Volume 1

Dismembered Rallonaza, Ianna Digital iannarallonaza@gmail.com

It Will End In Tears Cabria, Chari Digital ellecabria@gmail.com

Wandering Rallonaza, Ianna Digital iannarallonaza@gmail.com

FOR THE YOUTH, AND YOUNG AT HEART

Untitled Abogado, Assi Pencil, Acrylic, and colored pencils on paper assiabogado@gmail.com

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

Vol. 1 - Salad dayszhvz

Vol. 1 - Salad days

Vol. 1 - Salad days

STAFFBOX

KRISHA GAFFUD EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

NIKA DIZON

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

LITERARY EDITOR

FEATURES EDITOR

FASHION DIRECTOR

CREATIVE CONSULTANT

FASHION CONSULTANT

BEAUTY CONSULTANT

PR CONSULTANT

MARKETING ASSISTANT

JUNO REYES

LEX CELERA

NICO GARIANDO

EARVIN PADUA

KZ VIVO

CINE ESCALONA ALYSSA BANA

ARIANNE SAGA

CONTRIBUTORS AKI MEDINA JIANNE SORIANO MIA BAUTISTA JOBO NACPIL IRA ESCONDO EFFY ELMUBARAK CHARI CABRIA JANINA NAVARRA ASSI ABOGADO CLUB FERN

Vol. 1 - Salad days

Colorism and Anti-Blackness in Filipino Media Words by Effy Elmubarak Illustration by Nika Dizon

If you’ve lived in The Philippines long enough then perhaps you’ve heard of statements like “Ayokong lum-

You don’t have to be an avid fan of Filipino movies

abas ang araw ngayon baka umitim ako!”, “Hala ano

and shows to see that our local media’s beauty

bayan ang itim ko na” or probably even “Sus! Di naman

standards are in favor of light skinned Filipinos.

siya maganda, maputi lang yan” at least once in your

Very messed up and ironic considering that we live

life. Have you noticed how all of these have something

in a country where most of the people are “kayu-

in common? They all show how anti-blackness is very

manggi” or brown skinned. You can see it through

much prevalent in our country. Anti-blackness and

how they portray what’s “beautiful” and what’s not.

colourism has been so ingrained and normalized in our

Almost all of the beautiful leading roles are given

society and our culture, that only a few people realize

to light skinned Filipinas and it gives us the wrong

that it’s actually messed up. Most of us just think that

message that light skinned=beautiful. What’s

it’s just the way it is. Why is that? Where did all of this

worse is that so many of us Filipinos actually be-

come from? As much as I’d want to blame it on colonial-

lieve it.

ism and white supremacy, anti-blackness has been in our culture even during the pre-colonial era. So there’s

There has been a common trope in Filipino soap

really no definite answer as to where it has rooted from.

operas wherein dark skinned women are viewed

However, I can tell you what’s making it worse: The

as ugly. In GMA’s “Ulingling”, a segment from

Filipino Media.

Sexbomb’s series Daisy siete, also shows loud

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and clear how Colorism is infact alive and well in

with pictures of fair, mixed race Filipinos only. I’ve

our society by using blackface on Rochelle Pan-

also seen way too many tweets saying “wow Filipinos

gilinan, Mia Pangyarihan, and Sunshine Garcia as

are beautiful” while showing pictures of the latter.

they play three dark skinned girls. Although the

Again, this sends out the wrong message that Filipi-

show has gotten some backlash, the producer Joy

nos are only good looking if they are fair skinned and

Concio defended it by saying that they can’t tell

that needs to change.

that it’s racist by only watching a few episodes. She even mentioned that to say that it’s racist is being

You can also see that colourism is evident in the

immature. In “Nita Negrita” , light skinned actress

Philippines through the way “beauty products” are

Barbie Fortaleza goes through about an hour and

marketed here. Simply put, these companies literally

a half of makeup to make her skin a lot darker

make money off of the idea that being dark makes

(GMA used blackface again, basically.) Honestly,

you ugly. The skin whitening industry is capitalizing

what makes it more unbearable is the fact that

insecurities that shouldn’t even be there. That’s bad

her makeup artist is justifying it by saying that the

enough as it is but they had to make everything worse

blackface emphasizes that Fortaleza’s character is

by airing very anti-black commercials. For instance,

of African-American descent. The fact that this show

Palmolive’s “Putting pang-dyosa” ad starring Anne

portrays the main character “Nita” says a lot about

Curtis which suggests that being fair makes you God-

how we as a community view dark skinned people.

like for some reason that is way beyond me. Another

Not only those of African-American descent. This

example was when Gretchen Barreto’s Glutamax T.V

just goes to show that we still need to educate our

commercial aired with the tagline “Kutis Mayaman by

fellow Filipinos about how things like these are not,

Glutamax” associating light skin with being wealthy

and will never be okay. In both of these shows, the

(which is classist as well, but that’s another story).

characters with blackface are portrayed as “ugly”.

This is exactly what the Americans did in the 1950s.

In March 2012, FHM came out with a controver-

It’s really saddening to know how very little we have

sial cover of Bela Padilla emerging from a group of

progressed.

dark skinned models (and some fair models with blackface on) with the caption “Stepping out of the

Apart from T.V shows, you can also see colourism

shadows.” This sparked a lot of criticism from social

in the way these media companies recruit their

media. Victor Bautista even launched a petition on

talents. So many of the people you see in billboards

Change.org for FHM to issue an apology and to recall

and magazines are either light skinned Filipinos

the cover. “People of African descent have been

or Filipinos that are mixed race. How is it that most

unjustly stigmatized as embodying darkness, ever

of our celebrities are light skinned when most of

since the era of slave trading. The cover is a modern

our population isn’t? Our society over-hypes fair skinned people to the point that it has been a part of our beauty standards. There was even this one time Ponds came out with this commercial supposedly showcasing the Philippines’ most beautiful faces when in fact, all they’ve shown were Jasmine Curtis-Smith and, Toni Gonzaga. Not a single one of them was Kayumanggi. I’ve seen people respond to one of those immature “Filipinos are ugly” posts

What’s worse is that so many of us Filipinos actually believe it.

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rendition of a regressive form of discrimination,

snacks. I can still remember how I felt every time

and should thus be brought to utmost scrutiny, in

my mom, a lighter skinned Filipina, went to school

a day and age wherein racial equality should be

for PTA meetings and my classmates would tell me

universal,” Bautista wrote (via time magazine.) BBC

“Bakit ang ganda ng nanay mo? Di mo kamukha.”

interviewed Padilla and she said “So they wanted

I can still remember wishing I looked like my mom

me to come into a ‘coming-of-age’ sort of article —

instead, despite the fact that my dad is one of the

that’s why they chose that caption,’’. Fortunately,

kindest men I know. He never deserved that. I never

all of the backlash has caused Summit Media to

deserved that.

apologize for the offensive cover.

Furthermore, I am certain that I’m not the only Being half Sudanese, this issue definitely hits

one who grew up like this. There are a lot of dark

home. I grew up being heavily bullied over the

skinned Filipinos out there (not necessarily mixed

course of my elementary and high school years

race as well) who are being made fun of and

mainly because my skin was darker than theirs.

dismissed as “ugly” solely because of the color of

Those years brought about so much self loathe that

their skin. I bet that right now, as you are reading

I still haven’t fully overcome. Truth be told, it was

this, there’s a little girl somewhere crying herself to

extremely toxic to my mental health. I am still trying

sleep wishing she was light so the other kids would

to slowly regain my self-esteem. Although I still

stop laughing at her, there’s a teenager out there

have a long way to go, I do know that I am getting

fervidly saving up for the latest whitening soap in

there.

hopes of it making her lighter because the lighter you are, the more beautiful right?

