the barefoot baklesa

A Great Light Upon the Stage: Salvador Floro Bernal, National Artist for Theater and Design

2011-11-05T03:23:00.000+08:00

"The weight of this sad time we must obey. Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say..."
~Shakespeare

It is with a heavy heart that I resume my posts in this blog. On Wednesday, the 26th of October, I woke up to a text message from a dear friend, Monette Alfon [writer, director, a student and friend of Sir Badong, who had also been my teacher] that our mentor Salvador Bernal, National Artist for Theater and Design had passed away. My immediate reaction was of disbelief and sheer panic. Grief would not manifest itself until moments later...

I hurriedly sent a message to former teachers, PATDAT members, and schoolmates who were also members of Tanghalang Ateneo. Tita Monette's message was for real, but apart of me wanted to confirm it -as if tangible time and space is mutable enough for it not to be real. To give thee an idea of how manic that message was, I quote: "I just got a message from Tita Monette saying Sir Badong is dead. Is this for real? I stand between the precipice and I may lose it."

For the composure expected of me, that was probably not my best moment; and the dumbest text message question to ever come out of my shaking hands. Philosophy says much about truth and how much we are presented with it, yet we refuse to accept. And moments later, my dear friend, Sandro Lopa gives me a call. That was when i bawled, and no modicum of composure was left in me.

"Oh my god, he's dead..." and many other things like, "I never even got to see him last year at Saint Luke's" or "I was supposed to invite him to see our movie." and perhaps the most painful of all, "He did not even get to see the proofing copy of my book." And for lack of any way of putting it, my tears never fell so for anyone else in my life, the way it fell for Sir Badong.

And after that, Ara Fernando, Dr. Ricky Abad, and Eric Pineda let the bitter reality come to form. There was no way of molding it to another reality sans tears, sans sighs, sans this emptiness.

I was a deluded showtune singing college sophomore at the Ateneo de Manila when I met Sir Badong. I was the cliche theater major who was raised listening to 45RPMs of Jesus Christ Superstar, Camelot, and West Side Story, totally skipping over classical Greek Drama and Shakespeare to lip-sync to the Complete Symphonic Recording of Les Miz. I had entered the Theater Arts Program of the Ateneo entirely oblivious of what we define as classical theater training.

But even though I took Theater Arts as a major, I really had no idea what kind of theater practitioner I was going to be -part idealistic, part too young to care. It was not until I started helping out with the gold leaf transfer sheets on the jewelry pieces of Twelfth Night that I began to consider working in Production Design. I began sitting-in at Sir Badong's Production Design Classes even though I was not to take the course for about two more semesters. And as Aesthetics, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Arts, Production Design, and production work for Tanghalang Ateneo marked the time, Sir Badong's influence changed how I viewed the world of the Theater.

It was the collaborative creative partnership of Dr. Ricardo Abad and Professor Salvador Bernal that advocated the identity of the Filipino and the Asian in every endeavor upon the Ateneo stage. Shakespeare's Illyria became a Tropical Pan-Asiatic Paradise with a gilded Menangkabau house that transformed as it turned, Segismundo's tower became a labyrinth of mirrors clutched by a giant hand in La Vida es Sueno, Padua became Paracale in 1913 Philippines for Taming of the Shrew, and many other worlds in their infinite variety made me believe in the possibility of the impossible in the theater.

Sir Badong would say in a tone of voice that was his and his alone, "Niki, your costumes look like a variety show's -Change it!" I had not picked up a pencil to draw after I turned thirteen. It was during Sir Badong's Production Design Class that I started to draw again. It was when I picked up a watercolor brush to draw costume plates, learned costume plot palettes, proportion, operatic scale, building maquettes or bocetos, learned drape and fold. And above all this, Sir Badong taught me how an entire stage, just by looking at a single detail or curlicue, can tell a story. How its scenic transformations can be as magical as their picturesque end. How in a falling scrim, men are made or broken. He taught me to look at the hidden meanings in art. The conditions to which a costume developed and why it was worn a certain way. He taught me how to defend my work and to stand by it.

My greatest flaw as a Production Designer, they say, is "over-thinking designs". But if you knew where we, his students, were coming from, you would see why. [Pausing here, sigh]

Nothing will come from nothing, he once reiterated. A Production Designer can't just say, "Feel ko lang eh" [I just feel like it] every time he comes up with a design concept. A cohesive Production Design comes to form from respect for the material [the play], proper research, filtering research, taking collaborative input, executing with practicality in mind, and an uncompromising resolve to get it done and get it done well.

Under the circumstances of a Third World Theater scenario, Sir Badong taught us to use rafia lined with soft canvas in replicating pineapple fibre weave on stage to create a blouse for the Traje de Mestiza; when gold stamping was impossible on velvet, he had Ara Fernando experiment with rubberized textile paint silkscreened over the rich fabric achieving the effect of oriental embroidery; and the legends of Bic ballpen chandelier crystals, woven mat armor, vats of tie-dyed satin and cotton, an entire car of beaded evening gowns that went unpaid by some fallen superstar, seem fresh as they were retold and regaled during his wake.

Sir Badong was direct, his criticisms were filled with his brand of wit, and his approval or praise was precious -if ever it came. I remember as Gino Gonzales, Eric Pineda, Tita Monette, Toto Gonzalez and I were discussing how tasteful the floral arrangements were and how he would approve, there was this quip that stopped the conversation that went, "When did he ever approve of anything we came up with?" followed by collective laughter and a sigh. That for me, says how much he expected of those he taught.

When there were but a few guests left during the first night of his wake, I finally got to approach Sir Badong where he lay. I stood there for God knows how long, my right hand clutching my neck, and i stared at his visage -now without the authoritative or critical gaze he used to give me. Marked I what Rafael Del Casal uttered earlier that evening, looking at Sir Badong, there was this serenity about him, as if his lifeless coil communicated how he has finally been released of this world.

The rest of us still have to live without him now... Three generations of Sir Badong's legacy represented there, knew what loss was there that night.

Come Saturday, the 29th of October, was the Cultural Center of the Philippines' [CCP] Tribute to the National Artist that was Sir Badong. I got there quite early.... very, very,early... 7:30 in the morning to be exact. As I waited for the funerary coach to make its way to the ramp of the CCP, I was happy to be in good company. My old college blockmates Ara Fernando -whom Sir Badong calls his daughter- and Jason Vitorillo, fellow Tanghalang Ateneo alumni. When we finally decided to sit after being told that only the CCP and NCCA Officials were supposed to welcome him at the door [which was an atrocious thought, mind you, but we are civilized Jesuit-bred individuals after all], I sat beside Fides Cuyugan-Asencio and talked shop a bit. In the middle of it, during a pause, I gave out quite a sigh. To which the elegant lady Tita Fides responded, "Don't sigh. You're too young to sigh."

The CCP Tribute was as expected of it. National Artist Bienvenido Lumbera, and some others paid tribute in words, dance, and music [Although those coming from the CCP's and the NCCA's representatives felt and sounded derivative, and Dr. Ricky Abad was not invited among them, it smelt of politics]. Sir Badong's poetry, good taste, wit, undeniable genius, teachings, and unparalleled achievements were celebrated. Yet Veteran Theater Director Nonon Padilla hit the proverbial nail on the wall by saying how the CCP he and Sir Badong left some years ago has turned into the hive of bureaucrats that it are subject to loyalty checks after every regime. But that is one truth we all have to contend with in "a culture that glorifies mediocrity" as Gino Gonzales put it.

Of all of them, Gino Gonzales' words turned my sighs to tears. He represented all those that came under Sir Badong's tutelage, of how we took that critical turn under Sir Badong and were changed from hence, and of course how we cannot survive on skyflakes [the irony of the sheer number of Sir Badong's Ang Kiukok collections was counterpoint to that, I thought].

And as a chorus of 200 voices sang Candomble, I could see Nick Tiongson in his seat, inconsolable and in tears; then the pallbearers from the military took his coffin from the stage, through the auditorium, and through the doors of the CCP Main Theater. As they did so, "Bravo Badong!" and applause rang through this nation's crumbling sacred temple to the arts.

It pains me to write this, a finality to solidify that reality.... But as always, all that is left is just to live.

So, Bravo, Sir Badong!
You were a bright light upon the stage, untimely extinguished, yet radiantly enduring...

A student is unable to pay tribute to his teacher if he has nothing to show when he returns to his chambers, but you left too soon, and I was unable to offer and place it upon your hands. Wherever you are, Sir Badong, in the infinite number of possibilities and hope, my gift will find you in the days to come.

thus I end this with tears and quoting your wit, "Sige kayo, according to Plato, you will all go to hell."

Your Student,
Niki de los Reyes-Torres
the barefoot baklesa

[all photographs courtesy of Ara Fernando]

the Barefoot Baklesa Reviews: Zombadings 1 Patayin sa Shokot si Remington

2011-09-12T18:48:00.005+08:00

If thou couldst make thy way though the swirling mist of my over-analyzed thoughts or perhaps have once waxed musings with over-sized cups of coffee, you have at least once heard me rant at how Filipino gay movies never really show the homosexual condition. The gay themed movie mills of late have churned out a hodgepodge of plots that only serve to titillate and sell sex displaying bodies of upstart wannabes who wish to make it big in local showbiz by shedding their skivvies, egged on by their creators without a care for true artistry in film language and storytelling. Many, if not all, direct to video Filipino gay films have amounted to nothing but discs gathering dust under my bed or have been a serious waste of my time.

Surprising it is, in my rather elitist view of what a gay movie should be, that I would find myself excited after having watched the trailer for Zombadings 1: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington. Having missed its CCP screening due to certain work obligations, I was fortunate enough to catch Zombadings' commercial cinema release a few weeks later. So do pardon if I go on with this one the way the Barefoot Baklesa does as always... And as much as the Barefoot Baklesa had wanted this to be a properly structured review, it does not do well to over-think movies like these. So, here goes...

In my lifetime, I have seen the many uses of the word Bakla: as a means of identification, as a weapon of ridicule, as a description of deviance, of non-conformity, of emasculation, a substitute for expletives, a punchline for jokes, and of course the root word for Baklesa.

But then came the boy who cried Bakla...

Remington, seems to be the macrocosm of the general Filipino attitude towards homosexuals as the obnoxious child who cries Bakla, going too far, to the dismay and embarrassment of his mother. And by way of a prologue from a Fairy Tale, Remington cries Bakla to the wrong fairy thus causing him to be cursed, "Pero ikaw bata ka, paglaki mo, magiging bakla ka!" [But you child, when you grow up, you too will turn gay!]

Years later, a series of unexplained murders occur, with homosexuals as the main target; baffling the authorities and Remington's mother -the chief of police. As the number of murdered homosexuals increase, Remington undergoes inexplicable changes like his speech, his mannerisms, his choice in clothing, and his sexual confusion and is transformed thus: into the cliched image of a Bakla.

Remington's struggle to make heads or tails of the situation is made complicated when his infatuation for a girl and his developing attraction for his best bud Jigs are thrown into the charmed pot. Their misadventures would lead them to conjure the spirits, make bold with the living dead, and come face to face with their own failings -that by some measure seems small but speaks most of our humanity.

Zombadings brings out the laughs but is victorious in saying what it wants to say without being overtly obvious. Daniel Fernando's tirade on the ills the Homosexual poses to mankind and Philippine Society is drowned out by the noise of a passing marching band. His bigotry and hypocritical self-righteousness is wasted on the audience who have begun to slide down the rainbow.

As the story unravels, Zombadings tickles as it leads one to think. The film pushes the idea of cursing one with Kabaklaan or Homosexuality yet does ask "what is so bad with being gay?" I have, of recent vintage, encountered young fathers holding their sons going, "Sana boy pa rin paglaki. Pero okay lang." [Hopefully he stays a boy. But either way is okay.] -inferring to the possibility that their son might turn grow up to be gay [I can only imagine the horror it poses to a parent gathering the courage to ask if their child was gay]. Or by curious reversal, does being Gay man hinder one from being a good father or parent for that matter?

To one side, I commend Kerbie Zamora's performance as Jigs, Remington's surprisingly Pansexual [hope that did not give too much away] best friend with his provincial boy next door charm. All too familiar as I have had many a trike ride on provincial trips with a Jigs at the helm... Hahahaha!!! Perhaps the greatest surprise is Mart Escudero as Remington. His quick shifts and commendable nuanced performance as he struggled through his emasculation was every bit entertaining. Mart Escudero's Remington and Kerbie Zamora's Jigs have forever earned them a spot in Filipino Gay Film history. It will be quite a while before anyone will be able to top that scene by the stairway, I tell you.

Also, Barefoot Baklesa extends his applause to veteran actors: John Regala, Odette Khan, Janice de Belen, Daniel Fernando, Eugene Domingo, and Roderick Paulate -still the reigning Queen of Gay Roles in Philippine Movies. Never has there been a cast so effective and well fitted for comedy.

By way of cinematic cuts -which did not seem fluid by some standards, the Barefoot Baklesa was confused whether the technical treatment was intentional but was willing to overlook it for lack of time to criticize as the next deserved laugh had to be cracked. Expect the Barefoot Baklesa to be the last one to be good at Fagalog or Gayspeak; it is not a language he is used to speaking, but thank god for the subtitles. And coming out of the movie house we kept on chanting

‎"Charoterang ispirikitik, umappear ka vakler,
Magpafeel, magpasense ditey sa baler,
Witiz shokoley ang utachi ditey,
Sa fezlavoo mo mars, na super kalerkey!"

Now doesn't that say something?

If you do have the time, watch it. If you intend to watch it again, do so. And spread the word, how you will...

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

continuing the Mario Maurer Drool Mode

2011-07-31T22:36:00.001+08:00

The Barefoot Baklesa is currently busy filming in Pola, Oriental Mindoro for a movie, and the internet speed here is -well, let's just say,it requires some patience for waiting we all left back in 1998... so much for that... Here's something I stumbled upon online merely minutes ago; a trailer for Mario Maurer's latest movie.

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

The Barefoot Baklesa Shares: Salvator Mundi, the Lost Leonardo

2011-07-13T15:34:00.001+08:00

This colored photograph of a lost Leonardo painting was released just recently, and reveals the detail that made it a true work of Leonardo Da Vinci: the glass orb.

The iconography of Christ as Saviour of the World [the Spanish Salvador del Mundo] in the Philippines is rather different and is limited to the Christ Child [Santo Nino] images with both arms outstretched and held high. While the are other Christ Child images holding orbs, they are most often a full regalia with cape, crown, and scepter. And most adult images of the Lord Jesus Christ in the archipelago are populated by the Crucified Christ, the Sacred Heart, Santo Entierro [Christ Interred], and images of his passion and resurrection. Even the enthroned Christ the King is a different iconography altogether.

Examining this fine specimen of art closely, one is immediately drawn to the distant yet faded visage of Jesus Christ, a quality it shares with another Leonardo painting, The Last Supper. It feels eerie to behold at first, but the actual symbolism of a not quite flesh and blood Christ can be viewed as Leonardo's interpretation of the man and God qualities of the savior: that while he is of mortal form, he is not just of any mortal form. His eyes gaze at you but is withdrawn and distant, a quality that modern iconography seems to have forgot by making images of the divine stare back at you as if it was their duty to make that connection. Yet even with that elusive gaze, the hand poised in the traditional blessing looks more solid and heavy. Perhaps the intent was that the blessing does indeed reach us.

The curls on the hair remind us of another Leonardo, and also, what is said to be his final completed oil painting: John the Baptist. To which I bravely engage you to draw parallels with the his use of of the technique called Sfumato. Which by no less dramatic words is this luminous quality the subject emanates while he appears to emerge from this obscure darkness.

Blue, a color often associated with heaven, softens this painting following the folds of the fabric of Christ's robe and provides an almost liquid base albeit color to the glass orb.

While most religious paintings that make use of an orb usually have them in opaque blue, Leonardo cleverly uses the blue of the robes to reveal his glass orb. Only Leonardo's genius could have produced this effect of translucence on a flat surface, with complete consideration for the behavior of light. This is perhaps the proof of Leonardo's experimentation with light, proving his mastery of it, hurdling the difficulties of painting a glass orb whilst revealing what is to be seen beyond it.

The painting is currently valued at 120 million pounds, a far far cry from the 45 pounds spent to buy it decades ago. It was regarded to have been lost, passing into the shadows of the centuries after its documented owner King Charles I of England was executed. The painting shall be exhibited at the National Gallery in London as part of its Leonardo retrospective later this year.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Barefoot Sojourns: A Change of Pace in Pola, Mindoro Oriental

2011-07-13T06:53:00.005+08:00

As much as the Barefoot Baklesa loves the sea and open water, the Barefoot Baklesa rarely travels by it. There is this sense of security standing on the beached margins staring into open water as the waves come and go. So, when the barefoot Baklesa learned that the only way to travel to Calapan in Mindoro Oriental would be by Ferry, the apprehension was undeniable. But as this is also for work, and principal photography for this film we are working on will be shot entirely in Mindoro, there was no choice but to brave the ferry at the port of Batangas.

Actually, this would be the Barefoot Baklesa's first trip to Mindoro Oriental; the final destination would be the town of Pola, an hour's drive away from Calapan. After what seemed like a series of delays, from missing the fast craft ferry to losing the bearings of the car tire and nearly falling of a cliff -thank you, Saint Christopher- the Barefoot Baklesa arrived at the town of Pola with Casiligan Elementary School as his first stop; a possible location for school scenes. Oh, did we mention that when we got there the rain poured like crazy? The Barefoot Baklesa seems to have this weird luck that it rains elephants when he arrives.

We were warmly welcomed by Ms. Lourdes, the Principal of Casiligan Elementary School. Once you set foot in its gate, one beholds this charming old wooden schoolhouse which, sadly, is a crumbling remnant of the Philippines' American Colonial Past. This particular architectural style called Gabaldon, follows the education law of the same name that mandated schools to be built all over the country for the purpose of public education. The flesh and green painted building constructed from tongue and groove wooden planks with capiz windows takes one back through time; punctuated by the grey skies brought in by the afternoon rain.

Ms. Lourdes represents the best of our Filipino educators: there is a fire within her that has not been extinguished since she first became a teacher. She was welcoming, her stories were told with such zest, with sprinklings of instructions to grade school students as they pass by, and her love for her career is undeniable. The Barefoot Baklesa has seen his share of jaded and embittered educators in his time, too bad they never get to meet the likes of Ms. Lourdes.

We were served piping hot Maruya, a fried snack made of bananas dipped in a basic flour batter and fried til crisp. It was a welcome meal for the rainy afternoon. As we watched the students come out of their classrooms in single file for dismissal, I can't help but think where social discipline goes wrong and how come Filipinos these days are undeniably disobedient [but let's save that for later].

A short drive from Casiligan Elementary School, we arrived at the poblacion of Pola. Unlike most old world towns that follow the traditional town square-as-the-heart-of-the-community planning of the Spaniards called reducciones, Pola is one of those few exceptions wherein the seat of government and the church are not situated across each other with the town square in between. Instead, the town is plotted in rows of streets to make good use of the coastal terrain.

Pola is the birthplace of Kabayan Noli de Castro, a respected broadcast journalist and former Vice President of the Philippines; then there's Pinoy Big Brother Teen Edition winner Ejay Falcon, both facts that the Barefoot Baklesa had learned only that day.

The structures in Pola seem strangely still, not really frozen, but unaffected in a good way. One has to have a heart for places like these, the humming symphony of human activity is a welcome substitute for the deafening city noise. Turn one corner and it's the sea, The Barefoot Baklesa will definitely enjoy shooting here.

Until the next sojourn...

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Love is Blind, But Not for the Blind

2011-07-07T00:49:00.001+08:00

Eu Não Quero Voltar Sozinho or I Don't Want to Go Back Alone is a Brazilian short film written and directed by Daniel Ribeiro. The Barefoot Baklesa chanced upon this at Tumblr and thought it was worth the sharing. It's one of those films that make you feel 16 again and about to fall in love. We recommend watching it without the subtitles/captions first, for there's something about the universality of cinema that is at work while watching it like that. Having said that, so as not to spoil thy fun, we shall leave thee to it.

oh yeah, you can watch this on youtube and click on the closed caption button and click preferences for the desired language.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

... and some guys are just pretty

2011-06-28T01:50:00.003+08:00

Has anyone seen the Glee Project? There's an adorable guy there named Cameron... For lack of anything to say, just watch the video.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Barefoot Sojourns: Pila, Ang Bayang Pinagpala

2011-06-25T01:54:00.007+08:00

It's that time of year again, when I am called back to this beautiful place. Its vast central square surrounded by historic homes from an era past seems bathed by this golden light that slows down my weary and timeworn senses; shedding off the superficial shell that the city forces one to wear. Everywhere, even the faces of strangers turn into friends, and in their withdrawn yet polite smiles, comfort. Three years I have been coming back to this place, with one less stranger and a new friend made as I cross the streets, looking up at old house windows, praying inside Saint Anthony's brick and stone church, and enjoying the company of every new friend I have made.

Who would not fall in love with Pila?

This historic town that traces its name as far back as the 10th century [the date was April 21, 900 AD] when the place was still called 'Pailah' as mentioned in a small fragment of an engraved sheet of metal called the Laguna Copper Plate; which I first heard mention of during my History 165 class at the Ateneo. But it would not be another eight years before I would actually walk the streets of Pila, ascend the steps of its century old homes, and watch the early morning sun illuminate this blessed place from the window of one of its old houses owned by a family that has welcomed me three years hence.

It was a rainy late afternoon when I arrived in Pila last June 11th, a day or so away from the annual celebration feast of San Antonio de Padua, the town's patron saint. Local lore has it that the Diocesan Shrine of San Antonio located at the edge of their Plaza Mayor [an old name for the central square, which is always more rectangular in the Philippines, I noticed] was actually transferred brick by brick and stone by stone from its old location by the lake, called Pagalangan of what is now the town of Victoria. It is said, during the Spanish colonial times, the Friars and the Luminaries of Pila decided to relocate the church due to the flooding of the Laguna de Bay. The new location, once known as Hacienda de Santa Clara, which was owned by the brothers Felizardo, Rafael, and Miguel de Rivera, is now the heart of modern day Pila. Without Don Felizardo Rivera's pioneering move, Pila would not have been. Rumor has it, the happy spirit of Don Felizardo still roams Pila, a sentinel of a time past.

It was three years ago when we were first invited by Ms. Jessica Rivera, one of the current heirs of the Rivera Ancestral House, to attend the annual Fiesta of San Antonio de Padua. Now for those of you who are uncommon to the Filipino tradition of celebrating a Fiesta, it's simply a community based celebration which has religious roots. Each town has a patron saint, and when the patron saint's feast day comes, it is celebrated with feasting and revelry to give thanks to the patron saint for gracing them with a good year of blessings and/or a good harvest. But I babble again...

So, three years ago, a new found friend named Manuel [a distant relative of the Riveras] and I were invited by Miss Jessica Rivera for a traditional fiesta luncheon and the solemn procession of the image of San Antonio de Padua. Miss Rivera herself owns an image of San Francisco de Asis [the founder of the Franciscan Order] which accompanies San Antonio during his feast day procession along with the images of San Roque, and the Blessed Virgin Mary. It was an enjoyable experience and from then on, my fondness for the town of Pila began.

But Manuel felt that the processional images of San Antonio, San Francisco, and the others, must be accompanied by Santa Clara de Asis the next year, following the tradition that she is friend to San Francisco and took from his example. Add to that, since the town now stands where Hacienda de Santa Clara used to be, there was a certain serendipity. And come 2010, I began my devotion to what I call 'babysitting' Santa Clara de Asis. Manuel commissioned a processional image of the and founder and first abbess of the Poor Clares to join the procession in her saintly glory, while I volunteered to help supervise the logistics of taking out the image for procession ensuring that she arrives at the church door -inclusive of traversing bumpy roads, dodging electrical lines and festive buntings, and the occasional rain.

Meanwhile Doctor Rufino Francia, a cousin of Miss Jessica Rivera, also commissioned a processional image of Saint Joseph with face and hands made of ivory to escort the Blessed Virgin Mary. A stunning piece of statuary, Dr. Francia's San Jose was executed in the local sculptural style of the late 19th century wearing vestments of amber and green velvet embroidered with jilos de oro [metallic gold thread].

Another son of Pila, affectionately called Tito Vic, opens his home to the images of San Francisco, Santa Clara, San Jose, and the Blessed Virgin Mary. Under the old trees around his property, these sacred images make their temporary stop. The carrozas [wheeled processional mounts/platforms] are decked with flowers and other complimentary foliage, the arrangement artfully executed under the watchful eye of Tito Vic, making sure that every leaf and flower falls or stands rightly so. And after a full day's work, an hour before procession, the carrozas would make their way from his gates to the church courtyard, in their vibrant floral gloss.

There's a certain drama that comes with tradition, and as the procession moves throughout the town past ancestral homes, their windows all open with spectators leaning over to watch like those that came before have done so, I am thankful for Pila's cultural advocates: the Pila Historical Society Foundation. The most prominent of them, Ms. Cora Relova, is a living reminder of the refinement and genteel manners the people of Pila have been known for since the time of the Spaniards. Her advocacy is to maintain Pila's status as a Heritage Town following the declaration of the National Historical Institute back in 2000. She welcomes people who have a heart for a town such as Pila, taking them along on heritage walks, armed with history, local lore, and a resolve to keep Pila the way it is. Who would not, if you get to wake up at a place like this?

If you think about it, the town of Pila is not like other Laguna towns that always has something associated with it; like say Pagsanjan or Los Baños which are resort towns, or Paete with carving and workworking, or Lumban with native textile and embroidery, etcetera. The town of Pila, plucked by the bay and moved to what was once an hacienda, would simply be like any other agricultural town made prosperous by the land. Yet somehow, there's this inexplicable draw that the place has over a jaded suburbanite such as I, maybe it's that combination of old world charm, a certain pride of place, and a people that you would fancy for their warmth and community spirit.

