neatly categorized in the avant-garde section at record shops and purchased as “music”.    

 

In the Philippines, where all manner of objects fill the spaces of our every day, this is closer to home. We cherish objects and hold on to them as talismans, heirlooms, and keepsakes. Ephemera connects us to the eternal. We commune with figures and images of saints where we live. Even in the digital age, Filipinos remain ever reverent to radios, speakers, and Magic Sing. 

 

The exhibition is about sound. 

 

It features sound objects: musical instruments, stereo boomboxes, and a videoke machine. 

 

The choice of objects in the exhibition reflects a certain period and place: Metro Manila from the 1980s to the present. It also represents the experience of the curator being witness, accomplice, and instigator in the city’s various scenes involving art, music, and performance. 

 

 

 

By Erwin Romulo

TALL GALLERY

LOVOL: new instruments

 

Datu Arellano x Malek Lopez

Eric Bico x Gerecho Iniel

IC Jaucian x Teresa Barrozo

Marco Ortiga x Silke Lapina

with

Katz Trangco

Himig Sanghaya Chorale 

 

Curator Erwin Romulo proposes a theory that all musical instruments were created for a purpose beyond pure function. He suggests that it was necessary for cultures to create instruments for a particular time, and asks, that if we accept that, what would future ethnomusicologists study from our era?

 

That was the prompt given to three groups in 2019 for a project called Future Ethnomusicology. Each group was composed of two members each: a sound practitioner/composer and a visual artist/maker. The pairs had never worked together before. Composer Alexander John Villanueva was commissioned to write a new composition for both a classical ensemble and for the newly invented instruments. The debut performance was on September 20, 2019  at the Huseng Batute Black Box Theatre at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. 

 

For Greatest Hits, the Finale Tall Gallery features the second installment of Future Ethnomusicology. This second iteration includes new collaborations or updated versions of the invented instruments. Composer Katz Trangco, head of the U.P. College of Music Composition Department, was commissioned to write a new piece for these instruments to be performed together with 20-person vocal chorale Himig Saranghaya.

UPSTAIRS GALLERY

SUBFLEX

 

Jigger Cruz / Igerak

Pow Martinez / Sewage Worker

Juan Miguel Sobrepeña / Moon Fear Moon

Arvin Nogueras / Caliph8

Maia Reyes / Nonplus

 

Subflex is an experimental music program established in 1998 by sound and visual artists Arvin Nogueras and Maia Reyes. Initially, the program operated on a monthly schedule, hosting different artists related to diverse music subcultures, from improvised and traditional music to avant-garde and exploratory sound practices. The initiative was a reaction to biases of genre-specific music venues, tribes, or other clusters and music factions emanating in Manila from the 1980s towards the 1990s. Nogueras expounds, “I wanted to create a platform where practitioners with different preferences in music and sound-related experiences can co-exist. Hiphop, Punk, No Wave, Electronica, Noise, New Music, Outsider, Experimental, Shoegaze, Folk, Doom, Sludge, and other unpopular forms of music all interweave in Subflex”. The group has performed in Japan, Taiwan and Manila. 

 

For Greatest Hits, longtime collaborator Erwin Romulo worked with the artists of Subflex in producing new work by modifying boomboxes and creating new music. Each artist was assigned a boombox and a pitch, for which they made music recorded in cassette tapes. All are single editions, thus making the three elements—music, cassette and boombox—part of a single art piece.

 

Romulo’s decision to use the boombox is hinged on its  portability. “Before the advent of mobile phones and the Internet, the boombox provided both access and agency. Not only could you play it anytime anywhere, you could also record tracks off the radio and make mixtapes with them. The order of the songs could be curated. Each tape could be customized mixes for road trips, parties, or be sent as love letters. To a pre-pubescent adolescent growing up in the late 1980s, that was a lifeline. It was liberating.” 

VIDEO ROOM

furball

 

Dix Buhay

Edsel Abesames

J.A. Tadena

Jason Tan

Jun Sabayton

Karlo Estrada

Lyle Nemenzo Sacris

Lyndon Santos

Mads A. Lamanilao

Mikko Avelino

Quark Henares

Ra Rivera

Sharon See

 

Artist collective furball (est. 1999) formed in Cubao, Quezon City, in a space alongside other artist-run collectives like Big Sky Mind and Surrounded by Water. Furball included filmmakers, visual artists, designers, musicians, and other recalcitrant elements in its fold. Together, the group instigated art actions in different platforms, including music videos, gallery exhibitions, and a Viva Hotbabes film.

For Greatest Hits, furball artists produced new moving image works installed inside a customized videoke machine. The machine is operable for visitors to select a song and sing to. This work was first exhibited in Berlin, Germany at the daadgalerie (August 2024). Its original iteration featured works that paid homage to furball’s music video history. In the past, the  group made music videos for bands like Slapshock and Rivermaya. The version presented here is the first time the videoke machine is exhibited in the Philippines. 

