Repost from http://www.gmanews.tv/story/149713/National-Artist-BenCab-to-open-dream-museum-Feb-27
Tuba, Benguet – Benedicto "BenCab" Cabrera, national artist for visual arts, will finally open his four-story dream museum on Feb. 27 – some eight years after buying the property with money he saved from sales of his paintings.Construction of the building itself started in 2006, with architect Raymond Gutierrez helping the artist in the design."The concept I did myself," Cabrera said. "Kada pinta ko, benta - slowly getting more and more space here," he says.The completed BenCab Museum occupies 1,000 square meters that would take over an hour to tour.The building houses galleries showcasing works of different genres that represent BenCab's output through decades.The BenCab Room houses Cabrera’s selected work, with a separate Erotica Gallery that houses Bencab's 1970’s work "13 Positions," along with sculptures and carvings. The Masters Room features BenCab's personal collection of pieces by other renowned artists.The Cordillera Room displays a massive collection of the regions wood carvings, basketry, earthen jars, and furniture.At the ground floor is the Café Sabel, which offers visitors a view of a farm that includes an aviary, a pond, and coffee and strawberry plantations."This museum will be a center for activity," BenCab said. "I hope this will set the standards somehow."Among the activities he expects are art seminars and exhibits for young artists, as the museum also houses the BenCab Art Foundation aimed at helping young deserving artists.BenCab, born in Malabon in 1942, studied at the University of the Philippines College of Fine Arts. In the late '60s and early '70, he lived in London with his wife, British writer Caroline Kennedy (from which he has been divorced), and their three children.After a successful career in Europe, he returned to the Philippines in time for the EDSA People Power Revolution. He has since resettled in Baguio City. - Maria Elena Catajan, GMANews.TV
Showing posts with label Philippine art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philippine art. Show all posts
10.26.2008
(Un) Indie Film: Rethinking Independent Cinema
Independent Cinema is seeing a great deal of interest nowadays precisely for it’s name—independent. This claim sure has a lot of problems for it is not inherently clear as to what one means when referring to it. It should only mean that there is a profound interest in anything that goes beyond the ordinary. There is an obsession for anything that tries to break out of the system and this may be good or bad for Philippine cinema. We’ll attempt to crack into these possibilities.
The question of independence deserves a more elaborate theoretical framework—we’ll not attempt it here. The task at hand is to identify sites of contestation in the label independent and possibly see the reason for the need for such.
It is important to understand that independent filmmaking essentially started with Manuel Conde’s effort to break out of the studio system. While he did it successfully, it is unclear if he was aware he was being “independent” or if he’d even appreciate the label. It is possible that he didn’t even care. He just wanted to make films and found more freedom outside the studio system. In any case, the label is understandably a postmodern construction for the era is addicted to labels and is multifarious.
It’s also interesting to look into the dichotomy of art as art and art as catalyst for social change which I think should not be mutually exclusive at all. For the sake of discussion, this dichotomy has the very essence of why independent films exist. It is in defying the extremity of either pole that filmmakers wanted to break out of. But it is this dichotomy that positions the form in an awkward situation where the art is reduced to merely just being for art’s sake or for social change. Although potentially powerful, the dichotomy must be rethought.
Also within the postmodern take is the blurring of tasks. Because the technology of independent filmmaking is more fluid in terms of its production process, a one-man film (a definite impossible task of the past) is now possible. The obscure relations and forces of production in the independent film process is consistent with the postmodern discourse of democratization of art and how to effectively permeate cultural dimensions within the globalized world. Between these lines, we see a consistent pattern of present world cultural systems that rely on exchanges and assimmilation. It is, thus, important to look into film without the burden of the label and with a watchful eye.
The critic is then interrogated. How do you valuate a film based on such relations of production? If there is a blurring of tasks, if there is democratization of art, how does one set the standards? The role of the critic in valuation is to identify consistencies and relevance in such works. No art is independent from the subject and the subjectivities that translate through the artwork should be examined apart from the formal production and exclusivity. The aestheticization should be born out of the experience and not the system of production although the latter would definitely play a part in the judgment.
The star system cannot be neglected by any attempt to breakout of the mainstream. The cultural potential is just too powerful. This is why independent films still subscribe to it (although indirectly) to fuel interest and be recognized. It is crucial for any attempt at divergence to recognize the potentially useful in the current system and integrate this to the newer form. It is this rationale that may explain why independent films’ popularity is still dependent on big names and big names dependent on independent films. This relationship is symbiotic and is essential.
