The Basement

LINKS

Mga Ipis ng Elbi • Mac Andre R. Arboleda

Displacement • Erika Belarmino

Trip to Jerusalem • Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo

PHSA as Privilege • Danielle David Castillo

During School Hours • Bea Rabe

Nyak  • Lyka Naranjo

Pantapal • Karma Kolektib

How to Get Your Artwork Featured in an OICA-sponsored Exhibit • Felipa Cheng

Spero Meliora • Judy Kristel Bayalas

For Your Consideration: UP Graduate for Sale • Cidee Despi

Sacrosanct • Gold Steps Productions

open to misinterpretation • Kelcey Alfonso Espejo

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Zenith Jett Ilagan

Digital photograph (of found objects, paper, and drawings on ceramic, and film strip) 2019 

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Jett Ilagan, a.k.a. escuri, is a music producer, sound and visual artist from Laguna, Philippines. His works explore sound and particularly the idea of “cultural soundscapes” through various methods such as field recordings and personal encounters with the subject environment and its locals.

Mac Andre R. Arboleda

“I will pelt you with filth; I will treat you with contempt; I will make you a public spectacle.” — Nahum 3:6

It’s not unusual for anonymous accounts that churn out content based on specific locations to show up in my timeline every now and then. I’d guess this started with popular pages like “Humans of New York”. Ever since then, we’ve seen similar accounts pop up on our Facebook, Twitter and even Instagram timelines. Although the earliest ones I can recall are “Hotties of [insert campus here]”, people have started making pages dedicated to very specific audiences. 

Around the same time Twitter pages @mgapusangelbi and @uplbkalachuchi came about, an anonymous user created @mgaipisngelbi. The page posted photo sets of “Elbi Ipis Sightings” with a number count and location details of each cockroach sighted. True to its bio, the posts included “other weird things” (read: “non-ipis”, “special sightings”) like a snake inside the UPLB College of Forestry and a dead rat found in a canal in front of an Italian restaurant.

Unlike the first two pages dedicated to pictures of (cute) cats and (colorful) kalachuchis sighted in Los Baños, I found “Elbi Ipis Sightings” infinitely more interesting because it featured what we usually regard as pests. The presence of cockroaches in your apartment could mean you’re unsanitary, careless. Scroll through YouTube and you’ll find hundreds of videos on “How to Get Rid of Roaches for GOOD!!!” It’s no surprise then that cockroaches are sold for Biology classes at 10 pesos each because a few students don’t want to face their phobia of flying insects. 

“Elbi Ipis Sightings” works against the dominant narrative perpetuated by Los Baños residents, and the university admin in particular, that this place is breathtaking, beautiful, serene: “a natural gallery of National Artists”. You only need to do a quick search on Twitter with the terms “ganda uplb”, “mahal kita elbi” or “elbi is home” and you’ll see the same shots (some filtered, some are videos with Johnoy Danao playing in the background) of palm trees, flowers, and UPLB’s landmarks. 

Not to say that Elbi being beautiful is untrue, but it’s long been brought up that UPLB has again and again prioritized the beautification of the campus (see: CEM’s Alumni Plaza, the renewed Marcos plaque) instead of, say, providing for the academic needs of its constituents, including the lack of artist spaces in the university. Back in 2016, the official UPLB Twitter account no less decided to block me for calling them out on an Instagram-reposting spree in the middle of the students’ clamor for subjects during the enrollment/#JunkSAIS campaign. 

“Elbi Ipis Sightings” implicitly responds to these embellishments with its unassuming posts. Ipis Sighting #16 in particular, made me laugh with its emotionless caption: “near the giant christmas tree in front of landbank.” The shots are beautifully composed that for some entries you forget that you’re looking at a photo of a dead cockroach. It remains a mystery why the author decided to one day create an account and publish photos of entomological species from their phone, and why this project had not been included in the latest Sining Makiling Gallery exhibit aptly called “Artfully Science.” 

It would be a reach to conclude anything about the anonymous author’s intent, but “Elbi Ipis Sightings” critiques this beautification campaign through a collection of found objects, surfacing issues inside and surrounding the university. I recall the viral video of President Duterte’s speech where a cockroach crawled on his shoulder last May, and I remember our scientists’ promise that cockroaches will outlive us in all this filth. 

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Erika Belarmino

You would almost forget when the season is a perpetual stifling of heat and rain. 

It had not always been like this:  the streets ringing with big names and buildings preening,   beckoning you to its air-conditioned enclosures and the promise of relief. 

Inside the classroom, the professor’s voice floats— the air placid with somnolence, until the low humming reaches you in a question. You respond in measured statements  gleaned from the set of yesterday’s readings. 

The rhythm breaks momentarily when the space is punctured with voices booming from megaphones. You are familiar with these demonstrations, and  recall some of the faces of vacant seats. Today, they will amount to ‘X’ marks on the roll.  The professor is satisfied with your answer and you are permitted  to once again sink in your stupor.

Outside, people are lining up at the entrance of the auditorium. Letters spell out I-N-C-E-N-T-I-V-E-S, in bold ink. You wonder what fraternities have to do with films,  but it is a question that does not find itself written in the reflection papers due the next day.  

At sundown, you pass through the huddle of students, their faces orange in the lamplight. A chorus rings out faintly from one of the buildings. In a month or two, you will find yourself seated inside a hall— a spectator to the culmination of this craft. The stage is alive and ablaze  with lights that do not grieve over endless days of  peddling morsels in boxed containers. 

All your other questions become backwash.  You find your words echoed by copier machines in their incessant  whirring, these lesser truths dwarfed as the giant LED screen glares with its self-satisfied  brilliance. Congratulations, congratulations.

Other voices run amok in the streets. The barkers summon the fleeing passengers.  It is only a matter of time until the jeepney departs  and joins the line of vehicles in the traffic.  

From above, esteemed men and women peer down. They look at you, smiling from their posters— the colorful slogans swaying in the wind.  

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Mary Sol Erika R. Belarmino is a member of Samahang Layb, a poetry organization based in Los Baños.

Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo

Nitong Mayo, binigyan ako ng ilang araw at isang weekend ng aking departamento upang magsulat ng tula para kay Prop. William Remollo, ang colleague naming malapit na noong magretiro. Sa a-bente ng buwang iyon, babasahin ang aking tula ng isa pang colleague bilang bahagi ng testimonial program: ang inilaang salu-salo at payak na pamamaalam upang parangalan ang impluwensya, trabaho, at pakikipagkapwa ng nasabing guro. 

May tatlong bersyon ang tula. Hinatulan ng aking misis ang unang bersyon na “masyadong matigas”. Binasa ng aking colleague sa testi ang ikalawa at mas malambot na bersyon. 

Tapos na dapat doon, ngunit ito ang ikatlong bersyon ng “Trip to Jerusalem”. Hindi na lamang ito tula kundi rekord ng isang artikulo katapat ang anino nito.

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Sa p. 95 nitong isyu ng UPLB Journal, ipinakilala ang may-akda: “The author is an Assistant Professor at the Department of Humanities. Among his myriad responsibilities are: course coordinator of ENG 2 (AH) and chair of the curriculum committee.” 

Aralin sa ENG 2 (College Writing in English) ang maayos na atribusyon ng kaalaman bilang bahagi ng integridad ng isang intelektuwal. Kalaban nito ang “intellectual dishonesty,” partikular ang pamamalahiyo. Magdadalawang taon na ring hindi itinuturo itong ENG 2. Kasama ng karamihan sa kapanahunan nitong General Elective subjects, pinalitan ito ng bagong set ng GE upang salubungin sa kolehiyo ang mga unang nagtapos mula sa K + 12 program ng Departamento ng Edukasyon. Kasabay ng GE, nagkaroon din ng malawakang pagbabago sa mga degree program ng UPLB. 

Bilang chair ng curriculum committee, naging tungkulin ni Remollo na alalayan ang Departamento ng Humanidades sa unang bahagi ng malaking transisyon tungo sa sistemang huhubog sa kaalaman, kasanayan, at ugali ng mga susunod na gradweyt.

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Isinagawa ang ganitong operasyon hindi lamang sa mga siping ibinahagi rito kundi sa kabuuan ng sanaysay. Walang kahit isang banggit kay Holcombe sa katawan o References ng artikulo ni Remollo. Sa dalawampu’t tatlo niyang bibliographical entry, tatatlo ang wala sa mga sanggunian ni Holcombe—

—ngunit walang indikasyon sa katawan ng artikulo ni Remollo na ginamit ang mga batis na ito. Maliban sa tatlong ito, wala rin kay Holcombe ang pamagat ng artikulo (“Poetry: A Lien, A Lift, A Link”) ang pito mula sa siyam na subheading na ginamit ni Remollo—

—pero kay Carl Gustav Jung ang ikalima riyan (nabanggit si Jung sa dalawang artikulo, ngunit walang atribusyon si Remollo sa quote). Kay Abraham Lincoln ang huling subheading (walang banggit kay Lincoln sa dalawang artikulo, at hindi nag-cite si Remollo.)