 

Curator Erwin Romulo asserts that “the videoke machine was not invented by a Filipino, as is commonly believed, but its ubiquity across the archipelago makes the claim to indigeneity credible. Every barangay sings to videoke, even the remote ones.  Videoke is never an individual, nor a private, activity. Anybody within earshot can attest to this”. 

 

Like other Southeast Asian cultures, the tradition of music making is communal in the Philippines. This pertains mostly to the practices of indigenous communities, as part of collective rituals such as wedding celebrations, commemorating the dead, and heralding a harvest. All take part. There is no performer and there is no audience. That is also the case with videoke. When singing videoke, one might hold the mic, but it is everyone altogether who makes the music. 

 

 

By Mica Sarenas & Stephanie Frondoso

RICHARD QUEBRAL

Reality Framed

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In “Reality Framed”, Richard Quebral’s works show a vibrant mix of natural landscapes and technological elements. There are landscapes which are depicted with seas, palm trees, houses, fields, and cows in pastel colors. But there are also cameras, videos, and walls incorporated in the works. 

 

There is an interplay and tension between the natural world and the increasingly technological landscape of modern life. The presence of cameras and videos in the paintings is a commentary of the role of surveillance and observation in people’s lives. It shows that technology mediates our experiences and connections. There is the presence of high walls that symbolize the boundaries created in people’s personal lives and social lives. The serene and idyllic natural landscape depicts appreciation for the beauty of nature and a desire to highlight its importance in the people’s lives. 

 

The brushstrokes of Quebral’s works are expressive and create a dynamic and textured visual effect. The combination of different materials and techniques convey Richard’s narratives in a nuanced way. The vibrant colors and the versatility of acrylic paint allows him to express his emotions and ideas with intensity and clarity, the wood adds a sense of organic authenticity, and the incorporation of installations allows viewers to engage with the art on a more physical level. All these materials create a visual language that makes viewers think critically about the relations of nature, technology, and human experience. 

 

“Reality Framed” explores the complexities of modern life, the impact of technology on people’s relationships and experiences, and enduring the importance of nature and human connection. Quebral’s paintings put together palm trees, seas, bricked houses, green fields, cows, walls, cameras and videos. All these invite viewers to step into a world where nature and technology co-exist in a subtle balance. (Mica Sarenas)

GROUP SHOW

as echoes left behind the past

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In “as echoes left behind the past”, artists Tiffany Lafuente, Victoria Montinola, Kim Oliveros, and Jemima Yabes share narratives and reflections that involve solitude and the outside world. Such goes beyond passing thoughts and looks into the world’s bigger scheme.

Each work has their own concept yet finds unity in the idea of solitude which is acquired by looking outside. 

 

Tiffany creates stories formed by her imagination. She puts humor into her works. Her works depict media saturation, the nature of modern identity, and the emptiness of modern life. Despite all of that, as humans, there is a constant pursuit for purpose, not lost but transformed. Her other work reflects how there is comedy in religion and our beliefs. 

 

Victoria’s works are landscapes. Her subjects relate to memories of traveling and picnics with family. They usually enjoy going to parks, gardens, and zoos. Using images from books and photos from their trips, she paints her artworks. Her works for the present series involve different elements compared to her old works.

 

Kim paints fabrics that are shaped into flowers. The blankets symbolize his childhood. The flowers in his works symbolize offerings, expression of emotions, and the celebration of life’s moments. Butterflies are placed over the fabrics. They symbolize souls that visit families or places they love. For Kim, it symbolizes connection, revisiting memories of the places and things he grew up with. 

 

Jemima continues her usual process and translates her everyday life and the mundane into paintings through the photographs she takes daily. She revisits the photos she took of her lola’s garden. Her grandmother passed away but her garden continues to thrive in her absence. Her works show the persistence of life in the face of loss. 

 

In their moments of solitude, the artists reflect beyond passing thoughts and begin to think of their pasts and narratives. Such happens when one is given the opportunity to be alone with their thoughts. Through flowers, plants, fabric, pictures, picnics, and imagination, they can enjoy a state of solitude and reflection. Being alone with one’s thoughts, they can take in the world around them. It is also through solitude, one finds camaraderie or people who have the same beliefs and ideas as them. (Mica Sarenas)

VERONICA LAZO

Tricking the Birds

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The artist describes the exhibition as an exploration of artificial environments that is focused primarily on the reclamation in Manila Bay. It attempts to highlight how the so-called developments have impacted mangroves and natural wetlands that lead to displacement and disruption of ecosystems of species living in the area, especially migratory birds. Compliance with international environmental laws and regulations of some of these development projects do not guarantee careful consideration of the ecology, though commitment to create artificial or relocated "new" mangroves as replacement for the ones destroyed during construction is agreed upon. "Tricking the Birds" critiques this kind of human intervention that controls and reshapes nature. In this modification, the ecological balance is not only interrupted, but is likewise dominated by excessive and inessential progress.  