I can still remember it getting to a point where I ultimately avoided going out of the classroom (that includes skipping lunch and just staying inside) be-

•

cause I didn’t want to bump into any of the upperclassmen who’d laugh at me. I can still remember the children’s voices singing the “Uling-ling” theme song whenever I’d walk to the sari-sari store to buy

“People of African descent have been unjustly stigmatized as embodying darkness, ever since the era of slave trading.”

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TOWN

UGAR OWN

SUGAR TOWN

SUGAR TOWN

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TOWN

SUGAR TOWN

SUGAR TOWN

SUGAR TOWN

SU TO

SUG TOW

SUGAR TOWN

UGAR OWN

GAR WN

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Creative Direction Nika Dizon Photography Cine Escalona Hair and Makeup Nicolette Marcelo Model Robert Abad and Noelle Capili

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More Than Passing Light Words by Lex Celera Photography Sam David Felix

Today’s photography is rife with the latest advances modern technology has to offer, fitting sleek machinery with powerful lenses to produce photos that are still sharp when magnified nth number of times. A photographer’s arsenal nowadays may be too big to fit in one bag, but what has defined a good lensman to a great one is a fresh set of eyes.

And it’s no overstatement that Sam David Felix’s eyes are filled with curiosity, enough for the Baguio art scene to notice (filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik calls Sam “the pinhole master.”).

Whether shooting travel, street, or landscape photography with his array of film and digital cameras, he takes photos that capture simply what his eyes see, including lush views of nature, portraits, and snapshots of urban landscapes. Now a self-taught pinhole camera maker with an exhibit under his belt, and another one soon this year, Sam sets his eyes on himself and his work to talk about his craft.

Untitled Abogado, Assi Pencil, Acrylic, and colored pencils on paper assiabogado@gmail.com

Vol. 1 - Salad days

How did you begin taking an interest in photography?

I started shooting as a substitute photographer for my HS newspaper. Remember those interschool press conferences? Yeah, they sent me and

by God’s grace I made it all the way to Nationals and placed 4th overall. And that’s when I decided I wanted to do photography.

Come freshman year, I wanted my own DSLR but we couldn’t afford one so I just put that dream aside. Fast forward to my Super Senior Year and I got the chance to enroll in photography class (my only ‘formal’ photography class, and where I only borrowed a camera from a friend to start the semester). Midway through the class, I finally got my own DSLR. I fell in love with photography more and more through the class and continued it even after the semester ended.

I then took a gap year in Japan after graduation.

I served as the Photos/Video Ministry Head for our youth in Church and because I got to shoot regularly and around Japan, by God’s grace, my photography improved. I thought of my photography as a way for me to worship and enjoy God because I get to see His creation in a different way and that I could share it to people. But then I constantly found myself striving for people’s approval and for that ‘perfect shot’ that I lost sight of why I did photography in the first place.

That’s when I decided that I needed to slow down.

Having had a brief background in film photography (i.e. HS), I decided to go out and look for a film camera and some film. [I] ended up buying a toy camera but then wanted something more.

Combined with my boredom and eagerness to make things with my hands, I decided to make my own camera.

I did my research on simple cameras and found that the pinhole camera was the simplest to make. I bought film and the wood and other materials then proceeded to make a camera from the film spool.I did not want to follow any designs so I just winged it. After three days, I had my first camera so I tested it out. My first tester roll came out surprisingly well and that started my love for the medium.

Do you have a certain style? What are your favorite subjects?

For the most part, I was into documentary photography especially in church. When i was out and about, travel and street [photography] was more of my thing but I really wanted to do landscape photography.

I also remember you having photo exhibits. Can you tell me about that? Have you had similar exhibits?

I had my first exhibit September last year. I was a co-exhibitor and I showcased my pinhole photographs from both Japan and the Philippines. I guess people had a difficult time understanding the medium but it was a learning experience for me and I was going to make sure that the next time I’d have an exhibit, there should be a section where I’d explain the process. My next exhibit will be in July 10 to August 9 over at Cafe by the Ruins, Dua. Sadly I won’t be there to finish the exhibit if all goes well with my job in Japan.

But anyway, this time it will be a solo exhibit.

I had always dreamed of finally shifting to the medium format. 135/35mm film is great and all but 120 film had better things to offer. Because my friends supported my camera and photographic work, I was able to receive 120 film (and cameras) as gifts and that prompted me to finally build a 120 pinhole camera.

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How did you get the opportunity to have an exhibit? What do you mean by people having a hard time?

So I just came back from Japan and I attended the anniversary party of Canto. Then one of my friends who is a co-owner of the cafe asked me if I wanted to do an exhibit. I said yes. As a standalone exhibit, compared with other photographs, you’ll see the difference. Pinhole photographs are relatively softer than photos taken using lensed cameras.

So the sharpness and all those things that a lot of photographers look for nowadays are rarely present in these types of photography.

Why does pinhole photography mean to you personally?

I guess it’s personal because it serves as a reminder for me. I almost always take my pinhole cameras only when I want to take landscape photographs.

When I do, it’s a time for me to slow down, enjoy the scene and spend time with God.That’s one of the reasons why I love the medium. It forced me to slow down. It gave me time to really see what was in front of me and it gave me the time to make the photo not just take it. Hence, I had more time to enjoy God’s creation and do my best to capture it.

[Basically, it can be broken down to three points]: One, it’s simple. Two, it emphasizes the process.

Three, it slows you down.

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The Mark I had to be my most successful camera. It gave me my “best” shots and it was because of its output that I decided to keep pursuing the medium. These were the test shots around Shibuya on my first roll of film. The developer and I had to crop the picture due to improper sizing of the frame.Further improvements to the camera helped me take ‘better’ pictures and helped me utilize the full frame for other other trips.

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I took the second camera I made to the waterfalls (mentioned in my earlier email, although the shots I took of the house was months after I took this one). I had rushed the second one so I didn’t really lightproof it properly. Hence, out of my whole 24 shot roll, only this picture turned out ‘useful’. To be honest, I thought of it as a big failure then but I got to appreciate it more as time went by. This is why this photo stands as one of my favorite photos up to this day.

Note: I retired the camera I used to take this shot soon after.

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I had a special place in Japan. It was roughly two hours away from Shinjuku station. It was chill forest walk that offered an awesome waterfall at the end. It was a perfect place for me to chill and enjoy God’s creation. On the way to the waterfall, I passed by this house that belonged to an old local resident of the area. He made wooden items and sold them to the visitors that went to visit the falls. With the help of my Japanese friends, I was able to get to know more about this old man and that’s why I make it an effort to visit him when I get the chance. Shibuya’s an awesome place but it can get pretty crowded. I was lucky enough to be able to set up my tripod to take this picture. Pretty interesting how a place known for its crowds could look so empty when shot using a pinhole.

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“Girl, pwede ka sa Friday? Tara! Gig tayo?”

Written by Mia Bautista I don’t know how many times I’ve said these words to my friends. Whether it’s the week before or even a few hours prior to the actual gig – I’ve never hesitated asking anyone and everyone out.

So here’s my usual sales pitch to them gig virgins: “Sobrang sulit nito! Isipin mo na lang – for a mere Php 200 or even Php 150, you get to listen to some of Metro Manila’s best artists tapos may free drink ka pa. I mean okay, hindi mo sila kilala pero kasama mo naman ako! Oh diba, Ang saya? You’ve got everything to gain, and nothing to lose. Well, except konting pera pero what’s a few hundreds for a night filled with eargasmic local music & great company?

Sige naaa.”

