Double Vision The City Who Had Two Navels

VENICE BIENNALE 2018

DOUBLE VISION

The City Who Had Two Navels confronts Philippine architecture with its own demons in our second national participation at the Venice Architecture Biennale

Written by Angel Yulo Photographed by Lawrence Carlos

The Philippine Pavilion’s main feature is the two-part 14-meterlong screen that occupies the vast space of an Artiglierie chamber, with its highest point at 4 meters tapering down to 1.8 meters. The structure, shaped like the intersection of a Venn diagram, is meant to represent the overlap between the two navels, which is the main symbol in the curatorial concept for the 16th Venice Architecture Biennale.

The Venice Architecture Biennale 2018, themed Freespace by Yvonne Farrell and Shelley McNamara, has received its share of critique

after the May opening. The loudest dissent comes from the controversial Patrik Schumacher who, in a lengthy Facebook post, decried that most national pavilions were devoid of architecture—a pattern he has noticed since 2014.

Zaha Hadid Architects’ principal takes a jab at the literally empty British Pavilion: “Pavilions were either given over to one-liner installations which could be absorbed by stepping in and out for 30 seconds, or to themes that have little to do with architectural design and were discussed without presenting works of architecture.”

Having visited the pavilion myself, I understand his bewilderment. While it was a timely message about detachment and Brexit, the presentation was highly abstract, programmed ZLWKKDSSHQLQJVDQGFODUL௕HGE\VHHLQJDGURQHSKRWRRIWKH pavilion—the isle-esque roof platform as it related to other elements in the venue. Also making his way through the *LDUGLQLWKDWGD\ZDV<DVRQ%DQDO௕OPPDNHUDQGFROODERUDWRU of the Philippine Pavilion. He said he was moved by the British Pavilion, which anchored my thought that, yes, it was a powerful installation; though not of architecture, but of contemporary art.

It is with these encounters that I revisit my own experience of the Philippine Pavilion, The City Who Had Two Navels, curated E\DUFKLWHFWDQGHGXFDWRU(GVRQ&DEDO௕Q'LGRXUSDYLOLRQ contribute to, as Schumacher puts it, the loss of architecture’s most important exhibition and communication forum?

National participation in La Biennale has been a steadfast H௔RUWE\WKH1DWLRQDO&RPPLVVLRQIRU&XOWXUHDQGWKH$UWV 1&&$'HSDUWPHQWRI)RUHLJQ$௔DLUV')$DQGWKH2ௗFH RI6HQDWRU/RUHQ/HJDUGDZLWKWKHVXSSRUWRIWKH'HSDUWPHQW RI7RXULVP'27<HDULVWKH3KLOLSSLQHV֢VHFRQG appearance on this international architectural stage since its GHEXWZLWK Muhon: Traces of an Adolescent City, curated by Leandro V. Locsin Partners.

According to Senator Legarda, the prime mover behind the comeback of the Philippines to the Venice Biennale and its consistent participation, “architecture has the power to create an urban space of seemingly robotic people ready to accept a

Inspired by Filipino National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin’s novel, The Woman Who Had Two Navels (1961), the Philippine Pavilion confronts the tension between the vicissitudes of the past and the challenges of constructing contemporary subjectivity. “When you read the submitted curatorial proposals, you really just appreciate the Filipino even much more. But the chosen curatorial concept, which is based on academic research, excites me. It does not look at city as built heritage, built structure, or architecture, but it looks deeper into the people who live in the city, the souls, the whole ecosystem,” said Senator Loren Legarda, principal advocate of the Philippine participation in the Venice Biennale. Opposite page: Shot using 4K, Full HD and drones, low-resolution through 360-degree, CCTV, and phone cameras, Yason Banal’s video Untitled Formation, Concrete Supernatural, Pixel Unbound at the center of the pavilion explores power structures and subjectivities in critical and poetic ways, evoking history and transformative potentials of the social as architecture.