 

As an industrial designer, Veronica Lazo's impulse is to problem-solve by means of building, hence her envisioning of a series of homes for birds. Inspired by futuristic imagery, she created birdhouses that were modeled after contemporary and futuristic architecture renders. Utilizing the technology and meaning-making potential of materials in three-dimensional printing, "Prefab Eden" emphasizes artificiality and devised unnatural context. The set-up, as an imagined rehoming, is interspersed with synthetic trees that are silhouettes of local mangroves species found in Manila Bay. "Photosynthetic" series includes Nilad, which was historically abundant and is said to be the origin of the city name Maynila (may nilad or there is nilad). As an attempt to activate representation, Lazo made bricks using resin with encapsulated natural materials sourced from Las Piñas Wetland Park. Most bear the word RECLAIM to complicate the polarity of this action. From one standpoint, neoliberal economic system allows for the reclamation that commodifies nature and exacerbates the irreversible environmental damage; the opposite end is an urgency of reclaiming nature for integral biodiversity to thrive and conservation of ecosystems. In thinking about design's purpose of serving the community, she continues to contemplate on the regenerative and emancipatory possibilities in making.

 

This exhibition demonstrates how material and content exploration can be driven by matriarchal logic. The use of roundedness as subtle softness in mechanical methods, the sensitivity to limitations resolved by purposeful enumeration, or educating the self with planetary effects of capitalist tendencies are minor gestures of how the artist challenges the current environmental management paradigm.


 

Text by Con Cabrera

Works produced with John Carlo Reyes, Orlino Pando and Robby Salas

POPE BACAY

How to Move Beyond the Landscape

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Pope Bacay paints landscapes. It may even be posited that he feels through them. That he remembers through the sensate impressions of terrain and foliage. He has presented landscapes in different forms for years: as fragmented or panoramic, abstract or representational. And so, to present landscape paintings in an exhibition entitled “How to Move beyond the Landscape” seems either disingenuous or points towards the beginnings of introspection in his chosen direction. If landscapes are the starting point, and the intention is to move beyond, where will we land?

 

As with many things, a landscape isn’t merely what it represents. In his highly influential book, Ways of Seeing, the art critic John Berger saw landscape as indicative of gentility and private property. That is, as a kind of backdrop for personal and class aspirations, as well as a critical aspect of socio-historical changes in the world. Meanwhile, for writer Rebecca Solnit, the blue-tinged landscapes of distance pulsed with longing. In her writings, these landscapes embodied desires unrealized, unfulfilled, and held at bay. In a kind of quivering that doesn’t find, and even refuses, finality. We find echoes of a similar sentiment in Bacay’s work. In painting a landscape, he is more interested in its emotional tenor, in a particular coloration or intensity tied to remembering. In similarly holding an eschewal of closure. For him, the impulse is to recreate not the place in any realistic form, but something “closer to sensation, atmosphere, and memory”. 

 

In so doing, he works against the instinct to represent objects fully, a predilection honed through years of practice. He leans, instead, towards the dissolution and transformation of concretized form. Honing even further an acute sensitivity toward the formal aspects of image-making, toward the affect elicited by paint, and the constructed gestures, textures, or rhythms that emanate. He describes the process as a kind of unlearning, in as much as it is also a way of questioning the foundations of his artistic practice. Here, a line isn’t just a visual delineation that rises and falls with the terrain. It isn’t a passive horizon. Rather, it’s a bedrock that grounds the image, a tectonic disruption that shifts the variegated patterns of the picture plane, or even, a structuring device that pulls together the composition of the work. Colors reject naturalistic depictions. They quaver and oscillate, offering a palpability closer to the texture of how they are remembered. Even the process of layering and scraping paint becomes akin to the accretion, forgetting, or even revision, of memory. 

 

As such, the ground shifts and the air hangs in a kind of longing or nostalgic recollection. Accumulating perceptual signifiers of a place, the resulting image seems, at times, to be unstable or hazy. Sometimes it compresses vantage points, sometimes it fragments. Culled from different moments through time, and itself suspended in time, the paintings may still elicit familiarity despite their strangeness. Bacay is primarily intent in evoking a particular kind of attention, one apart from the incessant buzz of the modern world. A kind closer to stillness. He confesses to finding the world too loud. To paint is to slow down attention, and to offer the same possibility to the viewer should they choose to.

 

Initially working from photographs or from places rooted in either a specific or a patchwork of memories; ultimately, Bacay’s landscapes are almost always worlds constructed through the filter of subjective remembering. The intention is not to reach through time and bring these places to present perception. Instead, it is to hold place for what remains. To perhaps, examine them again against the light, observing the colored refractions anew. (JC Rosete)     

DZEN SALINGA & JERLINE SUNGA

Patchwork

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“Patchwork” is a two man show involving artists Jerline Sunga and Dzen Salinga. It is curated by Annie Cabigting. The show is about the idea of patching up. In literary context, “patchwork” refers to something composed of various unrelated parts or elements and creating it into a cohesive whole. For the two artists, it means mending or repairing something to the point of being functional or whole again. It involves temporarily adding a material that covers and connects broken parts - a stopgap. 