Before and after each procession come June 12 and 13, and I would look forward to watching the image of Santa Clara de Asis pass under the arch of Baranggay Santa Clara, it seemed a fitting and dramatic punctuation to the story of how Pila was relocated to a vast plantation then named Hacienda de Santa Clara. I relish the smile on my face as I watch thus, and with a prayer wish to be there again the next year.

For two years now, the fiesta processions of Pila would mark the end of my Processional Obligations, so to speak; which starts on Holy Week and encompasses Easter, the Feast of Saint Joseph, and the May-time Processions locally called Flores de Mayo. And Pila, with its charming historical homes and stunning processional images is a fitting finale. But without its people, the descendants of old families that would come home from halfway around the world for the sake of tradition, their cultural advocates, the devout men and women who help lend a hand in taking out the images of the saints, and the locals smiling amidst the constancy of their daily routines -all of them faithful and grateful- Pila would never be so blessed.

Until the next sojourn, I would like to thank:
Ms. Jessica Rivera
Dr. Rufino Francia
Manuel Djajakusuma
Ms. Cora Relova
Father Dennis Estrella
Paul Baisas Pagalanan
Jeffrey De la Paz
Tito Vic and the House of Victor Juan
and to the carroza pullers of Santa Clara de Asis

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Congratulations Kevin Anthony Donelly!!!

2011-06-21T11:37:00.000+08:00

Congratulations to Kevin Anthony Donelly for taking home top prize in this year's Mr. and Ms. EcoTourism - The Mossimo Bikini Summit 2011!!! You deserve it. Now I know I almost never post a photo of any guy in his skimpy best [I think this is the first time ever in this blog], I'm willing to make an exception for this guy... He's got that boyish charm about him with a bit of a naughty streak. *wink*

Touching moment, the guy was in tears when he heard the results... makes him more endearing, doesn't it?

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Shall We Dance?

2011-06-09T11:20:00.002+08:00

The Barefoot Baklesa is quite excited for this year's Cinemalaya... Although the Barefoot Baklesa has been averse to anything that has come out of the Cinemalaya mill the past few years, he's willing to give this year a try. One of the reasons why is this entry:

Cinemalaya Presents A Film by Alvin Yapan
A Vim Yapan/Alem Chua Production In Cooperation with BIGTOP Media Productions, Inc. and Far Eastern University

Ang Sayaw ng Dalawang Kaliwang Paa
Starring: Paulo Avelino, Rocco Nacino, and Ms. Jean Garcia

Did that just say Paulo Avelino??? Well, that's certainly going to be enough reason. Hehehehe...

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Ten Thousand Paper Cranes by Khael Lopez

2011-06-09T09:15:00.001+08:00

Here's a beautiful song from a talented musician I'm glad to have known in this lifetime. My first impressions of Khael were summed up by the following words: unassuming, friendly, and polite. Later would I add the word talented to that list. But the most important word I have added of late is sincere. The mark of a great song for me is that it actually describes or communicates a specific moment in your life when you feel at a loss to describe what it is that consumes the entirety of your being; freezing that moment and expanding it into words and music... just listen to it.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Mario Maurer Fever Part Two: The Love of Siam

2011-06-09T04:48:00.001+08:00

There's Mario Maurer Fever abound in the Philippine Archipelago... the pinoy teen masses have been introduced to the multi-racial cutie from Thailand over the weekend after ABS-CBN premiered the movie Crazy Little Thing Called Love. This time, The Barefoot Baklesa shall share with thee the movie that skyrocketed Mario Maurer into fame a few years ago: The Love of Siam.

~Oh yeah, beware the spoiler alert

I just couldn't shake it off... I have been watching this movie or a part of it,everyday this past month...

I've written some sort of review on The Love of Siam a while ago, but I felt that it was a bit inadequate with the kind of impact it had on me. I would like to thank joey torres for the mp4 file and strangerinsiamsquare for sharing the musical score and OST.

So, here we go...

I first learned about The Love of Siam [ Rak Haeng Sayam] after seeing another film called Bangkok Love Story. I think it was at the G4M Forums when they were discussing the latter that i stumbled upon it. I really didn't have anything to do that night, and thank the gods for wireless technology, I was able to watch it; and there was no turning back since.

I will have to admit, at first, I didn't really like it that much. I felt it was too melodramatic at times. But it does hit some chords right as per the emotional key of the scenes in the storytelling.

On the outside, seeing the way the movie was promoted in 2007, The Love of Siam seems to be one of those run of the mill teen romance movies. But at the core of this film lies a love story between two boys. Much to the surprise of the Thai audience a year ago. Well, I guess the Filipinos and the Thais really have the same mindset that gay characters must be effete, cross-dressing, and funny. Notice that every gay role commercially viable gay role written has to be the animated effeminate and people will find that amusing [ and don't use Brokeback Mountain as an example to the contrary because that i just plain crappy ].

But unlike the usual formulaic teen romances that only want to sell the "kilig" moments, LOS bears a sort of balance to the other relationships and subplots that are woven around the two leads.

LOS is the story of Mew and Tong, who were neighbors when they were young boys. Mew, a stubborn and introverted child living with his grandmother, finds a friend in Tong who is as a boy their age should be; playful and outgoing.

At what seems to be their happiest as children, Tong makes Mew hunt for his Christmas present, a woodblock sculpted christmas doll, which by some unfortunate circumstance would be missing its nose.

What I also found appealing in the storytelling is the dimension and contrast of their family structures. Mew lives with a spinster aunt and his beloved grandmother while across the street Tong is part of a Catholic household with his teenage sister Tang and parents Korn and Sunee [not what you would normally expect from a predominantly buddhist population]. I remember going, "Oh...they're catholic..."

For there is a tendency for some gay themed films to abstain from the parental dimensions of their relationships. Because perhaps, in this reality, having distant and un accepting parents reflect the cinematic view that their story is not worth telling.

When Tang goes missing during a trip in Chiangmai, Tong's family is forced to deal with the loss when there seemed to be no hope of finding her by moving away. Goodbyes are tough, and Mew would rather not deal with it. And as stories must, time passes...

But a chance encounter reunites Mew and Tong some years after during their late teens. Mew [played by Witwisit Hiranyawongkul] is now the composer and lead singer for an upcoming band called August [which to my surprise is a band for real] while Tong [played by Mario Maurer] typifies a boy his age: with a pretty girlfriend, and is part of a somewhat popular clique.

But Tong's home life is far from typical. His father, Korn, depressed, then wastes himself into drinking after Tang's disappearance leaving Sunee to hold their family together.

As the boys' rediscovered friendship progresses, Mew's strong attachment towards Tong inspires him to write love songs. And the lyrics to one goes:

"If I say that I wrote this song for you,
would you believe me?
It might not be as well
written or beautiful like other songs.
I want you to know that a love song can't be written
if you're not in love.
But for you,
I can write this song so easily"

After hearing it for the first time, Mew tells Tong that without him in his life, that song would never be. Tong responds with a kiss -probably the most innocent and the most heartfelt kiss i have seen on film in my existence.

[and the music...oh the music in this movie needs to be commended. Whether it be the songs or the musical score. I don't know a word of Thai but the i have been humming the songs in my head -indeed, if it be the food of love, it's been blasting out of my earphones to a glutinous extent]

But in discovering themselves Mew and Tong find out how their own smalls worlds and the fragile hearts they bear would collide: Sunee asks Mew not to make Tong take the wrong path, Tong faces coming out to his friends, Mew at odds with his band endangering their debut, and Tong's father's deteriorating health.

And even against Sunee's insistence, you will love Tong for running out at night and screaming at Mew's window to let him in, but to no avail.

And when all seems lost, they learn that as long as there's love, naturally there's hope.

Perhaps the line that will define this movie is when Tong tells Mew,
"I can't be with you as your boyfriend. But that does not mean I don't love you."
Then Tong hands Mew the missing piece of the wooden doll he had gifted him when they were kids [one which he had a hard time acquiring]. And it hit me, just a few moments ago what that meant! That wherever life leads them, Tong leaves Mew with some hope...That perhaps it may take a little longer for them, and like that wooden doll missing its nose, somehow Tong would find a way to complete it, to complete their love.

And I can't believe I'm using this Theology 131- Marriage & Human Sexuality lesson to prove a point. "A genuine loving relationship must be able to exist with other relationships."
Tong and Mew take a step into their maturity by accepting that they can't take a "you-and-me-against-the-world" stand on their love. If indeed what they have is true, it will be a love that they shall be able to share with their loved ones, friends, and all.

LOS does not take into account the typical requirements of what makes up love story. It doesn't give you that "dancing under the starlight" ending expected of the genre nor does it leave you with a heavy heart even if the last you see is Mew in tears [The love I know well is this: "it does end in tears." And the writer/director, Chookiat Sakveerakul presented that with no romantic pretenses]. But LOS does leave its characters with a glimmer of hope.

And that "Love", whether it between boys and girls, boys and boys, girls and girls, parent and child, friend and friend, between you and your god, is transcendent and unending.

And to answer Mew's question, "If we can love someone so much, how will we be able to handle it the one day when we are separated?"
I would tell him this, something that Gabriel Marcel said, "To say 'I love you' is to say 'thou shalt not die'..."

Mario Maurer Fever Part One: FRIENDSHIP

2011-06-07T04:18:00.001+08:00

There's Mario Maurer Fever abound in the Philippine Archipelago... the pinoy teen masses have been introduced to the multi-racial cutie from Thailand over the weekend after ABS-CBN premiered the movie Crazy Little Thing Called Love over the weekend. The Barefoot Baklesa thought it best to share to you some of Mario's other movies. Here's one of them [warning, plot spoiler]:

Do you remember the time when you were in high school? When, for the most part, as much as you were on the verge of burgeoning maturity, you would easily cast it away for some happy time with your friends? Too often you walk around with this sense of invulnerability that goes with youth; bearing your then unscathed heart and your unbound dreams. This is where the Thai film FRIENDSHIP takes me back to. [It’s been a bit timely to have seen it lately considering it has been ten years since I graduated from high school]

FRIENDSHIP is the story of a teenage boy named Singha and the love he had for a girl named Mituna; the new girl, who transferred at the start of their senior year in high school. Singha, played by Mario Maurer [who shot to instant fame after his debut as a teenager coming to terms with his homosexuality in the film The Love of Siam -click on the link to read my review], was as typical as a teenage boy could be: a bit of a smart-aleck who hangs out with a boisterous set of friends, sexually curious, and often flirtatious with the girls. While Mituna, played by a lovely Thai actress named Apinya Sakuljaroensuk [there’s something about this girl that reminds me of a crush I had back in high school], was a girl that kept to herself and did not say much. It would have been a perfect boy meets girl scenario but instead Singha picks on Mituna due to her chosen silence, and as each act of teasing moves into the next, Singha pushes the envelope further until Mituna can’t take it anymore and could do nothing else but hit Singha in the face which somehow snaps him into a realization that he may have gone too far this time.

I love the way the film portrays that haze of infatuation often acted out as something else before a guy realizes that he actually likes the girl but the damage is done. I don’t know if it’s my love for Mario Maurer or the way his character is written [or maybe a combination of both], that can’t make me hate him and what he did. I mean, the first time we see Singha is when he helps out this lady with a cane at the bus stop who got knocked over by a passing commuter rushing for the bus. He then hands her a marigold which he has in his shirt pocket before he leaves to ride the next bus. He’s not that bad a guy; he just gets it wrong sometimes. Moving on…

It’s not until Singha secretly follows Mituna around that he realizes how mean he has been to her; he follows her to a social welfare facility and learns that her mother is deaf and mute. The apology that follows is a montage of a boy that has fallen in love with the girl who fought back. I’m not that versed with Thai pop culture so I have no idea if the song in the montage, which had this two-decades-ago-cheesy-quality to it, was actually a vintage tune; but it works.

Now, the movie itself is full of those teen situations of underage drinking, getting wasted on weed for the first time, misadventures into haunted houses, the generic out-of-town trip [thank god, no one broke into a song and dance by the beach, or rather the pool on this one like those really horrible Filipino movies], and the dynamics of the relationships with the people they share these with. After all, don’t they say that the friends one makes in school are the friends you have for life? I think the movie does well in establishing these within the plot elements in the sentimentality of it all. [I don’t want to focus too much on the other characters and how they figure in to the storyline in this review because they are best appreciated when seen]

I guess when you’re young and in love, there’s so much energy you can spare. For when things got a little better between them, the boy finds a way to understand her and to be understood. Just like what Singha said about words not being enough, he finds a way to learn how to do sign language. Now, it takes a certain kind of filmmaker to understand the difference between acceptable and revolting sentimentality. The sign language thing would not have worked if some generic Filipino director took a shot at it, I think. There is a pace that the film takes which makes it rather lighthearted and feeling like you were reminiscing on a lazy Sunday afternoon even if there’s a visually established flashback in the plot.

And as the end of senior year fast approaches with teenagers wanting to squeeze in so much before it does, a tragedy comes upon them. Lam, one of their friends, gets stabbed by a former schoolmate who joins up a gang that is hunted down by the police. Lam transferred in the same time as Mituna and was responsible in making Singha realize his true feelings for Mituna.
You know that feeling when things are happening all at once and you don’t seem to have the chance to slow it down and you have no chance but to bear with it? It’s excruciating to watch Singha and Mituna’s lives take the direction that will start to bring them apart. Singha’s father, a police officer, gets assigned to another district and they have to move out; while Mituna’s absentee father decides to sell the house they are living in and tells them to live in the country convinced that it will be better for Mituna’s mother. But both of them have no idea that this was happening to the other.

I don’t know what a “friendship book” is exactly, but the way I understand it from the movie is that it’s some form of scrapbook or memento that your friends pass around to write stuff on. Singha hands Mituna his pages for her to write on. Mituna promises to return it on the day they release the final exam results.

This reminds me of something my friend Sandro told me about last Friday; that we are where we are because God has a perfectly good reason for letting it be so. Watching it unfold before my eyes, I felt as if God was a little too harsh on Singha and Mituna. By mere moments they would miss each other; one turning left, the other tuning right. In the place where they promised to meet, in the places where each thought the other would be, and in the place where a desperate hearts clings to the hope of seeing one’s love, would they learn that they were not to see each other that day.
Singha would spend years carrying this love for Mituna wondering why she did not at least keep her promise. Even during their class reunion, Singha was kind of hoping to at least see her there and be happy for her if she had a family of her own. One day, while doing work with the indigenous communities in the mountains, Singha chances upon Mituna’s mother. Singha learns that Mituna is gravely ill. Okay, remember when I said that God was a bit harsh on Singha and Mituna a paragraph ago? Take that as an understatement.

That fateful day when they had promised to meet each other, something happened to Mituna; something that I commend the writer for not showing and just merely suggesting. I don’t think I have the heart to see that.

When Singha finally gets to see her, he realizes how gravely ill she really is. By this time, the movie hits you with a realization why it chose Friendship as a title. As much as we know there is a story of youthful romantic love, what moves one’s heart is the enduring power a deeper love has in their lives; and that is their Friendship. Don’t get confused on that one. You have to see the movie to really appreciate that amidst all that falling in love they built a great relationship between themselves for simply being genuine. I think some writers lose that kind of dynamic in order to come out with commercially viable romances. I don’t know if I’m communicating this properly, or if I’m speaking in tongues by this point. But maybe I’ll get back to this post sometime later and find my words.

There’s beauty in sadness as one friend of mine articulated. And I have a penchant for watching movies that portray this not just because I’m Asian [not many Filipinos would want to admit they are Asian though] and that is expected of me to understand but also because the barefoot baklesa is such a sap and he’d much rather have a good cry. Hahahaha!!!

Go and watch it if you want to have a good cry.

Reposting: The Barefoot Baklesa's Three Mushroom and Grilled Eggplant Pasta

2011-06-03T09:09:00.001+08:00

I decided to start a recipe series since The Barefoot Baklesa was actually cooking lasagna barefoot when his dear friend, Sandro Lopa, called him The Barefoot Baklesa for the very first time. It was a few days to Halloween back in 2006 when that came to be... And just this evening, I experimented on something that deserves to be the first recipe to post.

The Barefoot Baklesa's Three Mushroom and Grilled Eggplant Pasta
[serves 3 to 4 very hungry people]
You will need:

250 grams button mushrooms, sliced
250 grams straw mushrooms, quartered
200 grams dried shitake mushrooms, rinsed twice and soaked in distilled water for at least one hour, rinsed a third time and soaked again in distilled water
two medium sized garlic bulbs, crushed and minced
4 large eggplants, whole
1 heaping teaspoon dried basil leaves, if fresh ones are available, then substitute 1/4 cup minced
1 and 1/2 cups of either vegetable, chicken, or beef broth -fairly concentrated. if not available, dissolve one instant broth cube in a cup and a half of hot water
4-5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons tomato paste [optional]
2 tablespoons Balsamic Vinegar
Worcestershire Sauce
crushed red pepper flakes
500 grams cooked pasta in flavored pasta brodo, Barefoot Baklesa Style
salt, sugar, and pepper to taste
Grated Parmesan Cheese

1. Preparing the Eggplants
With a steel tong, take the eggplants and grill them directly above an open flame -the stove is best if you're in a rush, keep a good watch and turn them constantly. once most of the skin is singed to black and the eggplants are soft, take them off the flame and place them in a large container and cover with plastic cling wrap and let them steam for a few minutes. after they have steamed, take a clean damp kitchen towel or paper towel and run the eggplants against it -this will peel of the singed skin cleanly, if not automatically. chop the eggplants into half inch cubes then set aside.

Pasta Brodo, Barefoot Baklesa Style
in a pasta cooking pot, add the proper measure of water to cook your pasta, 1 laurel leaf, a pinch of dried basil leaves, 1 whole broth cube, a few teaspoons of salt -or subsitute liquid amino salts if you're watching your salt intake, a few drops of Worcestershire sauce, and a few teaspoons vegetable oil to prevent the pasta from sticking. allow to boil and cook pasta the usual way.

TIMING IS VERY IMPORTANT FOR THIS RECIPE, sautee only when the water is boiling and you have just put the pasta in to cook.

2. In a deep non-stick pan or skillet heat 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, flavor the heated oil by sprinkling a dash of crushed red pepper flakes and allow to fry for a while; add garlic and sautee in medium heat until golden -take great care not to burn the garlic.

add in the basil leaves and allow to cook a little before adding the shitake mushrooms, the straw mushrooms, and the button mushrooms, allowing some time for each type of mushroom to cook. sautee for another minute or so after all the mushrooms are in the pan. shake in some Worchestershire sauce, salt, and pepper to taste.

Remember, other than the varieties of mushrooms with a woodsy flavor like the shitake or porccino, most farm cultivated mushrooms are bland and in some cases lightly sweet. thus they require some flavoring from the garlic and spices.

3. After that, add in the chopped grilled eggplants and your choice of broth and the 3 tablespoons tomato paste, bring to a boil and allow to simmer in medium heat for about 3-5 minutes. you will notice the sauce thicken due to the grilled eggplant breaking down during the cooking period. add the balsamic vinegar and allow to boil and simmer once again before stirring.

The tomato paste enhances the basil in the sauce while the balsamic vinegar balances the woodsy flavor of the mushrooms. you can add sugar upon what your taste requires.

4. By this time, the pasta will be cooked al dente. Drain the pasta using tongs or a kitchen spider, do not rinse, and mix them in with the sauce -don't worry about some of the pasta water going into your sauce -it's also flavored anyway.

5. Plate and top with grated Parmesan cheese and crushed red pepper flakes.

I also discovered cream cheese goes well with this when still warm... hehehehe!!!

I do hope you enjoyed my first in The Barefoot Baklesa Cooks Series

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

The Mary Month of May

2011-05-31T04:55:00.000+08:00

In the Philippines, the month of May is always associated with three things: the start of the rainy season, the month of fiesta celebrations, and the devotion to the Holy Cross and the Flores de Mayo.

Superstition has it that it always rains on May 1st which is celebrated as the feast of Saint Joseph the Worker coinciding with the secular holiday: National Labor Day. They used to call the first showers 'Primera Lluvia de Mayo' [the First rain of May]. People would save the rainwater from that day and have it blessed to be used as holy water, believed to have healing properties.

Then come May 3rd, the feast of the Holy Cross commemorates the finding of the true cross by the Empress Helena, mother of Constantine the Great. From hence, all over the country, for the remainder of the month, chapels and churches would be filled with the sound of prayers and hymns to the Blessed Virgin Mary as children offer her flowers every late afternoon in a ritual they call Flores de Mayo. While in some communities, a wooden cross is moved from house to house by little girls or young ladies until it reaches the house of the one chosen to be the Reyna Elena for the Santa Cruzan or Sagala, the annual promenade of little girls and young ladies dressed in the finest gowns paraded with arches decorated with flowers in commemoration of the Pilgrimage to find the true cross.

Actually, the Santa Cruzan and the Flores de Mayo are two different things: The Flores de Mayo is an act of devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary culminating with a procession at the end of the month; while the Santa Cruzan started out as a pageant of sorts to showcase the eligible young women as they represent characters in the christian legend. But somehow, in the last thirty years, the two have merged into one unique hodgepodge of an event. The titles of the Virgin Mary like Rosa Mystica [Mystic Rose] or Reyna de las Estrellas [Queen of the Stars] is mixed with Characters like Reyna Banderada [the Motherland], Infanta Judith [the biblical Judith with a severed head], Reyna Elena [Empress Helena] and in some towns, Cleopatra -which i have seen reclining on a palanquin.

Celebrated Cultural writer Gilda Cordero Fernando could not contain her amusement when once shown photographs and regaled with the often incongruous line-ups of the Santa Cruzan or Sagalas of late. But she is forgiving in saying, "Hayaan mo na, it's sooo Folk eh." [Leave it be, It's so Folk].

Folk indeed, as I myself often could not make heads or tails of it yet find it uniquely Filipino. Some people find the Santa Cruzan irrelevant nowadays; a remnant of bygone era that has been consumed by displays of vanity and fundraising activities. But in some towns, they still cling to it, as tool of faith and the retelling of one dramatic chapter in the story of Christianity -and that to me, is better than showbiz celebrities paraded about town upstaging the Blessed Mother and the lessons of early Christian legend. Here's to that, and to the Blessed Virgin Mary.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

the barefootbaklesa reviews: Virgin Snow [Hatsuyuki No Koi]

2011-05-25T22:00:00.000+08:00

Watched this movie again the other day, just wanna share this one more time...

The Barefoot Baklesa Movie Review: Virgin Snow [Hatsuyuki no koi]
Direction: Han Sang-hee
Story and Screenplay: Han Sang-hee and Ban Kazuhiko
Release Date: November 2007

How long are you willing to wait for the one you love? How long can you keep a promise to the one you love? How long can you hold on to the hope that you and your love will find your way to each other again? In the cinematic style that I have come to expect of the Japanese slash Korean wave of films that I have seen these past few years, Virgin Snow presents a unique and well proportioned blend of plot elements that make up a romantic love story that defines the blossoming of a youthful love in places where the old and the new keep their fragile balance cradling the precious hope that love brings with it. [I have learned that there’s an alternative translation to the title in English, The First Snow of Love; more poetic, I think…]

The film begins when Kim Min [played by Korean actor Lee Joon-ki or Lee Jun-ki or Lee Jun-gi if you’re particular about spelling and phonemics] moves to Japan from Korea to follow his father who is a potter and ceramics artist by trade. While going around the city of Kyoto in his bike, Kim Min gets into an accident with a monk also riding a bike. He finds his way to a shrine, and at the ritual purification area [the way I see it, some sort of well or fountain where you wash up before you come into a sacred place], he meets a girl named Nanae [played by Japanese actress Miyasaki Aoi] who helps him tend to that scratch he got on his elbow. Nanae realizes that Min is not Japanese and guides him around the temple complex.

They come upon an Omikoji tree which peaks Min’s curiosity. He learns that an Omikoji tree is part of a fortune-telling tradition with the Japanese. You take your fortune, which you get in the form of a sheet of paper, and you tie it to the Omikoji tree if it reads bad luck; and if it says good luck, you keep it. Nanae tells Min that his fortune says lucky so he keeps it.
Right from the start, you see that these ancient practices are still alive and well in a place as modern and fast-changing as Japan. I mean, from the monk in a bicycle and a peaceful shrine where time seems to have stood still in the midst of the city, the writer could have chosen to place these characters elsewhere to have met for the first time; but this is where that factor of the ancient ways in a modern world comes into play.

You’re going to love Min as he struggles at being the new Korean guy at school, and you’re going to love him more when he tries to win the heart of Nanae [who also studies at the same high school] which starts out with rather disastrous results.
Indulge this blow-by-blow, if you please: On his way out from his first day at his new school, Min runs after Nanae and catches her by the bridge. Unfortunately, his bike accidentally knocks-off her painting case from her hands and it falls into the stream below. Kim jumps over the bridge to get it but fails to realize that the stream is quite shallow and ends up a bit hurt. And as he victoriously raises the painting case in the air, its contents all drop into the water.

But before I reveal too much [which I often tend to do when I do these movie review posts], allow me to just skip a few things so I don’t get too excited with all the sweet things he does and turn an eye towards objectivity.
Not long ago, I saw this Japanese animated film called Millennium Actress; and the film had quite a premise that said “love is a burden, and often a curse” [non-verbatim, but that’s pretty much the point]. And I realized how this governs the many love stories I have seen of recent vintage from the Japanese. It’s an observation rooted to certain philosophical musings that have been brought to my attention by my friend who studies Japanese philosophy. And as much as I want to veer away from being too profound with such a simple love story, you tend to realize that it is far from simple.
As the story rolls along, Min and Nanae’s love seems to have been built around these ancient practices like the Omikoji tree and the memory books, as well as superstitious urban legends passed on about lovers destined to part if they go to certain places, down to the charm/talisman that Nanae gives Min at the festival, and the promise to meet at a certain place in Korea by the first snowfall to seal their love with that magic or luck that goes with it.