Usually from that point on they’d just agree to go so I’d stop pestering them. HAHA. Kidding aside, I mean every word I say when I vouch for the artists that play at these bar gigs. Of course I understand that at first, there’s the hesitation and skepticism to actually make the effort to go out – I mean, who can blame them? Hell, I understand them completely cause once upon a time, I used to be one of them.

Honest to God, I was once an ignorant being back when my hormones were raging and identity crisis was the biggest thing in my life. I’m talking about being in High School, folks.

I used to believe that places like B-Side and Saguijo were breeding grounds for budding alcoholics, Satan worshippers, and druggies. They congregate in these bars in the late hours of the night to listen to these till the wee hours of the morning. So being the immature sheltered teenage girl that I was, I let these scary thoughts fill my head and deny my love for local music. I drowned myself in other forms of music, namely the awesome American artists of that time like namely Fall Out Boy, Ne-Yo, and Paramore whilst Pinoy music was dead to me.

It was like that for a while and then a new decade came rolling by – the 2010’s! The internet and new media rapidly took the whole world by storm. Suddenly, technologies such as CDs became obsolete in a flash and got replaced by iPods and mp3 players. Online music platforms offering free music like youtube, soundcloud, and spotify had a solid place in people’s lives.

Media outlets like Amplify.ph, Vandals on the Wall, and Radio Republic started sprouting out like mushrooms and became an authority on local music started telling people that “HEY! LISTEN TO THESE NEW GUYS – THEY’RE TALENTED AS HELL. GIVE THEM A CHANCE!” And I did heed the call. I gave the local music scene a chance.

During my 3rd year of college, I attended my first real gig. Funny enough this was also the first gig I’ve ever organized. It was called AMPlitude where my org – Ateneo Musicians Pool – showcases the newest artists on our roster. It was such a roller coaster experience creating the event and it became a whole other animal when the actual day came.

The feel of adrenaline rushing through my veins on that semi-cool January night was prevalent.

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“HEY! LISTEN TO THESE NEW GUYS – THEY’RE TALENTED AS HELL. GIVE THEM A CHANCE!” I was nervous, excited, anxious, and happy all at the same time. All my preparations for that night, like what outfit I would wear to wondering how the audio would be, and to the fact if people would actually go were eating at me slowly and painfully. I wanted to run away and quit. Thank God I didn’t! Cause as soon as the host took the stage at 8:30pm to start the program, all my worries for that moment were swept away. They were like jigsaw puzzle pieces finding their own perfect space in the great scheme of things. That night, I wasn’t a project manager – I was just a normal fan who loved good music and was going to have a great night.

January 25, 2014 was a night where I rediscovered my love for local music. It was so great to be proven wrong – that Pinoy music was never dead, it was just there under my nose. In spite of the occasional event problems, I was happy to be there holding my bottle of beer and enjoying the night with orgmates, friends, and even strangers. The performers like Mayonnaise and Johnoy Danao made my 20 year old self full of vigor for life. I was so proud to see that my baby, which I’ve been taking care of for almost four months, was taking a life of its own.

Looking back to that moment, I guess that’s how gigs are – people prepare for it and have their own expectations of how the event goes but ultimately the night takes a life of its own.

It feeds off the energies of the audience, the performers, and even the organizers!

In the end, I’ve advocated experiencing cause that’s the only way to believe – it’s to see this new world for yourself. So go out and take the chance! It’s never too early or is it too late to start getting into this complex yet beautiful industry. Rise to the challenge of supporting our ever talented local artists. So the next time a friend asks you out to a gig, just say yes and take the chance. You never know, you might be meeting your next favorite artist.

Creative Direction Krisha Gaffud Photography Cine Escalona Hair and Makeup Nicolette Marcelo Model Via Fernandez and Ira Escondo

Top & Dress, Tim&Franc

Pants, Hilder

Illustration Assi Abogado

Vol. 1 - Salad days

I followed her advice when I last met her.

But I was still growing. My funeral clothes weren’t a perfect fit:

cuffs went past my wrists, the hem was twice what it should be, and my slacks swept the floors clean.

There’s a sort of lightness in how one should wear it (the absence bears down relentlessly) but I could never quite get the trick.

I abandoned my funeral clothes at the back of my closet, hoping it would gather dust. And it did. For a time.

But the intervals between each passing grew shorter and shorter. I reluctantly developed a habit of brushing off the dust and keeping count, even if just came from the wash and there were no more fingers to count with.

My funeral clothes are becoming a better fit.

I find myself thinking of a time, an inevitability, when my funeral clothes will fit me perfectly.

Funeral Clothes

That’s the last time the two of you will ever meet.”

by Soc Delos Reyes

Mother once told me, “Wear your best clothes in a funeral.

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Paubaya

by Soc Delos Reyes

Hayaan ang ilaw manatiling liwanag lamang. Hayaan lang ang tula umiral bilang salita sa pahina. Hayaan ang buntonghininga maging patunay ng hayahay.

Hayaang mangyari ang sana.

Hayaan ang unang salitang mababanggit matapos ang unang halik maging nag-iisang kahulugang ‘di ipagkakait. Hayaan ang sana.

At hayaang ulit-ulitin ang pagsinta.

Sapagkat ito’y magagawa.

Illustrated by Assi Abogado

Mapmaking

by Aidan Manglinong

I.

Once, you took me to find the sun.

At the top of an unnamed hill you prayed for the sky to never be taken from us again.

As your eyes traced the setting of the sun I watched the light strip you of all that made you flesh.

We could never escape the fear of a city of walls.

You settled for trying to touch the clouds.

II. The streets have little need for mothers, or for lovers exchanging muffled prayers in the most tucked of alleys in this corner of the earth.

There is little need to make music from the rumble of a thousand wheels scraping asphalt or the hum of steel doors torn wide open every forty-five car honks.

There is no great canopy above the steel jungle, only the gray born from a thousand chimneys.

Up north, the horizons kiss the edge of the mountains.

Southward, the seas hug the creased outline of where the old men believe a mighty forest one stood.

At the heart of this city of jagged ends there is little room for myths or mythologies.

The historians write of a grand battle from years ago.

In the absence of grander monuments, an obsidian slab circumvented by five malls that replaced five that burned down ten years ago.

Once, there were words inscribed on a plaque tucked beneath the sullen behemoth of a mound.

The old men believe it to have been stolen ten years ago.

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III. If all memory is a city, the business of history has failed.

IV. You had a name for the kind of rain clouds that hushed too closely to the sidewalks.

Embrace may have been an unduly invoked metaphor.

his favorite toy to the floods ten years ago.

Perhaps it was lost to the deluge,

We mouthed prayers as the petrichor settled in.

It is October and the thunder is hushed.

I think of a river tucked in the heart of a city of blackened walls

broken down into a million tiny pieces.

Perhaps, it was washed away to the sea as the floods folded back into the oceans.

Contemplation is cruel to the things lost long ago.

and how it has doomed so many for every storm that comes. I think of a child that lost

V. Once you took me to find the sun.

On a rusted rooftop you spoke of how the night always left too late in the far north and how the old men in your corner of the earth believed the mountains to be the fingertips of giants that had once dared to embrace the sky, hoping to sleep among the constellations.

At the heart of this city of jagged ends there is little room for myths or mythologies.

As the sun scraped the point of the horizon where the skies and the seas kissed, I traced the curve of your smile. Only the lost could be so firm in their wanting.

The earth turns. The stars tear their way into the horizon. It is colder and I am pushed into tracing your sudden shudder. Nothing is earthly about longing. You pull away as the final blanket is thrown.

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VI. Better men have had better use for memory than remembering.