 

Jerline’s works were inspired by her mother, who used to make little coin purses and handbags, which were made from old clothes. Her mother loved collecting old clothes and creating something out of it. She also mended or patched up holes in other clothes. Images of old clothes with floral patterns and the act of sewing are in her subconscious mind. 

 

For Dzen, when she thinks of the term “patch up” she immediately thinks of houses seen in urban areas. She observes how people fix and make their houses. It’s not aesthetically pleasing but it has the purpose of addressing their needs. She is fascinated with their creativity when it comes to mending things. It shows a deeply embedded maximalism in our culture. 

 

Their works find a connection with each other through the idea of patching up. Jerline’s artworks are about the process of making the product. It involves the moments when one wakes up to sew the garments and the selling of these garments to buyers. Dzen’s artworks focus on the process of transformation, which gives objects a new face. She wants to capture the image and to condition the brain to focus on the good side of things. Its aim is to help see that the unpleasant can still be pretty if seen in a certain way. 

 

The idea of the exhibition began by finding their common ground and aligning their visual ideas. They agreed to explore and play with the concept of “patching up” and execute it in their own respective ways. They found a connection through exploring the visual imagery of patterns and their shared interest in the bounding concept of a home. (Mica Sarenas)

OCA VILLAMIEL

Unang Ulan

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(Tall Gallery) – Installation 

Oca Villamiel remembers the first rains of May, always falling at the summer’s end of his youth. The wet monsoon comes after a spell of scorching dry months, a welcome relief in the tropics. From the season’s early downpour sprout the most verdant plants of the year. In Villamiel’s towering installation, extending 20 feet in diameter, a mass of delicate, wispy forms resembles flowers reaching for the sun. Their feathery petals atop implausibly long, slender stalks, seemingly sway in an unseen wind, as if on the brink of taking flight. 

On the ground is a gathering of fallen leaves, a phenomenon as distinct to our Philippine summer as it is to autumn in other climes. As leaves decompose, organic matter nourishes the soil. The long-awaited rains awaken seeds beneath them and coax the lushest plants to grow and flourish. From this parched earth that had been yearning for water burgeons a resurgence of life. The installation evokes this graceful balance in nature, transforming the space into an immersive field, inviting viewers to contemplate their unique moment in time.

Placed in the high-ceilinged main gallery, the work plays with depth and perception, shifting as the viewer moves around it. Its soaring clusters seem suspended in a state of flux—emerging, unfurling, maturing. The artist’s choice of materials enhances the illusion of weightlessness, forms appearing both rooted and airborne. Interplay of light and shadow mirrors the volatile atmosphere of rainwater meeting dry land, capturing mutation from heat-worn stillness to vibrant rebirth. It reminds us that even after the harshest seasons, life finds a way to thrive.

Villamiel’s solo presentation occupies all three rooms of the gallery to honor water as the essence of life and creation. His works explore water’s power to shape landscapes, its inherent fluidity, and its deep connection to memory and time. They channel the rhythms of rivers, tides and rains, depicting water’s cyclical nature—its presence, absence and return. His process mirrors water’s behavior, converting materials as waves change the shore. For the artist, water is not a passive element but a force in creation:  a sustainer of life, a maker of stories.

 

(Upstairs Gallery) - Collage Paintings

These highly intricate collages, composed of individually handcut and meticulously glued pieces of Japanese usen paper, convey the movement and texture of oceans, rivers and rain. Each strip of paper, with its exquisite hues and prismatic patterns, creates a rhythmic undulation, much like a rippling ocean reflecting the sun’s golden rays, or like rain cascading over a woman’s silhouette on a sultry evening. 

The precision and patience required to assemble these works emulate the quiet persistence of nature itself. Villamiel segregates the tiny paper strips by color and then composes and attaches them in parallel direction onto canvas. Their organic patterns suggest an unpredictable flow where no two moments are alike, just as no two waves or raindrops behave in the same way. 

From a distance, the image comes into focus, as if the elements of water, wind and light have been woven together into a singular mesmerizing experience. Up close, the individual fragments reveal their origins—artfully made chiyogami slivers transformed into something vast and atmospheric. These depictions of a restless sea or a sky heavy with rain are meditations on nature in unceasing metamorphosis and enigmatic harmony.

 

(Video Room) – Materials

Villamiel shares with us the materials of his creative process. He visited a screenprinting factory in Kyoto to observe their technique, a craft that had been passed down several generations. Villamiel’s interest stems from his own background as a screenprinter; to this day, his family runs a screenprinting business. From the factory, he amassed a stunning array of paper with traditional Japanese patterns and motifs, in a medley of deep tones, soft pastels, vibrant florals, and graphic shapes. Some sheets are adorned with cherry blossoms, cloudlike formations, flying cranes—a visual richness that is also versatile, ideal for multiple creative applications.

Part of the display are used gloves, squeegees and aprons that Villamiel acquired as factory cast-offs. They are smattered in layers of dried paint, telling the story of countless prints pulled onto paper. The gloves, now stiffened, are smeared with color and sprinkled with remnants of gold paint, a record of the artisan’s handiwork. The squeegees’ rubber edges are worn, evidence of the repetitive motions used to press pigment through fine mesh. Aprons, heavy with splashes and drips, become accidental canvases. These tools, no longer just functional, embody the labor, artistry and imperfections of handmade craft.