And as their joy is cut abruptly by their untimely separation, Min’s promise to Nanae that he will learn to make fine porcelain for Nanae to paint on seems to have been lost. For when Min returns from Korea to visit his ailing grandmother, he finds out that Nanae has moved out of their home and is nowhere to be found. The seasons would change for these lovers lost to each other more than once until they find one another again. But as season’s change, so do some hearts; and the love they bear lost to the pain the heart feels.
Still, the journey of their love seems far from over. And by journey, you’re literally taken from Japan to Korea and back, but you’re also given this sense of completion –if you could call it that- when Min realizes that all he had to do was keep his simple promise.
If you see the way this movie ends, you’re going to want to watch it all over again and come up with the realization that the wait was all worth it, that some promises are worth keeping, and that if you hold on to your hope, your love will find you where you’ve always waited for him at the first fall of snow.

Sifted from the Rolling Mist in My Mind

2011-05-20T19:09:00.004+08:00

Hello World, The Barefoot Baklesa is back.

The Barefoot Baklesa blog has been experiencing its nth blog post drought since early this year. It's part busy, part procrastination, part hit-and-miss. He has many a draft for blog posts saved that never made it online. Although his goal has never been about an overwhelming number of blog posts, nor online popularity, nor about an overwhelming amount of readers, he does enjoy the dynamics of the blog phenomenon.

But of recent vintage, the Barefoot Baklesa felt as if blogging has lost its gloss. He never bothered to review anything he's seen in film or television recently, nor has he voiced his disapproval of what is being served at the places to dine around town, nor does he feel like being political with all this RH Bill hullabaloo. The most activity he's made an effort of is uploading photographs to his Flickr and Facebook accounts; the latter enjoying the added status updates more than the blog.

The Barefoot Baklesa is currently on an extended stay in Panay Island, letting the summer pass, some afternoons less productive than others with the book he is currently developing. Taking out his processional image for Holy Week, attending social functions, hanging out with friends until the wee hours of the morning, are among the many things he's been occupied with.

But for now, he has these things to say. They are short, but they make up for lost time -sifted from the swirling mist in his head.

1. Never allow people to fool, abuse, and make you feel any less than the wonderful individual you are more than twice.

2. Abuse comes in many forms, learn to acknowledge it actually happening and never allow yourself to be blinded by your compassion, understanding, or even love for someone who takes advantage of you.

3. Your inner child knows if you are happy or not. Yet maturity teaches you to quell the inner child to be practical, to say the least.

4. Forgiveness is one thing, but to expect things to be the same as before is another.

5. Blood may be thicker than water but the meat stays when blood finally dries out. An absurd thought, if you thing about it when the saying should apply.

6. Once you say someone is “Dead to me”, stick by it. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Christ has ascended into heaven and it's been two thousand years since Lazarus was raised from the dead; you're not one to waste resurrection on the undeserved.

7. Never sit idly by when you know someone is abusing a child. This is why sexual predators -some of them family members, get away with it. Take it from someone who knows, you would not want that baggage when you are older.

8. Never judge anyone's life choices against your own. You can have an opinion about it but if you're not willing to live their life then you better let them be. No matter your disgust, the best you can do is let them live the consequences.

9. If you make a living taking advantage of others, at least have the decency never to do it to your kin. To pull one under a close relative is just plain despicable.

10. To behave like nothing happened when one has been seriously wronged is to say that it is okay to be treated thus.

11. Social climbers can be amusing company, entertaining at best. But never make the mistake of calling their pretensions to their face. You might end up losing your next topic for gossip. It's their choice anyway.

12. Read a few pages of a book every night before you go to bed and stimulate your mind. Never allow your mind to drift to sleep with useless television. You might end up blaming Willie Revillame in your old age for your Alzheimer's.

13. Learn to differentiate Art from crap.

14. If you must make a spectacle of yourself, never display bad taste in your homes, there's only so much your guests can take. [Hahahahaha!!!]

15. Less is more. Just because you wear more than a few carats, does not immediately mean you'll make it to society -in the 19th century sense.

16. Sincerity is the hardest to fake. If you can't be yet you pretend to do so, people will see through it.

17. However, there are others who are just oblivious to their own masquerade.

18. From Lady Bracknell, “Never speak ill of society. Only those who can not get into it do that.”

19. The act of Generosity is marred by one's selfish desire to be acknowledged publicly for what should be a modest act.

20. When it's time for some people to go, some people will never leave without having the last say. Beware the rumors they spread blaming you for their personal misery -most of the time, of their own making.

21. Learn to be ahead of those who you know are capable of pulling the rug from under you.

22. Appreciation for the simplest things people do, goes a long way. Don't fail to let these good people know how much you appreciate their deeds and words.

23. You can protest all you want, and wax poetics on what there is lacking in this world but if you stay in your ivory towers still, then you are no better than those whom you protest.

24. Listen to the Jesuits, their brand of wisdom has done them good.

25. Understand first how the simpleton looks at life rather than impose your superior life view.

26. Copycats are the worst, they always say theirs is better but there really is no point in comparison. Let the work speak for itself.

27. Just because someone is a licensed career professional, say a doctor, does not mean they are above anyone else. The humble laborer is as important as the delusionally entitled.

28. Speaking of entitlement. The next great human failing next to hipocrisy is a “Bloated Sense of Entitlement” -some people may think that because they are of a certain profession, of a certain family, or even religion they are immediately entitled to a lot of things.

29. If a person is an acquired taste, then let them realize their flavor.

30. Rain may wash away the dirt for a while, but it does dry to be dirtied anew.

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Raving about PERFUME, brace yourselves...

2011-05-11T02:30:00.000+08:00

-This is a repost of an old review I had done some years back... I reckon it's worth the reading.

PERFUME [the story of a murderer]

I have more than once before encountered copies of PERFUME during my usual dvd hunting trips in quiapo but never bothered to purchase one. Even with a recommendation to do so, I never did. And so, last Saturday, with no new find other than a dvd of Ian Mckellen playing King Lear, I gave in. And what a purchase it turned out to be.

PERFUME is the story of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, a man gifted with an extraordinary sense of smell bordering on the superhuman. The consequences of his birth on the most putrid spot in 1728 Paris, under his mother's fish stand, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was left to be shovelled away as dirt -with the fish guts and filth- for coming out stillborn, he was thought to be dead.

But then, Grenouille breathed his first, followed by a cry which led to his discovery. Thus the very breath and cry that first came out of him, sent his mother to be hanged. [come to think of it, Picasso was stillborn, for 5 minutes laid out on the kitchen table until his uncle decided to blow in tobacco smoke into his mouth and the baby Picasso coughed. Five minutes of death equated to an artistic gift...hmmmm...]

Moving on... This pattern of death would follow those that would let Grenouille go or those that would abandon him in the years that came to pass - was what i would say be- the scourge of his leaving. Growing up in Madame Gaillard's Orphanage, he never learned to speak until years later as there were no words for the olfactory experiences he began discover of this world through his divine gift.

By the age of 13, Madame Gaillard sells him to a tanner named Grimal, and she was to meet her end later for the ten francs she had earned would soon mean her death on the hands of robbers.

Surviving Grimal's tannery in the years that came, one fateful trip to the heart of Paris would change his life forever.

His first ever expedition from the tannery, the only world he had known for years, into the heart of the city intoxicated him as he breathed. And in doing so, his feet led him to Pelissier's perfume shop, and from the window outside he was able to smell the latest craze in perfumes; a scent named 'amor and psyche'. Mind you, I have never seen the streets of Baroque Paris portrayed this way on film. Capturing the contrasts and movement of light and darkness, the well-to-do and those that have none, and Grenouille against the backdrop was an engaging cinematic sight.

Then, by the corner,another scent overpowers him. He never knew much of the concept of beauty but he followed its scent. And this led him to follow a young woman, a fruit seller, that in pacifying her for screaming due to having surprised her, he ended up suffocating her. [familiar though to the idea holding a bird in thine hand never wanting to let go, ergo one ends up killing it.] His lack of experience in the other complexities of the human person, seems for us a mirror in cinema of the time we encounter loss as a child and live with the consequences of this deprivation in our adult years.

As he tried so hard to hang on to the fading scent of this dead young woman, by his hands, he tried to hold on to it. But as she is dead, the scent of beauty and life that was there once before, was gone. Thus begins his obsession with "capturing the scent of things to reprise it forever"

One is not surprised with his lack of remorse, having known the world differently. He returns to the tannery to be beaten by Grimal, a timely punishment for wandering off...

And as fate would have it, he meets Baldini, a perfumer who is past his prime and has seen better years [ brilliantly played by Dustin Hoffman ], during another delivery. To Baldini did he exhibit his gift by recreating the rival Pelissier's perfume 'amor and psyche' and made an even better one.

Here we are treated to the unconventional skill he displays. Mostly letting his nose lead him from shelf to shelf and mixing chemical after chemical. And it was a foreshadowing of how his naive notions and instinct would come into play.

Baldini purchases him from Grimal for fifty francs, and in doing so Grimal would meet the fate of Grenouille's mother and madame gaillard: death.

In Baldini's care, Grenouille learned the perfumer's craft. He resurrected his master's business to its former glory, even surpassing it. Baldini then utters the definitive master to apprentice lecture: "Because talent means next to nothing while experience acquired in humility and hard work means everything."

In this world of frauds and posseurs, this reverberates to the talented few, who not only have to contend with the fakers out there, but also take heed of the relationship between 'present mediocrity versus absent genius'. A true apprentice indeed must take nothing with him but leave learning enough with
the resolve to do much learning.

Peaking my interest aside from the beautifully detailed perfume shop and laboratory with apothecary jars, flasks, and vessels filled with wondrous things; the movie introduces the idea that every perfume is composed of 12 essences
of notes, 4 of such assigned to one
of 3 Chords; namely the head chord [a perfume's first impression that lasts a few minutes], the heart chord [the theme of the perfume that lasts for hours], and the base chord[the perfume's trail that lasts for days]. Knowing the right combination of notes and chords and their harmony results in a good perfume. Then Baldini speaks of a legendary 13th note that if added would supposedly produce the perfect perfume. This elusive 13th ingredient would be in Grenouille's thoughts...

But distilling essential oils from flowers and herbs did not meet with Grenouille's desire to capture 'the scent of all things'. And in his ignorance, he tried to distill scent from glass, copper, and a cat [yes, a cat...a cute one at that.] to find out it can never be. One does begin to pity Grenouille for the combination of innocence and ignorance he displays. The very nature of his gift evidently ostracizes him from absorbing certain realities and he himself unconsciously builds a dangerous wall.

He grows sick upon the disappointment to the point of near death. But Baldini gives him hope when the physician could give none; in a place called Grasse, he can learn the elusive art of Enflourage -another way to capture scent. And he miraculously recovers. Leaving his old master with a hundred new formulas for perfumes so his business won't go the way it did before, he journeys to Grasse. And as one would expect, Baldini would never again awake in this life.

Grenouille's journey to Grasse, reveals more to him, as his own scent leaves him. Imagine how tragic that is, having that extraordinary sense of smell but being without any scent of your own. There I mark, he saw himself dead... And the perfect perfume would undo this, would give him life, the life of which he knew he was deprived of.

I found the cinematographic treatment of this film to be such a visual feast. As Paris had a very dark and worn out texture, Grasse -i take it- was golden sunshine in a bottle. And the fields of lavender and jasmine...oh my...

Also, there is much to be said about how they treat the very concept of scent in this movie. It has a visual quality unto itself that you seem to be able to smell what you see.

There in Grasse, he learned Enflourage, and became the skill of use for his odyssey into calculated murder. And the city bathed in light and colored by the very flowers of its industry, was soon to be swalled by the shadows as one young woman after another -each with her own beauty- met their scented end in the hands of Grenouille. Their essence collected and served as a note to complete 12. Fear and Paranoia sets into Grasse by the first few dead girls. And with a manhunt for a killer, Grenouille remains uncaught...and twelve women for twelve notes to make up the chords found their way into vials.

But the legendary 13th note, in his quest for the perfect perfume, he reserved for a girl named Laura -whilst the others have been but essential notes, Laura would top them all, for he loved her [and freakishly reminded him of the first scent that he could not keep: the fruitseller's, the first one he killed]. But that proved to be his undoing. For in killing Laura, the wrath of her father [played by Alan Rickman a.k.a. Professor Snape] would fall upon him and he is hunted down. And as he was mixing his chords, by the time he finished adding the 13th note, finally with the vial of his perfect perfume, he is caught.

Hanging onto it for dear life, he was able to keep his perfect perfume and while incarcirated, he thought of how to reveal it to the world.

With his execution looming over him, in the flair of the baroque, Grenouille takes the stage so to speak and reveals the perfect perfume...a scent so powerful it topples sanity, reason, and the very fibre of morality. For this was no perfume made from some flora, this was made of the same stuff we are all made of...madenning, isn't it?

I shant give away the ending; and like the 13th note, it shall remain elusive. But i daresay, PERFUME is one great movie you should see.

Fascinating Filipino Fare

2011-05-03T17:34:00.000+08:00

My Mother's side of the family has been known for serving a good table at any occasion. Well, it did not hurt that my abuela Aurelia owned and operated a restaurant for over fifty years. I remember taking my vacation at San Jose de Buenavista in the Province of Antique as a child, and before first light, the household would already be active to prepare the day's menu.

Unlike the more western concept of what a usual restaurant set-up is, which requires food to be cooked as you order, the average hometown restaurant in early 1950s Philippines had a set menu that was cooked in mass quantities everyday and displayed inside a glass 'escaparate' or display cabinet for people to choose from. By 10:30 to about 11:00am, the viands prepared or cooked in sauces like Menudo [porked stewed with vegetables in tomato sauce], Caldereta [often spicy meat stew], and Callos [tripe stew with garbanzos, poatoes, and bell peppers] need to be displayed at the escaparete and the soup based ones like the sour soup Sinigang -still piping hot- are ladled straight from their cooking pots. Customers would arrive and take a look at the escaparate and would point to what they wish to be served; perhaps the root of the term Filipino term turo-turo -the word turo literally meaning 'point at'- which is a common name for the local eateries of late.

Ihe images contained in this post were taken during the fiesta celebration at Balay de los Reyes last May 1st. My Abuela's restaurant has ceased operations since 2003, but when we can, we cook the food that she was known to have served and served best. With the many changes that have transpired through the years, the Barefoot Baklesa is thankful that the only constant thing is the food we have learned to cook and serve. And thank God for Nanay Elsie for keeping the recipes alive.

Food has always been a universal thread in all human contact. A guest is served the best cut of meat, the family's best dish, or is treated to a local specialty when he arrives. The Filipino and Thai people are best known for their hospitality, mentioned more than one foreigner to the Barefoot Baklesa. A telltale sign that we have not totally lost our openness as a people -a trait often misconstrued as a failure by some critics of Filipino lapses in judgment. But to hell with that, says the Barefoot Baklesa -we are here to celebrate he best of the Filipino, aren't we?

The Barefoot Baklesa would like to take a closer look at Pinoy food culture the many facets that made it the way it is, thus expect some more cuisine culture related posts soon.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Easter is Hope

2011-04-25T22:38:00.001+08:00

The Barefoot Baklesa always had an opinion about a certain solitary image of a female saint in my mother's hometown that doesn't join the Easter Sunday morning procession and ritual called the Salubong, or locally known in Kinaray-a as Sugat. For the non-Filipino reader,the Sugat or Salubong is a uniquely Filipino practice that re-enacts the meeting of the Resurrected Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary from certain apocryphal traditions. It's an outdoor activity that happens before first light of Easter morn, when children dressed as angels sing the story of Easter, highlighted by the meeting of the images of the Virgin Mary and the Risen Christ, the former removed of her black veil of mourning and crowned gloriously. My point rather, after over-explaining again, is that the procession of Easter morning is probably the most important of the holy week processions -and to miss it, would defeat the point of why we celebrated Lent in the first place. Now, in some towns, they don't really require the solitary images to come out for the Salubong, but not in my Mother's hometown.

There's something magical about waiting for the sun to rise on Easter Morning, and I would not miss it for anything. While the rest of Gay-dom have been baking in the sun at Boracay and the hedonistic capital of Gay Philippines called Puerto Galera, the Barefoot Baklesa chooses to spend his Easter differently. Hehehehehe!!!

As we had our family breakfast after taking home Saint Mary of Bethany from the church, we felt Easter in the smiles and raucous laughter that rang through the house. My grandmother, turning 94 in a few days, had the best smile in the house; and that was worth more than any beach retreat.

A Blessed Easter unto you all!!!

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Paths To Take

2011-04-21T20:01:00.002+08:00

It's Holy Week once again, and I have arrived at my ancestral Province of Antique last Holy Tuesday. While a majority of us are looking forward to the vacation that has been associated with Holy Week nowadays -counting everyone who can make the journey scampering to Boracay, Galera, or Subic, there are some of us who are busy with our obligations to the church. Especially those who are responsible for taking out the processional images for the Holy Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday Processions. It's not easy, but it's a fulfilling activity for me. Here's hoping this year's Holy Processions run smoothly.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Okuribito [Departures], the Barefoot Baklesa Review

2011-04-16T23:58:00.001+08:00

This being the first movie review I have for 2011, the Barefoot Baklesa has found it quite fitting that he should discuss "Departures" [the irony there is so obvious it will hit you an Alanis Morisette cover].

Winner for Best Foreign Language Film at the 2009 Oscars, "Okuribito" or Departures was Japan's entry that won over a hundred or so other entries. Of course, my personal bet, Thailand's "The Love of Siam" never even made it to the top four as well as that Filipino entry -the title of which escapes me.

"Okuribito" [Departures] is a cinematic journey of a man whose dreams never came to fruition and how he was thrust upon a path that the fates somehow made him destined to take. Now, some of you might actually go, "Oh, choice that's supposed to be life-altering turns out to be the hand of fate -that's soooo Asian cliche", but I guess one has to have a certain understanding of the current zeitgeist of Japanese cinema to have an appreciation for them; and "Departures" seems to be a good movie to start with.

Kobayashi Daigo, a cello player finally lands a spot in an orchestra only to have his career as a professional musician cut short when the orchestra owner decides to disband them. Out of options, he decides to sell his newly acquired top of the line cello and asks his wife, Mika, to move to the house his late mother left him in the country hoping to start anew.

Daigo and Mika start their new life in the country just as fall gives way to winter -kind of fitting if you ask me. Looking for work, Daigo chances upon a newspaper ad for a job description that says "helping out journeys". Assuming that it was for a travel agency, Daigo applies for the job at the NK company only to realize that NK stood for NouKan which translates to "Encoffining". Just like that, the hand of fate deals him a misprint that should have said "to help with peaceful departures", he finds himself taking the job with the Boss' persuasion to give it a shot because fate might have led him there.

Now, I am about to go on here like I usually do, so be prepared:

As you watch the movie, you are drawn into this world of silent ritual that defines the act of "Encoffining". It did not seem in any way romanticized but the importance given it by the imagery presented in the film did not feel like a demonstration video or documentary but they give the act of the Encoffiner the credit and dignity it deserves. For the stigma that goes with working with the dead is the same in this culture as it is theirs [We've heard many a joke cracked about the embalmer that bathes in formalin and looks like the living dead in this country].

The job of the Encoffiner is to cleanse, dress, and put make-up on the deceased before they are encased in the coffin for cremation. They take great care in ensuring that the dignity of the dead are kept intact by not allowing the skin to show as they are cleansed and dressed in traditional robes for their final journey; a job originally done by the family of the deceased, the Encoffiner appeared as an alternative to doing it themselves in their moment of grief. And like many things done with ceremonial respect in Japan, this is one to pay attention to.

The act, or call it art of Encoffining itself throughout the film tells its own story as it is woven with Daigo's own troubles of having to deal with the stigma of being labelled "filthy", hitting close to home when his own wife leaves him after discovering the true nature of his work which he had kept from the start, feeling like he must pay for missing his mother's own funeral by experiencing funerals over and over, and bearing the baggage of having been abandoned by his father when he was a boy. Thinking about it now, Daigo seems like a game board peace that stepped on a game square that said "back to square one" midway. With the Boss Encoffiner as sensei [teacher/master] is this enigmatic character that works with the dead, he teaches Daigo a different view of death and life with his own gritty humor that the living should eat well and that the living really do have to eat off the dead. Morbid, I know...yet you gotta watch him to understand.

And if music does fuel a part of the soul, the music in this film stirs mine to such effect that as the seasons sweep to their cinematic pace, I felt some out of body experience as I just let myself take everything the movie throws my way. The movie has ways of making you shed your pre-conceptions about it. For as there is this Zen philosophical statement looming over it, it is never presented in a brutal in-your-face-lecturing-you manner but in small revelations that make you go "Aaaahhhhh..."

The thing I take from this movie as the final credits roll, is that in our immortal soul's journey, we must acquire happiness in their forms tangible and intangible, cling to them, and must give them more weight and value no matter how small or brief they may be. For in our departure, grief is inevitable, but there are many other things to celebrate in this existence and the next.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Melts Your Heart: Oh To Be Young and In-Love

2011-04-05T03:32:00.003+08:00

I must say, this is probably the best McDonald's commercial I have seen in like ever!!! They hit the proverbial advertising nail on this one. Now part of me wants a boy and boy version of this.... [sniggers at a corner]

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Moments Like These: A Quote and a Song

2011-04-05T00:01:00.002+08:00

Here's a little something from a century ago that we as artists keep forgetting in our quest to please and sell:

"My attitude toward all this is that a true artist who believes in his art and his mission must necessarily be altogether insensible to praise or blame. If he is not a mere sham, he cannot be disturbed by any caricature or exaggeration. He has the truth on his side. And the opinion of the whole world should be of no consequence to him."

~Oscar Wilde

to which I add this video from the musical Title of Show called Die Vampire Die! It's a song I go back to when I am consumed about certains doubts I have about the endeavors i undertake.

just look at the lyrics:

Die Vampire Die!

Susan:
There are some people in the world who say that writing stories,
or composing music or dancing sparkly dances is easy for them.
Nothing interferes with their ability to create.
While I celebrate their creative freedom,
a little part of me just wants to punch those motherfuckers in the teeth.
This song, I sing this song for you guys and for all the rest of us. Help me out y’all
Backup:
We’ll sing backup
Susan:
You have a story to tell, a novel you keep in a drawer.
Backup:
Old sock drawer!
Susan:
You have a painting to paint, but you lazy like an old French whore
Backup:
Je suis whore
Susan:
You have a movie to make, Shrinky Dinks you can bake
but you best grab a stake, cause,
in sweep the vampires, in creep the vampires, knee deep in vampires,
Filling you with doubt. Insecurity, ‘bout what you art should be
in sweep the vampires
All:
Die vampire
Susan:
You sketched that turtle you saw in an ad on late-night cable TV
Backup:
Tippy Turtle!
Susan:
But your fourth grade teacher said
Female Backup:
You can’t draw
Susan:
Aww, those vampires just won’t let you be
Backup:
Fuck you Ms. Johnson, Word!
Susan:
And when they come run like hell, see those bats in your belfry, then call on Van Helsing.
Susan:
In swoosh
Backup:
Ooh, the vampires
Susan:
in a whoosh
Backup:
ooh, the vampires,
Susan:
Babaganoosh
Backup:
ooh, all the vampires
Susan:
Filling you with thoughts of
Backup:
Self consciousness
Susan:
Feelings of
Backup:
Worthlessness
Susan:
They’ll make you
Backup:
Second guess
Die vam-
All:
-pire!
There are so many vampires, inside, outside, and nationwide,
it helps to recognize them with this vampire hunting guide!
Listen closely,
a vampire is any person or thought or feeling
that stands between you and your creative self expression,
but they can assume many seductive forms.
Here’s a few of them!
Backup:
Tell us Susan!
Susan:
First up are you pigmy vampires.
They’ll swarm around you head like gnats and say things like:
Male Backup:
Your teeth need whitening
Female Backup:
You went to state school?
Male Backup:
You sound weird
All:
Shakespeare, Sondheim, Sedaris
Susan:
Did it before you and better than you, or they might say that you cannot
sing good enough to be in a musical, or they might say:
Backup:
Ooh, your song’s derivative,
Ooh, your song’s derivative,
Ooh, your song’s derivative,

Susan:
To keep that song from you! Just tell them:
Backup:
Die vampire, die!
Susan:
Brothers and sisters, next up is the air freshener vampire,
she might look like you mama, or your old fat-ass, fat aunt Fanny.
She smells something unpleasant in what you’re creating.
She’ll urge you to:
Backup:
(Spraying sound)
Susan:
It with some pine fresh smell ’em ups.
The air freshener vampire doesn’t want you to write about
Backup:
bad language, blood, or blow jobs
Susan:
She wants you to clean it up and clean it out.
Which will leave your work toothless, gutless, and crotchless
but, you’ll be left with two tight paragraphs,
All kittens that your grandma would be so proud of.
You look at that air freshener vampire in her fat ass, fat old fuckin’ face and you say
All:
Morte Vampir Morte
Susan:
The last vampire is the mother of all vampires and that is the vampire of despair.
It’ll wake you up at 4am to say things like:
Backup:
Who do you think you’re kidding?
You look like a fool.
No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be good enough
Susan:
Why is it that if some dude walked up to me on the subway platform
and said these things, I’d think he was a mentally ill asshole,
but if the vampire inside my head says it,
It’s the voice of reason.
Backup:
You have a story to tell, pull your novel out of that sock drawer!
You have a painting to paint, you best paint it and then paint some more!