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Theses on body / language

by Juno Reyes

Freud had been the first to point out how it is not mere coincidence that the infant acquires speech only after having undergone Oedipalization. It is only after the need arises that we are able to turn to language. Every literature on loss is complicit with this revelation: something is best described after it disappears.

How does one express the condition of loss but through its articulation, I miss you. In this, there is a frustration. The word cannot stand for the experience. I love you. Is not Lacan correct in conceding the inevitable distinction between the subject-speaking I and the grammatic-subject I? It is language itself that opposes us: love assumes the space between the I and the you, first to connect, then to separate. But let me debunk myself: we.

There is an organ in a person’s neck called the larynx that produces the vibrations necessary for speech. But it is not this voice box that produces the sentiment behind the sentence. Some say it is the brain that does this, others, the heart. Some say it takes every inch of the subject’s body to produce the impulse to mean anything. In this case, is not the larynx a vestigial organ?

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Nerve endings cover the entirety of the human body, mapping it according to how it responds to external stimuli. Each coordinate corresponds to a particular word: touch me here and I feel delight, over here, regret, and there, beyond my reach, ecstasy. But does not each touch make the person nervous nonetheless? This is not why they call it the nervous system. But we can pretend this is why it is the most esteemed of all organ systems.

A symptom is a word trapped inside the body. The goal of psychoanalytic therapy is to cure the analysand of his trauma through the oral recollection of the experience of loss. If done properly, there is a high possibility that where the heart once was, the word heart instead shall be.

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For Lacan, the body itself does not mean anything, but depends on language to signify.

The imaginary anatomy colonized by the thoughts of other subjects. Hence phallocentrism.

Is this not the source of the body’s discomfort? La langue: the irritation does not arise from the lack of comfortable positions our tongues can assume in our mouths, but from the very fact of their existence, in their getting in the way. In this, we are not discomfortable; 0ur bodies themselves are the machines of discomfort.

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

The Graduate In the age of online presence and the millennial obsession for the multi-hyphenated, Roberto SeĂąa points out that these days, the hardest thing to be is yourself.

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Jacket, Randolph Clothing

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This piece is a result of two interviews conducted almost a year apart – one in May 2016, and one in February 2017. Both interviews involved alcohol.

Which actually makes them more human to our eyes; visions of what’s cool and what’s not obscures us from who the dude really is.

She’s Only Sixteen’s much-awaited first full-length project should probably be done by the time this story gets out, if I’m going to trust his word. Him being Seña: frontman of She’s Only Sixteen, Logiclub member, commercial producer during the day, and some nights, spinning some full on tita music as St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

The difference between Seña and your average first name Joe is direction. There’s always the young desire to be in. To be there. To be present in the moment of moments found in every pocket of the social stratosphere. Seña, however, is in a series of escapes.

I’ve never met him, although I have heard of him.

I’ve seen him on Twitter. I’ve seen him in gigs.

Mention his name and people know who you’re talking about. You know why? One thing I’ve noticed about people that get called by their surname is that they are cool.

Not just the all-descriptor-for-lack-of-anotherword cool, but cool. Everybody who’s called by his last name is cool enough to own his family’s collective surname as his. If not cool, iconic. Just look at all the characters fulfilling the Last Name Basis trope: Kramer from Seinfeld, Bueller from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, House from House. The list goes on.

Before I even met Seña, I knew of him. Not him exactly, but his (and most other people who get called by their surnames) having his reputation precede him, having this awareness of his presence. Does it come with being part of a band?

Does it come with the Twitter following? With babies born every minute and the world getting smaller and smaller because of population growth, the power to own your surname gets harder by the day. Does he care about that too?

I think people known by their surname don’t worry about that kind of thing. They worry about the bigger things in life, like they’re always a step ahead.

The first is evident if you know him: the band which he fronts, She’s Only Sixteen, is in a race against time. There aren’t that many bands that haven’t released a full-length project shortly after they’ve broken into public perception. There are fewer that have managed to not wither into obscurity. She’s Only Sixteen is not one of those bands.

To the tiring question everyone asks first: why the name She’s Only Sixteen?

“There’s no reason,” he says nonchalantly.

“There’s absolutely no reason. There’s no interesting story behind it. I stole it from a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, a song called ‘She’s Only Eighteen’ pero at that time I was too young for an 18-year-old so 16 na lang.”

The foursome of She’s Only Sixteen has been around for nine years now, but it was in 2012 that the band made rounds online, beginning with their first single “Dying to Meet You” from their eponymous EP. “We don’t even play [‘Dying to Meet You’] live anymore,” he says. “Never. Unless it’s a corporate gig na it’s an hour set just because to kill time. Other than that we never play it na. Or we play it at proms, or at high school gigs kasi malamang ‘yun’ yung entry level song.”

Sweater, Denuo

Jacket, Denuo

Vol. 1 - Salad days

I’ve heard some tracks from the upcoming album, and though the hooks are still great and the riffs are still catchy enough to make people nod their head, sonically they have grown. “It’s too much of a big collection of work. So definitely it’s not a coherent album,” Seña says. “It’s spread across time, eh.” I’m hooked, though. It’s the kind of music you’d like to keep in your music library just in case you’re going to get a mood for it, and the exact mood you pictured in your head doesn’t really come, but you play it anyway because fuck it, it’s great.

The album will most likely not be out by the time this story is published. Not out, mind you, but done. All the songs have been written and recorded, and out there somewhere there’s a CD or flash drive labeled “She’s Only Sixteen Album,” or something like that. It’ll be out before the year ends.

Seña is aware of the wait. “I think we’re a special case because it took way too long. There’s a certain acceptable time [to release an album] talaga, eh. It’s [become] a long-running joke.”

In fact, he may be the one holding his breath the most, whether he admits it or not.

A quick Google search would reveal a number of news articles describing She’s Only Sixteen as this up-and-coming band, all dated 2012, the year they released their self-titled EP. Five years later, they are still a steady presence in the gig scene. Looking at their Twitter profile reveals traces of where the band has been through a series of retweets and gig posters.

Their Instagram and Facebook page aren’t as active though, and their Soundcloud is currently empty (The reason? “Nawawala ‘yung excitement, eh. We’re going to play old stuff in the album and we’re going to record it profes-

sionally: paano kung ‘ganun na ‘yung album? For an old listener, it doesn’t have much value.Tapos may expectation ka pa on how it sounds.”) The most active online presence the band probably has is routed through the members.

There are probably a significant number of people, me included, that have this fear of sharing personal things online. Social media forces us into personas of ourselves that represent who we are without really showing who we really are, and social media really doesn’t forget; some of the things we say may bite us in the ass as we grow up. Seña is aware of that.

20 minutes into our conversation I ask him straight up, do you think you’re an asshole?

“You already asked that last year, and I think I said yes.”

I felt a little bad at that point, just straight up asking this guy if he’s an asshole after he had a bad morning. He told me that earlier today he had to wake up early to give a reflection in a certain Ateneo High School classroom. A few hours before that, his credit card was eaten by an ATM when he forgot to take it out. Before that, he was up all morning play Dota 2. Yesterday, his bike got a flat tire while he was in the middle of EDSA. He ended up opening his laptop mid-afternoon to charge his phone so he can book an Uber.

But I’m also not surprised that he had such a big weekend. This is the same Seña that told me last year the following things: taking a leave from his studies to focus on music; losing his parents’ financial support after finding out that he was part of a band; finding himself taking the bus late at night to save on money. “Alam mo ilang beses na nangyari sa ‘kin galing Makati tapos nagbubus

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ako pauwi and I fall asleep. I’d wake up in Fairview. It’s not fun, man. Really not fun.”