The room unveils an artist who moves beyond the studio, doing fieldwork as observer, researcher and participant. This is an integral part of his work, the need to fully immerse in a place and its people, their environment and their daily rhythms. He engages them in conversation, understanding their stories, histories and traditions, all of which shape his art. Years and decades often pass until his preparations are complete. Imbued with this lived experience and human interaction, Villamiel’s work bears undeniable authenticity and deep resonance. 

GARRYLOID POMOY

Tapestry of Textures

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Rags or basahans that are normally used to wipe messes and often neglected are given a different life in Garryloid Pomoy’s artworks. They become a sign of labor, love, and a possible future that is different from its original purpose. Others see basahans as discarded pieces of cloth that become nothing once thrown away. 

 

“Tapestry or Textures” is a continuation of Garryloid Pomoy’s work in the group show “when the past is always present”. He paints basahans, and has threads sticking out of the paintings. Multiple layers of cloth are painted to make it. One does not only see the labor done by the maker of the basahan but also the labor of Garryloid in painting these works. A thread sticks out from the canvas as if saying Garryloid sews too, but in his own way. Following the thread or stitches is a way to share the feeling of his works. It gives an illusion and breaks expectations of what’s real and what’s not. It entices viewers to come closer and see the work. 

 

In Garryloid’s youth, his mother would make rags and he would sell them. Through selling these rags, he was able to fund his school projects and requirements. It is a core memory for him, and the experience never left. Now the idea of these rags has become useful to him. They are not something to be discarded but something representing him and his mother.

 

For him, rags are a remembrance of the time he spent with his mother, who was the pillar of his family. Each layer shows signs of her labor and her teachings. All of this is carried by Garryloid throughout his life and career. For him, his mother is part of his works through these rags and threads.

 

Garryloid does not forget his past but tries to reimagine them and present them to others. His works tell people that nothing is wasted from your past and they become lessons for the future. To him, remembering the past means taking steps to become the best version of himself. (Mica Sarenas)

WELBART SLOWHANDS

gray matter and silver lining

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wisdom 

Where does our memory go amidst illness, in experiencing trauma, throughout old age? A tormenting question Welbart began to ask when his father lost most of his memories after being hospitalized. It hurt him when his parent could not recognize him anymore. As a self-taught artist who was trained to be a nurse, he anchors his visualization on words and quotes; perhaps a bridge to the factual. The evolution of this artistic blueprint is most evident, not with the stylistic choices, but beyond what we can comprehend.

 

love. empathy.

Overwhelming emotional bond is affixed to the journey of grief. In the passing of Welbart’s father, there was a struggle in navigating this bereavement. Identifying with such tragedy is transformed into a unifying connection; we feel, we understand. This exhibition is an expression of reverence that grows out of longing, but also of acceptance. As they say, to be inspired by loss is a healthy way of grieving.

 

healing

The silver lining is difficult to catch when it momentarily appears from the skies. The kind of coping Welbart has been tenaciously pursuing is to put his faith in the wisdom of others. The centerpiece of the current presentation is a combination of sculptures and literature. Imaginably a homage to the philosophers, writers, and leaders who have shared their thoughts in writing for these thinking to exist. It may also be to preserve the individual sentiments that enter the collective sympathies. Besides, healing after death is a communal pilgrimage.

 

gratitude

Gray matter is physical. Silver lining is spiritual. Welbart quotes Lionel Hampton: "Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind.” The artist, as he contemplates on memory and the psyche, acknowledges that one is compelled to find the balance of life in the external world and belief in the divine. What gratitude does for him is to transcend the physicality of being and affirm the sacredness of living.

JOMARI T'LEON

Snake Infested Temple

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A Year of Snakes

 

Shedding its skin. Leaving in its place, a place.

The Character has become female, a woman. 

But her molted skin hasn’t come off, she needs to push further to get out completely. 

 

In his 2024 exhibition “Through the Woods, Across the Sea,” Jomari T’Leon fleshed out the journey of a Character — anonymous yet everybody — stuck in a stagnant place, unable to grow. Scattered across the works were sinister motifs, such as skulls, demons, and serpents —- stand-ins for obstacles that held him back. 

 

Taking off from that body of work, he expands his visual explorations by delving deeper into the origins of the Character’s impediment itself: Fear. And with this returns the trope of the serpent, or as appropriate to the year 2025, the snake. 

 

Snakes are feared. Snakes fear. Snakes fear snakes. 

 

Across the canvasses, the Character embodies expressions of resentment, anticipation, concern, bewilderment, and defeat. The snake appears as an omen, whispering, lingering, and prodding her down a path she so desperately wants to escape. Such scribbles crossing her sight, flowing hair, and folds in her clothes recall a writhing. Even the mirror reflecting a mirror, reflected in another mirror evokes a metaphorical Ouroboros. With their forked tongues chanting directly into her ear, she bears a snake-infested temple. 