monotonous life with the belief that development is all about economic progress. But it also has the strength to inspire people to create livable communities that respect history and is in communion with nature.” )RUGHFDGHVWKH)LOLSLQRDUFKLWHFWKDVEHHQFRQVXPHGZLWKWKH TXHVWLRQVRZKDWLV)LOLSLQRDUFKLWHFWXUH"֥2QFHDQGIRUDOOano nga ba?” You can read it on multiple pages in BluPrint’s archive, hear it popped in the middle of interviews, and be one of its many pitchers DWDUFKLWHFWV֢JDWKHULQJVIRUPDODQGFDVXDO&DEDO௕QDOWKRXJKKH admitted that it is not his intention, actually gives us an answer. 0DQ\)LOLSLQRVQRWRQO\DUFKLWHFWVDUHVWLOOLQWKHGDUNEHFDXVH they ask the question incorrectly. There is no “once and for all” GH௕QLWLRQRI)LOLSLQRDUFKLWHFWXUH(YHU\SHULRGLQRXUKLVWRU\KDV LWVVHWRIPDWHULDOVPHWKRGVDQGLQH௔HFWEXLOGLQJV0DWHULDOVDUH both tangible (stone, steel, etc.) and intangible (ideology). Also note WKDW)LOLSLQRVKDYHDOZD\VEHHQH[SRVHGWRRXWVLGHLQ௖XHQFHVLQWKH form of colonial masters of the previous centuries and the more recent IRUPVRIPHGLD2XUDUFKLWHFWXUHLVDMXQFWLRQRIPDQ\VWUHDPV6RWKH next time somebody mutters that ever-burning question, you might as well ask: of when?

The Philippine exhibit at the Arsenale, Venice’s old shipyard, is composed of two sweeping concave walls with displays of collaborators’ works outside and Banal’s video installation inside.

The City Who Had Two NavelsH[SRVHVZKDW&DEDO௕QVHHVDVWKH two forces (two navels) shaping Philippine architecture today: colonialism and neoliberalism.

The pavilion invited students and practitioners across creative ௕HOGVWRVSHFXODWHRQWKHWZRQDYHOV<DVRQ%DQDOFRQWHPSRUDU\ DUWLVWDQG௕OPPDNHUSKRWRJUDSKHUV0DUYLQ0DQLQJDQG-LQJJR 0RQWHQHMR7$23LOLSLQDV,QF'H/D6DOOH֝&ROOHJHRI6DLQW %HQLOGH6FKRRORI'HVLJQDQG$UWV8QLYHUVLW\RI6DQ&DUORV֝ 6FKRRORI$UFKLWHFWXUH)LQH$UWVDQG'HVLJQ8QLYHUVLW\RIWKH 3KLOLSSLQHV'LOLPDQ&ROOHJHRI$UFKLWHFWXUHDQG8QLYHUVLW\RI WKH3KLOLSSLQHV0LQGDQDR'HSDUWPHQWRI$UFKLWHFWXUH 7KH௕UVWQDYHOFDOOHG (Post)Colonial Imaginations explores the politics of representing a nation in an international setting, the DJHQWVZKRFRQVWUXFWDQRௗFLDOQDUUDWLYHIRUDQLQWHUQDWLRQDO audience, identity politics, and attempts to construct a national identity through architectural displays.

Colonialism is the acquisition and control by a nation of another territory and its people. In our case, we have been politically dominated consecutively by Spain and America (and LQWHUPLWWHQWO\E\-DSDQ*DLQLQJVRYHUHLJQW\DIWHUVXFKDORQJ period of rule comes with an identity crisis, which I suspect stems from the retreat from the foreign and turning a blind eye to cultural appropriation. It’s the whiplash of independence.

From February to March of 2018, Cabalfin and the PAVB Coordinating Committee went to Venice to do a mock-up of the exhibit and testing of equipment with WeExhibit. Photo by Andrea D’Altoè/Philippine Arts in Venice Biennale

The irony is that our post-colonial presentations of Philippine architecture remained entrenched in how our former colonizers perceived us: bahay kubo, bulol, primitive, exotic.

While the vernacular has its place in current design practice, it becomes problematic when it becomes the measuring rod for )LOLSLQRQHVV7KLVNLQGRIWKLQNLQJEUHHGVWLPLGGHVLJQHUVDQG the prevalence of “modern bahay kubo” in project descriptions. ,IZHZLVKWRDFKLHYHSURJUHVVLYH)LOLSLQRDUFKLWHFWXUHWRGD\ which future architects and historians will be tasked to study, we need not be insecure of being cultural hybrids.