Susan:
Oh baby, you must escape and grab it by the nape of its neck, by the trachea
fuckin’ break it, go on drive a stake in,
Yeah there’s no mistaking, now you’re shake and bakin’
All:
Die, vampire
I said, “Die, vampire”
I said, “Now die vam-pi-re, die!”
All:
In fly the vampires, oh my the vampires, then die the vampires,
filling you with life, creativity, all that you heart should be, out go the vampires
Die vampire, die vampire, die vampire, die!

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Engaging The Niki de los Reyes-Torres Carroza Challenge 2011

2011-04-03T23:16:00.002+08:00

It's that time of the Roman Catholic Liturgical Year once again, fellow barefoot walkers... I know I've been negligent about posting and maintaining this blog since the year began. Busy is the understatement of the year. It seems like since the first week of January, work and other stuff just piled up one after the other [didn't I say this somewhere before? or is it here?] with Theater Down South, Jesus Christ Superstar,and the book were trying to finish. And in the middle of all that, I find it weird that I had some time to procrastinate.

But, seeing as the Barefoot Baklesa often loves to make a public display of some of his projects, allow me to brag about this year's Carroza Challenge. Ever since I decided to join the Holy Week Processional Line-up at my ancestral province of Antique a few years back, I had always felt that it was going to be a work in progress, that a lot of things need some ironing out, if the words serve, what you would call what we had to in terms of the rebulto, the carroza, and the logistics of it all.

It's almost four years now since the first Niki de los Reyes-Torres Carroza challenge, an my cousins and I have been going at it, sometimes barely making it by the skins of our teeth. But I'm thankful for their help.

I would like to acknowledge someone who has been of great help to us lately especially with the repairs made to the visage of Santa Maria de Betania: a dear friend we fondly call Djaja.By leaps and bounds, Djaja can run ten circles among the Santeros and devotees of our generation. His collection of Marian and Lenten processional images, though noted for their beauty, are for him objects that reflect his true devotion and not as oversized dolls to be displayed ~which some other image owners, mostly homosexual, are guilty of by my observation.

This year's Carroza Challenge would not have been if not for Djaja's help in assuring that the image of Santa Maria de Betania would not return to Antique if it did not bear the visage it richly deserves. In the spirit of camp, the original rostro had to undergo a major major makeover complete with new hands and repainting. Also with Santa Maria de Betania was an image of Saint Joanna the wife of Chuza, which was originally a salvaged image of Our Lady of the Snows from Leyte that we had converted to Santa Juana de Cuza. Both are pictured within this posting. Thank you, Djaja!

And so, I leave you with this for now. I'll save my fangs for another post.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

the barefoot baklesa recommends: 'Jenny & Juno' [also a review]

2011-03-30T15:40:00.000+08:00

I like movies that, for at least a moment, make me forget that I’m such a jaded person for the most part of my conscious day. Trust me, I drift from being idealistic to being jaded by the hour each day -that’s just how the swirling mist in my head moves. I have not had the time to finish my review of the gay Korean movie “No Regrets” and here I am typing away for another movie: ‘Jenny and Juno’.

It’s a lazy start-of-summer afternoon for me and I just finished viewing ‘Jenny & Juno’ or ‘Jenny,Juno’ -the titular variations confuse me, really- and I feel all fuzzy inside. Right off the bat, this movie has earned a place in my heart as one of the best feel-good movies I have seen in years! Well, It doesn’t hurt that ‘Boy Meets Boy’ star Kim Hye-Sung plays the teenage boy named Juno who gets his girlfriend Jenny/Jae-in [played by the adorable Park Min-Ji] pregnant.

That’s right people, this movie is about teenage pregnancy. So why am I all giddy about a movie with such a serious premise to it? The movie treats upon the reality of how the average age of teenagers having sexual intercourse -and girls getting pregnant- are getting younger and younger these days; yet I found the way Jenny and Juno deal with this serious blow with the proper consideration for the value of human life through their innocent love for each other.

Jenny, an honor student and class president, falls for Juno, a newcomer to their school, who is quite a cool guy and enjoys a little fame as a champion cyber gamer. The movie starts when Jenny learns that she is pregnant and tells Juno. Things being a little to much to handle for Juno, he avoids Jenny for a while -as immature boys do- later to be reconciled with the resolve to keep the baby and face parenthood at a very young age. Juno does whatever he can to take care of Jenny: bringing her food at midnight, taking on a job to save some money, and making sure she has a healthy pregnancy. Determined to keep it a secret for as long as they can, Jenny & Juno eventually face the wrath of their disapproving parents when the pregnancy is finally revealed; with the adults having their own resolve to do what is necessary to keep them from ruining their young lives.

I know that the movie was written with the slant towards the unscarred heart and the unbound idealism of two young people in love, who are barely over being children themselves, now dealing with having a child of their own. But the most basic of things like “learning to live with the consequences of your actions” or “facing such tremendous odds head-on” are such simple things that young people ought to be reminded of.

On one hand, the movie is not without the ubiquitous requirements of a teen romance movie [you‘re going to enjoy these lovey-dovey sweet moments], yet I felt subliminally taught/reminded that abortion is wrong, that teenage pre-marital sex is not without its consequences, and that parents can only do so much for their child sometimes and they will still find it in their heart to love you either way. All that, without being preachy about it. Certain situations would seem unrealistic but you will learn to let it go of it as you watch because it’s quite a good movie: It had the right dose of idealism with the appropriate dose of reality. If I were a values education teacher, I’d certainly have my students watch this.

If you’re looking for a feel good movie for that lazy summer afternoon, then give ‘Jenny & Juno’ a chance to make you feel like you’re fifteen again, falling in love, and finding a rock to hit one’s self in the head with. I promise it will be worth your while.

So, check it out if you can. Here’s the link to the movie in
VEOH

A Call for Photographers/Contributions: Philippine Holy Week Images and Tableau Book Project

2011-03-30T02:26:00.003+08:00

For our Photographer Friends, Please pass it on to fellow photographers and enthusiasts

I enjoin everyone to become part the first of a groundbreaking series of books featuring the Philippine Sculptural Arts. Due to copyright lockout, we shant be giving away the title for now, yet to peak thy interest allow me to list down what you will expect of the first volume.

Volume One Features:

-The Local Iconographic Traditions of Philippine Holy Week Images.
-Extensive Research from Authoritative Sources, Christian Tradition, Records of the Saint's or Martyr's Passio, and the proper translation and study of the Roman Martyrology in relation the Saints that come out during Holy Week Processions.
-Features a study on the entanglement and confusion of identities and iconography related to Holy Week Images.
-An Socio-Anthropological Study on the introduction, integration, adaptation, and the continuing evolution of the Philippine Holy Week Processional Line-up.
-Featuring a chapter on the study of first century clothing and jewelry from the Biblical Lands.
-Featuring a study on popular local patterns for clothing the saints and their company
-Excursus and Essays on Rare Sculptural Pieces, Indigenous Interpretations, and more.
-A revolutionary layout for quick reference and study.
-Under the creative guidance of one of the country's leading names in Philippine Culture Publication
-A Catalog of Images of the Solitary Images and Tableau as seen in Philippine Processional Line-up.
-And some surprises for the Santo Enthusiast

What is our intention in putting this book together?

As much as there have been books published devoted to Roman Catholic/Ecclesiastical Art in the country including one that has even compromised the local Holy Week Processional Line-Up by misinterpreting data about the identity of a certain female saint -of which no proper research could be provided by author in question, we felt the need for a book that will truly serve as a reference and a guide for Santo Enthusiasts, Collectors, Students, Art Scholars, Image Owners, Confraternities, and those who share a love albeit an addiction for the Liturgical, Sculptural, and Theatrical Value of the Santo or the Poon in Holy Week Processions.

Our aim is to provide you a book with the appropriate scholarship in relation to the Proper Iconography as prescribed by the Traditions in Roman Catholic Art among other sources and the local interpretation of these in the Philippine setting. In that same mold, we also aim to catalog many examples of a particular solitary image or tableau to feature the seemingly infinite variety of religious images taken out at the climax of the Lenten and Easter celebrations in the country.

We seek to clear out the confusion of who traditionally bears what, wears what, and what goes with what when it comes to the attributes of the Saints. We seek to state or cite practices in relation to the care, dressing, and veneration of these religious images. We seek to define the identity of the Santo/Santa through the governing aesthetic, development of style, and the use of materials that make them uniquely Filipino .

We seek to provide the reader with a quasi-encyclopedic accessible layout for your reference and ease of use.

How do you become part of it?

Currently, most of the writing is done and we are in the process of finalizing the content and editing the chapters, yet ever since from the conceptualization of this particular volume, we saw the potential of the Flickr online groups and its members in acquiring an extensive collection of photographs or images to accompany the text.

Three years into the process, we have been fortunate enough to be allowed into the homes of families taking care of these images and were granted access to personal collections; yet we seem to feel that the wealth of images currently in worship, steeped in local lore, or those in humble devotion are yet to be discovered and are beyond what we have photographed and already seen.

We want this volume to feature as many examples of solitary images and tableau that define the unique character of Philippine Holy Week Processions.

Therefore, we enjoin everyone if there is anything they wish to share or feature by way of photographs, information, local traditions, and stories to please contact us.

Specifically, We are looking for:

-Photographs of Solitary Images [Santo, Santa, Poon, Rebulto, the 12 Apostles, Holy Women, other Disciples, the Sorrowful Virgin Mary]
-Photographs of Holy Week Tableaux [Events encompassing the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ]
-Photographs of New Testament Tableaux [Events encompassing the Ministry, Miracles, and Milestones in the Life of Jesus Christ as it applies to longer and more extensive -Processional Line-ups like that of Paete or Baliwag]
-Photographs of Holy Week Processions [Encompassing Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday]
-Photographs Pre and Post Procession
-Photographs of Santos/Santas as they are prepared for their Procession
-Photographs of Carrozas, Andas, and Calandras
-Photographs of Practices in Relation to Holy Week Processions
-Photographs of Rare Images: Crude, Folksy, or Naif [the rarer they are the better]
-Photographs of Christ's Tormentors [Hudyos, Romanos, etcetera]
-Photographs of Unusual Characters found in the Processional Line-up [including those from the depths of Tartarus -Paete has this]
-Photographs of Monumentos, Kapiyas, Estaciones, and Kubol in the path of the Procession
-Photographs of Unguarded Moments and Situations that arise in preparation, during or after procession.
-Provenance and History of Family Owned Images
-Provenance and History of Church/Community Owned Images
-The Acquisition or Commissioning of Religious Images
-Retired Images from the Processional Line-up
-Local Lore and Legend in relation to Holy Week Images currently in worship and procession
-Photographs of the 2011 Lenten Processions from your locale
-If you are a writer and there is something else you wish to share related to that listed above, we have a few Excursus spaces available for topics currently confidential

What's In it For You?

For every contribution, we shall be giving full credit to the photographer and the contributor. A signed document shall ensure that we adhere to this stipulation guaranteeing proper credit to the photographer/contributing party in the chapters, captions, and appendices of the book.

As of this time, it is premature for us to promise any copies of the book. The Editors and the Publisher shall decide on the degree of importance of the contributions and will be deciding on the complimentary copies or discounts to be granted the contributors.

So, if you are a Professional Photographer, Photography Hobbyist, Image Owner, Confraternity Member, Devotee, Writer, Informant, or Researcher who thinks you may have something to contribute to this book by way of the list above, you are most welcome.

If there is a particular religious image or tableaux that you wish to share with us and feel strongly should be included, you are most welcome.

If there is something that you think we should take note of in relation to the list above, you are welcome to do so.

Target Deadline for Contributions: May 5th 2011

This book shall be for limited publication with 150 hardbound and 450 softbound copies.

How You Can Reach Us:

email:

piety.philippinebookproject@gmail.com

thenikidelosreyestorres@gmail.com

or send me a Flickrmail

mobile numbers available upon request

Again we thank thee for thy time and look forward to collaborating with you.

Niki de los Reyes-Torres, PATDAT

Jesus Christ Superstar is a Rock Opera NOT a Musical [some post show musings]

2011-03-18T01:04:00.002+08:00

It was during one of our late night rehearsals while attempting to fix the blocking for John Nineteen: Forty One [the finale for Jesus Christ Superstar] when I had an epiphany of sorts: that I had waited fifteen years to the day to finally get the chance to perform Jesus Christ Superstar. As Martin Esteva, our Lighting Designer, illuminated the crucifix [the engineering of which took three days to solve] in the chiaroscuro as that of a classical painting, Deana Aquino, the choreographer, was blocking to include the Pieta or the Angustia as the final tableau that closes the show. Our director, Michael Williams saw it fit to end with a traditional image, so to speak. I felt it was his way of setting a counterpoint to a rock opera that was outside the usual christian mold of what is perhaps the greatest story ever told.

As I was watching this tableau take final form, I began to count the women/female actors that were part of the scene: we had four. One was assigned to be Mary the Mother of Jesus [never really a character written in the show ], then there was Mary Magdalene [the only female part as far as Llloyd Webber and Rice were concerned], and two more. And then I went, “Oh My God, Tita Deana! This is so correct. There's Mary the Mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Mary Salome his aunt, and Mary the Wife of Cleophas!” [ yeah, I know...that's a whole lot of Marys...trust me, that's where most of the biblical scholars, iconographers, and martyrologists get confused]

To which Tita Deana responds with, “Oo naman, Niki.” and a look on her face that assured us that this was the ending we were going for. Of course, that final image has been represented in western and Christian Art for the past two millennia and have been immortalized by Michaelangelo's marble masterpiece “The Pieta” and the many Hispanic variations of the "Angustia" that are taken out in procession for Holy Week in the archipelago.

Even the progression of the image of Jesus Christ from an 'everyman' in a white shirt and beige slacks, to the iconic image of him in the long white tunic, until the draped loincloth upon his death was intentional. Michael saw it fit, that as Jesus comes closer to his death the more will he look like the Jesus seen in western art. He and only he will regress from the modern into the first century.

Going back to the final tableau, who won't be able to identify with a mother cradling the body of his dead son? Because that's where it ends for Jesus Christ Superstar, brutally at his death on the cross. No resurrection, no stone rolling away, no blinding light, no angel and some neatly folded linen at the corner of a sarcophagus... just a dead man in his mother's arms. Perhaps Michael had to allow this final image as a counterpoint to the treatment of the material of this rock opera to infer what two thousand years of Christianity has done with the Jesus story.

When Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice first toyed with the idea of Jesus Christ Superstar, they went against tradition by telling the greatest story ever told from the point of view of Judas Iscariot. The whole thing started out just as double disc album recorded on a 45rpm disc [yes kids, this was way before CD players and i-pods and download-able music ] but the record sales were phenomenal and the album topped the LP charts, specifically in the United States that soon enough, it led to a few concert versions and later a full theatrical staging in New York's Mark Hellinger Theater in October 1971 and in London's West End at the Palace Theater in August 1972. And up until today, JSC holds its own as one of the first longest running shows on the West End boasting 3,358 performances. Crossing into another aspect of popular media, Superstar assumed it's most popular version, a film in 1976 directed by Norman Jewison -infinitely better than the 1999-2000 version which felt so contrived with a Jesus that looked like the love child of Michael Bolton and the vocalist for Simply Red.

Jesus Christ Superstar, from my deduction is a product of the post-modernist world, of a thriving secularist milieu in the wake of two world wars, the wild-child awakening fostered by the 1960s, and the disillusioned zeitgeist glossed over by the glitz of the 1970s when the stage versions reached the boards. There was even a comment that the first staging felt like it was “part Hair- part Godspell – part kitchen sink.” In simpler terms, throwing everything in to the already epic musical score that told the story.

Earlier in the rehearsal process, Michael Williams had envisioned JCS outside the mold of the Christian Psyche. Something that a Jesuit educated scholar and advocate of the Christian Religious Arts such as I, find very difficult. There are some things engrained in my system too deep, give or take my displeasure at certain practices advocated by established religion. I remember a conversation with Michael and Chino Veguillas [the assistant director] regarding the controversial deconstruction of Jesus Christ in the rock opera. To which Michael reverts to the core aspect of the modern theater: to rock the establishment [get it?] and to rattle the status quo. Something that Jesus Christ himself, during his time did, which echoes to this day. Michael would then insist that whatever happened to Christianity after the time of Jesus, it was still about one man, the man who went through all of that two thousand years ago; and that human dimension of Jesus Christ is the first thing we can all relate to.

Even if JCS was banned in some countries like South Africa, Lloyd Weber and Rice's Jesus never speaks far outside the mold of the Biblical Jesus. In fact, Rice's lyrics use mostly Biblical content in his lyrics. When Jesus sings “If your slate is clean, then you can throw stones” [Strange Thing Mystifying] is a mere lyrical equivalent to “Let he among you who has not sinned cast the first stone.” [John 8:8] and his response to Caiaphas in Hosanna that goes “If every tongue were still the noise would still continue, the rocks and stones themselves would start to sing!” is in reference to Luke 19:40 “I tell you, if they keep silent, the very stones will cry out!”

Yet Lloyd Weber and Rice gave us a Jesus within the confines of a human body, a man subject to human emotions, of grave doubt, and the obvious physical suffering he is to endure while he sings his entire agony in Gethsemane. Add to that, the key players in the Jesus story are given new dimension as they are not portrayed as singular track characters immediately good or evil, but rather characters faced with dilemmas close to our own. At the very heart of JCS' storytelling is Judas' consistent fear of things getting out of hand as he sings the opening number “Heaven on Their Minds”, Mary Magdalene's struggle with the love she bears -a love she is not familiar with in the moving “I Don't Know How to Love Him”, even the Basso-profundo musings of the Priests reflect the shaken established order in “This Jesus Must Die”, and Pilate -who in infamy made Jesus Christ suffer as is uttered in the Nicean Creed is perturbed by balancing duty and human mercy in both “Pilate's Dream” and the debate between him and Jesus Christ in “Trial Before Pilate”

Having mentioned Mary Magdalene, if one studies her character as written in JCS, she is but a remnant of the confusion between three women in the Bible. Particularly: Mary of Magdala -who Jesus Christ healed of the seven demons that afflicted her, The Unnamed Sinner in the gospel according to Luke, and Mary of Bethany -sister to Martha and Lazarus, another one who anointed Jesus Christ with the precious ointment and used her hair to wipe his feet. This confusion stems from a theological deduction made by Pope Gregory VI during a sermon a few centuries ago . Trust me, it's been tough to explain that to a few old dogs now that I take out a processional image of Saint Mary of Bethany for Holy Week for a few years now. The title “penitent” has been removed from Mary Magdalene way back in the 1960s yet this particular interpretation of her still exists and made it to JCS. But the very hinge that adds to JCS' reputation for being controversial is the song “I Don't Know How to Love Him”. Suggestive as it is moving, it follows something that I follow when creating characters.

In Play Development Class, my Professor once reminded me of something that Goethe said, “There is no art in turning a goddess into a witch, a virgin into a whore; but the opposite operation, to give dignity to what has been scorned, to make the degraded desirable, that calls either for art or for character.” Some people say Mary Magdalene's cultus was so powerful in the early days of mainstream Christianity, that she was painted as a woman of ill repute by way of the synoptics to reinforce the dominance of male figureheads in the leadership of the early Christian church. Okay, I'm rambling on again... forgive me.

All these characters you seem to sympathize with, most especially Judas. I guess as Filipinos, we are used to the stereotype of Judas with a face that resembles character actor and true-life pain in the butt Rez Cortez [dipping his nose into Philippine politics where he has no business to begin with], bearded and sinister. In fact, in my ancestral province, we burn a 13 foot effigy of Judas Iscariot on the night of Black Saturday. Poor man, it's not enough that we forever remember him as the ultimate traitor, and literature has him seated by the side of Satan in the 7th circle of Hell as described in Dante Alighieri's Inferno, we still mock him by burning him every year. Then again as the cliché goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions; and JCS explores Judas' intentions with the degree of love and loyalty an apostle would. His intentions, noble as they seem, never did merge with the Messiah's resolve to do his father's will. Thus they take two roads, one by the noose, another by his cross.

Yet, the creators of this rock opera were not without their sense of humor. King Herod's song was not only a reflection of the musical range displayed by Lloyd Weber by his use of a Charleston beat, it was a creatively comical foil to the other antagonists and their musical leitmotif. In the serious tone of the Last Supper, the lyrics “Then when we retire we can write the gospel so they'll still talk about us when we die.” the Apostles not only reveal their shallow expectations and understanding of Christ's situation, but Tim Rice seemed intent on foreshadowing the absence of the majority of them in the last hours of Jesus' life. Well, so much for their retirement. If one followed the story of the Apostles, almost all of them were martyred. Some had their heads cut off, some were sawed in half, some were skinned alive, and some were also crucified.

The theme Superstar, the most recognizable of all the leitmotifs in this rock opera, is as moving to me today as it was when I first heard it as a child blasting off my late father's hi-fi. Yet the lyrics that Judas sings when it turns into the final paean, utters not only praise but also asks very important questions:

“Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ!
Who are you, what have you sacrificed?
Jesus Christ Superstar
Do you think you're what they say you are?”

Timely questions... At this day and age when Palestine is still divided as it was in Jesus' time, when the Holy Land he left behind is always at the brink of turmoil -if not already in it, when many holy wars have been and still are fought, when many have died because “God/Allah wills it” crusade after crusade, after such a thing as the Holy Inquisition, Schisms, Reformation and Counter-Reformation, World Wars, Antisemitism, Genocide, Secularism, Communism, Apartheid, Disenfranchisement, and even just plain jadedness. Is Jesus still a timely or significant figure in a world that seems to have no more time and place for him? Why come at a time such as then with so limited exposure for him? Was it worth it, to be beaten, scourged, and crucified? What will he say should he find himself among us today?

There's nothing irreligious about what the JCS' Judas was asking. I think the real Judas Iscariot would like the chance to ask him those questions. If not for anything else, and with no intention to be preachy about it, Superstar -in essence- captures the encompassing doubt and/or questioning that leads to some degree of enlightenment about the Jesus Christ one knows or is familiar with.

Now, before this turns into one of my over-analyzed postings, time to shift...

They say in the practice of the theater, everything is “build and destroy”. After the curtain falls dark on the last show and the sets are torn down, all you have is that one brief shining moment that you look back to when you have triumphed on the boards. But there are shows that stay with you, and earn a special place in your heart; where in memory it stays golden.

Our student cast was amazing. In this production, there was a boy, no more than 17, that seemed to me the most unlikely Christ figure that proved me wrong. There was a Judas that looked like a cliched Jewish accountant whom I enjoyed having intellectual discussions with, another Judas I had the sick pleasure of pushing around all in the spirit of fun, three Mary Magdalenes that grew into their own, a Caiaphas with hip-hop hand movements, a consistent Annas, an admirable Pilate, one hardworking boy that earned the monicker Pepiter, a Herod that does splits and steals the show, a tireless and often overwhelmingly stressful chorus [yes, you know who you are], and the band to which no words apply but applause.

So, who was it that said we could not pull it off?

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

The Barefoot Baklesa's Latest Lessons Late for the New Year Part One

2011-02-16T11:10:00.008+08:00

Then I defy thee stars...

Do pardon the rather strong words at the very beginning of this post. My hands are quick to tap on the keyboards tonight. I realize I have yet to post anything on my blog this year other than the very first entry on the Visconti film “Death in Venice”.

Preparations for the Lunar New Year has kept the Barefoot Baklesa busy, give or take the research I have been doing for my book and the struggle to finish my screenplay. It's not that I'm spreading myself too thin, it's just I count myself lucky enough to be able to do the things I do, and that I still have the privilege of being professionally busy.

I welcomed the New Year as I always have, just watching the revelry from our terrace, as we aren't really fond of firecrackers. I held my water bells -a stick with a few dozen goat horns and beads dangling from it, which technically was a rattle- and made some noise to fulfill the usual obligatory noise that drives the ill will away for the coming year. As a person who has much respect for ritual, New Year's is not when I wear ritual quite well.

2010 just whizzed by so fast that I felt so exhausted come October; which was a month that was defined by one deadline after another. When I got back from a short trip to the United States, everything felt like it was a train at full speed, and everything that had to be done felt like a brick wall you might ram into. There was the premiere of “The Princess and the Red Carp” for Theater Down South, followed by Sondheim's “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum” -both with unique production design requirements that pushed the boundaries of my creativity. Add to that our first ever haunted walkthrough at SM Megamall which forced me to sleep in the mall for the love of zombies and grave grabbers. Perhaps, by the time I helped curate and design Ian Felix Alquiros' 4UReyesONLY, I was beginning to decompress from all that.

If not for anything else, 2010 was an epiphany for me. It's as if a veil was lifted off my visage and I saw things a little differently. Touche!

Allow me to share with you “The Barefoot Baklesa's Latest Lessons Late for the New Year Part One” [a mouthful, isn't it?]

First: Blood maybe thicker than water, but if you can't drink it, then spit it out.

I put my foot down a few months ago when I decided enough is enough when it came to certain blood relations that have been harmful to my peace of mind. I guess in any family, there are those who have so much bitterness in their minds and hearts that they tend to pass on this bitterness to others which by some measure eats away at the fragile bonds that hold those of the same blood.

Last July, I have been threatened with kidnapping by my own kin. Add to that, the same old crap coming from the same dirty mouths that need to be washed with detergent and muriatic acid only strengthened my resolve to consider these bearers of ill will as “dead to me”. I am seven relatives less, and I feel free of all the bad vibes they keep spreading around; and I could never be happier.

Nowhere does it say that when you turn the other cheek, you should allow them to keep hitting you, ten times over.

I may write about the Saints, but I have no intention of being one. I think martyrdom is best left in the 17th Century. After all, looking at their lives, there is no suffering in Tartarus that compares to being reminded that they were disinherited because of me -without me lifting a finger. They committed fraud using my name, thus they must suffer for it. Every waking moment of every day they think about the money they failed to inherit, they will also think of me -hopefully laughing at their misery.