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Setyembre, at ilang buwan nang retirado ang guro nang matuklasan itong kanyang ginawa. 

Sa labing-anim na linya ng ikalawang bersyon ng “Trip to Jerusalem,” kalahati na lamang ang nais kong manatili—

          At makikigising na rin ang mga estudyante?           Ang aming mga pasib, at gawing agresib           Ang ipin naming mga guro,           Ngayong tanyag pa rin ang ating ngiti at awa.           Sa init ng microwave, sa tagas           Ng gripo, sa walang-sawang seroks at eksamen.

          Ng ilang silya ang maliliit naming sarili,

          At isasatitik ang malalabong kopya ng panaginip.

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Narito ang mga dulo ng dalawang artikulo—

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Danielle David Castillo 

The Philippine High School for the Arts (PHSA), which is situated in Mount Makiling, is a government-run high school founded to hone artistically inclined students. The institute provides free education to students who are drawn to Visual Arts, Creative Writing, Ballet, Folk Dance, Theatre Arts, and Music. As mentioned in PHSA’s profile, “it is committed to the conservation and promotion of the Filipino artistic and cultural traditions and makes every effort to develop the potentials of its young art scholars as future cultural leaders with a nationalistic orientation”.  

In the school’s website, the birth of the school is narrated: “[a]midst the forest of Mt. Makiling, the young former President Ferdinand E. Marcos, yearned for a people born to greatness and envisioned a society worthy of the heritage of the Filipino people.” By September 7, 1990, former President Corazon Aquino then converted PHSA into a regular government institution. 

While students enjoy its isolated forests and the view of the city from their dorms, we seem to be removed from this Mountain’s truth, that to build this campus, they had to obliterate parts of the highland to make way for the construction. 

Sometimes, we encounter unfamiliar children and families living near the Vargas Area, where the Folk Dance and Visual Arts studios are located. During my first year in school, I have always wondered why we usually see them around that area. I would see them either walking to the Chapel or heading down wearing their uniforms. I have heard a few stories that way before the school was built, families lived in the Mountain, and some still do, scattered in some areas of the campus. The people who used to inhabit the mountain supposedly called “Ibarangs”, merely became the origin story for the name and branding of PHSA students called “Ibarangs”. Our privilege to reside in the area has allowed us to disturb and exploit the history of Mount Makiling and its people.

Before I studied at PHSA, I barely knew anything about the school. I wasn’t aware of students having these kinds of opportunities while studying in an institution where almost everything was already provided. I viewed High School simply, where I’d still be getting the same old routine of having to study basic education subjects and do art only in forms of quarter projects or homework. 

As mentioned by Lampayan & Villaruel in their article What’s with Arts Ed?, art was not considered academic in our previous schools. Studying the arts gave students a notion of entitlement, that our education already confirms that we are artists and that our erudition allows us to produce “high art”. To say that an education in the arts is a necessity would be to create the false impression that one can only be considered an artist with the proper schooling (Lampayan & Villaruel, 2019). 

I entered PHSA as a Creative Writing student in the year 2015. While we still get time to study Basic Education subjects such as Math, Science, or History, unlike other schools, our afternoons are committed to our majors. In the Creative Writing program, our studies vary per year. In my experience, we’ve had classes specifically for Poetry and Fiction, Independent Publishing, Graphic Literature, Playwriting, Cultural Studies and Literary Criticism, Journalism, and Literary Appreciation. We also get to encounter formal classes under master teachers and guest artists, local or international.

Within my four years of studying the arts, continuously scrutinizing my craft, and witnessing how the arts scene in our community (PHSA, to be exact) progressed, I have realized how as a student of the said school, I am privileged to have this education. Studying the arts for free, and by free this also means the stipulation of food, board and lodging, transportation, and a monthly stipend, is not an ordinary provision. And from time to time, it makes me contemplate, what do we owe LB, for the location of the school, or the country in general, for having this sustenance? Are we making sure that the taxpayers’ money is utilized suitably? Do the students acknowledge the rationale of why the school is still enduring? With all the opportunities offered to the students, what do we do to intervene with the local art scene?

In Amansinaya’s article, On the Process of Dissociation to Integration, she says that “[w]e can afford to be detached from the LB community because of our privilege of studying in an isolated boarding school. As a Creative Writing student, it’s fairly easy to write a politically charged poem, be contented with it, and not embed myself in the struggle that inspired the creation of that work– finality makes things easier to be ignored”. I ponder on this thought sometimes, that even though I try and contribute to the local arts scene, our privilege as PHSA students dissociate us from society and removes us from critical issues due to our lack of participation.

The school arranges yearly events, such as the Makiling Intercultural Arts Festival (MAKILINC), to allow students to immerse themselves with other local and international artists. This already hints at a huge amount of expenses, having to cater to almost all Creative Writing majors and to pay the artists for imparting their knowledge on their art fields. Furthermore, students get much exposure from cultural exchanges, performances, outreach programs, and workshops they’ve attended. PHSA considerably expends on having the students explore outside the school and this is not limited to local venues. Students have been given opportunities to travel with invitations from countries such as Singapore, Taiwan, and Japan.

For us Creative Writing students, we get to merge with other writers in expos such as Better Living Through Xeroxography (BLTX) and Zine Orgy, both local events that afford space for independent publishers to sell their works and at the same time, start a conversation regarding the importance of Zines. 

I saw how students began to grow and became sensitive to stimuli to further engage in the conversation, speak our narratives as students studying the arts, and continue writing and creating for the movement. The more we let ourselves be present and support these changes, the more we grasp the need to play a part. There is a sense of necessity and urgency, factors we should always take note of as student-artists. To quote Amansinaya (2019), “[i]n this context, maybe it’s time as artists to focus on the concept of using our art and our craft as an inclusive, interactive, and humane research practice instead of constantly missing our opportunities in engaging with the community by confining our art education to mere celebration.” 

With this being said, the exposure we’ve had and the knowledge we earned should not be put to waste. Our formal art education should be treated as only a privilege for bettering our art skills, when other great artists did not receive this opportunity (Lampayan & Villaruel, 2019). It is our task to share, to contribute what we’ve acquired to our communities, and to recognize our role as student-artists that we too, should not limit ourselves to the classes we have in school. We should be involving ourselves in local art events, further enriching ourselves, and using our craft to concretize what we’ve learned. 

 REFERENCES

Lampayan, Sidney & Villaruel, Charlize. “What’s with Arts Ed?”. The Basement, Issue 3. 2019. Amansinaya. “On the Process of Dissociation to Integration”. The Basement, Issue 3. 2019.

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Danielle David Castillo is a 17-year-old Creative Writing student of the Philippine High School for the Arts.

Bea Rabe

I have been a student of the Philippine High School for the Arts (PHSA) for around five years, an institution conceived by a fascist in an era of torture, disappearances, and killings. However, the blood-stained footing of its founders is seldom mentioned in orientations and seminars overseen by the administration. Instead, we are reminded of a bequeathed mission that we still so try to fulfill: the pursuit of the true, the good, and the beautiful.

To study in such an establishment that is very politically charged while essentially distanced from the community it was tasked to “instill pride in its people’s artistic and cultural traditions” demands a reflection on whose truth, goodness, and beauty do we really pursue—given the emphasis that we are a government-allied institution? 

Here is a skeleton in the closet: unlike the Philippine Science High School (PSHS) system, which is established and fortified by a Republic Act (R.A. 3661, 1963), the PHSA remains as an Executive Order (E.O. 420, 1990) to this day. The latter isn’t as secure as the former, as Executive Orders are but “acts of the president”. Although the Marcosian PHSA was thereby “abolished and created” into a regular government agency by virtue of the E.O., the surname of the conjugal dictators is still a name the school has to bear. 

In essence, its existence is reliant on the incumbent leader and their position on culture and the arts. Moreover, for an order to be promoted, there must be a political figure to endorse it unto enhancement. 

 This stipulates a parameterized space in terms of creating. One way or another, we must fit with a patron’s (and to an honest extent, with a bureaucracy’s) attitude on the sociopolitical climate to avoid discontinuance.  And with the looming threat of federalism nearby, the sense of a Philippine high school for the arts is devoid when the republic is but a discussion of imparted territory. The school must aid in a latent spectacle set by the current regime, in order to gain sponsorship and sustenance. 

While the teachers are highly encouraging in the production of works that challenge and provoke, we cannot dismiss the legroom that we are compelled to move in. The school administration is more wary—though not suppressive—but to make a student aware of their movement and its impact to the existence of the school is quite overwhelming and paralyzing. The question now, it seems, is until when is the student accounted for complicity?  