It seems to me that an unspoken importance in independent filmmaking is the need to exploit the gay discourse. The need is logical. It is controversial (to stir interest), it is “empowering (for justification),” and it is “relatively accepted (to sell).” If anything in independent cinema is pretentious, this would definitely be it. The obsession to record a person kissing (or more) of the same sex in a film that formally claims its deviance to the mainstream does not empower the homosexual but associates the gay discourse to secondary status. What it does is further isolate the gay argument to a state of irrevocable immorality and unacceptability while overshadowing this with the label “independent.” The homosexual is then reduced to a mere marketing tool and entertainment with his “unusual ways.”
In more ways than one, the concept of independent cinema in the Philippines (or any country for that matter) is a contestable one. It is not merely technology determining the relations of production but more of intersubjectivities being reduced to a monolithic one. The art form must be relieved of this label if film in the Philippines is to be truly independent.
The question of independence deserves a more elaborate theoretical framework—we’ll not attempt it here. The task at hand is to identify sites of contestation in the label independent and possibly see the reason for the need for such.
It is important to understand that independent filmmaking essentially started with Manuel Conde’s effort to break out of the studio system. While he did it successfully, it is unclear if he was aware he was being “independent” or if he’d even appreciate the label. It is possible that he didn’t even care. He just wanted to make films and found more freedom outside the studio system. In any case, the label is understandably a postmodern construction for the era is addicted to labels and is multifarious.
It’s also interesting to look into the dichotomy of art as art and art as catalyst for social change which I think should not be mutually exclusive at all. For the sake of discussion, this dichotomy has the very essence of why independent films exist. It is in defying the extremity of either pole that filmmakers wanted to break out of. But it is this dichotomy that positions the form in an awkward situation where the art is reduced to merely just being for art’s sake or for social change. Although potentially powerful, the dichotomy must be rethought.
Also within the postmodern take is the blurring of tasks. Because the technology of independent filmmaking is more fluid in terms of its production process, a one-man film (a definite impossible task of the past) is now possible. The obscure relations and forces of production in the independent film process is consistent with the postmodern discourse of democratization of art and how to effectively permeate cultural dimensions within the globalized world. Between these lines, we see a consistent pattern of present world cultural systems that rely on exchanges and assimmilation. It is, thus, important to look into film without the burden of the label and with a watchful eye.
The critic is then interrogated. How do you valuate a film based on such relations of production? If there is a blurring of tasks, if there is democratization of art, how does one set the standards? The role of the critic in valuation is to identify consistencies and relevance in such works. No art is independent from the subject and the subjectivities that translate through the artwork should be examined apart from the formal production and exclusivity. The aestheticization should be born out of the experience and not the system of production although the latter would definitely play a part in the judgment.
The star system cannot be neglected by any attempt to breakout of the mainstream. The cultural potential is just too powerful. This is why independent films still subscribe to it (although indirectly) to fuel interest and be recognized. It is crucial for any attempt at divergence to recognize the potentially useful in the current system and integrate this to the newer form. It is this rationale that may explain why independent films’ popularity is still dependent on big names and big names dependent on independent films. This relationship is symbiotic and is essential.
It seems to me that an unspoken importance in independent filmmaking is the need to exploit the gay discourse. The need is logical. It is controversial (to stir interest), it is “empowering (for justification),” and it is “relatively accepted (to sell).” If anything in independent cinema is pretentious, this would definitely be it. The obsession to record a person kissing (or more) of the same sex in a film that formally claims its deviance to the mainstream does not empower the homosexual but associates the gay discourse to secondary status. What it does is further isolate the gay argument to a state of irrevocable immorality and unacceptability while overshadowing this with the label “independent.” The homosexual is then reduced to a mere marketing tool and entertainment with his “unusual ways.”
In more ways than one, the concept of independent cinema in the Philippines (or any country for that matter) is a contestable one. It is not merely technology determining the relations of production but more of intersubjectivities being reduced to a monolithic one. The art form must be relieved of this label if film in the Philippines is to be truly independent.
Philippine Cinema After Martial Law
Films in the Philippines after martial law took on a new turn as the country searched for its identity in light of its new-found “freedom.” To understand film during this period, we look into the 1989 Lino Brocka work Orapronobis (Pray for Us). The intention is to situate this film within the post-Marcos dictatorship discourse and relate the film’s content to the present political situation.
It is imperative for us to look into the political arena, especially in this period, for the films after Marcos’ dictatorship can reveal much about the relations of production and consumption of the form as they are (the films) direct products of the lifting of PD 1081 and the consequent curtailment of freedom that the artists experienced during that time. In essence, this period promised a widening of parameters as to what films may contain. How the filmmakers responded to it and explored these parameters would sure be interesting to identify.
