Maverhick: September 2016

Jagged little pieces

TELL me why should I complete you when I can’t even complete myself.

They fill the room with poetry ¬– these intricate honeycombs with grained hexagon faces, tessellating and multiplying, casting delicate yet sharp-edged shadows on the walls.

“I am” reads the nameplate under one of the pieces, featuring the same complex pattern but with charred blocks jutting out from amongst the untarnished wood. “I am but still I can” has several jagged ends and pointed edges, while concrete faces fill black spaces in “One should be, but one is always enough.”

These awe-inspiring pieces are the works of the 25-year-old Antinqueño Bryan Liao, making up his first solo show entitled “Aggregate Abundances” on display at the Cinematheque Iloilo.

“The inspiration comes from the formation of a honeycomb,” shares Bryan. “Being pwede siya ma-collect geometrically, pwede siya ma-tesselate.”

“It’s about perspective. It’s about collecting, and adding up each piece, hindi siya individual, it’s about how they connect to each other in a way nga hindi siya alone. It’s about collectively looking at the bigger picture, not just focusing on yourself.”

Encouraged by his friends to delve deeper into his art and woodcraft, and urged by Ilonggo art veteran Rock Drilon to mount a solo show, Bryan took 5 months to complete his masterpieces – eight multi-faceted wooden sculptures that are nothing short of visual poetry.

“Each underwent the same process of assembly, but is more identified with each block that comprises them. Looking closely, individual pieces form and add up to create the whole of the hexagonal piece, portraying also the implications of Aggregate Abundances. [Each] unique individual who has unique attributes, unique experiences and unique flaws,” shares Bryan in his artist statement.

“I am aggregately abundant” is the most varied and arguably most “flawed” piece in the installation with blunt pieces of glass, concrete, charred wood, and opaque crystals disrupting honeycomb’s otherwise calm surface – but in Aggregate Abundances these faults are not a piece’s downfall, they’re what make it more beautiful to stand out.

“Surely, I am broken, surely I have pieces in me missing, pieces in me not enough, less than I am, but every part of me makes me a whole. It’s about accepting one’s flaws, being imperfect but owning it,” muses Bryan about “I am aggregately abundant”.

“These ‘flaws’ do not put the person at a disadvantage, but confirms and reaffirms one’s [true] self. These unique qualities, no matter how eccentric or how seemingly negative, contribute to creating the pieces which you see. They make up the whole, and while the whole is completed, the individual in return, is provided a sense of belongingness, a place in community,” he adds.

But most eye-catching is “Not because, but in the very least” rendered in sparkling gold, glowing and reflecting light off its gilded edges. “I am not because I’m entitled, not because I’m golden, not because I’m charred, but in the very least I am,” explains Bryan of the piece.

Bryan Liao

A management and marketing graduate from Central Philippine University, he sees the show and his craft as a passion project, finding free time from his day job managing a business to conceptualize and create these intricate pieces of art. Bryan is also part of the social enterprise Gugma Weaves, empowering hablon weavers from Dueñas and bolstering their livelihood, all the while contributing to the reemergence and awareness of the local textile, especially to Ilonggo youth.

In Aggregate Abundances, Bryan speaks about looking into ourselves, not to find faults and flaws, but to see how we can give back to the greater whole, to contribute to something bigger than all of us.

“Overall, Aggregate Abundances suggest that there is humble abundance despite such shortcomings, such blemish. Every individual - be it with or without blemish - contributes to the abundance of the whole. One shouldn't be discounted despite such humble benefaction. The whole shouldn't be discounted due to its faults,” the artist shares of his vision.

“It should be viewed in abundance and positivity and not what is lacking, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s about individuality, being yourself, casting a different shadow, at the same time creating something bigger than ourselves,” concludes Bryan.

I stepped into the exhibit thinking selfishly “tell me, why should I complete you when I can’t even complete myself?” and left genuinely questioning myself, “how can me and my flaws contribute to the greater whole?” – affected by the visual poetry of Bryan Liao.

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, by Rhick Lars Vladimer Albay

Advocacy

The Treasures of Nagpana

GROWING abundant in our country's backwoods and wilderness is a fern that wraps itself snake-like around the trunks of towering trees, gnarled roots and moss-coated boulders - the nito vine.

City folk have failed to see the worth of these sprawling vines, but, endlessly resourceful, indigenous peoples from all over the Philippines have stripped the plant of its leaves and used its strands to weave baskets and purses to sell.