Regarding the outputs accomplished within the duration of the scholarship, there is nothing in the contract that binds and alters the ownership of such works—what you make is yours. Be that as it may, after graduating, the institution through the PHSA Ibarang Alumni Association, tracks the art-related activities of the graduates with aplomb should they achieve awards or any form of recognition. In addition, they are often used to justify the purpose and success of the school during senate budget hearings. Hence the theme of PHSA’s 41st foundation, Ang Ginto sa Makiling, which interprets the graduates as the ginto, referencing Macario Pineda’s novel, Ang Ginto sa Makiling.  This is furthered by the event’s ‘theme song’, “Alumni ating tagumpay / tagumpay ating alumni” from Alumnayan, written and composed by the preceding and current director(s) of the school, respectively.

If anything, this comes to show an unwritten law long after the expiration of your scholarship agreement. The accountability does not dwindle: it is overlapped with the newly appointed onus to the new scholars, but it is still there.  And for those who remain studying in Mt. Makiling, those who are within direct proximity of the administration, these contexts stay enshrouded and are silently embedded within us; we sing the Transcendentals as it is written in our school hymn. We practice what we are told to.

Furthermore, the disconnection is well established with the location of the institution—we have the privilege of barely bothering to ask who we create for nor identify who consumes what we create, because ultimately, we remain distanced and externally unbothered. With a cursory glance at the community, our primary audiences are ourselves. Even the awareness of the school’s existence is minimal. 

Until then, the intents of creating for the community, no matter how noble, are tainted. For the meantime, these questions remain questions, and products, of such an institution; the next best move is to respond and prevail over ignorance. Rather than represent, first, we must make things present.  

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Bea Rabe is a Grade 11 student of the Philippine High School for the Arts. She likes downloading fonts and then forgetting to install them later.

Lyka Naranjo

Ang hiling ko –¹

             Ang tanging hinanap ko ²

Ay

              Aircon

                           Internet

              …

                                                        Chancellor na maayos.³ 

Bakit ang binigay mo ⁴ 

                                          Plaque ni Marcos? ⁵ 

Nyak. ⁶

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¹ The University of the Philippines Los Baños, despite its esteem as a national university and as a bastion of activism, still needs much work when it comes to building actual student-friendly spaces.

² Among the students’ demands are genuine free education and protection from the UPLB administration against the forces of the AFP-PNP, who seek to enter the university’s premises. This move poses a threat to the students’ academic freedom, and even their very lives.

³ Much to the dismay of the UPLB community, we are bestowed with a chancellor who would rather prioritize a family day lunch or a speech for an ROTC event that accommodates speakers who would later redtag students in their presentation, over listening to his constituents.

⁴ The students of UPLB have long been asserting for better facilities for the students without avail. Instead of addressing these issues by developing facilities or supporting programs for the arts, the Chancellor disappoints students as campus beautification projects are prioritized.

⁵ Once home to many student leaders who stood bravely with the masses, some of whom became martyrs, UP (or at least parts of its community) now serves as the bane of its own history. Over the past couple of years, we have seen the Marcoses’ presence accommodated again and again inside our campuses. In 2018, Imee Marcos, famous for faking her credentials, was seen in UP Diliman’s Bahay ng Alumni, and just recently, Irene Marcos was seen in the UP College of Music, along with the revelation that the college is still full of Marcos-apologist professors. Here in UP Los Baños, the name of the late dictator himself is etched on a plaque posted in front of the Main Library which states that the building – then owned by SEARCA – was erected in dedication “to the pursuit of excellence and relevance in higher education and research in agriculture and related sciences and technologies…” This seems comical now, after Cynthia Villar, a disbeliever of research, has been welcomed inside the UPLB campus twice recently by SEARCA, with the UPLB chancellor himself. That the renewed plaque was installed on Marcos’ birthday is insulting to the memories of the disappeared students of UPLB. As UPLB was the first in the UP System to reestablish its University Student Council, and through the UPLB Perspective, the campus was one of the harshest critics of the Marcos dictatorship.

⁶ Despite the rumors of the Marcos regime’s success, human rights violations during this time reached hair-raising numbers: 70, 000 people were imprisoned, 34, 000 were tortured, and 3, 240 were killed (Amnesty International). However, critics of the Marcos dictatorship are often slammed with statements run along the lines of “at least napatayo nila ang [insert building or road here]”, among many other fallacious claims, as if these construction projects made up for the bloodshed and corruption during his reign. This is an example of how a person’s cultural capital can be used to twist realities towards their favor. It takes a few buildings, a couple of roads, and loads of propaganda to mask years of corruption and murder. We feel the effects of the footprints that the Marcoses left behind, not just in our taxes that are still paying for the amounts that they stole, but also in the culture that they bred and left behind for the next fascist to follow – a culture of impunity and shameless murder.

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Lyka Naranjo is a student-activist currently studying how to write things without stopping immediately.  

Pantapal Karma Kolektib

On September 11 2019, the birth date of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos and just a few days before the anniversary of the declaration of Martial Law, the donor plaque of the UPLB Main Library was reinstalled. The black and gold plaque that indicates that the UPLB Main Library building was donated by the Southeast Asian Regional Center for Graduate Study and Research in Agriculture (SEARCA) shines like an ill-placed monument of the late dictator’s blessing, stating that the building was erected in dedication to the pursuit of academic excellence and research in a university that, for the past couple of years, has ironically been repressing its own student body through anti-student policies that bar them from fully experiencing academic freedom. Furthermore, the installation of the renewed plaque with the late dictator’s name in the signatory in a university that has long been known for being a bastion of student activism translates not only to the disappointment of the university’s reputation, but also to those of UPLB’s fallen and missing martyrs.

In this illustration, the plaque is repurposed to fix the holes in the roof of the old Math Building. Here, it is given a practical function, one that addresses a material issue faced by students of UPLB that seems to be continuously forgotten by its own administration and provides some semblance of improvement, even if just as a cover-up.

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Kartunista-Manunulat (Karma) Kolektib is an organization established in the year 2006 some time after the UPLB Ibarang disbanded. The organization aims to promote comics (along with other media) as a medium for political issues to be consumed by both the disturbed and the undisturbed percentage of society. The organization is also open to accepting applicants anytime in the school year.

How to Get Your Artwork Featured in an OICA-sponsored Exhibit Felipa Cheng

This entry wants to point out the negligence of the Office for Initiatives in Culture and Arts UP Los Baños (OICA-UPLB) towards the students it's supposed to serve, and its failure to generate the necessary discussions around arts and culture inside Los Baños. OICA-UPLB is promoting a regressive practice of art, treating art as the end-all be-all of an artist's response to larger issues. Moreover, it is not transparent with the students about submission guidelines and criteria (if the exhibit allows submissions), creating an exclusive environment among the OICA staff and their connections. Those who have history with them are often prioritized, the same artists repeating again and again each exhibit. 

I used the wikihow format because of a how-to's straightforward method of writing, and the website's accessibility to both writer and viewer-- a quality OICA-UPLB is yet to apply to their practices.

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Judy Kristel Bayalas

Art is the language of the elite; it is the propaganda of the ruling class.

If I have one takeaway from all our discussions in ARTS 1, it’ll be this sad but true reality: that the current state of the arts that we know is being dictated by those who are capable of doing art—those who have the means to exhibit their works to astound the unassuming middle class.

I wouldn’t fully know since I am merely a passive student, enrolled in a very scientific course at that, but around this time last month I decided to take a small step to see more of what art is, at least here in Elbi, by visiting the month’s exhibit in the Sining Makiling Gallery. While I do not mean to say that this exhibit represents all art in Elbi, my visit to the gallery is already a breakthrough for me as I am among the crowd who does not really engage in the arts, at least not willfully. For the art community, this means more and more students are getting reached by their craft, whether or not they needed prodding from their dear professors. 

I realized that the Elbi art community is not so closed off—one just has to be placed in a more proactive community to realize that. I especially love how agriculture was one of the themes of the exhibit I went to (entitled August Rush showcased on, well, August), and it showcased the life of the underappreciated (thank you, respectable Senator Villar) heroic farmers. There is of course too much romanticism in the portrayal of farmers:  I really do not think our farmers’ current plight is as colorful as that (again thanks to our beloved government), but then, I’m grateful since it is not every day that one comes across people who took time to dramatize the farmers’ noble life. 

But I would say that visual art in Elbi and Laguna proliferates through those who have more access to art exhibits, which means to say the middle and elite classes, as is very much evident in the artists showcased. I wouldn’t say it is bad—I am more excited for what is happening in the art scene rather than apprehensive of it. I choose to look at it in a more positive light, for considering that when I was in my younger years, I didn’t know I could go to art exhibits for free so this is already an improvement. Art exhibits have always been clouded by mystery and elitism; in my mind it’s like a place you visit to cough out your money. So I am beyond thankful for what I have experienced, since it is such a breath of fresh air. 