 

She bears. She carries. She carries fear.

She bears. She endures. She endures fear.

 

In the temple, between one’s eyes and ears, time passes. 

Of the temple is the temporal. Of time is the temporal.

The fear of time is the fear of the temporal. 

 

T’Leon executes these works with the desire to unseal such a primal emotion; the realism in his depictions only secondary to his divided planes and irreverence for foregrounds, midgrounds, and backgrounds. As if disregarding time and space itself, he renders the intangible as figures and layers that are anything but flat.

 

The body is a place, a sacred space. The body is a temple. 

Light a candle to see them writhing in front of you.

Snakes writhe, longing to shed their skin and be reborn.

 

From meticulous decision-making come the titles of the works. In “Chasing your Own Tail I & II,” figures of a snake navigating the canvas lend motion, perhaps futile. Sombre moods permeate “Empty Glass” and “Secret Pact,” where the figure seems to observe or ignore the other. Either frustration or shock are demonstrated by hands partly covering the face in “Here and There I & II.” And lastly, the titular snake appears, head beside temple, silently hissing — a “Trace.”

 

There is a phenomenon known as “dysecdysis,” when a molting snake gets stuck in its old skin, unable to move on and be somewhere else. Molting is meant to be a slow yet defined process. Any external force can cause injury. While the snake manifests as fear, as one looks in the mirror, we might find that we are the snake ourselves. Fear is what we hold on to, what we refuse to shed. 

 

Shedding its skin. Leaving behind fear, leaving a place.


 

– Francisco Jin Sung Lee, Feb 2025

 

_______________________________________________________________________


 

Blurb:

 

Fear is what we hold on to, what we refuse to shed. Taking off from his 2024 exhibition “Through the Woods, Across the Sea,” Jomari T’Leon expands his visual explorations by delving deeper into his self-coined Character by way of the origins of its impediment itself: Fear. And with this returns the trope of the serpent, or as appropriate to the year 2025, the snake. “Snake Infested Temple” opens at Finale Art File on 6 March 2025.

JOHN ISRAEL ACUÑA

Echoes Through the Branches

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This collection, "Echoes Through the Branches," is a heartfelt tribute to the shared aspirations of my mother and I. Each painting reflects not only the beauty of the woods, but also the dreams that have been passed down through generations. As I explored these landscapes, I discovered the intertwining of our hopes and desires. Her visions became my own, and guided me through life’s journey. Within these woods, I stand as the wood that fuels our family's fire, the embodiment of strength, and the provider of sustenance. From the struggles we face, a flower blossoms - symbolizing the beauty and resilience of our challenges. The ribbon wrapped around the wood represents the balance between strength and softness. The solid wood and the delicate ribbon symbolize the resilience and tenderness that coexist with family life’s beauty and challenges. This exhibition invites you to walk with me through the branches of our shared dreams, to celebrate the enduring connection between past and present, and to harness the power of aspiration that shapes our paths. (Ria Mangahas)

DEX FERNANDEZ

Spectrum So Far So Good

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Dex Fernandez wanders through another chapter of life, moving from 22ESB75CC to 120.
In his previous exhibition at the tall gallery, he chronicled an eventful two years of death, violence, and healing through a maximalist depiction of frenzy and limitless energy. A form of catharsis, he was able to push the boundaries of his art-making by visually capturing a sprawling universe. Reality would have to immediately begin though. Years pass by so quickly and this current exhibition perhaps becomes a sensing of sorts.


How are you in the current moment? How are you in the grand scheme of things?


Spectrum of So Far So Good is a reflexive moment. We are taken into a journey where we can enjoy speculations of a narrative made possible by transformation of figures and vectors that are both ambitious and deliberate. Sometimes viewers can be distracted by the artist’s vivacious demeanor, but Fernandez is deeply concerned with the formal and aesthetic qualities of his art. It’s exciting to see how the new works display technical skill and thoughtful conceptualization. The contradicting position of exposing and cloaking becomes necessary for the storyteller to keep us off balance, a feeling that is both uncomfortable and exhilarating. As an artist who strives to always improve himself, the obsessive consistency is palpable. Still very much present is what writer Carlomar Daoana previously described as a “movement, dance, the impulse to connect and disengage… expanding from the streets, to the bars, to the hectic textures of cities, to the evolving spheres populated with flashing gizmos and signs and motifs—staggering in scope, unstoppable in its expansion, hypnotic in its repetitions.” Notice this time there is restraint, breathing space, a consciousness of being present.


“It is this mode of apprehension above all that governs the new deciphering that we have given of the subject’s relations to that which makes his condition.” This was written by psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan talking about chance encounters—an aspect of repetition that interrupts. The artist’s ‘apprehension’ becomes an apparatus to spotlight the moments he tends to romanticize and memorialize captured from his chance encounters with people, objects, scenes, and energies. His current condition, preoccupied by his queerness, anxieties on and of maturing, fresh ventures and adventures, becomes a landscape for ‘the new deciphering.’ The two-dimensional works are animated; each artwork a cel. Characters enter the frame and the exits are another round of introductions. These artistic decisions and processes are laborious and intricate. They compel us to appreciate every chapter of existence; we reflect not only on the phases of the artist’s creative life, but our own as well.