Orapronobis
Lino Brocka was commissioned by foreign producers to make Orapronobis (1989) for the Cannes Film Festival. This, of course, gave international stature for Brocka as a director and is a clear indication of the international thrust that the film industry was geared towards during this period (and up to today). This attempt is situated inside the globalization discourse of borderlessness. This may be (I’m not too sure) the first time that Filipino filmmakers went out to actively search for support and recognition from international community. The film industry, much like any other industry in the Philippines, is too dependent of foreign funding and recognition. This becomes a problem when a cultural product as potent as film depends its production and judgment in the hands of the west. As it is situated in those terms, so shall the product be in those terms.
However, Brocka’s Orapronobis is a cutting-edge take on a Filipino experience. It exposes the human rights issues of the post-Marcos era in an ironic turn of events as the country is supposed to have been “liberated” from oppression. The main importance of this film is the recognition that the EDSA revolution of 1986 was a shift not from a bad political situation to a good one, but a turn of leadership from one representative of the ruling class to another.
The film is also characterized by the intelligent use of appeal to emotions that lends a hand to the demonization of the anti-communist discourse. The attempt at realism and details is superb and helps in the appreciation of the underground movement’s importance in the resolution of human rights issues and how the military can play the vicious villain.
The universality of the human rights issues discussed by the film may be intentional as the film is geared towards a global eye. It is strategic, in this sense, for the film’s local take on a historical perspective and the ambivalent global appeal pins down the film’s acceptance and celebration.
It is imperative for us to look into the political arena, especially in this period, for the films after Marcos’ dictatorship can reveal much about the relations of production and consumption of the form as they are (the films) direct products of the lifting of PD 1081 and the consequent curtailment of freedom that the artists experienced during that time. In essence, this period promised a widening of parameters as to what films may contain. How the filmmakers responded to it and explored these parameters would sure be interesting to identify.
Orapronobis
Lino Brocka was commissioned by foreign producers to make Orapronobis (1989) for the Cannes Film Festival. This, of course, gave international stature for Brocka as a director and is a clear indication of the international thrust that the film industry was geared towards during this period (and up to today). This attempt is situated inside the globalization discourse of borderlessness. This may be (I’m not too sure) the first time that Filipino filmmakers went out to actively search for support and recognition from international community. The film industry, much like any other industry in the Philippines, is too dependent of foreign funding and recognition. This becomes a problem when a cultural product as potent as film depends its production and judgment in the hands of the west. As it is situated in those terms, so shall the product be in those terms.
However, Brocka’s Orapronobis is a cutting-edge take on a Filipino experience. It exposes the human rights issues of the post-Marcos era in an ironic turn of events as the country is supposed to have been “liberated” from oppression. The main importance of this film is the recognition that the EDSA revolution of 1986 was a shift not from a bad political situation to a good one, but a turn of leadership from one representative of the ruling class to another.
The film is also characterized by the intelligent use of appeal to emotions that lends a hand to the demonization of the anti-communist discourse. The attempt at realism and details is superb and helps in the appreciation of the underground movement’s importance in the resolution of human rights issues and how the military can play the vicious villain.
The universality of the human rights issues discussed by the film may be intentional as the film is geared towards a global eye. It is strategic, in this sense, for the film’s local take on a historical perspective and the ambivalent global appeal pins down the film’s acceptance and celebration.
To Question the Canon: The First Golden Age of Philippine Cinema
Cinema in the Philippines the years directly after the war, as some references account, is the first golden age of Philippine Cinema:
“…The 1950s was the so-called first golden age of Philippine cinema, mainly because at this time, the Big Four studios (LVN Pictures, Sampaguita Pictures, Premiere Productions and Lebran International) were at the height of their powers in filmmaking, having employed master directors like Gerardo de Leon, Eddie Romero and Cesar Gallardo and housing the biggest stars of the industry that day…
…In addition, the stars of these productions also won international awards …
…During this era, the first award-giving bodies were also established (wikipedia)...
…Critics now clarify that the 50s may be considered one “Golden Age” for the Filipino film not because film content had improved but because cinematic techniques achieved an artistic breakthrough in that decade… (http://www.aenet.org/family/filmhistory.htm) ”
These accounts mention several reasons why the 50’s was a great period for Philippine cinema. The studios, the directors, international awards, establishment of award-giving bodies, and artistic breakthroughs all point to this period as an important one. This labeling of periods in film history as golden raises a flag to anyone who wants to understand what merits artistic excellence to pass for such taxonomy. What does it mean for the artist (director, etc.)? What does it mean for the artwork (film)? What does it demand of the film industry?