As an agriculture student, it warmed my heart to see efforts to raise interest and support for the agriculture sector, which is key to a more promising and sustainable future (if only the government would look beyond the confines of their air-conditioned offices, and into the golden snail-infested fields of these heroes). It is exciting to see this shift in perspective in the visual arts, for at last, the story of the masses is given the chance to be voiced out. I may be biased but it is high time for the arts to engage in and tackle more of these socially relevant issues, to be the stronger voice to empower those who are oppressed by the ruling class. Enough of the thinking that has gripped us for years on end of art as just being for the “may kaya” or those who have “too much time on their hands”. The arts should become a platform to voice the plight of the disenfranchised, for it has the power to at least raise the interest of the elite. 

 Art can be of much wider influence if only its great value is recognized. One of the means to achieve this is through normalizing art exhibits and not promoting it as a mere opportunity for incentives to grade-conscious students in the university. Furthermore, measures should not be boxed to this. Although the efforts of the Sining Makiling Gallery to showcase these exhibits and make it accessible to the public is highly appreciated, I should say that this is not enough. 

The way we value an artwork should not be constrained to the recognition of distinguished art bodies or the judgment of art institutions; this perspective in valuing artworks is a toxic ideology that is not much help to already struggling artists. Elbi kids should be given the option of also dreaming to become a painter or sculptor or writer as much as others want to become a doctor or lawyer or engineer. Art could also be a way of life, a noble career path, a stable source of income—if only people would stop looking at people in the art world as those who have “slower minds” or those who should be exclusively “elite”, but as people, period. Because the art community is not composed of just painters and sculptors, art here in Elbi (and even outside Elbi) should not be perceived as of lesser status compared to the sciences but should be seen as equal in voice and influence. Society has to stop looking down on the arts as many are doing so today, for maybe then more people would get in touch with their humanity. Maybe so, our brilliantly creative minds would stop struggling and dealing with mental health issues as much as they do today (after all, the ones bringing the toxicity to our small and precious art community is society itself, and it’s time for it to stop bullying the element it needs to unlock the greater good).

I don't quite know how exactly this is supposed to work, but I envision a day where the Elbi community will have a place where artists can meet regularly, exchange their ideas, and be able to rally their varying ideas and advocacies in their chosen medium and form, in a space that is reserved solely for that purpose. In this space, artists would not showcase art just for art’s sake; it’ll be the platform where the oppressed can have more people listen to their side of the ongoing narratives. I remember the numerous efforts of Cebuano artists to portray such works, by means of holding the Gabii sa Kabilin, publishing original Cebuano poems and music in magazines dedicated solely for such works, and even having dedicated infrastructures that aim to show the local color (Museo Sugbo and other tourist spots). As Cebuanos have various art festivals and conferences that showcase different genres such as week-long Otaku fests and cosplay events, weekly art galleries in the malls, and art competitions held annually, I envision Elbi to have similar promotions to develop the state of arts here. 

I’m not knowledgeable as to how activities are conceptualized and organized, but I am certain that it took a collective effort from various proponents to solidify these practices, and it’s not impossible if one has the passion to make it happen. It’ll take years and years of continuous efforts to achieve this and I highly doubt it’d be smooth sailing, but from what I can see, our community is going in a promising direction. A lot more has to be done, but at the very least, the Elbi art community is shaking with conversations. I can only hope that it’ll continue to be like that.

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Though inarticulate, Judy Kristel Bayalas likes to write. 

Cidee Despi

It’s been two years since I graduated from UPLB. Two years since I found myself in a white dress I bought specifically for that day, standing amidst a crowd with the sablay sitting snugly on my right, and eventually left, shoulder. UPLB students take pride in holding such a momentous university graduation—with an elaborate setup in Freedom Park, a red carpet moment for all the graduates, a live stream that gives everyone a 15-second chance to be remembered, and a fireworks show to conclude, LB knows how to knock us all nostalgic.

After all that spectacle, there was the quiet that grew more tense as I left LB with a diploma holder and a sablay in my bag, two things, everyone told me, that gave me access to life. Two things that prepared me for the “real world”, whatever that may be.

***

I entered UPLB BA Communication Arts (BACA) program because I was told my whole life that I speak well, and so a communications-related course made sense. The program deviates from the run-of-the-mill communication program as it does not only focus on communication as a soft skill like most universities but bases it on a “humanistic outlook,” the website boasts. This means that the study of information-development and communication tools would only be a portion of the grander curriculum dedicated to understanding man’s cultural and historical heritage (again, according to the website).

During our freshman orientation, we were presented with an A to Z list of careers that a BACA graduate may eventually pursue. They say that we would have the right skill set to take on a variety of jobs: from becoming a creative writer, to a TV personality, to the guy working behind the camera, our BACA program, they promised, can prepare us for just about anything in the real world.

When you’re a dreamy freshman, red flags start to look like maroon, like the banners we carry to declare school pride. In my first year in UP, I treated these flags like guideposts, pretending they were drawing the path of my UP education. It took me a while before I could see some of these glorious declarations for what they are: bright red flags.

It turns out, UP’s guidance relies on, to put it nicely, tough love. After all, we were consistently required to put up productions and events for our courses, yet received no financial support for it. Thus, the BACA program has also successfully trained plenty of us to be financially-savvy persons whose unit of measurement is in red velvet crinkles, or cookies, or whatever income-generating item we could sell to our friends (who are most likely selling the same thing). 

This “training” also includes an on-the-ground approach to marketing in the form of knocking on every commercial establishment’s door to solicit support for a theatre production that, most likely, we are required to put up. Or the practical lessons in resourcefulness taught to us by forcing us out of the campus in the middle of the night to convince property owners to let us rehearse because the school would not give us the space we need. A lot of us also learned persuasion by begging the teachers to let us join their classes, or the dean to allow us to enroll. The BACA program has provided us with the pressures we need to train our mental endurance.

The program allows us to choose our track among writing, speech communication, and theatre arts. In each of the domains, we learned not just the technical aspects of the craft, but the ideas behind it. We read poetry, made films, watched theatre, argued, and asked big questions. I found it hard and I found it interesting. And, despite everything, I fell in love with it.

However, in a time when jobs are thinning out, the ability to interrogate books, critically examine an artwork, and sit, however pretentiously, through a three-hour film are of not much value against the backdrop of an industry that uses our productivity as a yardstick. The real world only wants us when they can calculate our worth in terms of profit, and to do that we must find ways to commodify our work and ourselves. 

UP, I came to realize, knew this too. For the most part, ensuring that we have industry value became a priority. 

This was evident in the curriculum—how it goes for breadth and not so much depth. In fact, it expanded itself so much that, apparently, BACA students will be taught animation too. They said they were turning us into jack-of-all-trades: equipped with the skills of many, resilient when need be, and eloquent all throughout. However, it seems that this was more because of a watered-down curriculum as a result of the tension between the humanities, the pressure of marketability, and the university’s tokenistic appreciation for the arts.

Perhaps it’s fair to say they have succeeded. We do have alumni members in high places—like that one broadcaster-turned-failed-senatoriable. We were so proud of him that we heartily accepted his donations only a few short months after we have publicly condemned his politics. Apart from that, I have lived that promise too. When I was applying for jobs, I realized how easy it was for me to commodify myself into what would be acceptable to the “real world.”  I have become what UP wanted me to be:  my own salesperson. And, thanks to my UP diploma and sablay, and the rigorous BACA experience,  one that is more marketable than most.

***

Perhaps an event in my life even more momentous than graduating from UP was the time I found out I got in. I was alone in our house when I saw the announcement. Even before I saw that my case was pending, I managed to scream and then ugly cry for a good few seconds. I was on the UPCAT passers’ list, after all. My future was sealed.

I would be the first in the family to earn a degree from UP, if ever. In our case, it meant that people didn’t find any allure to UP. Partly because they weren’t big academics, mostly because they are haunted by the ghost of Martial Law and that they see it as a breeding ground of activists.

I announced the results to my parents even before they could enter our gate. I did not get the reaction I wanted at first. Only when I showed them the statistics of takers and passers did they feel a sense of urgency. Their daughter would be studying in a highly competitive and exclusive university, and it made them proud.

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Gold Steps Productions

There are a lot of underrated musicians here in Los Baños who deserve recognition. As LB is a melting pot of cultures, subcultures, and other social groups in between, different influences, experiences, and career paths inform each artist’s unique talents in their craft. There are also many cultural organizations in UPLB that provide avenues for different types of artists to gather and showcase their art. This makes LB a perfect avenue for budding artists to unleash their creativity and share it. 

The notable thing about the music organizations in Los Baños, like UP Jammers' Club, Harmonya: The UPLB String Ensemble, and UP Silakbo, and production teams like Gold Steps Productions, is that we have shared members and we team up with each other to produce and support events to keep the scene alive.  

