A Stranded Baby and a Jug of Vinegar

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My favorite car that got christened Baby G (as in gangsta) overheated somewhere along Greenmeadows. With two appointments to keep and 15 minutes away from the first one, there wasn’t much choice but to leave the baby there. Hitched a ride with the first guy who came along, got a car from home, and finished all the stuff in the to-do list. Now, time to pick up the poor thing. Hauling two gallons of water in old vinegar jugs, I hailed a cab, and while I was getting into it, my camera tumbled out of the gear bag and rolled on the pavement. Goodness. When I got to my stranded car, the first thing I did was to shoot and make sure my camera is still alive.

Okay, it is! (Come to think of it, battle scarred gear has a certain appeal. LOL)

So far, so good. Put water in a dehydrated radiator. My bad. But hey, can’t possibly end a day like that! Might as well shoot some. Night photography without a tripod doesn’t sound right, but the sheer stupidity of it put me in a good mood. hah! Couldn’t expose too long with a handheld cam tho.

Not too many cars at 1am, too. One last. Just to satisfy a bug.

A Fine Art Photographer’s Walk

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These past few months personal and professional hassle almost made me forget what I love most about photography–it is the seeing part, finding beauty where none seems to exist, seeing it and wanting to share it. I never saw the need nor ever had the desire for fancy set-ups, fancy lighting, or other things that make for a glamorous photograph. Yes, of course, I do those things; sometimes I need to, either for work or personal requests, and I find absolutely nothing wrong with it, as long as it does not make me forget what in my heart of hearts I thrive on doing, and that is shooting “junk.”  “Junk,” because nothing is ever real thrash to me, as a photographer. “Junk,” because, chances are, no one would bother to take photos of those; “junk,” because–and forgive me a little bit of ego trip here–chances are, I was the only one who saw it, or took the time to.

The hassle that nearly took me away from my gear drove me into some sort of melancholy, and the thing that arrested what could have been a downward spiral was a decision to walk alone for a while, just me and a 5D. 24/7.  The photos I am about to attach may not mean or appeal much to most of you, but to me, they will forever remind me of the day I said, “This is my art, this is my photography. I am paying for it with my time, my money, and my energy. I hope you find it in your heart to respect that, but if you don’t it’s perfectly all right.”

Post-Quest, inside a classroom

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The quest proceeded quite smoothly, with most of the “spirits” agreeing to “move on,” while the ghost of  a La Sallian brother has assigned himself as caretaker of the chapel. I was expecting, or at least ready, for some “irregularities,” like perhaps capturing some images of spirits in the shots. Other than the orbs, there was none. As far as I can tell anyway.

After the quest, Perez gave a short lecture on psychology in one of the classrooms at the main building.  And that was when my perfectly functioning gear — I simultaneously  shot with a 5D and a 30D, handheld, natural light — began getting trippy.  Initially, I couldn’t get my meter readings right, and that was quite annoying, because the shoot at the dark chapel during the quest was far more difficult and yet I encountered no major hitches. But here inside a bright classroom?

Anyway, when I finally viewed the post-Quest photos, I kind of understood why. Well, not really. But maybe those colored bands and pillars of light messed with my settings. Or gear. Whatever. 

Spirit Quest at DLSU

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Chapel of the Most Blessed Sacrament, LS Building, DLSU. I suppose every La Sallian has heard of the stories of hauntings and sightings at the Chapel. It goes back to World War II, when some families from nearby areas sought refuge at then De La Salle College. The brothers accommodated them; the group and some brothers were in the Chapel when the Japs came in, and killed everyone, children included.

Finally, DLSU called in Tony Perez, a playwright, painter, and shaman, to conduct a Spirit Quest. A quest is not a ghost-busting job in the movie sense; it really is a loving ritual–the spirits are sent love and light and encouraged to “move on.”

These are photos taken during the quest at the chapel. Note that my gear measured up to the job, in a chapel lit practically by just a few candles. I say that for a reason other than bragging abut gear, as the post-quest photos will show.

 

 

 

 

One Day at the Farm

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I feel guilty not lugging my gear around all the time, but at least i bring a point and shoot, which of course doesn’t quite cut it, but hey, it’s still far better than a phone cam! Sometimes there are things that beg to be photographed.