Hope you are (also) in this spectrum of so far, so good.

Con Cabrera

PAM QUINTO

The Weight of Being, A Living Thing Cracked Open

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Copy of The Weight of Being, A Living Thing Cracked Open - exhibition text by Alfonso Mana
Copy of The Weight of Being, A Living Thing Cracked Open - exhibition text by Alfonso Mana
Copy of The Weight of Being, A Living Thing Cracked Open - exhibition text by Alfonso Mana
Copy of The Weight of Being, A Living Thing Cracked Open - exhibition text by Alfonso Mana

FAYE ABANTAO

To Conquer a Home

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Home is a complicated concept, often riddled with clichés. Home is where the heart is. There is no place like home. For Faye Abantao, home is her anchor for artistic production. She uses paper, old photographs, and everyday objects gathered from her home. More potently, her artistic growth evolves as her lived experience within her home shifts. As a child, it was the walls she colored in creative expression. As an adult and developing artist, it was the bits and pieces of peeling paint, slowly dilapidating over time–transcending toward portraiture and installations. Now, the home unravels with children grown and parents aging. 

Faces are now missing from Abantao’s canvas. They are no longer portrayed but are watching outside the canvas. Instead, a slowly creeping decay unfurls–an unopened door, an empty chair, a pile of boxes, and wilting flowers. It is as if time stands still while the moment of contemplation is already gone. There is quiet waiting, with life’s imprints standing still in constant limbo of both belonging and displacement. 

The home changes. Inevitably, children grow. They marry and move out. They explore careers and other locales. There is sadness as the familiar becomes memories. Sharing a meal, boisterous noises, and being in the same space are safe, familiar, and wrapped up in warm comfort. But with time comes growth, then age and the present transforms into remembrances. The question hangs in the air, to stand still or move? Slowly, things crumble, yet the feelings persist and endure. (Portia Placino)

About the Artist


Faye Abantao is a visual artist based in Bacolod City, Negros Occidental, Philippines. She looks into memories, contemplation, and personal experiences as trajectories in her artistic practice. Recent works involved experimentation in collage and weaving as processes of expressing thoughts and inner turmoil. She was the recipient of the Karen H. Montinola Award in 2021. To Conquer a Home is her sixth solo exhibition in over a decade of creative practice. Aside from numerous local and international group exhibitions, Abantao expanded her perspective through residencies in Malaysia, Germany, and South Korea.

GROUP SHOW

Moth and the Flame

Finitude and Other Spectres A.X. Ledesma

I. ’A fellowship with essence; till we shine / full alchemised and free of space ’[1]

Sing, Muse, of that which is and is not, of that which is momentarily cloaked in each modality of vibrance, of that which dissipates once its position changes, of that which holds no position, of that which distributes itself across the boundless sea of emptiness, driven time and again along a multitude of indeterminate paths, tracing an incomprehensible pattern along undiscovered creases in the fabric of time. Sing of that which allows the world around it to bend, that which finds itself in all things, that which comes apart to become a part of all that it is not.

II. ‘hurled headlong flaming from the Ethereal Sky’ [2]

into the vast world beneath this world,
into the margins of linear history,
into a different scene,
into its point of origin,
into the crucible of an uncreated consciousness,
into substance,
into a still point amidst impermanence,
into a relentless trajectory,
into a line on the brink of erasure,
into what is both real and unreal,
into the binds of time,
into the flicker of an image,
into a curve in the air,
into the material world,
into the periphery,
into itself,
into what has been conceived as its inverse,
into nothing,
into something.

III. ‘I look up and see / nothing crosses heaven’ [3]

The expanse of the unyielding firmament, occluded by thick fog, punctured only by enclaves of constellations or objects mistaken for stars shivering in the distance amidst an endless sprawl of emptiness plunged into the depths of mineral silence, interrupted by minuscule signs of activity, by a tremor in the atmosphere, by an apparition, by a light that bends, by some vague movement of a thing yet to be identified. In the crepuscular dawn, vision folds in on itself. In the ceaseless, terminal gloaming, there is only this gesture, this suggestion of change, this gradual disappearance and reappearance.

IV. Impressions of a World in Flux

‘The world is not a solid continent of facts sprinkled by a few lakes of uncertainties, but a vast ocean of uncertainties speckled by a few islands of calibrated and stabilised forms.’ [4] ’We are not in the world, we become with the world. ’[5] ‘The body is a source. Nothing more.’ [6] ’The body receives gratuity. The world gives graciously, disinterestedly, asking for nothing back, expecting nothing in return.’ [7] ’The skin is a variety of contingency: in it, through it, with it, the world and [the] body touch each other, the feeling and the felt, it defines their common edge. Contingency means common tangency: in it the world and the body intersect and caress each other… . Skin intervenes between several things in the world and makes them mingle.’ [8] ’Everything is vision, becoming,’ [9] ‘but seeing only binds the vision to the eye. ’[10] ‘Undergo the quiet treatment of the five senses. It is enough to accept what is gratuitously given.’ [11]

V. As of 04 January 2025, 45,717 dead [12].

On occasion, nothing follows.


