Artfair 2018′s photography showcase
For the first time, the Philippine Artfair dedicates an entire section and a day of talks to Photography. It is an excellent showcase of the young and the old from contemporary to conceptual, and journalistic to artistic. Placed on the spot for the first time in recent memory, it has the daunting task of defending its place in the Philippines where in some circles, Photography is still being questioned as an art. It’s sad that it still has to do such, but for it to grow, it needs to prove itself. It does justify its existence here in the Artfair, but there is so much more to be done.
The Exhibitions
We start with the International Center of Photography’s photographs by Arthur Fellig a.k.a. Weegee — the 1920’s photographer who hunted the night streets of New York. He was on the lookout for the next newsworthy photograph. His subjects ranged from crime scenes, celebrities, and even the people inside cinemas. The use of flash is usually frowned upon in modern photojournalism but Weegee was from an era where those practices were not entrenched. Without any hesitation, he blasted his flash on anything that he deemed worth photographing.
You will weave around the pillars where the frames are displayed as if emulating Weegee’s movements while photographing the night. The light of his flash was harsh and unforgiving, but he embraced it. This was a blunt, possibly reckless approach, but Weegee knew what he needed to do to get the pictures he wanted.
Next is Neil Oshima’s Kin. From a distance, you will see the distinct black and white portraits of the Austronesian tribes of Southern Mindanao, most notably those of the B’laan people. I admit that I had no idea that the B’laan exist, but that’s the thing about photography, especially in the heyday of Life Magazine and National Geographic: it can (and to an extent still does), transport a person to another place. The standout pieces for me are the portraits shot against a dark background — a motif that we will revisit later.
Steidl Verlag’s booth is on the opposite side. They brought in a few photo books from the region. The highlight is Jake Verzosa’s The Last Tattooed Women of Kalinga. I already wrote my reflections on that work (together with Geloy Concepcion’s Reyna Delas Flores: Manila’s Golden Gays) over here. What’s notable for me is that the exhibition also has the Steidl edition of his photobook of the same name. It provided audiences a contrast on the scale and majesty of a print lit up by a wall and the intimacy of a photobook. Seeing audiences looking over the wall and then looking at the book in their hands with fresh eyes is already a treat for me.
Silverlens as always pulls through. The gallery has a long time dedication to photography and it shows.
It’s always nice to see one of my favorites, Johann Espiritu. Part of his collection, Cy Pres, his multi-exposed/layered photographs of Japanese Vending machines, elevate the supposedly mundane to an extraordinary object. Frank Callaghan’s Search/Night is also there. Photographs of the coast lit by a lighthouse not present in the frame. The beam of light divides the sea and sky. Wawi Navarozza’s Medusa is present as well. Photographs of the Marble and how this rock and its dust envelopes the land and the people dwelling there. These three works show the capabilities of the camera; Espiritu’s manipulation of the image, Callaghan’s dance with the light, or Navarroza’s capturing of a space.
Most interesting in Silverlen’s booth are the photographs of the “Father of Philippine Photojournalism”, Teodulo Protomartir. The discovery of Rosauro “Direk Uro” Dela Cruz of Protomartir’s photographs is one of the most important finds in tracing photography’s history in the Philippines. Protomartir’s images of post-war rubble of Manila are not by any means life changing in today’s eyes, but the importance of the work is that it proves what is fundamental in any photograph: A camera in hand, a photographer willing to witness and/or see, and the formation of an object as a result of those actions.
Eduardo Masferre’s work is showcased as well. He is one of the names in Philippine Photography that one needs to know to understand it in full. His photographs of the Kankanay-ey are playful with the smiles present, their curiosity with a camera, and even being up close to the people give credence that the tribe has allowed the camera to be present in their lives.
There were rumors that on the first day of the fair all his photographs were sold to a collector. On one hand, it is unfortunate if these prints dwell in someone’s private collection, locked up and hidden. But, it is also a good sign that there is interest in the market. I can’t seem to make a conclusion for now. Either way, its presence in this important showcase was crucial.
Next up is in my opinion, the most powerful exhibition in the Artfair, Everyday Impunity’s Ang Mga Walang Pangalan (Translates to “Those with no names”). Curated by Erwin Romulo, the exhibit shows Carlo Gabuco’s coverage of the drug war. An entire wall is filled with the nearly desaturated images of the dead, the wailing, and the artifacts left behind.
It is an extensive look at the damage of this war. By being desaturated, these images have a respectful view of the people and situation while not forgetting the craft and authorship needed in photography. This then brings a conflict to me as a viewer. “How can these beautiful images be derived from something so devastating?”
The addition of Juan Miguel Sobrepeña’s haunting music, Mark Laccay’s interrogation room style lighting design, and the voice of young Christine, retelling the story about her father died to the drug war all add to the atmosphere of the space.