To answer these questions, we look into two films made during the “first golden age of Philippine cinema”—the 50’s. Anak Dalita (1956) by Lamberto Avellana is an exposition on poverty and hard-edged realism on the life of a Korean War veteran who returns home to the Philippines and gets involved in a smuggling conflict. Biyaya ng Lupa (1959) by Manuel Silos, on the other hand, is a film which explores the intricacies of rural life as tied to land. It starts out with a hopeful young couple getting married, having kids, eventually experiencing bankruptcy, their daughter getting raped, and being haunted by a village goon. The film ends positively when the goon is killed and with a bountiful harvest.
The intention is to look into these films and attempt to discover how the establishment of these films as “great” influences the audience by means of representation as well as position the critic in viewing such.
The Measure for Greatness
Any artist peddling an artwork in the art market is judged by how he/she measures up to the standards set by the canon. A film canon is the limited group of movies that serve as the measuring stick for the highest quality in the genre of film. It is the prime interest of this article to scrutinize the canon and rationalize its existence.
Why is there a need for greatness through the canon? Practically, more often than not, when one watches a film, the aesthetic reflex is to associate the experience to a previous one stripping the current experience off of autonomy thus basing satisfaction through what one had before. This practice of “comparing” in the part of the person experiencing the film is dangerous if we consider how exactly the canon is established.
Institutions (effectively the state) are the backbone of the canon. The groups of people legitimized by the state to endow an object the name “art” set the criteria by which artists must commit to. This commitment by the artist is driven by the need to sell and the institutions provide this to the artist by giving him/her labels, awards, grants, and the most basic – a good review. The credibility of the canon is fueled by these and the institution’s very existence relies on the canon. This give-and-take relationship between the institutions and the canon shapes aesthetic practice and judgment leaving the audience without a critical take and such dissociated (mis)representations normalized.
Anak Dalita and Biyaya ng Lupa
Anak Dalita is set in post-war Manila. It capitalizes on the effect of war to the city as a backdrop for a story of poverty and illegal mishaps. The context in which the film was set is the rebuilding of Manila after the Pacific War. The film discussed poverty and illegal activity recognizing its presence in society and also critiquing it by exposing injustice associated with it. Technically the story was well written, the actors played their parts well and the director obviously explored the cinematic
potential enough.
The point of highlight in Anak Dalita is the representation of poverty. Its aestheticization in the film demanded a certain amount of responsibility in the part of the artist (director, etc.) in making identification with reality possible at the same time catering to the whims (and standards) of the canon. This indebtedness to the canon creates a certain density in the treatment of the film. Such representation, as outlined by the moral code of the existing order, is permeated throughout the film and is translated into normalcy which gives the artist an irrevocable prediction of the viewer’s world conception and order.
Biyaya ng Lupa represents rural life and the false hope that comes with it. Although the film actually leaves a positive mark to the audience, the film is grounded on an urban-centric premise. The contradiction between (and against) city life and life in the countryside is always a discourse on which is preferable and by representing the latter, the film takes a position in the binary and in effect bestows a certain amount of justification to prefer either. The discourse of duality in perceiving happiness as belonging to either is weak for it reduces happiness to just a matter of location when in fact there are a variety of factors that contribute to subjectivities.
These representations comprise the canon. It shaped (and continues to shape) Filipino films using the same binaries and discourses that comprise Filipino subjectivities as well. It is, therefore, dangerous to put an artwork (in this case, film) in an ivory tower when the relations of art production and consumption lie in the hands of a specific few. Subjectivities are created through art and the canon makes sure this is sustained. It is important to interrogate the canon and locate the specific sites of contention where it reduces the human to inessentiality, if not forget about it altogether and look at art as is and finally stop demanding anything from it.
Sources:
"Cinema of the Philippines." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Cinema_of_the_Philippines&oldid=245680443>.
“History of Philippine Cinema.” Onlineessays.com. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008
"Film canon." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 10 Oct 2008, 22:25 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Film_canon&oldid=244459850>.
“…The 1950s was the so-called first golden age of Philippine cinema, mainly because at this time, the Big Four studios (LVN Pictures, Sampaguita Pictures, Premiere Productions and Lebran International) were at the height of their powers in filmmaking, having employed master directors like Gerardo de Leon, Eddie Romero and Cesar Gallardo and housing the biggest stars of the industry that day…
…In addition, the stars of these productions also won international awards …
…During this era, the first award-giving bodies were also established (wikipedia)...