The Philippines' indigenous tribes are people of the earth - relying on the rich and vibrant covers of nature for their necessities and livelihood. The aetas of Nagpana in Barotac Viejo are no different.

A group of young Ilonggos, seeing the craftsmanship and hard work of the Nagpana aetas, found potential in their handiwork and wanted to empower the weavers and artists of the tribe.

"Na-notice ko na magkadto ka sa busay galatag na sing inugbaligya (nga purses) ang mga babaye. Kis-a mahinulat sila. Galatag man sila, pero wala man gabakal," shares Kristine Buenavista one of the founders of Nagpana Ethnic Jewelry.

Buenavista, a resident of Barotac Viejo, has been a frequent visitor of the aeta community since her childhood, participating in outreach projects and actively involved in education and storytelling activities with the tribe.

"We thought why not mag-build on kami sa ila culture?" Buenavista muses. Situated on more than 900 hectares of protected forests and near the Nagpana Falls and watershed, the community is made up around 150 aeta households. The weaving of baskets and trinkets for additional livelihood has been a part of aeta culture for decades, but interest for these handmade products has diminished over the years.

Conceptualized in August last year by Buenavista and her co-founders Marrz Capanag and Carm Novilla, Nagpana Ethic Jewelry aims to support and empower designs “imagined by an aeta,” encouraging them to go beyond the usual products we see at flea markets and souvenir shops to dream and come up with jewelry that are uniquely their own.

“At first the artists were hesitant,” shares Novilla. “Hindi mo man sila mabasol, intsindihan mo man sila kay pila na ka dekada, naanad sila nga ginaluoyan lang sila, so kung may mag-outreach toh, mahatag lang kag malakat man kung hapon.”

Buenavista shares that, for a time, most of their aeta artists were doubtful of their own skills and couldn’t see the creativity in their work because they were used to just copying designs. But the three young founders of the social enterprise continuously encouraged them until they found their footing and their unique artistic voices.

“‘Ma’am hindi ko na kay wala ko ka-eskwela’, kay naangdan lang nila mga puyo-puyo. Pero gapasalamat man kami kay may mga nagdisidir, damu man ang nagganyak, kag nalipay man sila nga mangin part sila sing social enterprise namun,” expresses Buenavista.

“Later on, na-realize man nila nga ang ginaobra namun para gid sa ila,” relates Novilla. Nakita man nila ang amun consistency, gabalik-balik gid kami, gatulog man kami toh, ga-immerse gid kami sa ila community. Gusto gid namun nga makabulig nga tayuyun, hindi lang nga pa-untat untat.”

One of their first artists was Nang Melca a 42-year-old mother of 8 children, and the resident manug-nito (nito vine harvester) of the community.

“Before ga-obra na siya aritos pero wala gasapak, kay hambal nila daw hindi obra ka ati, so na discourage siya for quite some time,” shares Buenavista.

But because of Nang Melca’s perseverance, encouraging her fellow tribeswomen to join, they were able to grow their project ¬– now to 17 aeta weavers, these artists from ages 17, with Evelyn the youngest, to 98, the tireless Lola Ma-am.

“Na-realize ni Nang Melca nga biskan asta Grade 1 lang siya, may ibuga man gale iya huna-huna, kag happy gid sya nga gina-appreciate ang work niya,” narrates Buenavista. “Kay ginapakita namun ang photos nga may gasuksuk sing ila work happy gid na sila, kis-a gahilibi sila sa kalipay.”

In fact one of Nagpana Ethnic Jewelry’s earliest pieces is named “Kabakas ni Melca,” celebrating her admirable courage and handiwork.

Recently, Buenavista, Novilla and Capanag were cited by the British Council as part of their Active Citizens: Leaders for Social Impact Training program. Nagpana Ethnic Jewelry was voted by their facilitators and peers as the best social enterprise in the Visayas Leg of the program, opening up new doors for the young Ilonggo founders.

"Culture, empowerment, environment, we try to address also these concerns and aspects in one project. Hindi lang siya nga economic empowerment, we want it to be holistic,” shares Novilla.

Like the nito vine, often overlooked and disregarded, the treasures we need to value are often abundant in the nature and our culture, we just fail to see their vivid colors and luster - sometimes a piece of intricate woven jewelry, sometimes a tribe that traces their history back to our oldest ancestors.

Nagpana Ethnic Jewelry products are sold online through their official facebook page and are also available at Café Panay in the Molo Mansion, Damires Hills in Janiuay and the Dojo 8 Coworking Space along Gen. Luna Street, Iloilo City Proper.