Now he’s busy with his day job as a television commercial producer. “I’m on call 24/7,” he says.

To find the time to commit to the schedule that he has, this interview included, is beyond me. It seems the Seña in front of me is different from the Seña I interviewed a year ago. Wiser, more self-reflexive than ever. I don’t think that kind of observation can be made by following his Twitter timeline though. In this day and age, who you are and who people think you are is very different. Online personas make the dynamic between those two much more complicated.

Enter the second escape: present Seña does his best to stay out of any arguments. Any motivation to pick a fight is replaced with a sense of caution, if not weariness.

“People tell me na wala akong paninindigan when I make fun of people who have beliefs. I believe in a lot of things a lot of people say today. I agree with [what they say]. I don’t believe in the way people facilitate their beliefs when people don’t agree with them. I find people harder to believe than their beliefs.”

I ask him, “Do feel like you don’t have the responsibility to voice out your opinions?”

“I do.”

“But you can choose not to.”

“Yeah. And I don’t step on other people for it.”

“Hindi ba maiiwasan ‘yun?”

“Hindi nga, that’s what I’m talking about.”

He remembers someone coming up to him way back during She’s Only Sixteen’s EP launch, asking him how to form a band. Opportunities like these can make almost anyone, Seña included, happy, maybe even a bit proud. But even then, Seña still feels like an outsider despite being in the music scene for a long time.

And he’s well aware of his and She’s Only Sixteen’s place in the music scene. “We’re technically an old band for our sound and siguro in terms of the millennial bracket of bands and musicians in general, we’re pretty old. Like we’ve had our share of the limelight and now we’re steadily writing whatever we’ve been doing in the past since 2012 ‘cause the last serious release that we had was in 2012. But for some reason we still get all these big gigs and at the same time it’s feeding me. Which I actually don’t like.”

Does he get jealous of his peers? Yes and no.

He’s happy that the scene is well and alive but on a personal level he takes it as a competition. Not a competition of which band is better, of which he admits he could never say they’re better. It’s more of a competition of the scene itself. “As old as I am, as young as they are, we’re all doing the same thing. We’re all on the same level. I’m not better than them, nor are they better than me.

Everyone’s apples and oranges naman, eh.”

His frustrations with the music scene runs deep as it intersects with his personal life—frustrations of sneaking in music in between what was then his time for school and now his time for work, frustrations of being labeled a musician, just a musician, as if it were a taboo. And also the frustration of choosing music again and again and again.

Probably the biggest struggle he has now, whether he is aware of it or not, is an escape

Kimono, Denuo

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against time. No one stays young forever: young enough to pursue their passions without any fear of compromise.

Seña took that to heart. “Like relativity… being relative is never forever. If I came back to it when I’m 30, I’ll get eaten up alive. No matter who I am.”

it easy while not taking it easy at the same time.

He’s figured out the millennial problem of finding the sweet spot between doing what you want and getting sufficiently paid for it. He’s a graduate from the school of modern hard knocks. Someday we’re going to graduate too.

In his mid-20s, present Seña isn’t just all about making music now with his day job and all, but he’s still doing what he loves, which is what really matters.

But who is Seña really? “I don’t like subscribing to the indie scene, to the artsy scene...’pag nakilala mo naman talaga ako, kenkoy lang talaga ako na tao. Madami akong say, pero at the end of the day, I like making music, I like to work.” In other words, he is the same as us: a person fighting to keep his eyes starry against the disillusionment of life, not exempt from mistakes and judgment but also not exempt from learning from those mistakes.

Marlo Stanfield from The Wire said “My name is my name,” which in context, is rooted in an obsession with what other people think of him. Seña stays rooted in the familiar, which is what he knows about himself.

“We all have our gardens to tend to, man,” he says. He says it to mean minding one’s own business, but it can also mean taking care of oneself. Maybe he means both. Time is everyone’s enemy--Seña knows that--but it’s what we do day-to-day that defines us. In other words, he’s got no time for bullshit.

Creative Direction Nika Dizon Photography Koji Arboleda Words Lex Celera Fashion Consultant KZ Vivo

And neither should we. While the rest of us squabble in our everyday tasks under the celebratory guise of “the hustle,” Seña is taking

Fashion Assistant Nico Gariando Producer Krisha Gaffud BTS Janina Navarra

Dismembered Rallonaza, Ianna Digital iannarallonaza@gmail.com

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Words & Creatie Direction KZ Vivo Photography Alvin Chua Makeup Dorothy Mamalio Model Aaron Fuentes

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Genderless fashion is quickly becoming the new “it” thing in the industry emerging from last year when the biggest fashion houses such as Gucci, Prada, Givenchy and Saint Laurent started dressing up their male and female models in clothing so similar that they almost all look the same. It doesn’t help that Vetements has reached a sudden growth in popularity as well and nothing screams androgynous clothing as much as Vetements does.

Genderless fashion has gotten so big that even Zara joined in on the bandwagon by releasing their very own genderless capsule collection as well. But the whole genderless thing as we know it may go beyond just being a mere trend. It says a lot about what the future of the fashion industry and even society as a whole could be Last year, Selfridges set up a pop up where designers had their clothing displayed without the indication of whether it was for men or women. This pop up, called “Agender” has gotten so big that they have even considered making it a standalone store. To have a store arranged and branded in this certain way, encourages buyers to walk in to the store and pick out the clothes that they like without worrying about which clothing is for which gender. And that is what genderless fashion is all about. It’s about stripping off any gender specifications on a piece of clothing and not see it as mens’ clothing, womens’ clothing, or heck, even unisex clothing, but to see it as just clothing for the people. It’s all about having the freedom to wear whatever you want regardless of the gender you do or do not identify with.

People are given the chance to express themselves without the pressure of conforming to stereotypes and still feel great knowing that they look great dressed as who they are and not who they should be.

To have retailers as accessible and mainstream as Zara release a genderless line brings forth positive things to the society, mostly to the queer community. After all, genderless fashion is mostly the definitive feature of what queer beauty is. With this kind of exposure, the mainstream community becomes more open in seeing, accepting, understanding and embracing the fact that gender expression is very diverse. But at the same time, the exposure can pose as a threat to how people will view the queer aesthetics. You see, the type of genderless fashion that Zara and the rest of the fashion industry portray is mostly very masculine in style. There exists a failure in celebrating more feminine styles and possibly pushing people to believe that femininity is only limited to certain identities. This is exactly where the fashion industry could go wrong with popularizing genderless style. By presenting it without proper context, there is the possibility of presenting a stereotype of what the queer or genderless aesthetic should look like. In the first place, genderless fashion is a cause specifically against this and against having to conform.

But of course, it’s good to give things the benefit of the doubt as there is always a start for everything. It’s just very crucial that the fashion industry does not forget to give credit where credit is due and actually seek the involvement of the LGBTQ community. All that I’m hoping for is that the movement only grows as what it really is about and not just be forgotten when it no longer makes money.

Genderless fashion, after all is more than just a trend, it’s a right.