Gold Steps Productions, whose top priority is the promotion of the appreciation and visibility of the LB music scene, started out as a small group of friends who discovered Snakefight, a local pop-punk band we wanted to see live. They didn't have any gigs nearby and we thought, why not bring them here in LB ourselves so we can promote them at the same time? We discovered that we can handle the logistics well and it is immensely fulfilling to be able to contribute to the local music scene. The production unexpectedly succeeded in coordinating with other major productions in Laguna as event partners or as media partners, and achieving other feats. Currently, we are considered one of the productions who represent LB in the Laguna music scene because of our frequency in producing and attending gigs. 

One of our goals is to bring back the kind of energy that the LB music scene had a decade ago, despite the limitations imposed by the local government, and with our team’s self-sustained manpower. We are aware of the existing music productions here and how influential their work is, and we have heard about how active people in the LB music scene were before. Most of our members have their respective bands, which we sometimes include in the line-up of our events. We also have our own photographers, videographers, hosts, graphic artists, and stage and band technicians.

We also believe that people don't need to go to Manila just to see their favorite band play. When deciding on which headliner band we will bring to LB, we pay attention to the music trends in the local community, especially to the students’ preferences, because we cannot deny the fact that very few people will be interested to go if the artist lineup contains new and unheard names. Our go-to setup entails booking either an upcoming or a nationally famous artist to headline an event, and having our homegrown artists as opening acts. We work hard for our homegrown talents to be recognized but we also believe that it is important to bring artists from other parts of the Philippines.

Choosing a headliner also depends on the production’s budget, which consists of ticket sales, financial support from establishment sponsors, and our own revolving fund. Many bands who have been in the scene for a long time are aware of the financial struggles of both artists and the production team, and are willing to compromise by only asking for honorarium or gate share instead of a fixed amount that may be hard to attain. This is usually done to secure payment for the artist and to avoid unsettled balances when the crowd attendance is low. Especially when you're working independently, achieving just a break-even is a big challenge with this type of event, but we still continue to produce such events out of passion. 

Eye-popping publicity materials, a strategic marketing team, and knowing the target audience are other crucial factors in facing the challenge of marketing and financial security. Before being organizers, we have also been gig-goers and we know how much entrance fees hurt the wallet. In line with this, we try to reasonably price the tickets by being considerate to the students that comprise most of our audience, but also to our responsibility to pay the services that made the event possible. 

We choose our venue depending on the gig's theme or overall genre. Usually, when the music is loud and heavy we hold it at Nesting Ground Garden Cafe because it is secluded and the noise can be muffled, The FAT Yard or 77 Events Place for alternative to acoustic performances, and Jacques' for hip hop or rap or when we just want to resemble the Saguijo vibe. 

However, whichever venue it may be, we believe that LB’s noise curfew is a big limitation to the music scene’s growth. While barangay permits are always secured for all our events, and we plan out the event program to avoid complications, traffic and other unavoidable factors cause performers to arrive late, and some are not willing to compromise by cutting their setlist short when asked to. We have witnessed a lot of events, not just our own, cut off by barangay officials. It is hard to adjust to this because the latest dismissal time at the university is 7PM and the noise curfew is 10PM. In addition to that, only a few people actually come to the event on time. 

One way to ensure the headliner’s performance is to schedule them to play during the peak time instead of the usual “save the best for last”. We try to avoid holding events during exam weeks and during weekends as most of the students return to their respective hometowns. The ideal day to hold an event is on a Thursday which has been the norm here. 

Live shows are one of the most effective ways to appreciate music and support the artists. The best thing about small-time gigs is that the money goes directly to the band. More importantly, during a gig they can sell merch and their albums which is a huge way to support them compared to simply streaming songs because a big percentage of sales just goes to the streaming site. 

In line with the recurring issue about indie and mainstream artists, the production supports all kinds of artists regardless of label as they all contribute to the growth of OPM. On the other hand, we book indie artists more because they have less avenues to showcase their music and some of them have limited connections. Bringing them here gives them a chance to gain new supporters.

Being students here in the university surely opened our eyes to the reality that our country is facing, making us more aware of the things that we need to incorporate in our work in order to promote change for the greater good. Cultural productions in the local music scene allow not only the producers, but also the audience to indulge and immerse on the lingering life-changing experiences that they get to bring along their lives. It is indeed a dream that we continuously try to bring to reality to have regular gigs as with the Makati/Manila/QC music scene, despite the various challenges that we as student production teams face in making all of these possible. What keeps us going is the magic of music that brings people together. With the help of one another in promoting art and raising awareness for our advocacies, we are hopeful that the urge to make Los Baños be known in the national scene lives on. 

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Jamela Rovi Gonzales, member of Gold Steps Productions and president of UP Jammers' Club Katrina Anne Salvador, founder of Gold Steps Productions Seanad Mendoza, founder of Gold Steps Productions

Kelcey Alfonso Espejo

In the course of creating, publishing, and promoting Los Baños (LB) art, it is not often brought to attention what we precisely mean, and what our audience understands, by ‘Los Baños’ art and what is understood of the background against which it persists. 

I applaud Sarah Koo for attempting to raise awareness on the current state of arts in LB and for encouraging aspiring artists to form alternative artistic spaces in her work, If You Can Read This Online, Promote LB Art from a previous The Basement issue.

However, a challenge that must still be addressed by LB artists is to determine a level of specificity on the idea of LB art of which to promote. In our quest to bring forth new ideas from the practice of LB art, we must ask, to what ends do these ideas serve? Promoting works of art as the specific production of a location or institution cannot be enough if we seek to make an impact on the LB art scene, since what we understand of UP, LB, or any location and institution, is a term with different interpretations. The following can perhaps be an example:

The image above is a screenshot of a series of tweets that has made considerable notoriety on Twitter on the 2nd week of September 2019. As making comments or debunking this individual’s opinion is not our goal, let us take note of the third tweet in the series.

Paying attention to the tweet, “We celebrate diversity – and part of that is appreciating the difference in opinions and perspectives” and contextualizing this in the issue behind the tweets, is telling of an ideological fetishism (in the Marxist sense) at work: a fetishism that ignores a wider reality behind these opinions that are a part of this ‘diversity’, and that constrains analyses of society to ‘argumentation and discourse’. Furthermore, associated to ‘UP’ here is a level of homage to academic discourse as a bourgeois institution, and is not sensitive to wider social realities, such as gender-based issues in this case.

Similarly, we can perhaps take the following chant as another example:

Iskolar ng Bayan, Ngayon ay Lumalaban,

Ngayon ay Lumalaban, Iskolar ng Bayan!

This is a popular protest slogan chanted by student-leaders and UP students joining mobilizations. Usually a rallying cry, this slogan is indicative of UP being perceived as a progressive institution, demonstrated by its history of fighting for the rights of students and marginalized sectors, while maintaining itself as the premier university in the country. However, UP is not a totally progressive institution, evidenced by portions of the student population who do not involve themselves with activism or progressive ideas. This discrepancy is compounded by the fact that many of the nation’s corrupt ruling elite are graduates of the UP system, such as Ferdinand Marcos and Cynthia Villar. 

Additionally, the usage of the word ‘UP’ is already determined by the following factors, many of which are outside of our control: socioeconomic background, identification with subcultures, immersiveness in pop culture, religion, geographical memory, political leanings and institutional involvement, among a myriad of others. However, socioeconomic background and corresponding ideology is likely to be two of the most significant factors that can determine how we perceive a location such as a university, based on utility and self-interest. 

Similarly, if we entertain the idea that our definitions of LB art is determined by these external factors that affect individual ideas, what we think of LB art is already beset by these same ideological fetishisms and in turn, affects artists themselves and their audience. A disparity toward our idea of LB art signifies inconsistencies on how it will advance. A stranger to the social and material concerns of LB artists (lack of institutional support or promotion from the university, for example) may fetishize the activities launched by the art community as nothing more than a commercial enterprise (think Magpies’ Zine Orgy) or merely a gathering of like-minded individuals (visual, written and performing-arts organizations) if we cannot put forward an alternative vision of LB art that can be primarily understood by most people.

Drawing upon these, I assert that LB artists are ultimately responsible for the ideas (and practices) put into their own works of LB art, and one of the ways to meaningfully promote it means engaging with the ideological narratives relating to, and the objective background behind, LB art.

Shall LB art be merely encompassed by what is within the geographical boundary of Los Baños, including contemporary art spaces such as the Sining Makiling Gallery? Or perhaps a grass-roots movement that is chiefly represented by local artists and formations with spaces that are free to promote their art in inventive and experimental ways? I suggest the latter as a more productive concept, as it is more likely to engage with the deeper social realities of LB art.

No matter how much we struggle with grasping an idea of LB art, we work against the background of social realities that pervade us (as we can understand of base and superstructure); the state of LB art is not exclusive to the number and uniqueness of contributions by LB artists, but also by their space in the public sphere. LB artists, as unalienable proponents of local cultural production, cannot ignore the role of taking social action with others also affected by similar issues inside and outside the campus as part of furthering the interests of the art community.