The other navel, Neoliberal Urbanism, presents the development of Philippine cities in the midst of privatization, deregulation, a free market, and minimal state intervention. This section includes photos and video documentaries (vlog entries) that follow various laborers navigating through the daily UK\WKPVRI0DQLOD&HEXDQG'DYDR

The neoliberal city races towards the bottom line and its citizens are but consumers. And as in any competition, there are winners and losers. No developer wants to lose, so design briefs tend to begin and end with: how much money can I earn here? Thus, most of our urban issues today are borne RXWRIWKLVSURMHFWF\FOH%32VDQGXUEDQLQVRPQLDPDUNHW ௖RZVDVH[SUHVVHGWKURXJKYHKLFXODUWUDௗFPRYHPHQWDQG LQIUDVWUXFWXUHGHYHORSPHQW2YHUVHDV)LOLSLQR:RUNHUVDQG their impact on the expansion of residential developments in the city and the sprawl; the rise of mixed-use and shopping malls as alternative urban public spaces; and, informal settlements and their intimate relationship with the growth of the city.

The central section features Banal’s multi-channel video installation Untitled Formation, Concrete Supernatural, Pixel Unbound, which investigates the tenuous overlap between the two navels through their contemporary manifestations. Sitting on the central bench in the pavilion, one is embraced by a quilt RIYLGHRVVKRWRQGL௔HUHQWGHYLFHVZLWKLQKXPDQYRLFHRYHUVDQG dreamy music. In stitching scenes of our daily environments with quotes mundane and ironic, along with silent and beautiful reprieves, Banal reads our cities as coded translations of identity, PDUNHWDQGD௔HFW

Consolidating what The City Who Had Two Navels questioned DQGSUHVHQWHGRQHZLOOJHWDSLFWXUHRIZKHUH)LOLSLQRDUFKLWHFWXUH LVLQ2XUDUFKLWHFWXUHLQWKHPLGVWRIFRPLQJWRWHUPVZLWK LWVPL[HGOLQHDJHLV\RNHGWRWKHIUHHPDUNHWHFRQRP\2XU DUFKLWHFWXUHPD\QRWEHDOOWKDWZHZLVKLWZDVWRGD\EXW&DEDO௕Q and his collaborators work through all our angst and frustrations to present it at the Philippine Pavilion. If there is anything Schumacher FDQDFFXVHXVRILWLVELQDYHOJD]LQJ'L]]\LQJ"<HV)XWLOH"1R

The vernissage was held on May 24, 2018. Like all other previous displays, The City Who Had Two Navels will return to the Philippines for a homecoming exhibit.

Our architecture, in the midst of coming to terms with its mixed lineage, is yoked to the free-market economy. Our architecture may not be all that we wish it was today, but Cabalfin and his collaborators work through all our angst and frustrations to present it at the Philippine Pavilion.

NCCA Chairman Virgilio Almario’s translation of Freespace into our national language, Pookginhawa, holds a lesson for all designers. We asked him of his choice of “ ginhawa” for freedom as “kalayaan” seemed like the more popular word. He shared that, in 17th-century literature, ginhawa for the Filipinos meant a feeling of “lightness,” of being “lighter than light.”

Edson Cabalfin touring NCCA Chairman Virgilio Almario around the pavilion before the vernissage activities begin. Here they pass by the scaled models that TAO Pilipinas created with the community members from the sites they have worked on. Opposite page: The different jeepney signage from Manila, Cebu, and Davao show which developments and points in the metro attract the most traffic. In effect, they tell us which institutions and people are in power in the neoliberal landscape.

