There was much to expect in the exhibition as it was organized by two of the country's giants: one in the field of retail, the other in the field of architectural publication. One could only surmise what these two entities could organize to educate the public of our built heritage, in light of the numerous demolitions of important architectures. And as far as the architectural notion suggests that a passion for profit undermines the inquiry for honest information, the collaboration of SM and Bluprint seemed the more exciting.
The exhibition was set up in the atrium of SM City North, The Block. Although the area is oftentimes chaotic, the show somehow guided the pedestrian flow, clearing most of the central court from heavy traffic. And since the atrium is circular, it seems logical to arrange the exhibition in the same way. Thirty-eight panels all in all, half of which is mainly about QC, Manila and Expositions. The other half, posted at the back of other panels, were past newspaper clippings about QC and Manila. Upon close observation, the first problem was made obvious: the circular flow was as misleading as the mall's. Business sense always tends to directionally confuse consumers so they may wander more around the building. This idea, however economically successful in malls, should be avoided in exhibitions. A confused visitor could easily be turned off. The clockwise flow of the exhibition started with the National and World's Expositions in Quezon City (QC), progressed to Philippines' participation in World Fairs, then somehow ended with the Origins of QC. The counterclockwise flow started with Post War Manila in the 1940s-1950s, continued with QC in the 1960s to the 90's, then weirdly followed with World Fairs and Philippine Pavillions, and abruptly ended with a single board about QC and SM City North EDSA. Either of the two flows seemed to be the beginning nor the ending. One could have been easily lost in the narrative of the panels' progression. And that single board which finalized the counterclockwise flow raises the critical question: In the greater scheme of things, with the rise and fall of QC, what is SM's vision of a city?
Should one have read the information in every panel, the same problem could be observed. The specific flow of information in each panel was as misleading as the general flow of the exhibition. There were two or three different pictures but with the same text, and several typographic errors here and there. In some instances, the jargon goes deep enough to the point that a critic might ask, who is the target audience?
The exhibition was clearly a mishmash of information without a clear narrative relating to the title. It didn't live up to the success of Bluprint as an informational magazine, or SM as the new Filipino plaza, the central venue of public communication. However, what the exhibit lacked in clear circulation and communication, it made up for with great content.
Visions of a City is clearly among the best in having the rarest of information about QC's progressive past. The content included vintage drawings and photographs of some of the country's great Filipino architects and their works, including Juan Arellano, Francisco Manosa, and Leandro Locsin with his Philippine Pavilion in the Osaka World Expo. The content also included black and white aerial photos of neo-classical Manila, prominent landmarks that were demolished, colored shots of a clean and modern Quezon City, and numerous others, equally informative as the rest. Collectively, the photos could conjure an image of the Great Quezon City that was. What went wrong through the years, one might ponder. Quezon City today is far behind, in design and cleanliness, than what it was as shown by the photographs.
At the center of the exhibition is a giant map of QC, supplemented with close-up shots of famous places and landmarks. This map changed the relationship of the QC inhabitant with the city he lives in. While people have looked at QC from the ground upwards, one could see it from the top downwards with the map. This perspective made the viewer an outside observer, akin to a creator. The city could be under the creator's command; the people have wielded it to their will. But if the people were powerful enough to create a great Quezon City before, why do the people stand powerless against the problems of Quezon City today? This was one of the questions that the content of the exhibition encouraged the viewers to ask themselves.
Overall, the exhibition was more of a reminder, that great things have been done and greater things can be achieved, that an unknown group of islands three centuries back formed a nation, to be the center of the Galleon trade, and be the beacon of the City Beautiful Movement in this side of the world. It was a reminder that the Filipino, with less than a millennium of architectural tradition, could create architectural masterpieces like the Philippine Pavilion by Locsin. It was a reminder that a Filipino can adapt to major changes, from the 19th century plaza-oriented towns, to the 20th century metro cities.
Rather than focusing on the circulation and narrative issues of the exhibition, a viewer could have easily focused on the content and get a sense of awe on how QC was in its heyday. Through this process, the exhibition could have left a dent in the emotional core of the public viewers. The days of grand plazas, finely crafted landmarks, lush parks, and pristine waterways as shown by the exhibition's content are gone. These are now replaced with the reality of narrow sidewalks, poor architecture, empty parks, and lifeless rivers. Quite pathetic. But people who think that there is no longer hope for a beautiful Quezon City could be easily converted to the opposite opinion by the exhibition's content. A great Quezon City had been created by its people. It can be done.
Hence, the paradox: Our vision of a city, is a city we already built in the past.