Second: Love begets Love

Unlike some people, I don't eat kidnap threats for breakfast and I never respond lightly to threats; therefore I asked a few friends for a little help. I was surprised at the outpouring of support I got from some friends and their parents. Some went as far as pulling some strings at the National Bureau of Investigation and the Philippine National Police. To which one of my better friends uttered, “Let's see him try.”

If you treat people right, even the simplest gestures will resonate through time. I guess I did right by these friends who came with pitchforks, knives, and torches. When I told these people who are “dead to me” that I get served at “better tables”, I was also thankful that even without these walking zombies, I know I'll be okay. But an aunt of mine was quick to quip by saying, “I don't think they understood what you meant by being served at better tables. They may think you're talking about the food they cook.” To which I respond, “There is no accounting for lack of intelligence, best we keep them guessing. Hahahaha!!!”

Okay, you may think I'm being too mean here, and I'm edging on dirty laundry, but If you've been through what I have been through with these zombies, you won't blame me baring my claws a little. What I experienced with them is not love, there is no deplorable word to describe my disgust.

Thank God I'm not related to them anymore.

Third: Thank Goodness my Mother Taught Me to be GRATEFUL

I remember former uncle who is “dead to me” telling one of our cousins, “Inggit lang sila kasi mayaman kami.” [translated, “They're just envious of us because we're rich”] I could not help but laugh at his pretensions albeit delusions. Where's this money he's been talking about? Even his own granddaughter goes, “You know my grandfather, all he talks about is money -money we never see.” I had to resist the temptation of telling her, “Well, the last I checked, I got your family disinherited.” -but I said to myself, save it for another day, when you can rub it in with much grit.

I have said this ten times over, “Those who have it, never have to say they have it.” If I may be so blunt in the vernacular Tagala, “Ang tunay na may pera, hindi kailangan ipamukha sa mga tao na may pera sila.” I hate to shatter your pretensions, old man...but then again, there is nothing else of him to shatter for he is a pitiful and laughable example of a failed attempt at a decent human being. Oh trust me, I'm still being gentle.

I was taught to work for what I want. I was taught to know the difference between the practical and the indulgent. I was taught the value of self achievement. And at the end of it, I was taught to be grateful, even if I made it or not. If you are never grateful for the tiniest thing, I don't think the Big Boss Above will shower you with bigger things.

Even if I don't ask for it, the Big Boss Above just drops it on my lap. I'm so lucky, it seems unfair to the rest of the world. That is why every day, I never fail to be thankful that I wake up looking forward to whatever the day may bring.

I look back at the pitiful and laughable example of a failed attempt at a decent human being, and say to myself, “I know what I won't be when I'm older.”

Fourth: Speaking of Pretensions... and Patron Saints

I had an exciting few days some time last December. I was engaged on an online debate with some pretentious individual... Oh, there were two of them... Pretentious individuals then. And as much as I enjoyed putting them in their place, a little part of me knew that once I have shattered their pretensions, I run the risk of being attacked by the ignoramuses that crowd them. I won't bore you with the details but for purposes of trivia:

The original Patron Saint of the Philippine Archipelago and the city of Manila is Santa Potenciana or Saint Pudentiana, a virgin, martyred during the early days of the Christian Church. Her feast coincided with Miguel Lopez de Legazpi's formal capture of Manila on the 19th of May 1571. Her status was relegated to secondary patron of the city of Manila when a later victory against invaders was celebrated on the feast of Saint Andrew the Apostle, which thereafter became the principal patron of the city. Saint Rose of Lima may be the current principal patron of the Philippines, but that was due to her assignment as Patron of the Americas and the New World -our country is considered part of the New World conquest- which is nothing more than a political move in the early 20th century for we were still a colony of the United States.

So, the next time you may want to wax your trivia skills, you can use this... Hehehehe

Fifth: Condemn the sin, not the sinner? I don't think so...

Say a woman, even though separated, is still married to another man and they have two children from that marriage, what if this same woman gets pregnant with another man's child? And even though she is living with this new man, she makes no effort to dissolve her marriage nor does she make her use of this new man's money discreet using their lovechild as the lure to keep the new man under her control. I think that technically makes her a Conniving Adulteress?

If you are a witness to this, would you not loathe the Conniving Adulteress? I'm not encouraging stoning to death here but would you say you disapprove of her methods yet you should let her be? Are you just going to stand there and watch? There are things I can forgive, who knows how desperate some people can be, but I have my limits.

In the words of a dear friend of mine, "How bitchy can you get???" Well, if need be, I'll take a page out of the Bitch Bible and wax poetics, rhetorics, and down right nastiness off of it. Hahahaha!!!

That is it for now, just wait for the next part -if I have the time...

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Love Stories Are Also Made Like This: Taiyo No Uta [A Song to the Sun]

2011-02-16T05:08:00.001+08:00

[ Before reading on, if you haven't seen the movie yet and you don't intend to come upon any spoilers, then go to crunchyroll.com and watch it first. If you care to know what I think first, read on...]

I have had this copy of Taiyo No Uta [ translated as 'A Song to the Sun' also released as 'Midnight Sun' in some territories] for more than a year now, I think. I never actually got to watching it until recently when i learned that there was a mini-series patterned after it; and thanks to the underground economy, i was also able to purchase the latter.

I have never lost so much tears for a movie, I tell you. And I don't know what is it with me and these kinds of movies these days...

Taiyo No Uta is the story of Amane Kaouru, a girl who suffers from a rare genetic illness called XP or Xeroderma Pigmentosum -a condition that makes exposure to the sun's UV [ultra-violet] rays life threatening and fatal- thus preventing her to live a normal life. Sleeping during the day, she comes out at night bringing her guitar and sings the night away at a park in front of a local train station.

Once, from her window, just before the sun goes up, she chances upon a boy with his surfboard. She would watch this same boy pass by that same bus station everyday just before she goes to sleep. Under these circumstances, they never would have met. But as fate would have it, one night, as Kaouru was singing at the park, she sees the boy and runs after him.

She catches up with him at a crossing by the train tracks and ends up pushing him to the ground. Bombards him with an introduction about her which weirds the guy out. Thankfully a friend, Misaki -the only one she's got, runs after her and pulls her away. Leaving a rather confused teenage boy on the train tracks.

Before we continue, let me just say, this movie kind of takes its time, and i think it helps in the storytelling, establishing the loneliness Kaouru feels of not being able to live a normal life.

Some time later, Kaouru was sitting by the bus stop she usually watches from afar when that same boy, Fujishiro Kouji sees her. They get acquainted, and he then promises to watch Kaouru perform at her usual spot by the park once the summer vacations have began.

However, on that evening, Kaouru's spot on the park was taken over by a rather obnoxious musician and she couldn't perform there. Kouji then takes her to Yokohama where they find a spot for her to perform. The movie features songs sung by Yui, the singer actress that plays Kaouru. The montage at Yokohama features the song Skyline, reflecting Kaouru's longing to soar into the unknown world.

By the sea, on their way back, Fujishiro Kouji asks Amane Kaouru to go out with him. This would have been the perfect evening for falling in love until she realizes that the sun was about to rise on her and she's still a long way from home. Fortunately, she makes it indoors in the nick of time, but now her secret is revealed. Kouji discovers why Kaouru could never go out into the sun, because she could die.

Kaouru gives up on having a relationship with Kouji because she feels he may do things out of pity or may see her as a freak. "I'd be happy if I could just live a normal life, that's all I ask."
A self-confessed simpleton, Kouji deals with the situation the way he knows how. Trading his surfboard and getting a part-time job, he works out a plan for Kaouru to be able to share her songs to more people. And in that crossing by the train tracks, where they first met, Kaouru and Kouji share their first kiss -a cute one at that.

I don't know if I read into it that much, but there's something about the use of the train tracks and the pedestrian crossing in this movie. I saw the train tracks as a symbol of movement, of life passing Kaouru by, and the inevitable future. And to share that moment with Kouji, at the place where one crosses the tracks, shows the importance of living in the moment.

But as the summer came to pass, the effects of the disease begin to progress, and Kaouru finds herself unable to play the guitar. [Sufferers of XP face the risk of the deterioration of their nervous system and may never get to live past the age of 20] Kouji encourages Kaouru not to give up singing while hiding his own tears...

Kaouru records her song, and Kouji finally gets to show her his surfing skills when she takes the courage to wear the protective suit her mother had made for her so she can go out during the day.

Kaouru held on as long as she could, with as much love for living as she had for the song she left behind.

I reckon most of us don't have the heart for movies like these. But suffering from a type of solar induced dermatological condition myself, i know how people often never realize how lucky they are, to be able to go out into the world carefree. Kaouru may not have had the chance to live like the rest of the world, but she sure gave her life a good try even towards the end. One can sense this longing within Kaouru to leave something behind when she had passed on. The song 'Goodbye Days' communicate the long wait for life to change, to have some sort of meaning, and to be able to share it. She leaves them this song not as a matter of legacy but a reflection of a life truly lived without any regrets.

There are loves that fuel our very souls, and they bring meaning into our lives however short they may be. Though one never wishes that fate on anyone, i think Kouji was meant to experience this love. To shake him from being the humdrum teenager he saw himself to be, and find a sense of purpose in the world.

If someone asks me for a love story, i'll tell them to watch this movie. Because a love story isn't limited to storybook endings, love stories should reflect the other realities of life, bitter or painful as they are; or else, i don't think that's love at all.

before we end this post, here's a video of song Goodbye Days as sung by YUI in the movie

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Happy Valentines, Baby Tiger!

2011-02-14T08:49:00.000+08:00

"Once upon a time, I wanted to know what love was. Love is there if you want it to be. You just have to see that it's wrapped in beauty and hidden away between the seconds of your life. If you don't stop for a minute, you just might miss it."

~quoted from the movie CASHBACK

Happy Valentines Day to my Baby Tiger! Thank you for being there... Mwah!!!

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Miracles Happen...

2011-02-02T03:27:00.002+08:00

February 2nd is the Traditional Feast celebrated in the Roman Catholic realm as Candlemass -or the feast of the Blessing of the Candles, coinciding with the Feast of the Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria [Our Lady of the candles]. If you have read my post from last year , then you will know why this day is of great significance to the Barefoot Baklesa.

I always tell people that I have inexplicable luck; lucky to the point that it seems unfair to the rest of the world. On one hand, that is being cognizant of that fact; the other is my eternal gratitude for such a good life. Having been healed of my rare skin condition by Our Lady of Candelaria, I wish all of you who are burdened with pain and physical ailments the same grace of healing I have been given, and the miracle I have been allowed to be living proof of.

Lastly, I would like to thank Our Lady for my Baby Tiger. There are people in this earth that never ever get to experience what true love is. I am happy that one moment I have with you is enough to last me ten lifetimes.

we must cry: "Two Big White Tears" [Due Grosse Lacrima Bianche]

2011-01-25T00:15:00.000+08:00

A song can go many ways, and we remember certain songs if they speak clearly of the condition of the heart that hears it. This song is quite old, but I believe it deserves to be heard once more.

My friend Dennis introduced me to this song not more than a day ago. By the first few bars, I was mesmerized by the song and the voice; and I asked him if he could translate it for me. Here it goes...

Nostre cuore dicevi sempre
Non è una stanza che si affitta
Noi ci lasciamo, la stanza è vuota
La porta aperta resterà

Due grosse lacrime bianche
Come due perle del mare
È tutto quello che a me rimane di te

D'amore, no, non si muore
Per non sentir la tua voce
La testa sotto il cuscino io nasconderò

Come un lampo che apre il cielo
Ho visto chiaro in mezzo al buio
Solo d'amore, no, non si muore
Ridendo, me l'hai detto tu

Due grosse lacrime bianche
Come due perle del mare
È tutto quello che a me rimane di te

Due grosse lacrime bianche
Che non faranno rumore
Perché le ultime sai non pesano mai

Our heart, you always said
Is not a room that we rent out
We left each other, the room is empty
The door will stay open

Two big white tears
Like two pearls from the sea
Is all that you left me

No, you don't die because of love
I don't want to hear your voice
I'll hide my head under my pillow

Like a flash that opens the sky
I saw you clearly in the middle of the dark
No, you don't die only because of love
You taught me how to laugh

Two big white tears
Like two pearls from the sea
Is all for me that's left from you

Two big white tears
That won't make a noise
Because the last ones are never heavy,
you know...

~oh how my heart sings this song now... just for the heck of it. Hehehehehe...

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Burn Baby, Burn!

2011-01-14T18:12:00.000+08:00

Goethe said, “There is no art in turning a goddess into a witch, a virgin into a whore; but the opposite operation, to give dignity to what has been scorned, to make the degraded desirable, that calls either for art or for character.”

So why then do we like burning effigies of traitors like Judas?

Maybe in the deepest and darkest corner of the human heart, we really take delight in the delivery of what we call just desserts.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Here's some more of Mario Maurer to celebrate Twelfth Night

2011-01-06T11:00:00.000+08:00

Today marks the feast of the Twelfth Night, the official end to the 12 days of Christmas time. In medieval times, they called it the feast of fools. One day in the year when all manner of revelry revolves around defying convention, switching roles between king and fool, or doing one thing you've never done before; thus the secondary title 'what you will' or 'how you will' [ the word 'will' in Elizabethan english equating to love, like, or fancy thus in filipino translates as 'kung anong ibigin'] is used in Shakespeare's play of the same title.

Ergo, here's "what I will":

a certain someone i dream of waking next to [like the rest of the homosexual population out there who have a thing for multi-racial twinks who look like they can do no wrong...]

Hehehehe...

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Oh My Friggin' Muses, I used to write like this!?! Wow!!! Why did i waste my time in Design? Hahaha!!!

2011-01-01T04:40:00.007+08:00

“Death In Venice”
An Existentialist’s Commentary on Victorian Sensibilities
By Vincent Jordan Niklaus de los Reyes-Torres

A Storyline’s Discourse on Art and the Artist

An understanding of Luchino Visconti’s film adaptation of Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice would be somewhat daunting without having read the novel. The novel itself, a classic in literary existentialism is presented as a pure narrative, almost completely devoid of dialogue or characters directly interacting with one another. Thomas Mann wrote his novel as a study in pure literary form, descriptive and atmospheric, strictly stream of consciousness rather than involving the conventions of scenes with characters playing out their existence in terms of dialogue. Visconti makes this adjustment by creating scenes with dialogue for his characters, thereby filling in the blanks as it were of where his literary source left of and he does so in the pure, larger than life eloquence of his cinematic medium.

The film begins with an almost painfully beautiful sunset as a steamer moves along the Grand Canal nearing the port of Venice. The character of Professor Gustav Von Aschenbach is seen alone on a wicker chaise, wrapped in coats. The plaintive strains of Mahler’s Third Symphony is played on the soundtrack; music that Aschenbach echoes in the sadness or in the forlorn expression on his face. He boards a gondola. The gondolier offers to bring him straight to the Lido (the famed Venetian beach front lined with resorts and the famous tents which until today have not changed in their appearance and function), to the hotel where he is booked but he vehemently refuses to be taken straight there and instead insists to be taken to the steam ship dock to take only the hotel’s exclusive gondola service. Here we see that the character of Gustav Von Aschenbach is that of a man rigidly set in his ways and at this point in his life, he goes about it like that of a prissy old maid, a condition which the film will later unravel as something he is already predisposed to. A bizarre looking foppish drunk, old and wearing garish make-up who is making an ass of himself is seen on the quay, almost like a rather gaudy portent of things to come.

As Aschenbach settles into his suite at the Lido, we learn from an inconspicuous flashback that he is actually ill, that his heart is failing and that his doctor has recommended complete rest for him, thus this holiday in Venice. From this flashback, he is seen talking to his best friend and colleague, Alfred. We also learn that they are both men of music, that Gustav Von Aschenbach is actually a renowned composer. As Alfred is seen playing what is perhaps one of his compositions, he sits up and gazes upon an antique hourglass, explaining that his family had one of these and further talks about how the aperture of the hourglass is so tiny that one hardly notices the sands flowing through it until all the sands have run out; “until then it’s not worth thinking about it…until it’s all gone” Almost as if saying that he hasn’t paid much attention to his own life until now that he is made to confront his mortality with his heart condition.

At the Lido, Aschenbach espies what Thomas Mann describes in his novel as an aristocratic, Eastern European looking family, composed of a stately mother, a governess, three uniformly dressed daughters of variant ages, and an adolescent boy. The boy is strikingly an unmistakable thing of beauty. A boy with a face so androgynous it is difficult to judge it as being either pretty or handsome. He possessed a face so divinely angelic that it can only be described as being BEAUTIFUL. Coming from the Aristotelian template of The Poetics on what is beautiful, defined much by the Greek penchant for youthful male beauty; Tadzio defines the image of the conduit of that beauty: ever so ideally pleasing to the eye of the viewer just like the marble statues of the classical age. And true to Thomas Mann’s presentation of this particular scene in his novel, Aschenbach only catches snatches of conversations from the Polish family but it is enough for him to detect that the boy’s name is Tadzio. And thus begins his descent into his own private hell.

Aschenbach cannot take his eyes on the boy as dinner ensues and here, Visconti uses a flashback device, which is to recur throughout the movie, scenes which involve Aschenbach and the character named Alfred. Alfred it seems is not only his good friend and confidant but also the voice of his conscience, his devil’s advocate, his artistic tormentor, and, in a manner of speaking, the only other person who may share Aschenbach’s unrealized homosexuality. Visconti brings into perspective his thesis on the character of Aschenbach in the following dialogue with Alfred:

Alfred: Beauty, you mean your spiritual conception of beauty?
Aschenbach: But do you deny the artist’s ability to create from the spirit?
Alfred: Yes, Gustav, that is precisely what I deny. Do you really believe that beauty is the product of labor?
Aschenbach: yes I do.
Alfred: That is how beauty is born, like that. Spontaneous. In utter disregard for your labor or mine. It pre-exists our presumptions as artists. Your great error my friend is that you consider life, reality as a limitation.
Aschenbach: But isn’t that what it is. Reality only demeans and distracts us. Sometimes I feel like I am aiming in the dark like a hunter. But you cannot expect life to illuminate the target. The creation of beauty is a spiritual act.
Alfred: Beauty belongs to the senses, only to the sense.
Aschenbach: But you can’t reach the spirit through the senses. It is only by complete domination of the senses that you can ever achieve wisdom, truth and human dignity.
Alfred: What use are they? Genius is a divine gift. Not a divine affliction; a simple, morbid flash fire of natural gifts.
Aschenbach: I reject, I reject the demonic virtues of art.
Alfred: Then you are wrong. Evil is necessary. It is the food of genius.
Aschenbach: You know Alfred, art is the highest form of education and the artist has to exemplary. He must be a model of balance and strength. He cannot be ambiguous.
Alfred: But Art is ambiguous. And music the most ambiguous of all the arts. It is ambiguity made a science.

Here, Visconti establishes the character of Aschenbach as one of purest conventions: Someone who is unwilling to explore his dark side for the sake of morality, someone who cannot and will not see or go outside the box. The film moves into a series of close encounters between Aschenbach and Tadzio’s family, each time, he tries to deny the attraction that he feels for the boy. And we see Aschenbach consumed by the very sight of Tadzio that puts into perspective the bubbling conflicts within.

He tries to run away from the situation by leaving for Munich and on the flimsiest excuse - which was as one would recall, the loss of his luggage at the train station and his insistence that he would not leave Venice lest the luggage be returned which is nuanced with the actor’s relief that he was pleased that he was not to leave Venice at all - heads back to the Lido again. On the train station, he notices that a vagrant has collapsed from what appears to be a viral illness, a foreshadowing of that which he was to learn of Venice’s current state.

As he stalks Tadzio from a distance, he learns that a cholera epidemic is afoot. This was of course cinematically presented thru the disinfection of the city by the pouring of a malodorous milky liquid, postings on the walls from the city health department, and the suspicious avoidance of the Venetians to give him a straight answer when he asked. As he struggles between his inner conflicts over the attraction that he has for Tadzio, the film flashbacks into either snatches of his life; that he was once a family man with a wife and daughter, that he once tried to explore his sexuality in the confines of a brothel, that he lost his daughter, and that he has repeatedly tried to deny his homosexuality in the following flashback with Alfred:

Alfred: That is not shame that is fear. Shame is a spiritual distress to which you are immune because you are immune to feeling. You are a man of avoidance, of dislike, a keeper of distances. You are afraid to have direct, honest contact with anything because of your rigid standards of morality. You want to be as perfect as your music. Every slip is a fall, a catastrophe, resulting in irreparable contamination. To be in debt to one’s own senses, for a condition, which is irredeemably, corrupt and sick. What a joy for the artist!
Aschenbach: I have to find my balance somehow.
Alfred: How unfortunate that art is so indifferent from personal morality, Otherwise, you would be supreme, unreachable, inimitable. Tell me, do you know what lies at the bottom of the mainstream….Mediocrity?

Finally, we also learn from these series of flashbacks that Gustav Von Aschenbach’s last concert was a dismal flop, which caused him his near fatal heart attack. The words of Alfred taunting him with “Pure beauty, absolute severity. Purity of form! Perfection! The abstraction of the senses! It’s all gone. Nothing remains. Nothing. Your music is stillborn. You are unmasked.” All these harsh reality bites of course play bad only his already weak constitution and failing heart. From an artists point of view, Aschenbach has reached a dry spell in his musical career, characterized by his compositions in the concert drowned by the heckling and noise of a cruel audience; a kind of writer’s block. Aschenbach’s life struggles or hurdles have taken its toll on his music and even the heart ailment is seen as secondary.

In a vain attempt to appear young again, he tries to doll himself up n a barbershop, the result is that of the macabre fop that he meets earlier in the movie (dyed hair and eyelashes, unusually curled mustache, and a powdered face that would rival a Peking Opera actress). And before he could even so much as come within speaking distance from Tadzio (a fantasy which was portrayed in the film as the only opportunity he had to put his hand on the boy, but that is just what it was, a fantasy; adding more to the tolling obsession), his family has learned of the cholera epidemic and are making ready to leave the hotel. The film tragically ends with Aschenbach suffering a heart attack on the Lido, which now visually presented as a deserted beachfront with a few patrons, far from the previous images of him watching Tadzio have fun with others of his youth in a very crowded beachfront. This tragically happens while gazing at Tadzio from afar with the hair dye streaking down his clown made-up face, a lonely vision of the ethos he had so staunchly tried to defend.

For What Is Love Without The Madness

Many people would tend to look at this movie and conclude that it is simply a movie about repressed homosexuality. But a closer look at the literary template from which it was culled from may prove otherwise. One must remember of course that historically, Queen Victoria had been the progenitor of most of Europe with her many children being married off to other monarchies. Thus, the age of Victorian Morals and Victorian Sensibilities dominated most of the known civilized world at the time. It was a world of repressed emotions and repressed values. As the literature of the time would attest, most of the characters that were popular at the time either rose up from their oppressive conditions like those created by Charles Dickens or were totally engulfed by their circumstances like those created by Dostoyevski and Franz Kafka. And need we mention Oscar Wilde and his rather scandalously silent battle with his own gender issues? Considering that Victorian society had a habit of turning their heads on obvious taboos yet have a fun time discussing them over high tea. Enter the twentieth century existentialist writers who tried to brave a whole new world of possibilities. Thomas Mann who grew up in a time when Victorian values and sensibilities were being questioned, wrote this sterling masterpiece of a man’s search for his art and his true nature.

The most intriguing question that this movie poses is, what if a man’s search for the perfection of beauty leads him to find it in another man? Which leads one to ask the even more provocative question, does it make a homosexual or not? If beauty is universal, then it should, as a matter of form, like God, know no gender, nor age, nor creed, nor intellect, nor time, nor sexual affirmations. Perhaps the tragedy of Gustav Von Aschenbach’s character lies in his lack of understanding for the true nature of beauty; that it is intangible, that you can never take it to bed with you, and that, it can never love you back. At most, beauty is an ideal. A metaphysical concept that can either inspire you or drive you into pit of despair; either of which is a matter of conscious, deliberate choice

The film’s theme of the quest for beauty that can only lead to obsession and destruction is perhaps best articulated when Aschenbach tries pathetically to doll himself up in a feeble attempt to look younger. As he doggingly stalks Tadzio throughout the streets and beaches of Venice, the camera’s point of view is only on Aschenbach, it is uncertain if the boy is indeed teasing him or egging him on or is it all a figment of his all too repressed imagination? He is content to gaze upon the object of his desire from afar, almost afraid that if he comes any closer, his object of perfect beauty would disappear like the sands in his hour glass.

The fact that Aschenbach’s character refuses to do so much as venture even the slightest expression of his innermost feelings for Tadzio speaks of the kind of Victorian values which were the generic ethics of the time. Aschenbach chooses to love from a distance. Like his repressed music, his life is a stillborn concerto. While it is often said that the singular expression of love, be it in the form of a kind act or a kind word can be a liberating experience, Aschenbach is content with allowing his pining for this unattainable love to eat him up inside. To the Victorian writers of the 19th century, this represented an ideal. In this case the long suffering for the sake of art and beauty, the idea of being content with loving for the sake of loving without so much as any form of recompense or alleviation of hurt. In this respect, Aschenbach’s character is no different from that of the characters of Thomas Hardy, Henry James or Victor Hugo’s, writers who are best known for writing about Victorian hypocrisy.

Whether Thomas Mann’s intention in the writing of Death in Venice was as an exploration of the social taboos surrounding homosexuality or whether he meant it as an entire dialectic on art or ideal beauty to be precise, the movie however clearly explores the homosexual angle. Dirk Bogarde’s superb acting is oriented towards subtle mannerisms that are unmistakably those of a repressed homosexual of the time. Homosexuality will always be as taboo today as it was during the early part of the twentieth century (funny considering that our classic and universal template of art criticism is still the Aristotelian model that came from a civilized race which had the greatest influence on human thought, practicing a form of homosexuality accepted by the Greeks and was seen as of no consequence).

