Cool capital
It was just meant to be a trip to Baguio City to catch up with old friends and devour old favorites like raisin bread at the country club and ube jam from the convent. Never mind that the metropolis was hosting the biggest art event in the country, Art Fair Philippines. A chilly weekend by the pine trees seduced us more than a frenetic art frenzy fraught with coronavirus risks.
Our host had been hankering to visit the Museo Kordillera at the University of the Philippines-Baguio campus, it wasn’t hard to drag us along. After parking, we strolled over to the small center featuring local textiles and celebrating the soon-to-be-lost art of loom-weaving. It was an easy in-out trip --the museum only boasts two levels, and everything can be quickly assimilated.
The museum bookshop offers various independent publications, some scholarly, and some literary/artsy. There is a cafe to accommodate caffeine withdrawal symptoms beside it. That’s it? Not quite.
What was serendipitous was our casual chit-chat with a passing student, who told us an art exhibit was opening that day. If we made our way down some treacherous steps, we would find some works by local artists. We rubbed our hands in glee, and hied off the parking lot.
Along the way, we spotted some students busy painting incendiary protest signs. We couldn’t tell what the rally was about - all the possible slogans against a multitude of issues were being sprayed and brushed. There were signs against the military, K-to-12, ROTC, China, etc. What were these kids really protesting about? What was the core issue for the forthcoming rally? Did they just want to be prepared for all eventualities? Whatever it was about, it reminded us of our own youth spent in the hotbed midst of student dissent that was the Diliman campus.
We finally located the Demetillo Hall by coming upon a ceremony of sorts - a student was singing, her microphoned voice echoing off the steep rocks. What luck - it was the opening of UP Arts Month, and a tribal dance was slated next! Soon we were treated to the sight of Igorot lasses in feather headdresses and Igorot lads in loincloths.
That flourish punctuated the opening of the art show and we filed in with the eager crowd to catch the latest offering by promising Fine Arts students. My companion, a successful interior designer (he can decline potential clients with no qualms) spotted at least four artworks of various media he wanted to buy. I myself hankered for an acrylic painting depicting a pedestrian scene in Baguio, and asked if the artist was around.
Before that, we navigated a hallway decorated with bigger-than-life self-portraits of the students. The sevenfooter paintings were arresting, and I picked out a couple I wanted to cart home. It was a delightful surprise to find out that the artwork I had zeroed in inside the exhibit was also created by the same artist whose self-portrait I earlier picked out. And, another piece by him, my friend had also earmarked for purchase!
The student-curator found the artist partying among the crowd, and quickly hustled him over to us. We ended up taking selfies with the grateful but bewildered kid, and we left with effusive compliments (while congratulating ourselves for our finds).
I’m glad to report therefore that art is alive and well in the north. As it should be, considering the influence of BenCab, a living national artist who stamped his mark on Baguio. No loss then to miss out the glamorous goingson in the capital --Baguio had its own delights awaiting.
What exciting future awaits this city deplored for its traffic, pollution, and unsustainability, yet brimming with talent and artistic potential? I will find my way back.