Like Nagpana Ethnic Jewelry on Facebook to know more

about their cause and order some awesome jewelry.

Photos from the Official Nagpana Ethnic Jewelry page

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, by Rhick Lars Vladimer Albay

Calidad Humana

Hablon Strands

IT'S fascinating to think that each bolt of cloth is made up of untold minute threads. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of filaments meticulously put together, every single one adding to the awe of the whole. Horizontal and vertical spectrums meeting at right angles to form patterns. Long strands running down the length of the fabric, threads that flow like rivers.

Long strands that once passed through the fingers of a weaver, taught at a young age the dance of threads, how each one must be manipulated to be put into place. For many generations, such has been passed on from mother to daughter. An inheritance interlaced with tales and myths, some fading away after neglect, some growing with the children of the weavers.

One such story is recounted in Mandaya folklore. It speaks of how a young woman stumbled upon a beautiful fabric on the trunk of gnarled Balete tree, by a river that ran calm like soft threads; and how a benevolent and gentle spirit, the Tagamaling, owner of the cloth, welcomed the woman into her earthen home bestowing unto her visitor the knowledge of weaving, then letting the woman return to her village, to propagate the art. The spirit whose name was whispered solemnly by the weavers of old, asking for skill and giving thanks, before starting on a new bolt of cloth.

I thought it only appropriate to murmur the name to myself before starting my journey. Like the early weavers with their antique looms, I must show my respect to the giving spirit.

Indag-an is roughly 4 kilometers from Miag-ao's town proper. I boarded a tricycle at a terminal near Miag-ao Church. The Indag-an Primary Multipurpose Cooperative was a 10-minute ride away.

The welcoming thud of looms echoed through my ears as I entered the IPMC. Ample sunlight radiated on the colored threads and half-finished fabrics of the weavers. Inside the room were 10 looms crowded together in the narrow area. Strikingly about 7 other looms were outside, placed there due to lack of space.

The Indag-an Primary Multi-purpose Cooperative was put up to support the local weavers of the baranggay in 1990, and since then the cooperative has become a center for the weaving of Hablon, multi-colored fabrics made from jusi, silk, and piña fibers. LGUs of Miag-ao have shown unwavering support for project. Also, several local designers have incorporated Hablon into their pieces, renewing interest for the product. More than 20 years later, the IPMC still continues its operations in service of its weavers and members.

Among them is Aling Maryeta, who at 63 years of age, is the oldest member of the cooperative. Noticeable are her calloused fingers, worn out by her lifetime of weaving, yet surprising are their agility in handling threads. Born of an impoverished family, she had the chance to study only until Grade six. Early on she had to work to contribute to her family’s livelihood. Fostered by her aunt, she learned the art of weaving. She recalls having several looms or tiral as they are called in Hiligaynon, in their house as a child; some of them she claims have been in their family for more than a hundred years, passed from one generation to another, along with the designs and techniques of their ancestors.

She shares that through her efforts and the help of the cooperative, four of her children have taken up college degrees and are now employed teachers, with their own growing families. She admits to feeling aches and difficulties, but still strives to finish each and every bolt of cloth she starts.

I ask her how long she plans to continue her weaving. “Asta maglabog mata ko eh.”, she answers smiling. Till her eyes finally fail her. “Beautifully said”, I say to myself.

III

As I walked away from the IPMC, waiting for a tricycle to pass, the muffled sound of looms continued to fill the air. I find shade beside a tall tree with knotted roots.

Weaving, an art form once held in grandeur is now fading away; slowly dying with each weaver that leaves this world. Bitter-sweet as it is; many of Aling Maryeta’s children have chosen to venture other roads, roads they see as having more opportunities, while only one has accepted her inheritance of the valued skill. The art of weaving is slowly fading away.

I recall Aling Maryeta’s words of continuing her craft until her sight fails her. I sincerely wish that day will never come, and that she’ll have a long and happy life. I pray to the Tagamaling to watch over her as she handles the many lengths of thread that goes through her nimble fingers. May she always be given the needed skill, energy, and patience to keep the thuds and sounds of wooden frames resonating. I wish for her to age like the looms of her childhood, more than a hundred years of life but still strong enough to hold the unbound threads of a cloth yet to be finished.

The late afternoon sun casts soft shadows on the asphalt road below my feet. The trike steadily moves farther and farther away from Indag-an.

Note: This essay notched me a finalist slot for the “Breaking the Ground: A Life Well Spent” National Essay Writing Contest launched by Project Calidad Humana and supported by the Embassy of Chile and the Philippine Department of Foreign Affairs.