…Critics now clarify that the 50s may be considered one “Golden Age” for the Filipino film not because film content had improved but because cinematic techniques achieved an artistic breakthrough in that decade… (http://www.aenet.org/family/filmhistory.htm) ”
These accounts mention several reasons why the 50’s was a great period for Philippine cinema. The studios, the directors, international awards, establishment of award-giving bodies, and artistic breakthroughs all point to this period as an important one. This labeling of periods in film history as golden raises a flag to anyone who wants to understand what merits artistic excellence to pass for such taxonomy. What does it mean for the artist (director, etc.)? What does it mean for the artwork (film)? What does it demand of the film industry?
To answer these questions, we look into two films made during the “first golden age of Philippine cinema”—the 50’s. Anak Dalita (1956) by Lamberto Avellana is an exposition on poverty and hard-edged realism on the life of a Korean War veteran who returns home to the Philippines and gets involved in a smuggling conflict. Biyaya ng Lupa (1959) by Manuel Silos, on the other hand, is a film which explores the intricacies of rural life as tied to land. It starts out with a hopeful young couple getting married, having kids, eventually experiencing bankruptcy, their daughter getting raped, and being haunted by a village goon. The film ends positively when the goon is killed and with a bountiful harvest.
The intention is to look into these films and attempt to discover how the establishment of these films as “great” influences the audience by means of representation as well as position the critic in viewing such.
The Measure for Greatness
Any artist peddling an artwork in the art market is judged by how he/she measures up to the standards set by the canon. A film canon is the limited group of movies that serve as the measuring stick for the highest quality in the genre of film. It is the prime interest of this article to scrutinize the canon and rationalize its existence.
Why is there a need for greatness through the canon? Practically, more often than not, when one watches a film, the aesthetic reflex is to associate the experience to a previous one stripping the current experience off of autonomy thus basing satisfaction through what one had before. This practice of “comparing” in the part of the person experiencing the film is dangerous if we consider how exactly the canon is established.
Institutions (effectively the state) are the backbone of the canon. The groups of people legitimized by the state to endow an object the name “art” set the criteria by which artists must commit to. This commitment by the artist is driven by the need to sell and the institutions provide this to the artist by giving him/her labels, awards, grants, and the most basic – a good review. The credibility of the canon is fueled by these and the institution’s very existence relies on the canon. This give-and-take relationship between the institutions and the canon shapes aesthetic practice and judgment leaving the audience without a critical take and such dissociated (mis)representations normalized.
Anak Dalita and Biyaya ng Lupa
Anak Dalita is set in post-war Manila. It capitalizes on the effect of war to the city as a backdrop for a story of poverty and illegal mishaps. The context in which the film was set is the rebuilding of Manila after the Pacific War. The film discussed poverty and illegal activity recognizing its presence in society and also critiquing it by exposing injustice associated with it. Technically the story was well written, the actors played their parts well and the director obviously explored the cinematic
potential enough.
The point of highlight in Anak Dalita is the representation of poverty. Its aestheticization in the film demanded a certain amount of responsibility in the part of the artist (director, etc.) in making identification with reality possible at the same time catering to the whims (and standards) of the canon. This indebtedness to the canon creates a certain density in the treatment of the film. Such representation, as outlined by the moral code of the existing order, is permeated throughout the film and is translated into normalcy which gives the artist an irrevocable prediction of the viewer’s world conception and order.
Biyaya ng Lupa represents rural life and the false hope that comes with it. Although the film actually leaves a positive mark to the audience, the film is grounded on an urban-centric premise. The contradiction between (and against) city life and life in the countryside is always a discourse on which is preferable and by representing the latter, the film takes a position in the binary and in effect bestows a certain amount of justification to prefer either. The discourse of duality in perceiving happiness as belonging to either is weak for it reduces happiness to just a matter of location when in fact there are a variety of factors that contribute to subjectivities.
These representations comprise the canon. It shaped (and continues to shape) Filipino films using the same binaries and discourses that comprise Filipino subjectivities as well. It is, therefore, dangerous to put an artwork (in this case, film) in an ivory tower when the relations of art production and consumption lie in the hands of a specific few. Subjectivities are created through art and the canon makes sure this is sustained. It is important to interrogate the canon and locate the specific sites of contention where it reduces the human to inessentiality, if not forget about it altogether and look at art as is and finally stop demanding anything from it.
Sources:
"Cinema of the Philippines." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Cinema_of_the_Philippines&oldid=245680443>.