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

Creative Direction Nika Dizon Photography Aki Medina and Kean Reformado using film Styling KZ Vivo Hair and Makeup Alyssa Bańa Model Ira Escondo, Aly Cabral, Mariano Ramirez, and Andre Arboleda

Creative Direction Krisha Gaffud Photography Erwin Canlas Fashion Director Nico Gariando Makeup Mikki Malonzo Model Wanda Chen and Earl Dignos

LOVE, HARAJUK

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

LOVE, HARAJUKU

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

On Wanda: Top, Gnarly x Renan Pacson; Jacket, Wild flower Finds On Earl: Button down, Wild flower Finds; Top, Gnarly x Renan Pacson; Jacket, Wildflower Finds

Top, Jeremy Tan; Turtleneck & Skirt, Wild flower Finds; Shirt, Gnarly Renan Pacson; Earrings, House of Chokers

Coat, Euniform; Shirt, Bodega; Turtle neck, Jeremy Tan; Choker, House of Chokers; Pins & Patches, Polly Patch

Jacket & Top, Yves Camigue; Choker, House of Choker

Sweater, Yves Camigue; Jacket & cap, Wild flower Finds

Top, Yves Camigue; Jacket, Jermy Tan

Untitled 1 Dizon, Nika Digital dizon.nika@gmail.com

Vol. 1 - Salad days

HK’s filial piety vs. Phils’ filial piety words by Jianne Soriano

Vol. 1 - The Gender Issue

Twenty years, I lived in a society where the mainstream culture (in my case, the dominant Hong Kong Chinese) has the power, minorities (non-Chinese people especially from South Asian countries) like myself have to work extra hard to earn their place and prove their worth.

This is a society where grades are the most valued, that an A or a 100 is the symbol of success and getting a degree is the dream of every parent for their children. That was (or probably is) the life I have been living. At 5 years old, instead of playing with my toys, I was flipping pages of books, instead of playing with friends, I was writing down on my notebook.

Growing up as a Third Culture Kid, being labelled all sorts of things from minority, to outsider to disadvantaged (in government policies, non-Chinese people like myself are categorized in that area), I begin to question myself. Who am I, really? People all around me moulded me into an idea and a concept.

Whether that is true or not, is the why I’ve been struggling with. I begin to lose sense of who I am, waking up and just doing what I have to, going to school, getting through 8 hours, going home, eating, doing my homework, sleeping and breathing. It’s 24 hours of non-stop surviving.

I am not alone in my endeavours. The Hong Kong youth, while trying to separate itself from its motherland, China is trying to create an identity for itself. It ranges from using Cantonese, commemorating June 4th and even havings its own football team.

But one thing that still steams true despite being a Hong Konger is filial piety. My Hong Kong Chinese friends always say that they’ll probably still be living with their parents even when they’re in their 50s. Or that in weddings, they

most they have to care about (and who they want to please) are their parents. Or that they have to follow their parents’ wishes whether it’s in terms of their education or in their employment or the next destination of their vacation.

Does that ring any bell?

In the Philippines, where families tend to be bigger than Hong Kong families, always stay together. You ask a Filipino what they value they most and maybe most of them will answer, family. At least here in Hong Kong. We, Filipino residents here go back to the Philippines, after all, for family. Among elders and among parents, it’s a Filipino value to respect those who are older than us. We use “po” and “opo” to show respect. And just like the dilemma of my Hong Kong Chinese friends, the Filipino (here, at least) also has to stay with their families until we’re in our 50s. Sama-sama, they say.

And it’s this very notion that we have to respect elders and their wishes that reflect a society where the youth (so-called, the future of a nation) are bounded. We have these wings that carefully tucked and hidden because once we spread them, our very own parents are going to cut them so we can’t take flight and enjoy our freedom. When I ask my classmates why they choose to study English, some of them would say that it’s because that’s what their parents wanted so they can work in international companies and earn lots of money. I followed that question up by asking what they want to do in the future and they would say they don’t know.

And it came to me that they’re directionless in life because they’re never made to experience what’s it like to do what they want, instead they have to do what their parents want. Like me, these students are alienated in their own families, not recognizing their dreams, not living

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their lives to the fullest and even the freedom to choose. In a society where filial piety is held highest combined with an exam and academic-driven culture suffocates all of us. Growing up between two cultures which continuously clash at each other, I realize that it’s not that different.

I wanted to be a teacher at 5, a geologist at 8, a professor at 13, a lawyer at 15 to eventually a journalist at 16. That choice, disappointed many including my parents’ friends and my relatives. Whenever I go back to the Philippines, my relatives would always ask me what I wanted to be and when I tell them I want to be a journalist, they give a out a snort. They seem to think, what a pathetic choice.

While my other classmates, fulfill the dreams of their parents’ of being doctors, scientists, pilots while I wanted to go out there in poverty-stricken areas, in war-torn places, get muddy, get dirty and put myself out there to tell the world what is going on. Eventually, my classmates too, began to believe that a journalist’s’ job is not credible, they say it’s such a low pay job, such a dangerous job. But they don’t understand why I want to do this is because I want to see the way people live, the amount of lives I could have lived be it good or bad. Coming from a middle-class family, an engineer would make me a breadwinner, someone able to provide for everyone in my big family. It is a profession like that would pull us out of the roots to the surface, much like what the parents of my classmates believe. But the filial piety on my part extended way beyond what I could comprehend. Every choice I make should be consulted with and approved by my parents, every piece of clothing I buy or I wear to various occasions, every hairstyle I ever had from my primary graduation to my 18th

birthday. Every little detail of my life has been carefully laid out for people (friends, family, teachers) to tinker with and pluck out as they wish. No you shouldn’t choose this school, no you shouldn’t go for that boy, no you shouldn’t eat like that, sit like that. I grew up too fast because I always ask myself why do this, why do that. I learned about the harshness of reality too fast and I couldn’t even enjoy the innocence and the carefree life. In the end, I never really had a childhood. And it’s painful when I look back and think that I could never have that life that, even that, I couldn’t choose.

I stayed with this cycle until I was 18. It occurred to me how much of my life has been controlled (and how I let myself be) out of the “respect” for my parents. But how about me? 18 years of unlived life. How about me?

Unlike my classmates who choose to make their parents’ dream a reality. I didn’t. When I got my results from my public examination, I was one mark short of getting into a degree in university.

Was I sad? At first, I was. But I didn’t spend my time under the blankets and crying. I got up, I went to the community college and accepted my associate degree (which is a 2 year pre-bachelor degree) and studied English communication, which is the closest to a journalism degree I could get my hands on. Did I regret not getting in? No. Because I was studying what I love.

Nevermind the fact that all my teachers and my fellow ethnic minority classmates expecting me to get a spot and being disappointed in me. In my two years of studying in the college, I probably achieved more than those who got in a bachelor’s for the sake of getting into one despite not liking what they’re studying.

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Are my wings spread open? Not yet. But they’re not the same untucked wings anymore. By escaping this cycle, by not affirming to what they wanted me to become, forget engineer, I wanted to prove to everybody that in a society where you’re expected to be something, you need to be what you want, something else in order to succeed. It shouldn’t even be a society that breeds standardization. Why do something that everyone else does? It’s not even a sure bet that you’ll succeed as an engineer.

But if you’re a journalist and you love what you do and you have the desire to be the very best, isn’t that enough to succeed as well? To my Hong Kong friends who are directionless, I show them that they too should be able to balance their own culture and their dreams.

Wandering Rallonaza, Ianna Digital iannarallonaza@gmail.com

Vol. 1 - Salad days

I. 2015 – “Okay sana na maraming tao, but it’s not like they know how to appreciate art properly.” These were the first things out of M’s mouth the moment we had separated ourselves enough from the crowd bottlenecked at the entrance of the National Museum.

M is a long-time friend who has always been into art. When we found out that the National Museum was removing its entrance fee for the entirety of June, we immediately decided to go.

We had just spent the last couple of hours almost lost in a crowd of air conditioned-sweat, murmurs too loud to be murmurs, and children bugging their parents for things I really didn’t care about, – a crowd which, like us, had decided to avail of the free entrance the museum was offering that day, so I brushed off what he had just said as a result of stress. I mean, who doesn’t say stupid shit when hassled by the summer heat?

Except that wasn’t the last time that day that M said something I found rather elitist.