Finally, in addressing the wider social realities that not only directly affect artists, but also the ideas of a community toward LB art, we also address the fetishisms that keep it from flourishing and rising anew in different meanings and forms. 

This essay is written in behalf of KULAYAN-UPLB. The author would like to heartily thank Jael Simpas Apostol for his illuminating comments.

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21 years old, Kelcey Alfonso Espejo is mainly an autodidactic philosophy enthusiast struggling against a for-profit science education system. He is also an avid collector of books on critical theory and philosophy.

Victoria Mae Cuevas

“In zines, everyday oddballs were speaking plainly about themselves and our society with an honest sincerity, a revealing intimacy, and a healthy “Fuck you” to sanctioned authority—for no money and no recognition, writing for an audience of like-minded misfits,” Stephen Duncombe stated in the 2nd edition of his book Notes from Underground: Zines and the Politics of Alternative Culture. Unlike usual books found in typical book stores, zinemakers challenge social practices and traditional ways of publishing. The zine’s being independently published not only makes it accessible TO everyone, but also welcomes the idea of different creative and experimental forms. They can also help raise awareness on social issues that are often ignored by mainstream publishers and media.

Some zines that I have read confront political issues through satire, comics, and collage. Others play with different kinds of paper, materials, and paper sizes to emphasize its sociopolitical message.

Para sa Alaala ng Yumao Nating Ama by Magpies is a photobook that collects family pictures with President Rodrigo Duterte’s face edited into them. At first look, I thought the photos were real. The zine looked sincere, until I’ve read the messages written at the back of each photo. The messages take the form of tributes to a deceased father, and in these tributes the children remember Duterte as a vulgar and misogynistic father, revealing the current political issues in a humorous manner.

Another zine that archives national issues is Freedom by the students of Philippine High School for the Arts (PHSA). The pages are collaged newspaper cut-outs from Philippine Daily Inquirer, Philippine Star, and Balita, with articles about the unjust death of Kian Delos Santos, corruption, maltreatment of farmers, twisted accusations, and various crimes around the country, especially highlighting human rights violations. Words were either messily scattered or layered upon the folded booklet. It was the output of a creative writing elective class where each student was given a whole piece of paper and photocopied front pages of newspapers. Considering the method, the outcome was surprisingly good. The zine combined news articles with illustrations, found poems, and calls, allowing the students to express their opinions on pressing issues.

Magpies’ How to Make Satan Proud: A 30-day Guide to Breaking Divine Laws confronts censorship and the government’s ways of suppressing freedom of expression, including through its arts initiatives. The zine engages the readers in a game, by providing a to-do list. The zine questions the reliability of standards, laws, and legalities in relation to current issues on general arts. How to Make Satan Proud dares not only to interfere with the system, but to suggest alternatives to the system too. Despite its solemn black and gold cover, the text inside the zine was written informally. But they aren’t rants, they are facts. In one page of the zine, it says, “[k]aya powerful ang indie scene kasi pwedeng magdaldal tungkol sa kasalukuyan at kasalukuyan lang”. In another, “[a]min ang panahon na ‘to. Kami ang magsasalita.”

Aside from the three zines that were mentioned, there are others that also speak out about sociopolitical issues such as Samahang Layb’s The Life of Duterte, and Mac Andre Arboleda’s The Face of a Marcos Apologist. Zines like these can be found in venues like BLTX, Komikon, and Zine Orgy which happen regularly.

Testimonies are powerful because of the witnesses’ statements regarding their view of the evidence. Zines contribute to public memory as personal testimonies of the zinemakers' untouched truths. It is the public's right to access these testimonies, as zines are communicative of the author's opinions on and understanding of our society's current concerns. Remembering these testimonies allow us to perceive and understand these concerns in a much wider and deeper way. As citizens, it is a must that we are aware of current affairs no matter what generation you belong. Zines can serve as a platform for the youth to connect with young creators. As Stephen Duncombe wrote in the same book, “[z]ines weren’t the capricious rambling of isolated cranks (though some certainly were), but the variegated voices of a subterranean world staking out its identity through the cracks of capitalism and in the shadows of the mass media.”

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Leona Esteva

The Philippine High School for the Arts (PHSA), a government-funded secondary school with a special curriculum for the arts located in Mt. Makiling, likes commemorative events. Buwan ng Wika, Buwan ng Kasaysayan, World Teachers’ Day, International Women’s Day, and National Festival of Talents are some of the festivals and celebrations mandated by the Department of Education (DepEd). The Regional Offices of DepEd organize events like Regional Literary Joust to celebrate National Book Week. Students from different public schools would gather to compete in different contests such as essay writing, oral reading, storytelling, and poster making. Some of its objectives as stated in the memo are “to inculcate in the Young Filipino learners the love for books” and to “develop among the students essential reading and literacy skills.”

Although the PHSA is not directly under DepEd, it is considered an attached agency. Thus, it follows some of the Department’s memorandum orders but it also has the privilege to institute its own festivals. Because it is not just an arts school but also a regular government institution, with a huge budget allocation for a very small student population, its programs must be created with utmost care. The PHSA should be more critical to tributes. Furthermore, because it was Imelda Marcos who founded the school, the administration must and should always be wary of creating events that would even slightly suggest paying tribute to the woman behind its foundation.

Five years ago, however, the school launched “Araw ng PHSA”, celebrating the foundation of the school. Araw ng PHSA also pays tribute to its alumni and holds various lectures and family-oriented activities like Kite Flying. This school year, Araw ng PHSA ran for three days, with a tribute to Lucresia Kasilag or Tita King. The event’s press release announced a program called Alay Kay Inang Kalikasan, in which the school director will awarded a Gawad Direktor to partner institutions and individuals.

But instead of celebrating its foundation day—something that must actually be abolished since PHSA’s founder is a dictator, plunderer, and murderer who is guilty of 7 counts of graft but remains scot-free while children are being jailed—why not celebrate more socially relevant programs? How about celebrating International Rural Women’s Day for its Gender and Development program? Why not celebrate historical achievements made by Filipino artists who were also peasant advocates and human rights advocates, and not just artists who became successful because of the padrino system, exhibited their works in galleries owned by hacienderos, and became National Artists? We like paying tribute to artists but never talking about the politics behind their recognition.

Other celebrations at PHSA include Buwan ng Wika, where advocates from Komisyon sa Wikang Filipino (KWF) are invited almost annually to deliver lectures on the Filipino language. Students would be required to wear Filipiniana costumes during the program. Teachers’ Day is celebrated by allotting an hour or two to short speeches by students for their teachers, presenting tokens of appreciation from the school or made by the students, and playing Hep! Hep! Hooray! with the teachers (luckily, this was removed this school year.) The teachers are also treated to a lunch prepared by the school.

Mutya’t Lakan, a pageant in Mt. Makiling

In the beginning of the school year, Grade 10 students organize what they call “Mutya’t Lakan”, a pageant-like event that involves the freshmen or Grade 7 students. It is a tradition that began decades ago. The production varies every year but the concept remains the same. The Grade 10 students also lead the rehearsals for the freshmen’s “batch dance” and the overall flow of the program. It comes complete with a photoshoot. The photos would be flashed on the stage as the students walk on the catwalk like candidates.

The objective of the activity seems harmless and fun: it aims to create a bond between graduating students and the new batch of “Ibarang.” Despite the faculty’s calls to stop the production, students continue to organize the event every year, with the approval of the school directors. For one, no matter how the older students resist establishing the hierarchy among batches, the idea of a production as its final output creates pressure between them. The older students also, may it be intentional or not, implement their formal training in mounting a show, complete with blocking, cueing, stage managers, technical directors for lights and sounds.

One can’t help but think that this may be considered as a form of “initiation.” The community watch as Grade 7 students walk, like models in a runway, and introduce themselves. “I am Leona Esteva from Tacloban City and I’m a Creative Writing Major.” In the previous year, female students even wore gowns. Judges sit across the stage. Much like a Miss Universe pageant, they judge the students based on audience impact, confidence, X factor, and demeanor, and select the finalists. The finalists are asked to present their talents through singing, dancing, playing the violin, or reciting a poem. Here, the audience claps and guffaws as some of the students dance their heart out or make a fool of themselves. Then, they have to answer questions ala-Show Time’s “Miss Q & A.” The wittier, the better, even if both the question and answer don’t make sense.

Then, the freshmen dance to the song of Bruno Mars or Black Pink or a current hit song. This number is the product of their nightly rehearsals. The production ends with a new female Mutya and a male Lakan. The Grade 10 students accomplish their first task for the school year and the Grade 7 students are introduced to the community—or remembered for their witty answers or silly dances.

Traditions are difficult to break. It is a week-long rehearsal for an initiation into the PHSA community in the form of a pageant: all this effort for camaraderie? No formal evaluation has been made to prove that the activity actually strengthens the bond between and among students. It actually forces all the freshmen to participate in a public activity that may either be exciting for some and traumatizing for others. The activity will only yield to actual positive outcome, if only the effort is guided well, assessed thoroughly, and modified to get the students to help each other and remove the pressure of staging a production.