In England, it was considered a time during the days of Oscar Wilde, which is why Thomas Mann’s enduring tale is considered a masterpiece as it has elevated the subject of homosexuality to articulate the human condition. So what if Aschenbach is gay, haven’t most people, homosexual or not, gone through the travails of loving somebody they can’t have? It’s a love theme that is as timeless as the gold and purple sunsets of Venice.

As far as Visconti’s film adaptation of the novel goes, it is a testament that explores the authenticity of production design to best bring out the atmosphere and feel of a bygone era. It was made in 1971 and won acclaim for its meticulous treatment to cinematic detail, sets, costumes and art direction. Piero Toci’s charmingly muted costumes mirror the colors of a Venetian summer of the early 1900’s are wondrously complemented by Ferdinando Scarfiotti’s brilliant art direction. The film’s outstanding cinematography, which was brought about by Pasquale de Santis, is by far one of the more enduring examples of color photography for the screen that has been unrivalled to this day. Visconti not only directs this film but is also its screen playwright along with Nicola Badalucco. And as a Visconti signature, it has been a literary urban legend that Thomas Mann was actually alluding Gustav Mahler into the character of Aschenbach, which was why Bogarde was made to look like Mahler and was also the reason why Mahler’s 3rd and 5th symphony were used on the soundtrack.

Death in Venice (1971) like his film The Intruder (1976) showed Visconti’s skeptical view on history as a progressive development. These two movies are set in their own time, which is our past, treated with no history at all considering that they have neither a future of their own nor any connection towards it that is even implicit to our present. This cutting of the past from the present is reflective of what some consider deviant sexuality where the protagonists are tragically aware that they are the last of their kind or line. A closer look on Visconti by Laurence Schifano (1990) revealed a connection between ambivalent feelings about his homosexuality and his fear of his approaching death (from a 1972 stroke which he never fully recovered).

We all have the Heart for Venice

Having read Aristotle’s Poetics, it still eludes me how ironic the ideal is to the reality of which we struggle. Thomas Mann’s humanization of the ideal of beauty contrasts the mirror of the Aristotelian template on looking at beauty and judging a thing of beauty. While Aristotle never did bother to actually consider the complexity of the human experience that goes into the search for beauty, history is full of anecdotes of artists and their struggles to represent it: Michaelangelo himself took no notice of proper hygiene to the point that the inner sole of his shoe got stuck to his feet just so he could finish his Sistine Chapel, Van Gogh had to cut off his ear for to him the object of his desire and the beauty he found in her deserved no other gift, and Mozart to his death had his rival inscribe notes to his requiem composition to give no less.

Venice, being the city that patronized the artistic heritage and riches of both east and west is a thing of beauty unto itself, set against the shifting waters and canals, its beauty is incomplete without the city reflecting upon it. As the old saying goes, “If you have a gift for the art of living, then you have the heart for Venice.” Aschenbach has never really lived his life, until he has found his idea of beauty…and when he did so in a city where beauty is never complete without the reflection, it ends in tragedy.

Maybe that is what beauty is all about, an elusive quest for that one thing that can never be ours and yet we cling to it for all the tragedy that confines the human existence; a bitter slap in the face to wake up in the tangible world from the eternal dreaming of the intangible.

Still Can't Get Over It: Bali-Bali ang Baler

2011-01-01T03:55:00.001+08:00

since today is a date of multiple ones and repetitions, let's repeat this one:

Does the lack of period cinema pieces reflect the poor cultural state of a nation’s film industry or does it represent an industry’s collective practicality with the lack of interest in mounting these admittedly expensive projects? I am far from really knowing the zeitgeist of filmmakers these days; while there are many that say the Filipino film industry is either dead or dying, on the other hand some dare say that it is being resuscitated by the rise of independent digital cinema. Well, you will have to forgive me for saying that an expensive digital SLR camera does not make a photographer nor can a high end digital motion picture camera make a true filmmaker [I‘m just wired to think that way].

For at a time when I am at my neck’s end with the nth sequel to Enteng Kabisote, or am truly amazed at how the Filipino public laps up badly written fantasies like Exodus: Tales from the Enchanted Kingdom, or finding Jinggoy Estrada winning film festival best actor as the first biggest joke of 2008, there’s a part of me that is hoping and praying that somehow, next year, a well written period piece executed with such commercial viability can truly reflect the direction this nation’s cinema is taking.

Not long ago, I decided to watch BALER as it was the only movie that seemed to interest me with the roster of films from the 2008 Metro Manila Film Festival; also the fact that it was a period film stirred by curiosity. I have this fascination with recreating the 1890s and the novecento period of Philippine history. Credit that to a fine-tuned olde worlde sensibility which I more often than not cling to.

In a nutshell BALER is based on the historical account of The Siege of Baler which began in 1898 and lasted for about three hundred or so days. In the midst of this, is the romance between an India [female native of the islands] woman named Feliza [The film’s press release used the term ‘Filipina’ which was pretty much incorrect for that word was used to call a female of Spanish blood who was born in the islands; also called Insulares.] and a soldier named Celso -of Spanish and Indio descent- played by Jericho Rosales. Right there and then let me point out that there’s such a thing we call color-blind casting [casting actors despite of race or color] which has been applied in the theater for quite some time now when the need arises. But when it comes to the cinema, and since this was a period piece, I was taught that we were governed by certain casting aesthetics to retain the suspension of disbelief. As much as there were fair-skinned Indias at the time, the choice of Anne Curtis as Feliza gave off the impression that she was a Mestiza rather than a daughter from an Indio family. And on the other hand, Jericho Rosales might pass off as one those half-breeds descended from the dregs of the Spanish military ranks that were not influential enough and were sent to the islands in their service to Spain, but there was something I could not put to words about his casting which I can only describe as an odd aftertaste.

On the other hand, the other actors they cast as pure-bred Spaniards, as Mestizo as they were, were an odd bunch of too foreign and not too foreign looking to begin with [Sorry, PJ -he was cast as one of the soldiers]; ergo I somehow understand that to have put Jericho Rosales together with Mark Bautista and Jao Mapa as half-breed Spanish soldiers would justify the casting. Speaking of which, I shall point out the first cultural cliché of the movie: Jericho Rosales plays the role of a soldier with a Spanish father and a Pampango [Capampangan or native of Pampanga province] mother. It has been common knowledge that the Spaniards have an affinity for the Capampangans because of all the Indios, they were always on the side of the Spaniards.

So, in this melting pot of complications, let me add that Feliza is the daughter of a revolutionary leader played by veteran action star Phillip Salvador and acclaimed actress Rio Locsin. She has a brother named Gabriel played by Carlo Aquino, who is more interested in serving the Church rater than picking up a gun to fight for his country. It is for this reason that the romance between Feliza and Celso remain a secret.

Now, let me get to the nitty-gritty of the film. I have learned that if in the first five minutes you have not acquired the interest of your viewing audience, then the film will have a hard time keeping their attention. The first few shots of BALER, [portraying the massacre of Spanish soldiers the year before 1898], as much as it tried to establish the premise of a crumbling colonial power in the midst of quashing a revolution, seemed a bit ubiquitous and rushed. This short-lived prologue would seem to be a foreshadowing of the cinematic pace the director chose for the film which is best defined as “erratic”.

There was nothing special I could remember from the camera work nor was there anything I could say that took me from my seat into that time and place they were creating. Even in the love montages featuring Feliza and Celso [the first of which the audience was treated to seemed like the pace of the jump cut from the Hans Montenegro segment of the Jojo Veloso VHS scandal], I felt as if there was no fluidity in the incorporation of the romance into the historical nature of the film. As a viewer, I felt as though I was bombarded by ubiquitous visions of lovers strolling or running by the beach and end up kissing; only this time, they were in period clothing. But seriously, no India woman would be caught dead wearing a sleeveless camison and a saya like that by the beach in 1890s Philippines, as far as my education takes me. Perhaps the only scene that drew a curious smile on my face was when the lovers used the church’s confessional to pass the message of the time and place where they are to meet. Call me nit picky but if the writers already took so much cinematic license to begin with, why did they not portray their courtship with the secret language of gestures using fans, kerchiefs, and flowers used by lovers during that time to emphasize the authenticity. To the least, I’m sure an Ambeth Ocampo book was not unavailable to them.

Also, what I found lacking in this cinematic experience is this sense of urgency brought about by the changing of flags, the excitement of the birth of a new nation, and the last stand that the Spaniards are about to take inside that church as if it were the Alamo. I mean there are scenes that established thus but they seem to have been missing that intensity to contrast all that love against the impending battle. For when I was on my seat I was going, “So there’s supposed to be this big siege that’s about to take place, why don’t I feel the gravity of it?”

And I don’t know what they wanted to achieve with it, but a cinematic device that got lost to me were these two film clips in black and white that showed two events: the Battle of Manila Bay and Aguinaldo’s declaration of Philippine Independence. They look like lost parts of a Charlie Chaplin movie, in their choppy crude texture that found its way into the film. Okay, if they had intended for it to be a narrative device to display the coinciding historical events by using that early film reel effect, they would have been better off using that from beginning to end to give it another dimension to period standards. But unfortunately, they make up a one-time-small-time sequence that never amounted to anything.

From the way I see it, there was a lot of opportunity to explore blocking, cinematic shots, and creative camera work. But as one pointed out to me, “The blocking was high school velada. Everybody facing an invisible proscenium.” Later would I concur by saying, “There’s only so much you can do with blocking it like a firing squad.”

When it came to the film’s Production Design, I have but one word: Texture. I think the film tried as much as it could to use the natural scenery it was able to film in. You don’t see that much green anymore just anywhere in this country. But when it came to the constructed sets, even without any design background, one still knows by the look of it what they had were literally sets. It’s like when you watch a Filipino sitcom and you know that the concrete walls are actually made of plywood. Like in one scene showing the church interior, the wall and those stairs look like they came out of an AngTV fantasy set. The church, which was supposed to be the centerpiece of the entire design template, looked as if it used up Divisoria’s Styrofoam supply from the outside. I have no idea if that was the actual architectural façade of the church therefore I have to stop criticizing the odd shape of the structure which does not fall into the usual silhouettes of a turn of the century church that often doubles as a stronghold. And was that a statue of Our Lady of Fatima they mounted inside the central niche of the church’s façade?

Also, in one montage, they used a “parol’’ [a star-shaped lantern that has always been associated with the holidays in this country] hanging by the window of a “bahay kubo” to signify that it was Christmas. This has always been a pet peeve of mine. You see, the five pointed star “parol” never existed until about the 1920s. The shape of which was an American import copied off from their flag. Believe it or not, in 1898, there were no Christmas decorations; and if there were, they were only limited to the church in the forms of the crèche and the Niño dormido which came out only on December 25th. And don’t argue that the Americans were already here at that time because even by 1930, the concept of decorating Filipino homes for Christmas had yet to catch on.

When it came to the Costume Design, the biggest question I had was with the uniforms of the Spanish soldiers. If I remember my Philippine costume history correctly, the revolutionaries wore a uniform called the “Rayadillo” which was a pinstriped light blue and white uniform. So, if that was the case, why did the Spanish soldiers then wear the stripes of the “Rayadillo” and the Indio revolutionaries wear the light blue linen uniforms of the Spanish colonial army? I have not been living under a rock, and I have yet to read a paper that says I am wrong about this thing. That’s not something that can be easily overlooked if one is doing a period piece about your own country.

As for the rest of the costumes in this film, they were just that: costumes. They all look like they came straight out of the costume department, crisp and newly ironed. Then there’s the Franciscan robe, the clerical vestments, the altar boy robe… I mean, they have not changed much since the Byzantines and surely with Pope Benedict XVI reviving the use of traditional church vestments in the Roman Catholic Church, they could have at least gotten the silhouette right. But then again, they could argue that these were provincial clerical robes and that would be one excuse to use.

Now, I’m not the best Spanish speaker out there, but listening to the Spanish they used in this film, they would have done better to say the least. There is a nuance to the Spanish they used in the 1890s that is not found in the sprinklings of the Spanish dialogue they tried to inject. Even the character of Baron Geisler who plays a Spanish officer suddenly shifts to speak Tagalog while addressing the character of Joel Torre in accent moderne.

I had this summation about Baler midway through the film: I told myself that the movie’s heart was in the right place yet it seemed to beat the wrong way.

Like the second cliché of the film uttered by Mark Bautista [hated the mustache they made him wear for the movie] as the other half-bred soldier named Lope who was in-love with another India in the movie, “Mahirap umibig sa panahon ng digmaan.” [Love is difficult in a time of war] the film is not without stock characters that defined the generation of revolutionary leaders played by Joel Torre and stage and screen veteran Leo Martinez; the latter whose performance seemed to be the saving grace of this film.

Also, I think the writers did their best to portray both sides of the conflict. I sympathized with the plight of the Revolutionaries attempting to gain recognition with their sovereignty over the islands under the Spanish and American tug of war, the dynamic of having multi-racial soldiers that can be seen as traitors in a colonial army as well as their sentiments of being stationed in the islands, and the impatience of the revolutionary forces against the resolve of the Spaniards to stand their ground all contributed to the multi-faceted plot line. Even with that, it seemed to me like the editing would make an effort here and then suddenly just move on to the next one out of necessity. As I said earlier, I can’t seem to figure out the cinematic pace of this movie.

I’ve been having a hard time composing my next point but here goes: I used to think that when it came to doing period movies about your country, you’re supposed to have a grasp of the things within your own backyard. I mean, if Ngila Dickson could design costumes for the Last Samurai and she’s not even Japanese, imagine what the Japanese themselves -like Akira Kurosawa has done with Emi Wada for Throne of Blood or Ran for that matter.

Also, I was taught not to insult your audience’s intelligence. The true measure of artistic integrity lies in not settling for whatever is acceptable and getting away with it but in taking a truth and keeping to it [a lesson I admit to have learned the hard way]. In all fairness to BALER, it gave it a good try but somehow midway, they seem to have just settled. By the way of period films, I can’t judge if we actually took a step back from the period pieces of recent vintage but as per BALER, I wasn’t taken from the world I knew to this world they sought to create. And there I was expecting to be somewhere else, but like the Parabasis of a Greek play, I was constantly reminded by all the things I was seeing, that I was watching a movie [It‘s Lapu-Lapu all over again…with shields and spears mounted on walls like in Urdaneta lanais]. If that is the case, then we had better stay away from doing period films lest we hang ourselves.

Have A Happy New Year Everyone!!!

2010-12-30T23:14:00.003+08:00

The Perfect Year

Bring out the old, bring in the new
A midnight wish to share with you
Your lips are warm, my head is light,
Were we in love before tonight?
I don't need a crowded ballroom, everything I want is here
If you're with me, next year will be the perfect year

Before we play some dangerous game;
Before we fan some harmless flame
We have to ask if this is wise
And if the game is worth the prize
With this wine and with this music
How can anything be clear?
Let's wait and see, it may just be the perfect year

It's New Year's Eve, and hopes are high
Dance one year in, kiss one good-bye
Another chance, another start
So many dreams to tease the heart.
We don't need a crowded ballroom,
Everything we want is here
And face to face, we will embrace, the perfect year
We don't need a crowded ballroom, everything we want is here
And face to face, we will embrace, the perfect year

Here's wishing you all the blessings the coming year may bring... It has been a rough tumble for me this year, yet I am thankful that I'm coming out of it a better person.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Even the Tiniest Star Could Burn So Bright: HAVE A HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!

2010-12-24T14:35:00.004+08:00

There was once a tiny star; the tiniest star in the universe.
He wasn't a popular star, nor was he noticeable, but he was a good star.
One day, an angel asks the tiny star to accompany him to light the way of
the newborn King; and the tiny star, excited, agreed.
For he had seen many a big star herald the birth of great kings.
The angel said, "This baby will be the greatest of Kings."
And so they went across the vast universe, for the journey was long, and the angel had much to do.
The tiny star was led to a tiny town and told to place himself above a humble stable.
Again the angel asked of him, "Stay thou here, and give him light. For I will bring this good news unto the people of the world." And the angel went on his way.
The tiny star looked down into the stable.
He beheld a man, his wife, and a sleeping child kept warm in a manger.
At the tiny star's heart leaped and he smiled.
He never understood why, but he took a deep breath and mustered all his strength to burn bright;
So bright that learned men that studied the stars could see him through the skies, and follow his path.
And the bigger stars said to him, "Do not burn so bright and waste your fire. For if you do so, you will die."
But the tiny star ignored them and kept on burning, keeping watch of the child in the manger, guiding shepherds to that tiny stable, and later learned men with gifts for the tiny King.
The big stars could only look on, as he burned even brighter than the biggest of them.
And when he exhausted himself and knew his job was done, he asked the angel to find another star to give the king light for he knew he would not last any longer.
And the angel said, "No other star but you will light this king."
The tiny star took his last breath and burned to his last ember.
But God in his place in heaven made sure that we will remember.
And so every year, come this time, we hang a star above us, in memory of the tiny star that burned bright for all of us to know "the King of Kings is born!"

Have a Blessed Christmas Everyone!!!

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

this is just too good not to share...

2010-12-20T03:46:00.005+08:00

"Blessings on your friends,
and blessings on your enemies.
Turn their hearts.
If the Lord wont turn their hearts,
We'll ask the Lord to turn their ankles,
So you'll know them by their limp!"

~Ancient Irish Blessing

I pass thee this blessing and go and see who will be limping...Bwahahahaha!!!

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Hello Hypocrite? Or Strapping Myself on the High Horse Again...

2010-12-15T22:38:00.003+08:00

again, the tomatoes are just for emphasis

I have seen some pretty despicable behaviour in my time, but none like what I shall comment on here. Yes, I'm back on my high horse yet I shall be strapping myself real tight on this one.

Now, for most of you who have known me or have been reading my blog posts, you pretty much have an idea how I am an amusing contradiction of sorts [Here I go again talking about myself]. Then again, it would not be the swirling mist in my head if it were not so. But for the benefit of the rest, a little introduction.

Some of you may recall that I am passionate about Devotional and Religious Art; and for some years now, have been studying Roman Catholic Iconography in practice and in relation to symbols outside the Christian realm [i.e. Pagan, Pre-Columbian, non-Christian religions etcetera].

Sidebar: A little part of me wants to write this in... As a dear elderly friend of mine once pointed out, "Bakit ang mga bakla habang tumatanda, nahihilig sa mga Santo?" [Why do most gays, as they get older, seem to grow fond of religious images?] As she noted the growing number of homosexuals who own religious images being taken out for processions and exhibitions.

Having said that, I was sort of witness to something that happened at a discussion thread in one of many Flickr groups devoted to the local Religious Arts. At first I found it rather amusing when the exchanges started. But sooner or later there was tension in the discussions , and looking closely at the points of some -which were up for correction- and having responded to it myself to the best of my research and knowledge, I did some investigating and was surprised with what I found.

You see, as much as I have been dedicated to the discussions in Flickr, I never bothered much with the personal lives of the people behind the accounts. When other friends -some of whom I have met through Flickr- would tell me about certain individuals and their notoriety, I let it pass for it's none of my business. But Temperance, being the virtue that it is, reaches its limit; and I have no Patience for the pretentious.

In my snooping around, perhaps the most telling of all is this statement from someone whom I respect the most. And I quote, "Kasi itong mga baklang ito, ginagawang hunting ground ang mga cofradia para maghanap ng kaka-ririn!" Roughly, "These homosexuals are using these religious organizations as hunting grounds for hook-ups!" To which many a pathetic tale have I heard about homosexuals commissioning religious images so that they can join exhibits to see which other image owners they can meet there and who knows what.

WAIT! Let me add another strap on my high horse....

While I am all for the beauty that comes with owning a religious image, however, there are certain responsibilities attached to that beauty. And as much as some of us have been guilty of treating them as life-sized dolls, there are those that advocate a proper aesthetic and the appropriate practice of commissioning and dressing up images. Add to that, I think as owners, we are also responsible for keeping the dignity of our religious images by not getting embroiled in certain scandalous behaviours that would result to ill-repute and destructive rumors about one's person.
Case in point, I would not be broadcast as someone who had a naughty few minutes with two more fellow santo enthusiasts at the back of a van performing fellatio, nor should one be known for being caught in a love triangle wherein the resulting tension would spill over at a discussion thread on religious art, nor will i join an exhibition of religious images just to scope out and flirt away.

Thus, I can say, I'm not that pathetic. Bwahahahaha!!!

I'm no hypocrite, but work is work and my personal devotion and study is separate from that. It's no secret I curated a male nude photography exhibit, but I don't think I have compromised any of my other values with that -as I have mentioned, I'm a walking contradiction. Keeping up appearances is crucial and is a mark of a responsible individual, no matter what some may think of it. Because it has weight in the vernacular, I shall say this, "Bigyan niyo naman ng kahihiyan ang mga Santo ninyo."

thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

Impressions of the Grand Marian Procession 2010 Part Deux

2010-12-15T01:15:00.004+08:00

Before I continue, let me respond to one comment about the way I write. I do understand that it takes some getting used to, and the way I use words -big words to some- isn't the usual brand of writing the majority of you want to read, but the Barefoot Baklesa is not here to write for anyone's approval nor is this blog here to titillate gay sensibilities. There are other blogs that cater to that. Furthermore, I'm not being an elitist about this. Ah well, there goes being unapologetic...

Looking at the members of the Cofradia [Confraternity] seated at the top steps of the Manila Cathedral with their view of the "carrozas" passing before them, I can't help but wonder what was going through their their heads as each of the Marian images went past them.

In typical Filipino festive fashion, the Grand Marian procession is not without its dose of the theatrical; and by theatrical, I do mean beyond the Baroque sensibility that already dominates the folk religious art in this archipelago. Aside from the ubiquitous religious heralds, and escorts, and ladies in attendance, some images of the Virgin Mary are accompanied by a cotery of performers: street dancers, if you may call them such. Dressed in their native and pastoral best, these troupes of dancers come in all ages representing the local festivities associated with the virgin. If the entourage of Our Lady of Turumba was any indication of what is to be expected of others, by the time the image of the Divina Pastor [Divine Shepherdess] emerges from the gate, you will surely get the sense that these people have been waiting for the GMP all year. Thus waiting four hours to emerge from the gate of the fort, isn't really that big a deal.

As we went around the left side of the Cathedral, past the gaze of the Cofradia, and the army of photographers clicking away, the streets of old Manila seemed to give way to the solemnity that was always associated with a procession. And then by some irony which I have often associated with my view of the world, the marching band before us played tune currently familiar. And by the chorus, I knew what it was. I guess it did not hurt that it had been one of the most well received songs from a previous episode of GLEE: "Just The Way You Are". And I could not help but look up behind me and smile at Nuestra Señora de la Salud and thinking, "Yeah, she loves you just the way you are."

I know some of you that know me will go like, "There goes Niki with his spiritual epiphanies while in the middle of any religious ceremony." But whatever anyone may have to say about it, at least I'm glad I still have that connection with my spirituality.

And whoah will I be on my high horse on this one- Yet looking at some people living the alternative lifestyle who think that getting into clubs, partying all night, bouncing from one co-dependent relationship to another, and worse -being self destructive in whatever they will- I'm glad I still have experiences like this: knowing some higher power is still up there, and i'm better for it.

But I'm getting sidetracked here...

Moving on; I really admired Trina for being such a sport, the black high heeled pumps she wore throughout the procession would give the cilice [that freaky thing the Opus Dei like to use? just google it.] a run for its penitential value. I remember humorously having to count the meters leading to the cathedral as I assisted her with her "bara alta" which by manner of keeping appearances would challenge one's poise and bearing with those pumps -especially at the cobblestone streets adjacent to San Agustin church. Applause goes out to her for having graciously seen it through.

By the time we reached the vicinity of the Manila Cathdral, the "carrozas" that went before us were already parked by the piazza. And as expected, the crowds that gathered were asking for the flowers that decorated the "carroza" -which by local belief, was blessed by the presence of the Virgin and is considered by some as a talisman of sorts. Trust me, if you are an image owner and have been taking out religious images for procession, you will dread this moment the most. Trying to control devotees from grabbing what they will from the floral displays would also run the risk of breaking the light fixtures and damaging the carroza -or worse- the image itself.

But thankfully, even with the barrage of devotees waiting to get those white flowers, Djaja's "carroza" survived and found a place to park by the piazza. And to my surprise, the image of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, was yet to emerge from the gate. Trina found a convenient place to sit and rest her feet while with "bara alta" on hand, I tried to catch glimpses of some of the many Marian images that have come to rest in the vicinity with camera on hand attempting to capture those that I had missed.

I was glad to catch another friend, Becco [Benjamin Concepcion Esquirres Empleo -you see, I'm not the first to have such a long name] who was to be my company until the end of the evening. As we saw to it that Trina had settled herself in the car and returned the "bara alta" to Djaja's custody, Becco and I went to the gate which the remaining images of the Blessed Mother waited to emerge. It was almost past 7:30 in the evening and the "Festejada" image of the Virgin was still biding her time.

And typical of me and a fellow enthusiast in the local religious arts, we went into our usual discussions about silver "carrozas", gold thread embroidery, ivory carving, and the list goes on. And in doing so, we seem to have lost Djaja and the others. Understandably tired, I knew they had to go ahead and get their rest. So Becco and I decided to catch what was left of the GMP in front of the cathedral. We found a place to sit and chanced upon a fellow Flickr member, Ohmel, who was in town after being abroad for work.

Of all the questions that came from Becco that evening, this struck me the most: "If you had the resources and an image of the Virgin to spare, would you join the Grand Marian Procession?"

And I replied objectively, "It would be nice, but that would be one logistical nightmare for me. Knowing how I get during holy week processions obsessing over the tiniest detail, I don't think I'll be able to survive a GMP. I'll just be happy to see friends take out their images, and help out when given the chance." Ehem, paging Tito Jojo Canlas!!! Hehehehehe.