In the shadow of Juan Luna’s Spoliarium, I had asked M, who apparently had been here multiple times just the previous year and was no longer impressed by the mural, to hold up, as I found myself amused by the throng of people trying to reposition themselves to get better pictures of and with Luna’s most accessible masterpiece.

I was furiously thinking of a joke that would bridge the difference between the furious bobbing and weaving of the crowd in front of the Spolarium and how (western) tv shows and

movies set in museums almost always only provide reflective, dramatic scenes, when M decides to drops a bomb, “Why go to museums just to take pictures of paintings, you can do that over the internet?”

Something about his insistence on appreciating brush strokes up close and personal, as well as enjoying “the much livelier blending of colors in “real life” had me thinking that this was less about redundancy and more about an insistence on a more technical, or as others would put it, [theoretically] “informed” way of appreciating works of art. More importantly, his remarks were too on point to be simple results of the entry hassle we had gone through just a few minutes before.

Just like that, the trip to the national museum I had looked forward to for over a week had begun to sour.

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II. By the end of the day, all that talk of shoulds and so-called “proper ways” of appreciating museum pieces had left me in a terrible mood.

I spent most of the shared portion of our long commute to our respective homes not talking to M, instead selfishly brooding about all the things that had been bothering me since the incident in the shadows of the Spoliarium: i.)

M’s undeniably normative approach to the consumption-qua-appreciation of art; ii.) the implicit arrogance that comes with such a standpoint, as if to imply that the deadlock of a millennia-old debate regarding the proper purpose of art, and by extension the proper ways of receiving it (interpretation vis-a-vis appreciation), if it even has one, has finally been definitively solved; iii.) the concession that M, regardless of actually being at fault or not, cannot actually be faulted for this expressed arrogance in so far as he himself is only a product of the dominant modes of generational (and always class-related) discourse that he’s found himself enmeshed in – his stance only symptomatic of a greater widespread attitude towards art; iv.) lastly, my own indignation with such a “claim” which reveals an own personal reluctance to concede to M’s claims (perhaps pride?), perhaps brought about by tangential complicity, or arrogance, or both.

What was I so riled about, that wasn’t just brought about by my own arrogant refusal to take M’s word as they were. In an age where most of the people I know are millennial scared of commitment, shouldn’t it actually be a nice breath of fresh air to see someone so starkly committed to their opinion, even if

it’s on something as simultaneously banal and important as the consumption of art?

I found the answer in extending the millennial analogy I had (accidentally) already begun (as an inside joke with myself): everyone’s allowed their own opinions regarding the appreciation of art, but the usual lines have to be drawn, between the responsibility to voice out and fight for your opinion on what is right, and what isn’t, and at the same time making sure that your expression of your opinion does not commit the same sets of mistakes generations of bigots and fascists have committed, on the other, between positing an answer and refusing to close the question to the possibility of alternative responses, to, perhaps, even better answers.

Untitled 4 Dizon, Nika Digital dizon.nika@gmail.com

III.

I do not wish to claim that I have somehow found the definitive answer to the question of art, its purpose and existence in this universe, a question that has consistently, without fail, stumped great thinkers all the way back to the Classical period, from Plato to Pope to Deleuze and Guattari’s Plateaus, but, and I proceed with this assumption with a diligent recklessness, I do not think that any of them would even as much as turn in their graves when I assert that the very development of art hinges on the very act of response.

One does not have to be well versed in art history or hegelian dialectics to get the general feel that the development of art, like practically everything else in the world that has seen some form of improvement, hinges on the sincerity of response, either from the winds of the time, or to art posited before it, from poetry as a response to the unassailable hunger of the heart, to revolutionary art in response to state censorship and violence, from impressionism as a revolt to the dominance of, well, expressionism, to postmodernist architecture as a reflection of the logic of late-capitalism. After all, what work of art has been produced that isn’t a response to something that has come before it, that hasn’t been, in some way, necessitated by the world before it? This, without even taking into full consideration that no artist has ever lived a life untouched by the greater logic of the world surrounding him.

And yet art is a response asking for another response, as is the very principle governing the act of sharing a work of art, be it guided by ancient ritualistic functions, or by modern commodifying logic. Whether or not a piece has lost its aura or not, it is always already having asking for a response, be it an emotional,

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economic, or even a physical one – indeed, it is this very space provided by the act of readying itself for a reaction that what Benjamin calls as the work of art’s aura assumes, from installments opened for public consumption, to images shared as alternative to the written word.

Even paintings kept in the closet are made for the self that cannot help but respond with a feeling or two.

IV.

To personally align oneself to a particular way of responding to art isn’t a bad thing in itself, indeed, it is necessary, as a form of providing oneself direction, guidance, as he tries to navigate his way through the chaos of this universe, towards enjoying it further, in the guise of living an enjoyable, fulfilling life.

But it is one thing to posit this personal inclination towards how art is to be responded to, is to be consumed, as the best way, and quite another to say that it is the (implicitly, only) proper way, as if to close the very dialog opened by the question.

Where the former is to personally wrestle with the question, the latter is nothing short of dialogic tyranny.

The claim here is that such a closing, or even a mere attempt thereof, of the very dialog on the existence and purpose of art, whether or not it should even have one, and so on and so forth, is not only contrary to the very historical development of art as a medium, but also, more disturbingly, that it is counterintuitive of today’s (millennial) attitudes towards art, revealing an underlying paradox between this millennial façade of openness, on the one hand, and the implicit class-related (redundant, I know, it always is) cultural territoriality, a widespread problem that M represents, but is not entirely representative of.

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V. Walter Benjamin talks of art in the age of mechanical reproduction as having undergone a process of liberation – taken from the limitations of its ritual function, and transformed into something more social; what was once limited to the temple for consumptions of the priest has been moved to the museum, for the greater public to behold.[1] In recent decades, this stripping of the aura of authenticity, towards this so-called process of democratization, has been furthered by the advent of the digital, with the classical now just a few clicks away. Of course, where an attempt at democratization exists, capitalism shortly follows, seeking to reestablish order – and this it does largely at the back of one of its greatest weapons in history: through the academe, largely agreed upon as one of the capitalist state’s strongest, most effective ideological apparatuses.

What advanced art school has done to art today is akin to what Frodeman and Briggle, in a previous issue of The New York Times, argue, that the University has done to Philosophy: it is here, in the academic institutions of the elite, that art and its long-time search for liberation, for response, in a sense, lost its way [2] As more and more theories on art production, and more importantly consumption, are taught in thy hallowed halls of the paid-for-classroom, there arises this trend to resist liberation, to return to a new form of authenticity. With the increase of so-called culturally literate graduates, the museum, or the gallery, continues to replace the temple as the new home of the work of art’s ritualistic function – the new priests that take it upon themselves to dictate the function or art, no matter how hard they deny it.

And here I must return to cannibalize Benjamin’s warning, in order to take it further. Where mechanical reproducibility once worked to shift the work of art’s dependence on ritual towards the political, it now instead uses the political to revive the new ritual – which in itself is never devoid of politics. This foreclosure around the new ritual mandated by the academe is nothing short of a survival mechanism: for they must maintain the rules of the field, in this case the rules of art, or otherwise risk falling from their position at the top – exclusivity, control of its premises, as the principle of autonomy.

Yet is it not this very same principle at work now that I find myself rather guilty of the same sins: that I am using the very same theories I learned in the university to assert a way of consumption in this very composition and at the same time protect my imagined position in the field’s hierarchic logic?

Perhaps, perhaps not. But even at the risk of patting myself on the back too early, I remain steadfast on my insistence that one can assert without looking to oneself off from the promise of the response, and that this should at least be enough to let the dialog press on.