The problem with commemorations

How many tributes and programs have we spent for the sake of staging a “tribute” or following a DepEd memo? “Mutya’t Lakan” is something that the alumni would even reminisce with pride or humor. No one complains to the school directors about the practice, and parents even attend to support their children. Here again is a practice that we continue for the sake of tradition.

Teachers’ day is often celebrated merely in compliance with a DepEd Memo, without minding real interaction or exchange between students and teachers to appreciate teachers’ role in social transformation. On World Teachers’ Day, October 5, 2018, schools such as St. Scholastica’s College, University of Sto. Tomas, and the University of the Philippines celebrated with Lumad teachers and students who travelled to Manila and exchanged experiences of their own schools being militarized, bombed, and forcibly closed. One thing that a Teachers’ day tribute could emphasize is the fact that some schools are more privileged to hold this celebration without the threat of state forces.

I write this essay a day before International Women’s Day. The PHSA has put up a tarpaulin that carries the Civil Service slogan “We Make Change Work for Women.” Yet the school has not implemented a real campaign or initiative for gender development, except for team buildings and an occasional talk. Tomorrow, PHSA employees along with other government employees will wear their purple shirts and join the parade, which often gathers at the Los Baños City Hall. Last year, I read posts about the event’s host delivering sexist jokes.

Tributes and festivals play a significant role in honing cultural leaders, and PHSA aims to produce cultural leaders. It is through arts festivals that they meet practitioners and commemorate historical events. Hence, the programs that are seen to be conducted to merely comply with memos actually build the world outside their classrooms. These commemorative events are from where PHSA students draw their definition of their Filipino identity. It allows them to ask the questions: why are we studying art? What is the purpose of our education?

Commemorations need to be rethought. Most national commemorations are often composed of performances dictated by a theme and a series of activities and competitions. Nothing is really examined or questioned; everything is passively celebrated. Thus, we often forget that history is written and dictated by people in power.  

Paying tribute to historical events can also be tied with discussions on pressing issues and national concerns. While we celebrate the EDSA Revolution, we need to examine why our fellow Filipinos continue the armed struggle. What does “revolution” mean? While we celebrate Buwan ng Kasaysayan, we must remind our children that the history of the Philippines is a history of struggle, that many of our people still struggle for land. We celebrate Independence Day and explain why we must uphold national sovereignty. We don ethnic costumes for Buwan ng Wika, yet we do not know that Lumad schools are forcibly closed because of red tagging. We don ethnic costumes but we don’t know that our indigenous people are being killed for protecting our ancestral lands. We must celebrate International Rural Women’s Day and remind our students that the Philippines is an agricultural country. Seventy percent of Filipinos are agricultural workers. What is the status of our farmers today? We rarely discuss them in school textbooks. We rarely pay tribute to our farmers, to the people who feed us. Our current school commemorations distract us from the most basic and essential.

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Pauline Jean G. Vercaza

Isa, dalawa, tatlo.

Isa, dalawa, tatlo, apat, lima.

Isa, dalawa, tatlo, apat, lima, anim, pito, walo, siyam, sampu, labingis—tangina lampas pa sa daliri ‘to ah!

Nairita kong maktol sa ‘king kaibigan habang binibilang ang mga nagkalat na tarpauling paulit-ulit ang laman: “Ms. Janeth will you marry me again?”

Taong 2016, nagsulputang parang kabute ang tarp para kay Ms. Janeth at agad na naging talk of the town sa Los Baños. Hindi ko matiyak kung hanggang saan ang sakop pero tanda kong nakita ito mula labas ng UPLB campus hanggang Lalakay kada biyahe pauwing Cavite. Sa kahabaan ng trapik, naulinigan ko ang usapan ng mga kapwa pasahero. Ayon sa kanilang palagay, nagloko daw ang lalaki kaya ganyan kagarbo bumawi kay babae. Sa Facebook at Twitter, nag-trending din ito. Ang haba ng hair ni Ms. Janeth, komento nila. Biruin mo yun, sa buong Los Baños pinangalandakan ang kaniyang pag-ibig para sa’yo?

Pero teka, hindi naman ito kinagat as in kinagat ‘di ba?

Sa pagbaha ng tabi-tabing imahen at mensahe, nag-multiply to the nth times ang “Ms. Janeth will you marry me again?”. Kumbaga sa pagsasa-meme ng meme, may repetisyong nagsusumiksik mapukaw ang ating atensyon. Naipahayag ito sa literal na pagsakop sa mga espasyong nakasanayan nang bakante. Nang maokupa, hindi natin namalayang patago na pala itong naimprenta sa isipan. At paanong hindi magiging posible kung ilang hakbang pa lang ang naitatapak mo, bubulagain ka na naman ng parehong tarp hanggang sa mawala na sa ulirat ang pagkagulat at makabisa na ang nasabing imahen at mensahe?

Sa pamamagitan nito ay may nabubuong naratibo. Kahit ayaw mo naman talagang magkapake, dahil sa bagal ng usad ng jeep o bus, makikiliti ng pagkaburyo ang makichismis sa porma ng haka-haka sa mga naiwang bukas na puwang at malikhaing pagdudugtong ng kuwento sa simula, gitna, at dulo. Gaya na lang ng naulinigang chikahan ng magkumare sa jeep: ang suliranin ay nagalit si misis kay mister dahil sa panloloko at kailangang ayusin ito ni mister kaya siya nagpakalat ng tarp. Naging operatibo ang “again” dahil ito ang pangunahing nag-udyok ng pakikilahok mula sa mambabasa. Kung tatanggalin ito at bibigyang kasiguruhan, madaling mamamatay ang kuwento. Ngunit kung ibabalik ang pagkakabit, ang resulta ay nagkaroon ng siwang para mapalabok ang, sadya man o di sinasadyang, kalabuan na lumilitaw kapag nagmumuni-muni: Bakit magpo-propose again? Sino ang nagpo-propose? Sino si Ms. Janeth? Bakit may tarp na naman, again?

Kung lalabas pa tayo sa pag-usbong ng dugso-dugsong kuwento, may gusto ba itong iparating sa atin kung paano umibig ang mga taga-Los Baños?

Wala naman ako sa posisyong makiisa sa mga taga-Los Baños na taal sa lunang ito gaya na lang ng mga nakikita kong status at tweets patungkol sa tinatawag nilang LB culture, gayong eksklusibo lang naman iyon sa mga pangyayari sa loob ng pamantasan. Ngunit interesado pa rin ako sa tarp dahil may panibagong timpla ito kumpara sa mga nakagisnang tarp na ang kadalasang laman ay pangangampanya o pantawag ng pulitiko, produkto, at saklolo. Ganunpaman, bakit nga ba kailangang ipa-tarp pa nang ilang beses ang proposal imbes na sabihin na lang nang harap-harapan? Dahil ba ito sa tradisyonal nating paniniwalang ang babae ay isang bituing dapat suyuin at sungkitin? O dahil ba ito sa personal na preference ng babae, ni Ms. Janeth, sa magagarbong paghahayag ng pagtangi? O di kaya’y dahil ba silang may mga kultural na kapital lamang ang may kakayahang manakop ng pampublikong espasyong uusisain at tatangkilikin natin?

Matapos ang ilang linggo, sumulpot ang sagot daw ni Ms. Janeth na tinutumbasan ang sigla ng nagpo-propose. Sa mga sumunod na nagkalat na tarp, nakasulat ang kaniyang sagot: “Mr. Rodel, Yes na yes! I will marry you again!”

Kung sino man sila, magpasahanggang ngayon ay nananatiling misteryo. May ilang mga larawan sa Facebook, inaangkin ang pagkakakilanlan. Ngunit mukhang hindi na ata iyon mahalaga. Wala na ang mga tarp. Wala na ang mga pangalan. Wala na sila.

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Tilde Acuña

Sa mga dating taga-komunidad na nagbabalik-elbi o sa mga dating estudyanteng minsang kinalinga ng kampus sa paanan ni Makiling, marahil kolektibo at pinagsasaluhan ang pakiramdam na nagbago na ang espasyong bumago sa atin noong mga pormatibo nating taon. Sa kabila ng ganitong panimula, sisikapin ng sanaysay na itong lampasan ang pagtatampisaw sa pagbababad sa nostalgia dahil mas mabungang umahon sa gayong tendensiya upang mas maging makabuluhan ang sanaysay at kapaki-pakinabang sa mga mambabasa sa loob at labas ng aming henerasyon.