The centerpiece of this hall is A blue armchair with a bullet hole. The very same armchair where Christine’s father was shot and killed. As you sit on the chair, a faint projection will be in front of you and a red laser pointer will be directed to your chest, tracing the trajectory of the bullet. On the wall behind the chair, in an unassuming ziplock pack, a bullet casing from the scene. As you exit the space, you will be left with the image of the couch. An object so common and so simple but the site of an unimaginable tragedy.
The photographs are strong but the message was further augmented by the addition of other elements by collaboration. This exhibition is not meant to scare, but to remind the audiences of what all of this death is causing and what the populace seem to forget: The human cost of the war on drugs.
Provocations curated by Neil Oshima and Angela Shaw deserves a post of its own. It presents the relationship and tradition of the Philippines with Documentary Photography. The diversity of works and their experience level can be easily seen. Tommy Hafalla’s ethnographic photographs of the Cordillera from decades past. Alex Baluyut’s visual reflections of Mindanao taken almost decades apart. Kat Palasi’s documentation of her Ibaloy roots. Boy Yniguez’s chronicling of the changing face of Baguio. Jose Enrique Soriano’s photographs of Mandaluyong Mental Hospital. Nana Buxani’s photographs of inside the city jail.
There’s also the young- to the mid-career photographers. Geloy Concepcion’s portraits of Metro Manila’s Golden Gays. Francisco Guerrero’s portraits of the people he meets in his travels around the country. RJ Fernandez and her ethereal photographs of mining sites. Jes Aznar’s frontline photographs of the war in Mindanao. Veejay Villafranca’s images of the impact of environmental disasters (also from his book Signos).
Finally, the quirky and the curious with Kawayan De Guia’s experimental approach to personal documentary and Marta Lovina’s documentation of a photo story using only objects.
What makes Provocations are the little details here and there that resulted in an engaged audience. Framing Geloy Concepcion’s photographs similar to that a polaroid picture adds nostalgia as if to remind us of something we had in the past. Nana Buxani’s exhibition notes are handwritten. Kat Palasi’s photographs have handwritten exhibition notes on them. RJ Fernandez has a Dusseldorf School/Becher approach making the destructive beautiful. Veejay Villafranca’s use of contrasty black and white emphasize the damage of the storms. The most common is the use of the black background from Neil Oshima, Tommy Hafalla, and Francisco Guerrero.
The recurrence of this motif is due to the simple “rule” of documentary photography, it’s not about the photographer, it’s about the person/event/objects being photographed. By removing all semblance of color and/or brightness, all focus is on the subject. One can make a reading that this is about the colony looking for what was lost due to the colonizer and other academic ideas. It’s thoughts such as these that make the audience look further and deeper into the works displayed.
I can’t help but like the selection of the title Provocations. The root word Provoke is already a signature to fans of Japanese photography and tradition. Daido and company stirred up the status quo,, while Oshima and Shaw are inciting audiences to move forward and urging viewers to look deeper into the pictures and the issues.
Last but not the least, The Julius Baer collection. The Swiss-based gallery comes full circle from their talk last year. Here they showed off some of the pieces from their collection. Most notable for me is Juliann Charriere’s XXI (Please, I beg you to look this photo up). A double exposure shot of nuclear wasteland exposed to thermonuclear strata on baryta paper. A visually arresting image that perfectly marries message and execution.
Sadly, this was mostly used as a “selfie” background. A testament to the visually arresting look of the photograph. I hope the humor of a photograph of a toxic waste as selfie background is not lost to those who took them. The placement of the Julius Baer Collection as the last exhibition presents to me a future of where we can head to in terms of the photographers and the sensibilities in approaching photography. I can confidently say we are at par with our own work here (as manifested by acclaim our very own photographers get) but all that idea, execution, and beautiful would be for nothing if we can’t take the audience with it.
The Talks
The day starts with ICP collections head James Kopp discussing their collection and philosophy while Raffy Lerma and Ezra Acayan’s shared stories of the Night Shift photographers. A group of journalists documenting the war on drugs happening in the evenings.
Lerma gained notoriety from the “Pieta” photo which circulated online and reached the ire of the president. Ezra is one of the youngest and most talented photographers in the night shift. It was a heavy and emotional talk. The audience was shedding tears and yearning for solutions. I already follow the work constantly, but seeing all the violence, death, and lack of humanity in a two-hour period leaves one empty and feeling hopeless. I had to lie down in the roof-top parking lot for a moment to look at the sky and just breathe.
This presents the challenge of looking at these works. How do you get to be critical of a subject matter so heavy that it has the workers putting an emotional and physical burden upon themselves? It already compromised the capacities of those present who are supposed to be conscious about photography. What more an audience we are trying to educate about the medium and this topic on a deeper level? That conversation needs to happen as these images are not just about the war on drugs but as Lerma puts it, this represents the frontline of the war for the Filipino morality.