Remember the commentary I made about the Cofradia a little earlier, about the GMP becoming sort of becoming their amusement, Becco thought the same too. In the vernacular he said, " Alam ko na sila ang Cofradia at nagpapakain sila ng mga kababayan natin, pero alam mo isa lang ito sa mga aliwan nila." I hope I got that right... Roughly translated for my readers from Thailand and the UK [Oh yes, I do...] "I know they are the Confraternity and they have their charity work, but this is only one of their amusements." Having said that, and whatever the GMP may seem or mean to anyone, it's the Virgin Mary that is queen, and her glory in all of this is all that matters. [Oh look, that last one was cannon fodder for the fundamentalist sects out there.]

After the Festejada image of the Immaculate Conception had passed, and the other images have made their way back to the piazza, Becco and I started going around to take photographs of the icons that still had their lights on. It's nice to have shared this experience with friends... Congratulations to Djaja for the "primera salida" of the Nuestra Señora de la Salud, and my profoundest thanks for letting me be part of it. And here's to Becco, I'm praying for thy intentions as well.

Viva La Virgen!!!

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Impressions of the Grand Marian Procession 2010

2010-12-13T02:12:00.004+08:00

I have been a Marian devotee for some time now, but my devotion is very specific and limited. And as much as I love the artistry that comes with Roman Catholic devotion, I was unable to attend the Grand Marian Procession within old Manila's historical quarter called Intramuros [thus named for being “within the walls”] until this year. And considering that every Roman Catholic educational institutional I have attended since time immemorial have always declared the Feast of Immaculate Conception on December 8th school free, I can't really explain why I never bothered attending the GMP.

I have read about it in some book and would always participate in discussions of Marian Iconography, yet somehow people would always seem aghast when I would declare my non-attendance to what they regard as the jewel of all Marian Processions in the country. But by saying that, it would be unfair of me not to mention the side commentary that has always been associated with the GMP at Intramuros; that it was -by default- a fashion show. Upon asking a friend of mine a day before if he was attending, he responded nonchalant, “I don't attend that Fashion show.”

Yes, I know that some of us in the ranks of those that own religious images are often guilty of being “over the top” when it comes to processions in general to the point that we can make finials of ostrich feathers and cherry blossoms from twigs and spangles, I am one that stands by and believes in self-control and constant editing lest I find myself in the throes of the “overkill”.

But it is kind of different for me these past two years, for I have made a few friends that have been immersed in Marian devotions long before that life changing experience I had around four years ago when I could say for certain -for a brief moment in time, in those sacred seconds- that I felt God had walked the earth. Therefore, I opted to attend this year. A good friend of mine, Sonny Djajakusuma, who is also responsible for helping with the repairs of my processional image of Saint Mary of Bethany will be taking out his new image of the Nuestra Señora de la Salud for this year's GMP. However, this will not be the first time he will be joining for he hath taken out another image of the Virgin, the Nuestra Señora de Alta Gracia -which he opted not to take out this year. Also, Djaja was the one who took me to my first La Naval procession last October which I endured with a sprained back supported by a cane. To those of you that know me, I am averse to anything of the Dominican order that I avoided them. But it was an enlightening experience.

But before I proceed any further, I would like to give those of you who are unfamiliar, a brief backgrounder on what the Grand Marian Procession is all about. You see, every year on December 8th, the traditional date of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, The Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception has been organizing a yearly procession of images of the Virgin Mary in the infinite variety of her titles and the many devotions associated with her in the Philippine Archipelago since about two or so decades ago. Marian Images from all over the country are brought to the walls of the historic quarter for an annual procession with the image of the Immaculate Conception as the last to come out in celebration of the Feast. Through the years, aside from the traditional Marian images that are venerated all over the country, many other titles and incarnations of her have joined the procession thus making it a grander display in the years that followed. And this year, I believe that the total images that came out already reached a hundred.

I arrived about 55 minutes late that cloudy December afternoon. They said it would start at exactly 4:00pm, which to my surprise it did considering the cliché of Filipino time not starting on the dot. By the time I made my way to the street that led to Fort Santiago where the procession started from, it was already the 50th image of the Virgin Mary that I beheld. Part of me was wondering if my friend Djaja's image of the blessed mother already passed or was still about to emerge from the gates of Real Fuerza de Santiago blaming myself for moving too slow that day.

Then I felt this energy emanating from the processional line; from afar my eyes could make out an image of the blessed mother encased in a silver baldacchine borne on the shoulders of her devotees locally called an “andas”, being danced and swayed left and right to the music of a marching band. Behind her, a youthful crowd of more than a hundred enticing revelry as they went past us. It was the Nuestra Señora de Turumba of Pakil, a town in Laguna about three hours drive away from Manila. She was a relatively small image of the Sorrowful Mother, that gained the title Turumba which was derived from the local word “tumba” which translates to topple or tumble by the way she is danced as by those who bear her on their shoulders. With digital camera on hand, the hairs on the back of my neck did stand like that time years ago when I stood at some corner of the Quiapo district of Manila during the biggest procession celebrating the feast of the image of the Black Nazarene.

There was something about that congregation from Pakil that kept me mesmerized. There I was recalling the legend why the locals had to dance and incite cheers for the grieving image of the Blessed Mother. It is said that centuries ago, faithful of Pakil began dancing and cheering so that the Dolorous image of the Blessed Mother shall shed tears no more. And in doing so, they attributed many a miracle to this devotional activity. And some people ca take this with a grain of salt, but of all the artistic incarnations of the Blessed Mother there, this was the only one that made me feel she was there with me, at that very moment. I guess it's different for other people...

And true to my luck -which one has attested to be unfair to the rest of the world- my friend Djaja's image of Nuestra Señora de la Salud emerged from the gate of the fort in her stunning tiered “carroza” [processional carriage/platform] bedecked with white flowers. Her visage of carved ivory and hands of the same precious material bore in her hands the Christ child also with head and hands carved of the same; both dressed in rich fabrics exquisitely embroidered in gold thread. I expected nothing less of Djaja who knew the ins and outs of composing religious images from scratch. His knowledge of carvers, suppliers, gold thread embroiderers and other related ateliers would produce no less than excellently finished images that reflected his unfailing devotion to the Virgin Mary.

I would not miss this for the world, so I cut my way into the crowd and made it to the processional line just in time to join Djaja's processional party. Before them was a marching band and altar boys who bore the standard of the Virgin, one burned incense on a censer, and some others lit her way; and just after them the young lady that accompanied the Blessed Virgin Mary, Trina Ballesteros wore a Traje de Mestiza [traditional formal Filipina female dress made famous by Imelda Marcos during her time] in iridescent green and black with a classic faux tortoise shell comb sans the soft mantolin as that of the Spanish fashion; on her right hand, she held a “bara alta” -a metal staff with a finial of pressed or worked metal that held the image of the Virgin she accompanied.

As we turned the corner to the front the Manila Cathedral, each image of the Virgin Mary was introduced to the crowd, recalling the history of the devotion to a particular title of hers, which town or family the image comes from, and the sponsors that have helped them in this year's procession. Kind of like a candidate at a beauty pageant in the simplest sense. Upon the steps of the cathedral sat the members of the confraternity in their formal traditional best and blue and white sashes. They were composed of society's elite, a majority of them with their hyphenated family names so familiar to me in the many times I have been in the same room with them or have heard mentioned in conversation. As we went past them, I could not help but feel as if this was all for their sheer delight and entertainment...

I shall continue this next post...

thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

For Your Eyes Only, Curator's Notes: "Vulnerability and the Male Nude Form"

2010-12-08T00:44:00.011+08:00

“La beauté de visage est un fréle ornement, une fleur passagère, un éclat d'un moment. Et qui n'est attaché qu à la simple epiderme.”

“Beauty of face is a frail ornament, a passing flower, a momentary brightness belonging only to the skin.”
MOLIERE

Curator's Notes:
Vulnerability and the Male Nude Form

How does one look at the naked human form devoid of any emotion? In our barest, we are vulnerable; and that vulnerability by sheer sight is transferred to the one that views the image stirring emotions that may last for a fraction of a millisecond or may affect him all his life.

Throughout the ages of man, in their infinite variety, Artists have attempted to capture the beauty of the human form. Our museums are a testament to the many paintings and sculptures that have defined movement after movement in Art History. From archaic forms in pottery, frescoes, to sophisticated Renaissance statuary, and paintings that attempted to capture the fleeting quality of light and shadow, we are given an insight as to the zeitgeist of every age that required Art to be as it is: a reflection of the age.

The human body was glorified and vilified as it was seen through time. The naked body was viewed by the Greeks as the perfect final note of the song of creation, the Romans used the strong male form as propaganda for power and conquest, the early Christians saw an almost naked crucified man as the triumph of salvation while frowned upon nudity anywhere else and saw it as a catalyst for immorality, while the Renaissance Men viewed it as a challenge to represent in their masterworks.

But the fascination with the naked form has always been subjected to the changing morality of the times. In the last restoration of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, the restorers removed the loincloths and covers that were painted over Michelangelo’s naked figures, to bring them back to their former naked glory.

The advent of photography presented the human race with the ability to keep a fleeting moment in time stay as it is for the eyes to behold. And what is most remarkable but most often neglected in their accessibility in the digital age with a click -is that in its earliest days, to take a single photograph took more than just a camera- it required a mastery of light and time by covering and uncovering the lens while counting away the seconds to capture in a thin silver sheet an image that which time may let pass.

The 20th century was the most visual of all the ages of man, anything and everything that can be recorded in still and moving pictures provided us glimpses of history rather than words in a book. But more than history, Photography became a new medium to encapsulate the human form and in itself developed into an art. Technology and the innovations that came forth made photography accessible to almost anyone who can afford it, and as the cliché goes, suddenly just about anyone is a photographer.

But as Thackeray once set in poetry, “Art is long, and time is fleeting”, and this is not an Art History lecture. Yet the point I am making is best presented with that which I have labored to compose here to accompany the exhibition and our choices therein.

I first beheld Ian Felix Alquiros' photographs as an online observer. The sheer number of reactions posted and people that paid attention to his work also had me looking to see what he would post next. Ian's photographs were very simple in their intent, there was nothing too contrived about his subjects nor was there anything too complicated to process. Having taken photography as a requirement in college, a few years before the digital cameras and DSLRs hit the market to the point of over-saturation, I had an appreciation for Ian's style of available light photography for my training was film based [Yes people, it's that thing that comes in a roll encased in a plastic canister that has been replaced by memory cards and sticks.].

While in pre-production for this exhibition, I learned that Ian's preference of subject and the presentation thereof was more of a practical choice in the process of developing his style as a portrait photographer. Time, which he had very little of when he started, was not a luxury he had thus he would opt for shoots that required less prep time. Which meant light, plus model, plus or minus basic articles of clothing, equals photograph.

In this collection, For Your Eyes Only, Ian Felix Alquiros does away with clothing and bathes his subjects with light and the manipulation thereof resulting to a plethora of anatomical forms, a myriad of skin tones, playful innocence, innuendo, erotica [subtle or otherwise depending on the effect], humor, contrast, maturity, stillness, motion, even just plain voyeurism. Therefore the task of grouping and choosing what to feature and what to take away was no walk in the park. My understanding of the male form is influenced by my experience in the aesthetics of painting and sculpture. And still as photographs are, they are stories unto themselves -and stories make for good theater. And by good theater, I do not by any way mean the next nude photo scandal that may surface on the internet which seems to keep the Pinoy psyche entertained by using them as fodder for gossip and cheap entertainment.

What we seek to present here are men who dared to show themselves as they are, as time would have them, in their skin. The reactions it may cause is all up to you.

In the process of choosing which photographs would make it to the final cut, Ian once asked, “Is there something else that you see in my photographs?” -which was surprising but also expected. To which I responded, “Yes.” With a firm resolve that others may be able to see what I see in them; that I am not alone in what I see -or maybe- just maybe, they may see something else.

As a Production Designer by trade, the collection requires a clean sense of theatricality. People may refer to the concept of Zen or Minimalism when one goes about presenting these, but Zen is the least of the initial states of being once you behold these men in their barest. I keep going back to the word Vulnerability, and the transference of it in experiencing these photographs. For it is my firm belief that Art is there to rattle the status quo; but that's just me being noble about it. Plainly, I don't think there's anything wrong about being naked. For in that state of vulnerability, one learns a lot about one's self.

Niki de los Reyes-Torres, PATDAT
Production Designer by trade, Symbolist by passion,
Curator: For Your Eyes Only

thus spake, the Barefoot Baklesa

I'm Curating FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

2010-12-06T01:31:00.013+08:00

Hie Thee Hither!!!

I'm inviting you guys to Ian Felix Alquiros' FIRST ever NUDE Photography exhibition entitled FOR YOUR EYES ONLY on the 10th of December at 6:00pm and the 11th of December at 12:00pm at THE ROOM, 88 Panay Avenue Quezon City

Exhibition Curated by Niki de los Reyes-Torres, PATDAT aka The Barefoot Baklesa

thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

posting drought is that you?

2010-11-22T11:44:00.003+08:00

Lately, i don't know if it's a combination of being busy with sudden bouts of procrastination that has been hindering me from posting anything new or maybe i have nothing with any sense to go on about; But trust me, my readership rates at google analytics have been dipping -not that it's much but i do enjoy the clicks... come on, we're not out here blogging just for our personal pleasure to read -that would be too absurd even to the vainest of all of us.

So I leave you with something to think about today, because I have been stuck with certain pages of my book and it's taking a while to write/move on:

"Like are we writing for Art?
And is Art a springboard for fame?
And will fame give us a paycheck?
And will a paycheck mean that we're sellouts?
And if we sellout, will they yell out me and you?"

-Title of Show

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

I must be making sense to someone out there...

2010-11-08T16:29:00.003+08:00

Remember how I often refer to my postings as "the swirling mist in my head"? Well, i often wonder if what i'm going on about here makes sense to some, or if I seem to be blabbering on about random things that catch my fancy, or getting emotional and passionate about -well, just about anything...

Just now, I found a curious message in my inbox... it was a long read, and a juicy one at that. Before I actually make a response to his dilemma, I'm going to ask him if I can feature it in The Barefoot Baklesa blog. I think what he went through and what I have to say about it I reckon is something we can all learn from.

Until then, i leave you with Bernadette Peters singing "Not A Day Goes By" from Sondheim's Merrily We Roll Along

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Happiness, the Shallow Side of Me, and Super Junior

2010-11-06T12:36:00.010+08:00

I will have to admit, there are days when I can be undeniably shallow... Next to great food, eye candy and the continuous sight thereof keeps a smile on my face longer than the balance of my bank account. Maybe that's why I enjoy 'people watching' from the odd corners of cafes and lounges which i frequent.

Back when we were in training to be writers, we taught the skill of observation: to see what stories people's actions tell. But I'm getting way off topic here, I need to be shallow.

I woke up today, considering the obvious lack of sleep, with what one calls "a spring in my step"... There was something in the air, I sensed.

As i was checking stuff online, I was reminded that five years ago today, a Korean boyband of 13 members strong was launched: SUPER JUNIOR.

[oh yeah, this was from years ago... look at the hair on these boys!]

I have to admit, I became a fan very late in Super Junior's existence. How late? Well, only early this year... That gives me four years I need to catch up on. Trust me, the pretty boy overload wasn't something I came to regret.

So, even with the racist slurs actress Lee Da Hae has thrown my people's way by poking fun at how Filipino teachers speak/teach the Koreans the English language, the very fact that Super Junior still keeps a smile on my face when I watch them trumps the latest uncouth comment from a second rate actress. Thank you, Super Junior [*sigh*]

You see, there's something about SUJU that appeals to me [Siwon and Donghae perhaps? Hehehehe] which I can't really find with the guys from U-kiss, Beast, or 2PM. Although 2PM's Nichkun would make for the cutest cuddle-mate, and I could stare at Eli of U-Kiss for hours on end, they don't have that "lift my spirits" kind of vibe that SUJU has on me.

These guys [SUJU] look like they're having fun all the time. Which is evident when I look at their performance concepts that they have a sense of humor about themselves with the cross dressing and the antics.

The Barefoot Baklesa wishes SUPER JUNIOR a happy five years in the biz; and here's wishing they keep making me -I meant- more people happy.

I leave you with the very first SUPER JUNIOR song I ever saw, "Haengbok" or "Happiness"

Have a great weekend, everyone!

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Don't Bother, He's Here

2010-11-05T00:30:00.002+08:00

Quoting someone very dear to me just now, "Ngayon older but much much stupider things we do for love."

Sooo True... and nothing defines this midnight's epiphany better than this Sondheim song.

"Don't you love farce?
My fault I fear
I thought that you'd want what I want
Sorry, my dear...
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns!
Don't bother, they're here"

Thank you, Glenn... I needed that; feeling a bit more recharged.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Just In Case You Get It: Taking Chances

2010-11-04T00:39:00.004+08:00

[again, the photo is just for emphasis]

"Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity. They seem more afraid of life than death." ~James F. Byrne

I often wonder how I survive ~for the most part... You see, the life of a full time theater artist is not really the most lucrative and most secure of all job options out there. You go by project, by paycheck, and by sheer gumption in getting hired.

The rate of how busy I seem to some does not always equate to peso signs flashing on my way to the bank. Sometimes it takes 90 days -a bit of an inside joke there for those of you who get my drift. When it comes to my career as a Production Designer, I earn and I get by... And it doesn't hurt that I know of many other ways to earn from my myriad of skills; which more often that not, still surprise me. And now that the holiday season hath begun, I reckon the Barefoot Baklesa shall be wreaking havoc on them Christmasy things that would do Martha Stewart proud.

I am not beneath common labor; work is work. My upbringing has taught me the value of a hard day's work, and at the crunch, I wouldn't put it past me that I can be found at the battens of a theater if something needs to get done -I like working with my hands. Trust me, sleeping on plywood in an unoccupied tenant space at one of the biggest malls in the country just to catch some sleep during a bloody three-day set-up is already crossed out on my "things to experience" list.

Maybe what I'm getting at here is, everyday we all must take chances and that we must risk it to get to where we want to be.

I take a chance with what I know, with what i can do, with what I feel I must accomplish... And with every little victory, I am better for it.

I could have easily taken a creative job that requires me to be in an office environment, but I have been there and I was never happy. Then there was the job that paid like the money would never run out, but the hours it took meant my life expectancy would be down a decade.

It takes very little for me to say "I'm quite happy where I am" and even less to say "I'm happy I did" -and that's because I took a stab at it, sometimes blindly...

Add to that, "the book" -Oh yes, the book that is taking an eternity to get from chapter three to four in a collective twelve- plus more than nine excursus still waiting to be written. Manuscript due date: December 2010; Major Photography due date: February 2010 -no publisher yet...who knows?

thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

The Barefoot Baklesa Cooks: 001 Three Mushroom and Grilled Eggplant Pasta

2010-11-03T01:03:00.009+08:00

If Life Were Less Complicated, Then We Would Just be Happy All The Time

2010-11-02T10:27:00.004+08:00

Hello, blogsphere!!! It's been a while... needless to say, The Barefoot Baklesa has been very, very, very, very, very busy. Some people say that coming up with something and posting it on one's blog is easy; but if i had a punch for every one of those m*th@rf*ck3r$ who come up with nonesense and pass it off as an intelligible blog, then i would beat Pacquiao's punches by a thousand units, at least.

I'd like to share something for now, it's nothing that life-altering but it should give some people something to think about. Here it goes:

"Behind all this, some great happiness is hiding" ~Yehuda Amichai

I remember sending this message to someone not so long ago, without any thought as to what it would really mean to the recipient, nor what it would mean to me, for the meanwhile. If you know me quite well, I often love digging for words that would stir peoples' bored countenances to illicit a change of reaction at least.

The thing with words is that they could go either way... they could have profound meaning to some -life altering even, and sometimes they are just another bunch of letters that are ultimately meaningless [if you don't get them, then the fault is not the author's nor mine to begin with]; to use someone's words: "talksh!t yan" -in their understanding at least.

Maybe what I'm getting at here should be best laid out as lessons hereunder:

"Never believe what you initially feel when people say things that would stir your heart even if you are at your most vulnerable. Especially if your gut tells you that they are doing so because they have a lot to gain from you -and that includes money."

~this is when they can take advantage of your vulnerability. when your walls are down, they will find other ways and words for you to believe that their intentions are true and will use revolting sentimentality [pinagsamahan, bonding, shared tears and laughter, moments of value, etcetera] to manipulate you into believing that they are genuine to begin with.

"People are most likely to fail in keeping their words or promises if they have nothing to gain from it."

~the most genuine of friends are those that even in their absence, and without any expectations, would know when to be one. they never have to try so hard, they never have to say too much, and you will know them by their acts through others that will find their way to you.

"Be careful of people who promise that they won't forget and are grateful for your presence in their lives. They are the first ones to walk out the door or the ones that forget."

~they only say those things because they see that they have much to gain if they are kept in your radar.

"IF YOU HAVE STANDARDS, NEVER DATE BENEATH YOU."

~Sounds a bit elitist but coming from experience, it's true... This applies to all of you who have certain expectations from a partner. I, for example won't date someone who can't get my intellect or my humor. I have had the unfortunate experience of dating someone who needs to be told what you mean rather than understand it immediately. I have no time to guide anyone back to kindergarten. NOR TEACH THEM COMMON SENSE.

Soap opera/movie romances don't apply in real life, the 'haciendero' will never choose the 'muchacha' over his family fortune 95% of the time. And you never hear of the 5% now, do you? But that's just me being literal...

Date within your 'gauged' circle, it doesn't necessarily mean within a specific social class, rather within what you have in common like a sense of humor, tastes, interests, friends, intellectual base, level of openness... I can go on forever, trust me.

"People who make a fuss about what you fail to deliver 'as a friend' are usually the ones who keep count of what they can gain from you. When you unintentionally fail, they are the ones who will make you remember what they have done for you or what they have sacrificed, etcetera."

~beware these users; that's what they are. they display signs of their 'user-friendly attitude' by making such a fuss/arguing with you should you not please their brand of friendship, they are not worth keeping. Mahilig silang magbilang at manumbat.

"PEOPLE WITH SECRETS ARE NEVER TO BE TRUSTED ENTIRELY."

~stay away from people who have SECRETS - especially that which you know and have discovered some other way, they are still keeping from you. They are also hypocrites, they make a show of what they are not yet they can't be decent enough to be honest when you confront them about it. you need to steer clear of these people, they are not worth the stress. And people who are ashamed enough not to trust you with their secrets, never really trust you at all. Sincerity is key...

"NOBODY IS EVER THE SOLUTION TO ANYONE'S UNHAPPINESS"

~don't wait for the right person to come and fix your life for you. why don't you fix your life first, and maybe the right person will come along. In Tagalog, "Huwag kang umasa na darating ang nararapat na taong aayos sa buhay mo. Ayusin mo muna ang buhay mo, at darating ang taong nararapat sayo."

I think I have said a mouthful -or more, knowing my mouth. Bwahaha!!! I opted not to edit this least it turns into one of them prim and proper posts. I am in a good place and wishing you guys will be too.

Thanks to my Migs for keeping me sane this rather busy period.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

if my life had a soundtrack, this would be one of the songs: "It Had To Be You" by Motion City Soundtrack

2010-08-28T02:43:00.002+08:00

I've been too busy lately that this place hath accumulated more cyber cobwebs than i have time to take them down... I just want to share this with those that may come upon it here. This is for someone who is very dear to me, Have a Happy Birthday -a day delayed, I know...

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

maybe next time, NOT!!!

2010-08-19T15:18:00.005+08:00

I'm a little overdue to post something...If you have had the past three weeks that I have, you won't have much time for anything, I tell you. But that's just another excuse to keep the cobwebs around to stick a little longer here.

I would just want to say one thing for now, "There's something about the noise an empty vessel makes that makes you realize that it is empty."
or in the Tagalog vernacular, "Maingay ang lata pag walang laman!"

Now that we are rid of this empty can,let it rust and be gone from the earth.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Theater Down South's 2010 Theater Season is Full Speed Ahead

2010-07-27T23:13:00.004+08:00

I would just like to share this article that came out in the online edition of the lifestyle section of the Philippine Daily Inquirer...[just click on the link]

Family shows for Theater Down South, plays ‘worth a second look’ for Dulaang UP

For more information on Theater Down South's 2010 Theater Season, do visit our website

I do enjoy reading what some think of us...rather, i take great delight in it. [insert laughter here]

...thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Oh Mario Maurer, you blog me back!!!

2010-07-27T11:39:00.005+08:00

It does take a Mario Maurer update to make raise me from the depths of blogging drought...Bwahahaha!!!

Okay, some people say that Mario Maurer's star is about to implode on himself and fade into oblivion. But the Barefoot Baklesa's loyalty is never to be shaken when it comes to this multi-racial: German/Chinese/Thai actor catapulted to fame by the movie The Love of Siam [just click on the link for my review].

I have read from a fellow blogger Carlo de la Rosa that he has a new movie First Love slated to come out on the 12th of August. More on that from Carlo's Blog. So do click away!