Terra Incognita Casa

Humigit-kumulang isang dekada na ang nakalipas mula nang maging bahagi ng konsehong namamahala sa February Fair (katumbas ng UP Fair sa UP Diliman). Nang dumalaw nitong huli, maraming pamilyar at hindi ganoon ka-pamilyar; o marahil nililinlang lamang ng selektibong alaala. Magkabuhol noon ang eleksyon para sa konseho ng mga mag-aaral at Fair; hindi na ngayon. Kung kaya marahil walang naitakdang reunion ang partido-alyansa, lalo at may kani-kanyang pinagkakaabalahan ang alumni na nais mamaksimisa ang anumang pagbisita sa elbi.

Krusyal dati ang kultural na event sa kahihinatnan ng politikal, kaya madalas nanggigipit noon ang administrasyon. Nagiging lunsaran ng kampanya-protesta ang kasiyahan sa Freedom Park.  Ganoon noon, at wala ako sa posisyon upang analisahin ang ngayon. Ang tiyak lamang, kumpara sa UP Fair, wala pa ring bakod ang Feb Fair; sapat nang pahiwatig na bukas ito sa lahat at hindi kailangan ng kung gaano mang halaga upang makibahagi sa programa sa entablado o maki-usyoso sa mga ibinebentang produkto ng maliliit na negosyante o makilahok sa sugal tulad ng color game at bingo, o makisubok ng rides, haunted house, atbpng libangan.

Ganoon pa rin naman. Hindi na ito tulad ng dati. Tulad ng unang pagtapak sa elbi, ang huling pagsilip dito ay hindi tumugma sa inaasahan. Mayroon pang romantisismo bago ang mismong pagdating. Nawala ang lahat ng ito sa ilang riyalisasyon. Kung sisipi, out of context, sa pangangatuwiran ng mga nagsi-resign-ang brods ng Upsilon Sigma Phi nang kumalat ang leaks: “This is not the elbi I know.” Ang kaibahan, walang frustration.

Ano na nga lang ba ang isang espasyo kung alam mo na ito, at alam mo na ang mararanasan mo kapag bumalik ka rito? Kaya naging mas mabunga para sa akin nang hindi ko nadama ang inaasahang elasyon sa muling pagbabalik. Hindi ko na naman kilala ang kinalakhang pook. Pagkawasak at pagsapak ng riyalidad sa labas ng pinantasyang tahanan ng nakaraan ang natamo.

Itinerarya at mga Tala

Tinagpo ang mga kaibigang matagal nang hindi nakita nang dumating kinahapunan. Umikot sa Fair grounds. Natagpuan ang ilan pang mga kasamang matagal nang hindi nakita. Ganito ang lugar na ito, kahit noon pa. Komunidad. Minsan, hindi mo na kailangan ng solidong plano. Mahahanap mo ang mga hindi mo inaakalang mahahanap mo. Makakasalubong silang parang mga kapit-bahay. Totoo rin ang kabaligtarang posibleng magkurus ang landas sa mga hindi na ninanais makita. Naging mabuti naman ang kalawakan. Ngayon, heto ang isang obserbasyon ng pangkat naming lumibot: parang mas entusiastiko ang mga nagbebenta at bumibili noon. Hindi ko tiyak kung bakit. Mas naging malungkot kaya ang komunidad? O mas naging bukas ang mga taong tanggapin na walang masama sa pagiging malungkot?

Dumalo sa lamay, kinagabihan. Tulad ng lahat ng lamay, nagmistulang reunion din ito. Hindi namin kilala ang napaslang. Hindi partikular sa elbi ang ganitong kultura: na makiramay sa isang hindi personal na kilala pero kasama sa politika, paninindigan, kumbiksyon, at natitiyak ang di-matatawarang sakripisyo para sa nakararami. Hindi reserbado sa mga kadugo ang pagdadalamhati. Ipinagluluksa ang sinumang nalagas sa aming hanay. Pinanghihinayangan, at kauna-unawa ito. Dahil, ika nga, simbigat ng bundok, at baka mainam ang metaporang lokal: simbigat ng Makiling, lalo at isang bumabalahura sa napaslang ay minsan ding nakatamasa ng pagkalinga nito. Ang kakilala noo’y maituturing nang kaaway sa uri, ang di-kilala ngayo’y kasama; buhay pa ang unang halang ang kaluluwa, wala na ang huli: ang martir-bayani.

Madaling araw, nakipagkita sa dating kakilala lang sa elbi at ngayo’y kaibigan. Nagpahula sa makina, namangha. Alam ng lente at algoritmo nito ang pinagdaraanan. Delikado. Doble talim ang mga mata ng liwanag. Humihiwa at tumatagos sa balat laman buto laman-loob ubod kaibuturan esensya. Nabubuyangyang sa titig nito ang pinakamadidilim na bahagi ng kaluluwa. Walang ganitong espasyo sa lugar na ito noon. Isang espasyong pribado ngunit bukas sa publiko. May tulugan ng mga namamahala. May kwarto para sa exhibit. May programadong makatang mas may kakayanang makaunawa sa iyo at mas mauunawaan mo at mapahahalagahan, kaysa aktwal na makata o mambebersong astang sentro ng uniberso. Nakitulog at nakipagkwentuhan sa dating mga nakakasalubong lang at ngayo’y mabuting kaibigan. Kinabukasan, dadalo sila sa Elbikon. Walang ganito noon.

Nagkasakit ang isang malapit na kaibigang inasahang kabilang sa mga pinatutungkulan sa #1, kaya kinaumagahan ko siya pinuntahan. Sa pag-rehistro ng problema, mukhang may komon na suliranin ang aming henerasyon, katulad ng sa iba pang nakausap: kailangan ba naming lumahok sa produksyon ng mga nilalang para sa susunod na henerasyon? Bukod sa kinabukasan at ilang plano upang mas maging kapakipakinabang na mamamayan, pinag-usapan namin ang pormatibong mga taon sa elbi, tulad ng dati, at di na katulad ng dati dahil tumanda na kami. Mas nagiging mabunga sa akin ang pag-upo at pakikipag-kwentuhan kaysa paglilibot sa fair. Baka tanda ng tanda. Aalis ang kaibigang ito sa loob ng ilang oras. At baka matagal bago muling magkita. Kaya hindi na sumilip sa Elbikon. May panghuling stop-over.

Tanghali, hindi na ako pormal na nakapag-paalam sa mga pinatutungkulan sa #3 at #1. Hindi ko na nadalaw ang table ng komix grupo ko sa Elbikon; kinailangan ang prayoritisasyong ito kapalit ng pagkikita namin sa wakas ng kakutsaba sa maraming kung anu-ano. Baka sapat na ang nostalgia sa nakaraang mga oras para sa mga nagawa na at marapat ilaan ang kakaunting panahon sa mga proyektong isasagawa pa lamang. May napagpasyahang mga posibleng sangkap ng ihahain, bahaginan ng mga suliranin, awtograp dedikasyon pirma na nagsusuma ng kasalukuyang kinalalagyan at pinagdaraanan. Natuwa na hindi lang pala ang makina sa espasyo sa #3 ang nakakaunawa. Mula #1 hanggang #5, mayroon pa rin namang mababalikan sa oras na kailangan tumakas sa siyudad, kahit pa siyudad na rin itong dating tahanang hindi na gaanong makilala sa bagong-bihis.

Limi sa Liminalidad

Proseso ang lahat. Kung inaakalang wala nang babalikan, mayroong babalikan pero hindi na iyon ang dating eksaktong pook. Nagbabago ang pook na nagbago sa atin, kaakibat ng pagbabagong ito ang mga gawi at kultura ng mga nakapaloob sa pook na ito. Kung kasabayan pa rin natin sa pagbabagong ito ang mga dating kasabayan, may kasabay pa rin tayo sa pag-usad. Nadagdagan ng kumplikasyon ang elbi, tulad ng mga rails sa sidewalk, dagdag na mga gusali at estruktura, dagdag na komersyal na mga tae, o ang salitang nagdudulot ng dislokasyon sa mga residente: gentrification. Kung tanggap pa rin ang pook sa kabila nito, makauugnay pa rin pero hindi ugnayang tulad ng dati. Ang dating tagapagkalinga ay may tendensiya nang mang-lamon nang buhay. Ganito na rin naman dati. Mayroon naman nang represyon, at isa ang henerasyon namin sa direktang biktima nito. Mas buo lang ang komunidad dati. O buo pa rin ngayon, pero iba lamang ang kompigurasyon o bihis, tulad ng nagbabagong-bihis ang kampus at ng komunidad—na tila magkasama pa rin, at hindi naghihiwalay, hindi tulad sa babalikang siyudad kung saan matagal nang may papeles ng diborsyo ang komunidad at kampus, kung saan mayroong demolisyon, kung saan may dekorasyong fountain ang oblation pero walang gusali ang mga propesor ng humanidades. Santuaryo pa rin ang elbi, sa suring ito para sa mga dati at kasalukuyang residente; kung gaano magtatagal, ay nakadepende sa kultura ng protesta at militansya ng mga organisasyong masa. Sana ganito pa rin sa susunod na Pebrero.

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