We can see that the old ways of presenting work are not working as it was before. The distrust with the digital platform and the discrediting of news media are taking its toll. Maybe a new approach is needed. Maybe the pictures and those who create and curate them must believe that their work can help change the world. Perhaps it’s as simple as having that uncomfortable conversation with your family or friends and sharing these pictures as a straight proof that no matter what the context is, that people are dying, justice is not being served, and this is cause for the greatest concern.
The next two talks that are in the form of conversations with the artists from the exhibits (Provocations photographers and Neil Oshima, and Carlo Gabuco) wrap everything together. As the photographers discuss their work and share their concerns, the audience pokes and prods about the process and the message. This is one of the most beautiful things I have seen as I closely follow the scene: Philippine photography is finally confronting itself.
All the problems are bursting at the seams. It was the first time I’m aware of that everybody who was involved or had major contributions in photography gathered in a single room. Gallerists asked about the economics and marketability of all of this. The academe questioned our lack of photographic identity. This led photographers outside of Manila to ask how we can properly represent indigenous cultures and works outside the capital, which lead to another discussion of how the photography community can be summed into cliques as the “art folks”, “photojourns”, and etc..
An audience member inquired as to where we can find photographic archives of those who are in “Philippine Photography’s Pantheon”. There were also thoughts on how this lack of identity and archive also shows why young photographers turn to Instagram influencers with millions of followers rather than what the art establishment puts on a higher standard. This now opened the question of how to engage an ever-distracted audience.
All this prompted me to ask a simple question: Given all these, what comes next? Or more importantly, what do we need to do?
How I wish it could have gone longer. How I wish more people were there. How I wish that those who have something negative to say about the Artfair were present to prod further and issue their criticisms of the fair. How I wish your typical hobbyist or aspiring young photographer who wants to make it big on Instagram was there. How I wish the marketing departments of camera companies here in the Philippines were there. There are many questions I wanted to be asked and many more I want to be answered. Everything ranging from the money trail of the purchase of the pieces or where the buyers will store their artworks, or the human capital involved in being part of Philippine photography’s infrastructure, to something as simple as how marketing departments of camera companies are shaping impressions about photography. Yet, like any other discussion about saving the world, you can’t do it in one sitting. Although the discussions that were had were a good start.
As talk moderator Angela Velasco Shaw puts it, “Ask yourself now, what can you do to contribute to photography?”
To no one’s surprise, it all boils down to doing the work. Learn from the names we look up to by helping them with their archives. Start your series with a critical approach. Publish your book. Write that piece on that work. Start on your research. Make that letter to the gallery. Start that uncomfortable conversation with your family or friends about EJK and other issues. Curate your show. Demand more from your gallery. Demand more from your audience. Execute and be critical of your own work and that of others. It’s a simple enough solution but what else can we do but put in the work.
Reflections
What comes next from this art fair is what the Philippine Photography community will add in the coming months. It shows how broken the Philippines is not just in photography, but on a societal level. After all, the most basic of photography is a recorded observation of what was present.
It’s not going to be a single event that will fix everything. It seems like a daunting feat but as Filipinos, we do it in our way; get our hands dirty and put in the muscle. Maybe when we do the work we’ll just wake up and see something different. Who knows. What’s important is this confrontation together with a selection of works showing us where we are. As long as we put out our message and contributions, maybe next time it’s not going to be a confrontation but a celebration of Philippine Photography and how it is making its mark on a global stage.
With the way things are, we’re not there yet but we’ll get there. I know we’ll get there.
- A.g.
Post Script
Miscellaneous things I don’t want to leave out but should be of note:
Look closely at the scene and you’ll notice that all the people holding up Philippine photography’s infrastructure are women. Badass.
Although one can argue that Mark Salvatus is an artist working with photography rather than a photographer, I really don’t want to care about definitions, I’m just happy his work is present.
Micaela Benedicto is underrated in her use of photography. Hopefully, it changes in the future.
Hardworking Goodlooking Hoholteca pirate library is a fantastic slight against the supposed over-commercialization of the fair.
There are still plenty of selfies with the artworks. As much as I don’t want that to happen, I’m happy to see them actually look at the work afterward. Either way, if that is how they experience art and photography, good on them (Written about that from last year’s fair here).
The term “Philippine Civilization” is thrown around, I can’t help but smile at that thought.
I still can’t believe that of all places, it is the Artfair that presents us with Philippine Photography’s past and present rather than a major institution. A platform concerned with the commerce of art has more sympathy than those who want to preserve it. I do hope it will change soon or that I will unearth research that will show it was different in the past.