“History of Philippine Cinema.” Onlineessays.com. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008
"Film canon." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 10 Oct 2008, 22:25 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Film_canon&oldid=244459850>.
The Lesser of Two Evils: On Philippine Cinema During the Japanese Period
Film as cultural product in the years 1941 to 1946 in the Philippine setting can be best scrutinized through the lens of the Japanese occupation inside the theme of the Pacific War between Japan and the US. The concept of war and its relation to any cultural product is always interesting as we try to understand the implications of imperialist conflicts to the local culturality of “art” events.
When the Pacific War broke out with the offensives of Japan to the US (Pearl Harbor), it was necessary for Japan to integrate the Philippines within its plans through any means necessary in its attempt to secure hegemony. It saw enculturation vital to the promotion of the myth of “Asians for Asians.”
Imperialist Wars
The concept of war as integral in the development of societies (and the state) in the era of monopoly capitalism is important in looking at art in a manner suitable for any analysis that tends to go beyond the exclusive visuality of film for if we dare go the latter direction, we leave a big chunk of the more definitive query. It, therefore, necessitates a seamless linking of war in the imperialist sense and the cultural product as it is experienced by its consumer. It is also a point of interest to expose the reality that the Japanese propaganda, through the film Dawn of Freedom, intended to create in its intent to realize its imperialist mission.
While Japan had a seemingly noble (not to mention self-initiated) task of liberating the Asian region of the North American-European domination, this task can only be seen as fraudulent and preposterous when viewed from the scheme of the political and the economic implications that the war was all about. Vladimir Lenin in Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism* explains: “on the part of both sides; it was a war for the division of the world, for the partition and repartition of colonies and spheres of influence of finance capital (9).” It is in this context that Philippine cinema is poised to highlight the more overt intentions of propaganda than anything else.
Dawn of Freedom
The film Dawn of Freedom by Abe Yutaka and Gerardo de Leon (1944) is born out of these imperialist wars. The context in which it was formulated accounts for the intense use of attempts at identification with its audience although for whom this identification is intended for is unclear. To crack if the film was created for a Filipino or a Japanese audience is not in the interest of this piece. It is, however, a central interest to ascertain characteristics of the audience that this artwork negotiates with and what it persuades this audience to appreciate. To do that, we look into the themes (or the premise and contradictions of which) of the film.
The film contradicts itself in many levels. The film’s premise is the myth “Asians for Asians.” This regional reference was the guiding policy of the rhetoric used by Japan in translating justification for intra-regional colonization and in general, the war. Because of the previously mentioned, the context is not so much a regional matter of the west versus the east as it is a territorial and economic conflict between two imperialist countries. The film fashions an amicable image of a Japanese soldier which would be entirely outside the realm of reality if you ask any Filipino who was there (fighting or being harassed) during the war.
Bottomline: Preference
These inaccuracies in representation imposed a new type of reality to the audience that Japan intended to root the cultural potential of their quest into. The question of whether this reality was acceptable or even effective to the audience is a totally different story. It’s important to see, however, the overt utilization of film to create this reality and the imperialist attempt to culturally colonize the minds of the Filipinos.
The reality presented by the film themed “Japan is not the enemy” is also an attempt at conversion of preference from an American mindset to a Japanese (Asian) one. It is, essentially, a choice for the Filipinos between two imperialists—a position any Filipino should never want to take.
*Lenin, Vladimir. Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism. Progress Publishers. Moscow. 1975
When the Pacific War broke out with the offensives of Japan to the US (Pearl Harbor), it was necessary for Japan to integrate the Philippines within its plans through any means necessary in its attempt to secure hegemony. It saw enculturation vital to the promotion of the myth of “Asians for Asians.”
Imperialist Wars
The concept of war as integral in the development of societies (and the state) in the era of monopoly capitalism is important in looking at art in a manner suitable for any analysis that tends to go beyond the exclusive visuality of film for if we dare go the latter direction, we leave a big chunk of the more definitive query. It, therefore, necessitates a seamless linking of war in the imperialist sense and the cultural product as it is experienced by its consumer. It is also a point of interest to expose the reality that the Japanese propaganda, through the film Dawn of Freedom, intended to create in its intent to realize its imperialist mission.
While Japan had a seemingly noble (not to mention self-initiated) task of liberating the Asian region of the North American-European domination, this task can only be seen as fraudulent and preposterous when viewed from the scheme of the political and the economic implications that the war was all about. Vladimir Lenin in Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism* explains: “on the part of both sides; it was a war for the division of the world, for the partition and repartition of colonies and spheres of influence of finance capital (9).” It is in this context that Philippine cinema is poised to highlight the more overt intentions of propaganda than anything else.