And sometimes none, but the urge is there to shoot anyway. This is one of those days, when all i had was toy cam, trees and shadows. But I had to shoot, perhaps to save whatever little is left of my sanity. hahaha!

The Possessed

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07 February marked the opening of “The Possessed,” a one-man exhibit of painter Poch Naval, at 8lanc Gallery, Salcedo-Makati. The artist “played with a historical document (by Pigafetta!), enlarged some words until until another story can be made out.”  The concept sounded deceptively simple, yet looking at the works, there was nothing simple about it; the series was a mind-bender (or mind f**ker, if you will).   Until then, I never realized how difficult it would be to look at a drawing, not on a blank canvas, but superimposed on prints. Concentrate on lines of words, or paint? I still have no answer, other than to look at it long enough, see what comes out, and walk away a lot richer for it.

8lanc Gallery is at 107, H.V.dela Costa St., Salcedo Village, Makati.

Guilty as Charged. (all of us, with very few exceptions)

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“All right, Sir?” Apparently, nothing is “all right.” Not for the military. Not for the nation. A conversation with a fellow writer and part-time hermit years ago said it all:  “If people as apolitical as you and me feel the need to march, and never mind the tear gas, in protest, then it must be real bad.” Now I’m thinking, if retired generals commit suicide, in front of the graves of their mothers, then it must be terrible.

I never knew Angelo Reyes personally, but reading the news of his suicide, with a gunshot to the heart (was it a last act of thoughtfulness, that he did not disfigure his face with a gunshot to the head?), sent chills down my spine, more literally than I would have preferred. Aside from the obvious intelligence as can be seen from his scholastic records, there is no virtue of the former general that I am in a position to extol, but it seems he himself was a victim of a corrupt system so entrenched that saying No to pabaon would’ve made an outcast of him. “Masyadong nagmamalinis” is a label no one wants, although it is our duty to “magmalinis”; a profound failure to do this duty is a huge reason that corruption thrives, and seems to get worse each day. Truly we as a people are known for pakisama, to a fault.

I myself am guilty of this pakisama; once or twice I have closed my eyes and walked away from questionable deals, petty ones that involved a few thousands, sometimes a few hundred pesos. I can only be grateful that I have the luxury of walking away; many people don’t. That is all the “linis” I can lay claim to. Walking away. Refusing to be part of it. Refusing to share the loot. Perhaps I should have been “heroic” enough to prevent, if not expose, such things? But to whom? To ad agencies, television executives, suppliers of ad agencies? The amounts involved were usually laughable; it would probably get a second hand laptop, and no, i don’t mean a MacBook.

I know that protesting such things will amount to nothing, other than getting ostracized, and hey, I needed my job, too. It has happened before, in a television network. Our producer was filching funds, pathetic amounts, really—say P30 from each meal allowance. I didn’t know that at first, because I usually did not even eat what they served (yes, I admit to being a bit of a cono that way) and I didn’t care if we didn’t have enough Coke. It’s just too much trouble to complain about such things; it is far easier to just go out and buy a can of Coke. Eventually the rest of the crew protested, wrote a letter and asked me to sign along with them. I did. Next thing I knew I was accused of being “promotor” of the whole thing, and got a threat for it, “Baka mawalan kayo ng projects dtio, ayaw namin ng mahirap katrabaho.”  That, from a network executive.

Few people know that that is one of the reasons I quit working in television. Lucky for me, I don’t have mouths to feed, not even my own. But what then? Should I have gone to DoLE?  Hell no, forget it. Bad attitude, probably. Practical? Very. Because, what then? Rouse a fucking rabble because someone was filching P30 from a roughly P100 meal allowance?

No way, man.

And that is exactly the attitude that got us to where we are.

China Crisis @ Venice Piazza, Mc Kinley Hill

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I thought it was plain Wishful Thinking when I found out the day before that, Yes, there is a go- ahead to cover China Crisis. The day before that, I didn’t even know they were in Manila!  Fun fun shoot, this. China Crisis is such a cool band to cover!

 

Michael Jackson & Robocop at the Piazza

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Aching back after a full day and hours of running around with multiple gear, heading to another gig, but just couldn’t resist. Their costumes and make-up are sci-fi flick good, gotta hand it to them.