[1] John Keats, ‘Endymion’, 1818.
[2] John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 1, 1667.
[3] Jenny Hval, ‘Year of Sky’ in Classic Objects, 4AD, 2022.
[4] Bruno Latour, Reassembling the Social. Oxford University Press, 2007.
[5] Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, What Is Philosophy? Translated by Hugh Tomlinson and Graham Burchell. Columbia University Press, 1996.
[6] Eavan Boland, ‘Anna Liffey’ in New and Collected Poems. W. W. Norton, 2008.
[7] Michel Serres, The Five Senses: A Philosophy of Mingled Bodies. Translated by Margaret Sankey and Peter Cowley. Bloomsbury, 2008.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Deleuze and Guattari, What Is Philosophy?
[10] Deerhunter, ‘Agoraphobia’ in Microcastle, 4AD, 2008.
[11] Serres, The Five Senses.
[12] The human toll of Israel’s ongoing genocide against Palestinians in Gaza.

RANELLE DIAL

Random Memories

At first glance, Ranelle Dial’s exhibit, Random Memories, appears to depict domestic interiors steeped in familiarity: storied spaces adorned with bookcases, luxuriant furniture, and the quiet intimacy of home. Yet, these spaces resist settling into the tangible. They reveal themselves instead as dream-like evocations, where reality wavers and gives way to the extraordinary. In one painting, a woman peers through a doorway that extends endlessly into infinity. In another, the floor transforms into waves, an undulating ocean beneath the room. Elsewhere, walls subtly wobble, as though destabilized by an unseen force.

 

“What is familiar yet is elusive,” the artist explains, lies at the heart of her work. She seeks to capture that which is there but not exactly there, perpetually hovering between the conscious and unconscious. Through Dial’s lens, painting transcends mere description, becoming a mode of transformation—a way to reveal how the world we perceive exists not as an objective reality but as a product of the brain’s intricate circuitry.

 

Memory, Dial suggests, colors everything we see. Even the solid presence of a book held squarely in one’s hands is shaped by subjective interpretation. “Scenario perspectives within the works symbolize the continuity of thought, where past and present intertwine, blurring the boundaries of time,” she reflects. Her paintings weave these temporal threads into visual narratives, evoking a liminal space where perception and recollection collide.

 

This interplay between memory and reality is further underscored by Dial’s use of puzzle pieces. Reclaimed as a palette board, these fragments once cohered into complete images but now bear only trace elements of pigment—a metaphor for the fractured, ephemeral nature of memory and existence. Like reality itself, the puzzle is dismantled, leaving behind vestiges of what once was.

 

Random Memories challenges our relationship to the world before us. It invites us to question the solidity of what we deem “truth” and to reflect on the fluid boundaries between memory, perception, and existence. Dial’s work urges us to embrace the slippages of reality, where the familiar becomes elusive, and the seemingly tangible dissolves into the realm of the infinite.

 

-Carlomar Arcangel Daoana

BEMBOL DELA CRUZ

Only the Wearer

In Only the Wearer, Bembol De La Cruz delves into the layered significations of the boot, a potent emblem that traverses the realms of "strength, power, and adventure"—traits often coded as masculine ideals. The artist interrogates these associations, framing the boot as an object steeped in historical, socio-economic, and personal narratives.

 

Drawing inspiration from Mona Hatoum’s Roadworks and Eleanor Antin’s 100 Boots, De La Cruz situates the boot within the contexts of labor and mobility. For Hatoum and Antin, the boot became a symbol tied to the working class—an index of movement, endurance, and the often overlooked struggles of everyday life. De La Cruz extends this discourse by presenting the boots in states of disrepair: worn down, scuffed, and even missing a shoelace. These working boots serve as stand-ins for their wearers, encapsulating the relentless grind of labor and the absence of luxury to replace what is broken.

 

“Boots,” De La Cruz states, “reflect themes of socio-economic disparity: they symbolize the promises of upward mobility often unfulfilled, the struggles of unemployment, and the reality of poor housing.” The boots become metaphors for unrealized aspirations, embodying a tension between the ideal and the actual—between the promise of progress and the resistance of systemic inequities.

 

In a striking juxtaposition, De La Cruz pairs the depiction of boots with body bags. When viewed together, the body bags cast a grim shadow over the narrative of the boots. They prompt viewers to ask: Did the wearers achieve what they set out to do? Or did their dreams remain elusive, overshadowed by the weight of circumstance?

 

Ultimately, Only the Wearer compels viewers to confront “the tension between the promise of progress and the realities of the human condition.” De La Cruz’s work reminds us that the wearers of boots navigate a world resistant to alternative ways of living, where the burden of survival often eclipses the hope for transformation.

 

 

-Carlomar Arcangel Daoana

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