Dawn of Freedom
The film Dawn of Freedom by Abe Yutaka and Gerardo de Leon (1944) is born out of these imperialist wars. The context in which it was formulated accounts for the intense use of attempts at identification with its audience although for whom this identification is intended for is unclear. To crack if the film was created for a Filipino or a Japanese audience is not in the interest of this piece. It is, however, a central interest to ascertain characteristics of the audience that this artwork negotiates with and what it persuades this audience to appreciate. To do that, we look into the themes (or the premise and contradictions of which) of the film.
The film contradicts itself in many levels. The film’s premise is the myth “Asians for Asians.” This regional reference was the guiding policy of the rhetoric used by Japan in translating justification for intra-regional colonization and in general, the war. Because of the previously mentioned, the context is not so much a regional matter of the west versus the east as it is a territorial and economic conflict between two imperialist countries. The film fashions an amicable image of a Japanese soldier which would be entirely outside the realm of reality if you ask any Filipino who was there (fighting or being harassed) during the war.
Bottomline: Preference
These inaccuracies in representation imposed a new type of reality to the audience that Japan intended to root the cultural potential of their quest into. The question of whether this reality was acceptable or even effective to the audience is a totally different story. It’s important to see, however, the overt utilization of film to create this reality and the imperialist attempt to culturally colonize the minds of the Filipinos.
The reality presented by the film themed “Japan is not the enemy” is also an attempt at conversion of preference from an American mindset to a Japanese (Asian) one. It is, essentially, a choice for the Filipinos between two imperialists—a position any Filipino should never want to take.
*Lenin, Vladimir. Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism. Progress Publishers. Moscow. 1975
2.11.2008
My BenCab Paper
The Local as International: The National Artist in BenCab
Celebrated artist Benedicto Cabrera, BenCab as he likes to sign his works, has gone a long way from the boy who paints on the pavement and walls at age 7 to becoming hailed as a master of Philippine contemporary art. This tag, not to mention being proclaimed a national artist for painting in 2006, is one of the reasons why his paintings today sell even before they are finished:
‘He acknowledges that his wife keeps a list of collectors who are queuing up to buy work that has yet to be produced. "It's a nice problem. I just ask my wife who's next in line," he said, laughing.
(http://www.iht.com/articles/2005/07/13/news/web.bencab.php?page=1)’
This paper aims to historicize the place of BenCab in Philippine painting and understand the the artist in the context of the artwork. The paper also aims to understand the paintings of BenCab in light of the artist’s political inclinations and bias as part (and in some parts away) from Philippine society. This dichotomy in looking at the artist and the work as both creator and influential to each other ensures the independence of art in historical criticism and analyses.
The main issue in question throughout this paper is how the artist BenCab attained superstardom in the Philippine art scene in light of his international escapades as artist and how this contributes to his appeal. This paper also tried to look for images that reflect this situation in the life of the artist as seen through his work. Another interest of this paper is to dissect the semiotics involved in his works and integrate these iconographies to Philippine society as we see today.
Limited by resources, this paper utilized the internet to tackle the previously mentioned issues. The primary source of information is the official website of BenCab at www.bencab.com. The site provides a complete biography and links to the artist’s most salient works. For convenience, the author limited the study to the “Sabel” collection since:
“’Sabel’ is a major subject that recurs through BenCab's works through the decades, inspired by a real-life scavenger, [sic] he photographed and sketched in 1965, the Sabel image has become the artists [sic] vehicle for the transmission of intensely emotional moods. When pushed to the limits of abstraction, the Sabel image serves as a fertile ground for the investigation of shape and structure.” (http://www.bencab.com/docs/works/sabel.html)
The collection has 15 paintings as linked in the website. A formal analysis was integral in establishing the genre and style with which the artist is comfortable.
Biography
Born in April 10, 1942 in Malabon, Manila, at the onset of the Japanese occupation, he is the youngest of nine children born to Democrito Cabrera and Isabel Reyes of Pampanga. At age six months, his family moves to Mayhaligue St. in Sta. Cruz, Manila. He Starts painting on the pavement and on walls at age seven and is influenced by his older brother Salvador who is already an established artist. Salvador takes him everywhere, exposing him to the world of art. (http://www.bencab.com/docs/artist.html)
Their family moved in 1954 to Bambang ¾ a busy but poor district in Tondo, Manila, peopled with an assortment of colorful characters. It is where he first started to develop a deep sympathy for the underprivileged. He sold comic books door to door and hand towels to jeepney drivers as a source of income.