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

it's been a while, blogger...mid-year lessons from the barefoot baklesa

2010-06-24T22:44:00.006+08:00

as the title goes, it's been a while since i have seriously posted anything here. the past few weeks have been going by so fast amongst other things -yup, this is a pretty lame way of starting a post after a while, but there are days when you just don't want to bother.

here are a few things from the swirling mist that is my mind:

~ you don't have to ask for something over and over again. heaven knows what you want -above that- heaven knows what you really need. if something is really meant for you, it will be given you. as i have once said, "tama na ang dasal, nabibingi na ang langit baka di ka pagbigyan" [don't pray too much, heaven might say it has had enough and won't be that kind]. i have learned to sincerely ask for something once, and not to expect too much of it. and if by the grace of the heavens you get what you want, then you have to be really grateful for it. gratitude is a reflection of how much good there is you see in your life. if you're grateful for the tiniest thing, you will be given bigger things to be grateful for

~ i may write about the saints, but i have no intention of being one. being burned at the stake is so Salem 1600s. after all, of recent vintage, i have learned that not all who work in the trade of making religious images wear halos atop their heads. some exercise outright fraud and dishonesty, others have tongues sharper than the serpent being crushed under the Virgin's foot, while there are others who have dug holes so deep that they sit beside the throne of Beelzebub. they will damn themselves in this life or the next and i will have great pleasure in watching that unfold before me. you know who you are, you put other santeros names to shame

~ simple as it is compared to it's foreign counterparts, the toy convention at megamall last weekend was the best 100 pesos i have ever spent [this after visiting a sculptor to have my image of Mary of Bethany repaired, as well as going to a painter who specializes in religious statuary, then off to a beaten metal artist who specializes in crowns, halos and religious acoutrements, and a glod thread embroiderer]. Life is amusingly ironic from high forms of religious art to cosplay, who knew...

~ i miss watching the korean drama, Princess Hours... I don't know why, but it's one of those things that i watch to bring a smile on my face. maybe there's a princess inside each one of us -even if you're already a queen! hehehehehe!!! oh yeah, and it doesn't hurt to be fought over by two princes...i know how that feels. *wink*

~ let me tell you something about practicality: not everyone knows the value of it. some people may say they're practical, but when it comes to how their practicality affects other people, they often are the contradiction of that practice. i don't like waiting and being forced to rush. that is truly impractical.

that is about it for now... the Barefoot Baklesa will be barefoot somewhere else soon...until then.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

i left my heart in Pila

2010-06-16T00:11:00.008+08:00

I had a great time during the feast of Saint Anthony of Padua in Pila Laguna this past weekend... I was babysitting my friend's Santa Clara de Asis for her primera salida procession... Pila is such a place that inspires the romance of days gone by, and I fell in love with Pila long before i knew the people that lived within those century-old homes.

I think I left my heart in Pila Laguna

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

i left my heart in

2010-06-16T00:11:00.000+08:00

Vice Ganda to Tado: "Bakit, anong problema mo sa mga bakla?"

2010-05-24T23:35:00.004+08:00

Well, it's bound to happen soon anyway...

I never found Vice Ganda remotely entertaining. And as proud as he is during an interview with Boy Abunda in last Sunday's The Buzz that there may be those opposed to him but is happy there are more that are entertained with him, I find his brand of humor very guttersnipe and cheap. I have been to comedy bars and the culture of embarrassing guests at the guests expense too much. Then again, that is not my brand of entertainment anyway. It's an acquired taste, or no taste at all. [insert condescending laughter here]

It's not as if Tado is without any fault here, but Vice Ganda has been too quick to interrupt the guest judge who is put there to voice his own opinion of the performances. I am the barefoot baklesa after all and i will be quick to raise the rainbow flag when hurled slurs at, but the vernacular has evolved to a point that saying "para kayong mga bakla" is not as heavy to me as it once was. For I even use that sometimes...

I think Vice Ganda has been trying to see how far he can push his brand of wit and humor on live television... and he seems to be getting away with it, and that kind of got to his head somehow.

I'm looking forward to more Tado versus Vice Ganda... Hehehehe

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Baking in the National Library

2010-05-22T16:42:00.004+08:00

IF I HAVE TAGGED YOU, PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO READ THIS…AND SERIOUSLY TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK… AND IF IT MAKES SENSE, PASS IT ON

I have just finished watching this little known movie entitled AGORA about the siege the early Christians laid upon the Great Library of Alexandria at the fourth century when the Roman Empire had recognized Christianity as the official religion of the empire. And how the female philosopher, Hipatia, struggled to keep the knowledge of the ancient world alive amidst the zealous acts that leave such chaos at its wake.

BUT THIS IS NOT ABOUT RELIGION, THIS IS ABOUT IRONY

Just a few hours ago, I had spent almost a day at the National Library of the Philippines. To those of you who have known me through Jesuit University and that other school across that university along Taft Avenue, if you can’t find me anywhere else, I usually am at the library not to catch a snooze but to explore the stacks and read the rest of the day away.

As I entered that Bauhaus structure along T.M. Kalaw Avenue at probably one of the hottest days of this summer, the sparse lobby gave no impression that within these walls, the people of this nation will behold before them such wonders found only in printed bound parchment that those who have dared contain them there laboured that we may know the tangible and intangible world by ways never revealed to us before.

Truth be told, that last sentence had more in it than what that place could have offered me. As I applied for my reading card which cost me only 50 pesos [almost $1 US], the insufferable heat in that place could not ruin my resolve to gain access to a few books that I needed which were currently out of circulation.

In my quest for reference books for the research on this book I’m developing with another writer, I was led to the online catalogue of the National Library since the rare books I was looking for cost an arm and a leg for $300 on the internet. I’m not a cheapskate, but the contents I needed from pages those books are all up here in the swirling primordial mist that is my mind -I just needed them for footnoting.

As I went into the reading rooms, and through the stacks to look for what I needed, I could not help but stare at the state that place was in. The place was clean as libraries go, but the disrepair, the poorly maintained stacks, and the general atmosphere of the place akin to that of a backwater town that government funding forgot.

As I walked those halls, It did not seem to me that this was the place that held almost everything about the world since the first movable type. What is this place to be for some impressionable youth seeking to fuel himself in the arts and sciences? One could argue that what really matters is what is inside those books and not the place that hold them. But if the place lacks the very books that can take them onto this journey -No, that the one that sends Bastian into Fantasia but you get my drift- then what?

BUT IS NOT THE STATE OF A COUNTRY’S BIBLIOTEQUE A REFLECTION OF WHAT IT IS?

Is this neglect associated with the priorities of every government that came and went? In the middle of my research I composed a text message that I sent to my mentors in the hopes that they may at least help me make sense of the experience.

“Sitting here at the National Library, a week after elections and just before the new come to take office, I wonder what will a new president really do for the Arts? To be specific, what does it matter to my art now that the people seem to have found hope and change in a man who is also of the old order?”

And this was the most disturbing reply

“Anak, ano ba naman ang alam niya sa Sining natin? The Arts have always been the least of any leader’s priorities since I can’t remember. If anything, the Arts to him may be just like tonight’s latest “gossip” that would be replaced with another juicier one by tomorrow. Palibhasa gossip rin lang naman ang alam ng kapatid niyan and I’m afraid they may play the Arts card when it is to their advantage like a badly acted teleserye”

And there I was, sitting on one of the wooden tables at the end of the Filipiniana section telling myself once again, that a place such as this should be the beacon for those wide-eyed youth seeking to be inspired, seeking to understand the world, and be fueled to contribute to the Sciences and most especially the Arts. No matter how disheartening that text message was.

That place must contain the infinite variety of the world as it is seen not by just one eye. For how are we to flourish if we do not at least leave a generation of new thinkers and even madmen that would challenge the way we see the world.

In our little corners, we [the few who still dare] try to keep the Arts alive. But what is Art without the interdisciplinary understanding of it? Are we to entrust that to the fantaseryes and teleseryes on recent vintage? When the fame of our world class performers are all limited to talent within the framework of western material, where is the emergence Filipino Identity in this global melting pot? It’s not there because there is nothing to catalyse it.

A few new computers with LCD screens does not a state of the art facility make.

I fear we are just fostering a wikipedia and “cut & paste” next generation if the very places that should contain the world for them only contain an island; leaving the rest of it to be googled away.

When forced to abandon her quest to keep teaching, Hipatia then says, “Sinesias, you do not question what you believe, or cannot… I MUST.”

I THEN QUESTION THIS HOPE AND CHANGE PEOPLE ARE NOW INEBRIATED WITH.

Because, what is that to me who struggles to create illusion within a proscenium frame to suspend any disbelief? Because what is that to me who seeks to add to that ISBN list with something that I see as uniquely Filipino?

If the mandate of the people is indeed for the good of everyone, what does that vote translate to us? Are they expecting us to be the sacrificed so that the many may be prioritized? Or are they expecting us to run for Party List seats in congress so we may finally be heard?

I may not see the National Library to be the like the Biblioteque of Alexndria any time soon. As it currently fails to deliver that brand of awe that a place where knowledge and things in their infinite variety may be discovered anew. The only saving grace of that place, are its employees. The people working there, under the dismal circumstances, are testaments to the resilience that we Filipinos are known for. That petite lady with the glasses at the special collections gives me a better appreciation of what a civil servant has to endure.

The change that you have been promised is not something that can come overnight. But if you don’t really voice out what needs to be changed, then the priorities just won’t get listed.

I remember something important about the Dark Ages, when the rest of the world falls into this hype of change that often results in chaos, there are those that retreat to the halls of learning and chambers of knowledge translating the knowledge of the old world so that there would be enough of them to spark the Renaissance.

Maybe I’m thinking of gloom and doom too much too soon… But if in six years, that structure along T.M. Kalaw remains as it is, then corruption is really the least of this nation’s concerns.

Go ahead, ask the average Filipino teenager who Idianale, Magwayen, Tungkung-Langit, Alunsina or Lakampati are, and you would not be surprised that they know more about Aphrodite and Apollo. Maybe even you who are reading this won’t even know off the bat.

I will be announcing “eating my piece of humble pie” if anything is bound to change at all.

thus spake the barefoot baklesa

saint or sinner with a bamboo pole

2010-05-20T23:47:00.003+08:00

somebody sent this through text message the other day:

forgive the jejemons, guys...but you will surely find it entertaining...hehehe!

"Ah tlga? kng di epektib eh di mahimlay ka na pinun0ng satan sa iy0ng kawayan at paikot ikot sa higaan mung apoy. Hahaha Para Lydias Lechon ala Satan ang Lbas cnfirmed! Jejeje geh na alis pko eh. Slipwell :-)"

[translated: oh really? if that doesn't work, then mount your bamboo, o lord satan and roll over your bed of flame. hahaha just like Lydia's Lechon (famous roast pig brand) ala Satan, confirmed. Hehehehe, i'm off. Sleep well :-)]

this is just the tip of the iceberg...very guttersnipe, ain't it?

Now tell me, what kind of person is capable of that? tell me... truth be told, I can't believe I lasted almost a year with that...

the photo above is for emphasis..and para mapagbigyan.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

I'm Still Here...

2010-05-17T20:29:00.007+08:00

this will be brief.

here are some things in the swirling mist that is my mind:

~I love theater... but truth be told, I have no love for some people I do it with. The best traitors are found in close proximity. Lesson Learned: just do your job and don't bother with the vampires...

~I hate to be the Grinch, but it's not normal what is going on in this country!!! The message of change and hope may be reverberating across a majority of the voting populace but why does it feel like an Obama scenario all over again? Change that people were fooled to believe in, my a$$...the people around you are the same cast of fools from the last time. I'll be watching you Mr. Male Pattern Baldness... Your Yakitty-Yak of a sister ought to keep her word and rid us of her presence in the archipelago. There's only too much of you guys i can handle on t.v.

~People should learn to pick their battles... that's for you, Senator Jamby Madrigal. Bilib din ako sa fighting spirit mo, teh! Same goes for JC de los Reyes and Nicky Perlas!!! No matter how many votes you said weren't counted, asa pa kayo na inyo yun!!!

~Apparently a baby was born... can someone who knows which baby I'm talking about please check if the child has the "mark of the beast" on his forehead? That's the mark of the Anti-Christ, for you who don't get it. The signs from the heavens were so obvious, the first of which is it rained on Maundy Thursday. Just a precaution...

~Again, kudos to Manong GIBO for fighting the good fight.

~MY Super Junior addiction has leveled-up!!! Spending an hour looking at photos of Siwon and Donghae is not healthy for the Barefoot Baklesa's already befuddled mind...Hehehehe!!! And I thought my Asian-Envy ended with the Japanese...

~I have learned that if you want to buy a book, just get it... Don't wait for eleven years later when you might need it.

~People should get a clue when to just give up.

Now, was that brief?

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

the song that goes like this: You and Me Song by the Wannadies

2010-05-07T21:27:00.005+08:00

I woke up and this song was playing in my head...Hahahahaha!!! Enjoy thy weekend, folks...

You and Me Song

Always when we fight
I try to make you laugh
Until everything's forgotten
I know you hate that

Ba ba ra ra ba ba ba ba
Ba ba ra ra ba ba ba ba

Always when we fight
I kiss you once or twice
And everything's forgotten
I know you hate that

I love you Sunday sun
The week's not yet begun
And everything is quiet

And it's always
You and me - always - and forever
You and me - always - and forever
Ba ba ba ba ba
It was always
You and me - always

You tell me I'm a real man
And try to look impressed
Not very convincing
But you know I love it

Then we watch TV
Until we fall asleep
Not very exciting
But it's you and me
And we'll always be together

You and me - always - and forever
You and me - always - and forever
Ba ba ba ba ba
It was always
You and me - always - and forever
You and me - always - and forever
Ba ba ba ba ba
It was always
You and me - always - and forever
You and me - always - and forever
Ba ba ba ba ba
Babaroah

thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

Ivan or Mario? [the battle of the multi-racial cuties in the barefoot baklesa's heart]

2010-05-06T22:43:00.014+08:00

Lately I could not fathom why I am drawn to this teen boy currently residing as one of the housemates in the Pinoy Big Brother Teen Clash 2010 House...

Then I remembered this guy...

Not since Mario Maurer have i paid this much attention to a multi-racial boy... And i can sense Mario Maurer's photos staring back at me with a stare that goes, "You have betrayed me..."

But can you blame me? Just look at that smile...

It's that same innocence that Mario Maurer used to have that I seem to have found in this boy all over again.

See?

I'm feeling Mario Maurer hanging by an artery at the edge of my heart...

*SIGH*

Thus spoke The Barefoot Baklesa.

This is for September 15: Broken Strings... you know what i mean

2010-04-29T01:39:00.002+08:00

This is for september 15

Broken Strings
James Morrison
Let me hold you for the last time
It's the last chance to feel again
But you broke me, now I can't feel anything

When I love you and so untrue
I can't even convince myself
When I'm speaking it's the voice of someone else

Oh, it tears me up
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much
I tried to forgive but it's not enough
To make it all okay

You can't play our broken strings
You can't feel anything
That your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?

Oh, what are we doing?
We are turning into dust
Playing house in the ruins of us

Running back through the fire
When there's nothing left to say
It's like chasing the very last train
When it's too late, too late

Oh, it tears me up
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much
I tried to forgive but it's not enough
To make it all okay

You can't play our broken strings
You can't feel anything
That your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?

But we're running through the fire
When there's nothing left to say
It's like chasing the very last train
When we both know it's too late, too late

You can't play our broken strings
You can't feel anything
That your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
So how can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?
Oh, you know that I love you a little less than before

Let me hold you for the last time
It's the last chance to feel again

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Oh gods oh gods, are you there? [text message banter during an unexpected april shower]

2010-04-29T00:11:00.004+08:00

I just had to share these exchanges through text... It lifted my mood a little -considering the the week i have been having [having being the operative word], and give or take that the person on the other end was located in central luzon for that matter. Here goes:

Drake: Yehey! Mahal talaga ako ni Bro, ang lakas ng ulan, migs!

Niki: Teka lang, tatawagan ko si Bro ha, baka kasi si Shiva o si Vishnu ang may gawa.

Drake: Si Hades daw. Hehehe!

Niki: Mali, si Horus daw may gawa. Nadapa at nadali yung pitsel ni Santa Martha kaya bumuhos ang ulan.

Drake: Nabitawan nga ni Horus yung jug sa Pampanga. Lakas ulan may bits of ice pa o.

Niki: Nagalit si Santa Martha, best pitcher daw niya yon... Hahatawin yata si Horus ng basket of grapes.

Drake: Ako heto, sobrang tuwa. Sarap pakinggan ng mga kulog at makita Thunder bolts ni Tatay Zeus.

Well, primera lluve de mayo [the first rain of May] is hopefully around the corner... Here's praying to the heavens that this insufferable heat will pass... Soon.

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Holy Week My Way...

2010-04-15T22:03:00.004+08:00

While the rest of Gay-dom had made plans for the hedonism that is to be expected of Good Friday at places like Bora and Puerto Galera -or wherever it is where the well-earning gays of the day are flocking during the holy week break, the Barefoot Baklesa was up to his neck trying to make sure the Niki de los Reyes-Torres Carroza Challenge 2010 was no less than fabulous [it doesn't get any gayer than that, using the word fabulous, I mean]

I remember my friend Sandro [the one responsible for the nomenclature of "The Barefoot Baklesa"] telling me what his grandfather once said, "Oh, you have a gay friend who collects Virgins? You do realize the irony in that?" ~Well, it's one of those things that just confuse people about me. That same friend whom I miss dearly and might leave for the land of the Kiwis soon ~Okay, I'm getting distracted again.

I guess in that list of contradictions that is me, the creature that I become come Lent and Holy Week is one thing that I enjoy metamorphosing into. And thank goodness for my theater background that I am able to achieve certain things which -I think- even at my idle wanderings into the realm of imagination would never have passed my mind. But I miraculously do... Beauty, intention, texture, effects, and awe are but few of the things that sum up a good job come procession time. And I'm thankful to have more than a few hands to help me achieve that. My cousins being my partners in crime, make the experience an enjoyable one ~sans the stress and the last minute crunch.

Lately, I felt as if my year actually begins after the rites of Easter Dawn.... If that is the case, then I welcome it.

Thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

The Niki de los Reyes-Torres Carroza Challenge Year 3: Saying Goodbye to an old Friend

2010-03-31T20:55:00.005+08:00

I haven't posted anything regarding this year's Carroza Challenge due to the really hectic schedule I had to juggle as of late. I still had to do a last minute check on the deliveries for a mall before my flight. This proved to be more than a challenge but also a series of miracles. [for the benefit of the readers who have no idea what a Carroza is, a Carroza is a tiered, decorated platform upon which images of Roman Catholic Saints are placed/mounted, usually with wheels, used in processions for holy week and certain feast days and days of ritual significance.]

Since the Carroza we have been using before has succumbed to termites and rotting, we had to build the wooden tiered platform from scratch once again -had it built in pieces to be bolted once it arrives at our ancestral home in Antique province. The pieces had to travel by ship and almost did not make it through, but the divine has ways.

So as i bid goodbye to the old one, here's to the rush of the new... Like many things, the impermanent remind us that if we don't take care of what we have, we might just lose it -and that applies to a lot of things in life as well.

Still a long way to go before the Maundy Thursday Procession...Breathe...

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Can i just Say?

2010-03-13T11:48:00.005+08:00

I slept in rather late, my body was a little worse for wear from the day before -unusually cold summer day that went all humid on me- But i woke up a while ago feeling as if the world is going my way. And that nothing, not even Uncle FreUd with a few lose screws in his head, can ruin this day...

I'd like to share this wallpaper from Bon Bon Underwear which pretty much sums up what I feel today...Enjoy!!!

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

that's one way of looking at it...

2010-03-09T03:35:00.004+08:00

This was a posted by a dear friend, colleague-in-the-arts, and fellow kakulitan, Sir Mike Villanueva about my Santino post; and he is quoted thus:

"Duno if this connects. But lately I've been toying w/ the thought that Filipinos/the Philippines in general is as Catholic/Christian as it is Democratic - translation: only in name.
That being christian & democratic are fashionable masks worn and beneath this thin veneer is a face the nation is collectively ashamed of so there is an unspoken collective effort to keep it under wraps.

Prof of mine is of the opinion that the country has a nature that's sort of Schizotypal: pervasive pattern of social and interpersonal deficits marked by acute discomfort with, and reduced capacity for, close relationships as well as by cognitive or perceptual distortions and eccentricities of behavior.

Or in a nutshell, saying/proclaiming one thing and doing the exact opposite. This would conform w/ a study I heard the KBP did over 10 years ago.
They determined the mental age of Filipinos in general and concluded that as a whole the Philippine population has the collective mental maturity of a 10-year old and so game shows, fast-paced, colorful, no-brainer production became the norm for a race that IN GENERAL struggles to differentiate fact from fantasy as well as holds on to Hope to the point of being Delusional.
Gee, my comment is longer than your blog. ;D"

i will have much to say about this soon; yet the easiest for the time being is I AGREE...

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

"All the World's a Stage" with THEATER DOWN SOUTH's Summer Acting Workshop 2010

2010-02-27T20:06:00.005+08:00

Summer's coming and that means it's Workshop time again! This year, Theater Down South [TDS] will be holding classes in De La Salle Zobel School, Academy One Music and Dance Center and Festival Supermall! Join us and have an unforgettable summer! To register, please fill out the online form available here. Or visit:

Academy One
293 Aguirre Avenue BF Homes, Paranaque
Tel: 8265182

TDS Booth at the Treasure Trove
Festival Supermall, Filinvest Alabang

Or contact us at:
Mobile: +639166436976
Globe Duo: 02 5056380
E-mail: info@theaterdownsouth.com
Website: http://www.theaterdownsouth.com/

So, follow your passion! Join the Theater Down South Summer Workshop 2010! Basic Musical Theater and Intermediate Acting classes taught by the TDS faculty under the supervision of theater veteran Michael Williams!

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Hear Ye, Hear Ye! Attend to me, all of thee...

2010-02-25T22:32:00.004+08:00

Reposted from The Art of the Philippine Santo Group at Flickr

You are all Invited to Attend Administrator Dennis Gungon's and Moderator Niki de los Reyes-Torres' Lecture

Mr. Gungon will be giving a lecture on "Religious Hagiography" and Iconography while Mr de los Reyes-Torres will be giving a lecture on"Headdress of Images Depicting Characters during the Time of Christ" on...

March 6 (Saturday; "Hermandad -TAPS Friendship Day" sponsored by FAMILIA DE LEON)
1:45 PM -- Welcome and Introduction of Guest Speakers
2:00 PM -- Lecture on "The Hagiography & Iconography of Lenten Images" by Prof. Dennis Gungon
3:00 PM -- Chaplet of Divine Mercy
4:00 PM -- Lecture on "Headdress of Images Depicting Characters during the Time of Christ" by Mr. Vincent Jordan Niklaus de los Reyes-Torres, PATDAT
5:00 PM -- OPEN FORUM
6:00 PM -- Stations of the Cross inside Clamshell I

The Hermandad exhibit runs from February 26 to March 14 at “WOW PHILIPPINES! CLAMSHELL I"

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

Apparently, ABS-CBN's Miracle Boy isn't being truthful to us...

2010-02-24T21:55:00.006+08:00

I don't know if I've been out of the loop for that long or if this has been out there for a while but the rumor mill has churned out something of curious interest.

The other day, someone asked me if I knew that Zaijian Jaranilla a.k.a. Santino is not even Catholic -heck, not even Christian- but a full blooded Muslim.

And apparently, ABS-CBN kept it hush-hush after having cast him as the "Miracle Boy" that talks to Jesus. Funny how all this came out just after the finale of the hit evening drama... Mind you, a finale that was one of the most highest rated on Philippine primetime television wherein the broken Santino was raised by Christ from the dead [least they anger millions of viewers by killing him as was done on the Spanish film they based the drama series on]. Word on the street is that some people are feeling betrayed by the idea. Some have actually said that they could at least have gotten a Christian to play a role.

If there's any truth to this, there's going to be millions of disappointed "May Bukas Pa" fans out there. But who knows? Filipinos have learned to let some things be -too much lately, it seems.

Then again, and I don't want to go all preachy on this one, if Jesus Christ is indeed for everyone, I think Zaijian finally saw the light. *Snigger*

thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

Light and Hope [on the feast of Candlemass]

2010-02-02T01:13:00.004+08:00

I am a Marian devotee, give or take the jokes that some have been thrown my way about being gay and collecting images of Virgins… But I am one to laugh it off like the last one. It’s not their money anyway. Hahahahaha!!!

But seriously, February 2nd is the traditional date for the Feast of the Presentation of the Christ Child at the Temple in Jerusalem. If you recall that lyric from a popular Christmas carol, “Two turtledoves and a partridge…” this is that biblical event to which the lyrics refer to when Joseph and Mary brought the newborn baby Jesus to the temple mount to be dedicated to the God of Israel. There was an old man named Simeon who had been promised that he shall see the Messiah in his lifetime. And when Simeon held that child in his arms, he knew that the he held the hope of the world.

(a miracle in stone, this statue of the Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria, newly-restored under the hand of Tom Joven, has attracted the faithful for her miracle of healing. local legend and lore has it that the statue has grown; as she had been taken from her niche for her canonical coronation -done by the Pope John Paul II himself- for more than two decades now; and if they would return her, she would not fit anymore.)

In the Marian tradition of devotions, this same day celebrates the Feast of Mary as Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria [Our Lady of the Candles] and the miracle of healing she bestows upon her devotees. And personally, I can claim that I am living proof of that miracle. It pains me that I may never be at Jaro Cathedral today, where the canonically crowned image of Our Lady of Candelaria resides. I would have wanted to see her newly restored visage and see for myself the sea of devotees coming to celebrate her. But Our Lady understands…

Thus I shall be lighting candles from our shrine at home.

A single flame, flickering on a candle’s wick, best represents hope in the Roman Catholic Symbolic tradition. Simeon’s Canticle best speaks of this hope. The world seems like it is no better than before when you tune in to CNN, but I believe that things will always turn out. So I leave you with Hangad’s musical rendition of Simeon’s Canticle.

Photo courtesy of mic_cal from Flickr.

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa

when you think the gods are playing games with you...

2010-01-30T21:00:00.002+08:00

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

I chanced upon Javvy at the computer the other day watching this...
I found this quite hilarious and I want to share this with you guys.
This is for the days when you think the gods above are messing with you, and hopefully they aren't.

So, if you feel like it's not your day, just laugh it off like I did with this one.

Thus spake, The Barefoot Baklesa