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“Because I must know what I am,” she said “and how can I know that if I don’t know what I came from? When I was little, when we were still living in the old place, I thought I knew. I caught snatches of a voice and glimpses of a face. There were traces of somebody else all over the house. I came upon a sword and a pistol, ,VDZDQROGXQLIRUPKDQJLQJEHVLGHDQROGࣿDJ,IRXQGVRPHROGERRNVDQG newspapers. I began to form a picture of what my father was. Oh, he was a hero. But then I grew up and began to notice what people were saying, what the newspapers were saying. Now I don’t know which is my real father—the one in the old QHZVSDSHUVRIWKHRQHLQWKHQHZRQHV%XW,GRNQRZ,PXVWࣾQGKLPչ

%HIRUHWKH3KLOLSSLQH3DYLOLRQ֢VRௗFLDOSUHYLHZZHKDGDJRRGFKDWZLWK NCCA Chairman Virgilio Almario. Poet and scholar by profession, Almario’s translation of Freespace into our national language, Pookginhawa, holds a lesson for all designers. We asked him of his choice of “ginhawa” for freedom as “kalayaan” VHHPHGOLNHWKHPRUHSRSXODUZRUG+HVKDUHGWKDWLQWKFHQWXU\OLWHUDWXUH ginhawaIRUWKH)LOLSLQRVPHDQWDIHHOLQJRI֥OLJKWQHVV֦RIEHLQJ֥OLJKWHUWKDQ light.” The only way to reach heaven is to shed all the bigat (heaviness) from \RXUVHOI,QRXUFXUUHQWVODQJWKHLGHDVKDYHEHHQLQWHUFKDQJHG)LOLSLQRVWRGD\ consider heaviness as a positive attribute. Anyone of power, consequence, or money is considered bigatin.

We must know who we are. But with what we know now, we must also brave the front of envisioning who we want to be. We have a lot of weight WRVKHGDORQJWKHZD\&DEDO௕QSRLQWHGRXWWKDWKHVHQVHVWKLVZLWKWKHQHZ generation of architecture students, whose worldviews have been shaken and made borderless by the internet, as well as community architecture organizations OLNH7$23LOLSLQDVZKRVHHNLQVLJKWIURPDQGFROODERUDWHZLWKWKRVHPDGH powerless by neoliberalism.

Senator Loren Legarda and Philippine Pavilion curator Edson Cabalfin. 2018 is the second time the Philippines officially participates in the Venice Architecture Biennale and the first time that the pavilion is at the Arsenale, one of the main exhibition spaces. Legarda considers securing the venue a triumph for the country’s participation, which she has been spearheading since 2013. Photo by Raymund Isaac

Curator

Edson Cabalfin, Ph.D.

Commissioner

Virgilio S. Almario, Chairman National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) in cooperation with the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) and the Office of Senator Loren Legarda

“It was important for me that our representation in Venice be able to bring together the different voices of the people who have a stake in creating our built environment. I wanted them to participate because they have the most access to shaping the future of our cities.”

EDSON CABALFIN

“It was important for me that our representation in Venice be DEOHWREULQJWRJHWKHUWKHGL௔HUHQWYRLFHVRIWKHSHRSOHZKR have a stake in creating our built environment. I wanted them to participate because they have the most access to shaping the IXWXUHRIRXUFLWLHV֦&DEDO௕QVWDWHG֥(DFKUHVSRQVHUHSUHVHQWV a segment of society—the underprivileged and the youth have as much right to demand how cities should be built with their needs in mind.”

There are rumblings today. Last year, a Philippine project ௕QDOO\ZRQDWWKH:RUOG$UFKLWHFWXUH)HVWLYDO'L௔HUHQW government agencies are holding design competitions for civic buildings. Studios are cross-pollinating in the form of talks and collaborations. Millennials see and are restoring the value of our built heritage, most notably through RUJDQL]DWLRQVVXFKDV,&2026DQG(VFXHOD7DOOHU7KHUHLV Blissfully public outcry for diminishing public space. Young academics are challenging the existing design pedagogy. In future architecture biennale participations, which Senator Legarda Yours assuredly said will happen, it is my hope that we will see the fruits of our questioning take center stage.

De La Salle-College of Saint Benilde ask and propose what Manila would have looked like in 2050, if the Philippines had firstly, never been colonized (Lusong 2050), and then, if each of the Philippines’s colonizers, Spain and Japan, had won the Spanish-American War and World War II respectively, and had been in power until today. The last proposal imagines a neoliberal, functionalist future, in which augmented reality (AR) and artificial intelligence (AI) have pervaded the Philippine built environment.