He won his first art award as a Sixth Grade student at the Balagtas Elementary School in Bambang, for his drawing entry in a poster contest with a human rights theme. He Received P100 as part of the First Prize. As a student at the Arellano High School, he augmented his allowance by doing illustrations for his 59 classmates' science projects, which he sold for P.50 to Pl.00. He would later also draw portraits of James Dean and Elvis Presley to sell to schoolmates for P10. (ibid.)
He enrolled at the University of the Philippines' (U.P.) College of Fine Arts in 1959 but he dropped out of the University in 1963 before finishing his degree in Fine Arts with a major in Illustration.
He then took several jobs like in Liwayway as illustrator, in the United States Information Service as a lay-out artist, in Mirror Magazine as a designer, and in Sunday Times Magazine as illustrator. After which he decided to become a full-time free-lance artist.
By the late '60s, the artist had moved to the Chelsea district of London following his marriage to a British writer and was experimenting with cut-out shapes and etchings. "When I first arrived in London, I was more involved with the trends in Europe," the artist recalled. "After a while, I decided I didn't want to jump on the bandwagon anymore; I wanted to do my own thing, which is when I started doing 'Filipiniana,' a commentary on the past." (http://www.iht.com/articles/2005/07/13/news/web.bencab.php?page=1)
After his divorce, Bencab returned to the Philippines in 1985 and settled in Baguio, where he has formed a small community of artists around him. "It's my way of giving back," he said. He has also been collecting Filipino artists' work with an idea of establishing a museum. (ibid.)
Sabel
One of Bencab's lifetime inspirations has been a homeless, deranged woman called Sabel, who used to scavenge around garbage cans in his neighborhood. Clad in a flimsy dress, she would wrap plastic sheets around her body that would billow around her with the wind. To this day, the images are still imprinted in the artist's memory, and Bencab has constantly revisited her portrait since he started the Scavenger Series in the '60s."Every time I make a transition into something new, I work on her," he said. "I like the form, the movement. Now it's almost become an abstract form, just an interpretation, a vague memory." (ibid.)
The Sabel collection studied for this paper has free-flowing lines, a development in his style quite perceptible in his later works. His strokes have become more painterly and the lines curvi-linear. Much like the pieces he has for his Edo collection featuring images of Japanese women which is highly influenced by the 19th century Japanese printmaker Hokusai. Evident in these works are freer strokes and lines that are more flowing and uninterrupted. The colors are used intensely as the artist explores brighter colors in contrast with his previous collection Larawan in which he primarily used sepia-inspired tones bringing out a rather classic and muted backdrop to it. Although experimenting in lines and colors throughout the three collections, the artist was consistent in establishing major elements of his paintings against a solid background. (http://www.bencab.com/docs/artist.html)
Bencab shows expertise in portraiture as the compositions are well thought. The opportunity to explore form using the subject Sabel was maximized by the artist. He untimidly creates extra interest in the flowing plastic sheets worn by the subject as if challenging reality and putting the viewer in the little world created by Sabel where the plastic sheets are actually her clothes. This attempt to invite the viewer into Sabel’s world is recurrent with the use of abstract elements that makes the paintings breathe an eccentric air that captivates the audience in a manner that is understandable and unique.
The image of Sabel is a recurring theme in his works. This feeling for the artist’s subject can very well be rooted from his share of economic difficulty when he was young. The previously-mentioned efforts of BenCab to make money to pay for school is perhaps the most logical explanation for his affinity with poverty as a subject.
In a bigger picture, Sabel’s character is the artist’s means not only to express his personal experience but the experience of Philippine society in general. The statement that he wants to make is, aside from personal, a national one. Here is an image of a woman displaced in the very society that created her and once celebrated womanhood. This very society is now depriving her of opportunity and a decent life. It is not her fault, that is what this collection is all about.
Conclusion
This paper wanted to analyze the national artist BenCab in light of his international exposure vis-à-vis his popularity in contemporary Philippine art scene. This paper also looked into the Sabel collection as linked in the official website of the artist searching for semioic relationship of the collection to the artist.
This paper discussed the important events in the life of the artist, the formal elements evident in his work, and bridged the historical facts and the aesthetic qualities of the Sabel collection.
In this relationship, the international status of BenCab is one consideration that is left in the background. The subject matter of the artist created interest in the audence. This attempt to identify with a national issue earned him the status of a “master” and a “national artist.” Linking the aesthetic and the rational was key to his success. This is coupled by his daring nature in experimenting with form and color, leaving the audience always looking after what he will do next. Going international showing local issues is his style for which he is admired for and respected.
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