For it is this very foreclosure that is at the heart, no, core – for a heart here simply does not exist – of cultural elitism.

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VI. Art, and issues of its consumption, like everything else, has always been closely tied to matters of class difference, from writing as a sign of the privilege, to the Germans undertaking the question of popular art, even up to matters involving the MMFF. This is nothing new, and indeed dominates all forms of art production and consumption.

education as sophistication, because diversification entails accepting their taste as valid, the movies they like as anything more than trash. All because the non-Film educated Filipino would rather enjoy a film by losing himself in the jokes and sketches, instead of concerning himself with “good writing” and “amazing cinematography” that’s supposed to “reflect the ails of 21st century life.”

Why do you think a vast majority of men and women who consider themselves to be “wellread” find it necessary to diss on Lang Leav’s poems, poetry they somehow consider as not up to par with what the highly political, yet ultimately arbitrary hierarchies of reading that they subscribe to categorize as good poetry?

Even the so-called “liberal” ones are complicit with this elitism: “At least they’re reading”, “Well, I suppose it’s a good stepping stone towards “actual” poetry.”

Even bullshit maxims like “don’t collect things collect moments” that offer unsolicited advice on how to best enjoy your vacation are symptoms. God forbid there actually exist people who want to preserve their moments in the form of souvenirs.

Who the fuck cares if majority of today’s concert-goers insist on video recording the performers on their smartphones instead of just “losing themselves in the moment?” Well, these essence-purists certainly do, because apparently only they know how to properly enjoy a concert.

Why is it that every time the MMFF rolls around and the movie that many “serious” filmgoers like ends up hardly being peopled at the cinemas, or even worse actually pulled out for whatever reason, the immediate response is almost always that the whole festival is stupid because it caters to a stupid audience? Or, if you happen to be talking to someone with a kinder tongue, then it becomes an issue of educating the apparently (good) film-illiterate masses. Except it’s almost always a vertical issue, and hardly addressed horizontally:

And God forbid I ever have the desire to supplement a personal trip to the National Museum with a selfie with Juan Luna’s Spoliarium.

Thank God for memes that serve as our new site of struggle.

VII.

Among the upper echelons of society, where the so-called “culturally literate” people reside, is where this cultural tyranny manifest in one of its most potent form – hidden under the veil of formal education. For years now, people have used academic/theoretical rigor as a way to limit other people’s wonder, if only because they do not like other forms of curiosity.

Cole Mohr’s Face Dizon, Nika Digital dizon.nika@gmail.com

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“I don’t understand why people are in such a rush, you’re not actually supposed to finish a museum in one go,” M tells me at some point in our tour. I don’t understand why people are so adamant on telling other people how to eat their food.

[1] Benjamin, Walter. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction (1936) [2] Briggle, Adam and Robert Frodeman. When Philosophy Lost Its Way (New York Times, 2016)

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words by Jianne Soriano

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With the recent outburst thrown at the lasting casting of the much-beloved manga series, Ghost in the Shell whose 1995 anime adaptation changed the niche of anime not only in cinema but as a culture, it’s horrifying to know the alleged use of CGI to make Scarlett Johansson look Asian in the upcoming adaptation.

But the real question is: why did the idea pop up in the first place? Do they think that yellowfacing someone would make it any less better?

This is saying that they never actually considered to hire an Asian-Amercian/Asian actor in the first place. And the reason is simple. It won’t sell.

(I write this piece to give my two cents in all the arguments that are thrown with regards to Ghost in the Shell. For the most part, I believe that the whole Ghost in the Shell issue is just a syndrome of the bigger issue that is - whitewashing or simply this “Hollywood tradition” of meddling with casting vis-a-vis Asian characters. I use Ghost in the Shell as an example as it makes it easier for people to grasp the whole thing.)

Generally, Hollywood seems to forget that Asians exist. In fact, Asians are still at only 1% of Hollywood’s lead roles. True, there are many many Asians working behind the scenes but there is an underwhelming number of those that do. Why is it that this tradition of erasure is still so prevalent and “accepted” in Hollywood?

And I ask again, why not? The fact that it won’t sell because it’s led by an Asian-American/ Asian actor is already a problem itself. It just goes to show that Asian-Amercians/Asians aren’t given enough opportunities to be in the lead roles. Their screen time is so little that they’re not as bankable as ScarJo and that they’re not as successful. How can they be successful and be in the same playing field when they weren’t given a chance in the first place?

At least “not selling enough” is what they try to say. Kevin Chow, in his op-ed for The New York Times said this decision is rooted in racism as much as it is in economics. In fact, a recent study at the University of California show that having people of color in lead roles not only sell more but also returns more to studios and producers. If they fear not having big names as lead role so much, The Jungle Book casted

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Using Ghost in the Shell as an example presents a very interesting argument. It’s a Japanese film that stars a Japanese woman that’s set in Japan.

It’s that simple. Just because it’s a Hollywood adaptation doesn’t mean it needs to be “westernized” because it is at its core, an Asian (and to be specific a Japanese) narrative. Casting an Asian American/Asian actor was an opportunity that was just discarded without second thought. (In fact, Margot Robbie was the initially the pick to star).

Changing those in a different context, doesn’t really make the story Ghost in the Shell anymore, it’s just another sci-fi, cyberpunk film that takes GITS’ narrative.

Arguments supporting the casting vary. Many claim that Makoto Kusunagi is an alias. My take: It’s an alias but it’s still a Japanese alias. Shuji Tsushima didn’t use Joe as his alias. He chose Osamu Dazai. A fake name but still a Japanese name because he is Japanese. But perhaps the most famous argument is that: Makoto is basically a cyborg. True. Her body is a cyborg and Makoto is probably just one of her many bodies. But she is still Japanese. Her mind is still Japanese Before she became a cyborg, she was human. A cyborg is just a body. But then again, there is a difference between a cyborg and a robot, right? Balsamo defines a cyborg as “a coupling between a human being and an electronic mechanical apparatus, a hybrid that is neither wholly technological nor completely organic” which basically means she still has human features and in fact GITS explores that theme: how much of her is human and how much is machine. (Heavy inspirations from Shinto and Buddhism as well, in fact, many of the shots and Kusangi’s actions hold a lot of significance in context with the plot which makes its Japanese-ness really important.)

Kusanagi may look white but she is still Japanese.

After that, it’s the claim that it’s suppose to be universal. But what other fails to understand is that Ghost in the Shell was made in the context of Japan. Its core themes are Japanese.

Yes, development and technology are universal themes. But GITS relies on its Japanese development and technology which makes it purely GITS. Western development and technology are different than how the Japanese did. GITS’ core is its Japanese-ness much like Akira is, much like Neon Genesis Evangelion and even Astroboy. It is also true that GITS is inspired by the west namely Scott Ridley’s Blade Runner. But “this referencing might be superficial but many works are deeply embedded in Japanese history and culture” as Oshii, director of the 1995 film himself said.

This is probably what indie-comic writer, John Tsuei meant when addressing the issue and providing context in his twitter, saying that GITS is purely a Japanese work. After all, Astro Boy symbolized the “dawn of the anime” while philosophical works such as Akira and ultimately GITS symbolized the almost “overripe maturity” of anime. And anime is an “Japanese art form with a distinctive narrative and visual aesthetic that both harks back to traditional Japanese culture and moves forward to the cutting edge of art and media” that makes the context of GITS special relationship to Japan’s own technological development.

Another bigger argument stems from the whole: “Anime characters look nothing like Asians at all” which evidently poses another problem. Why do they look like a white person, then? Actually, to Japanese people, they are Japanese. It is only a white person’s assumption that they are white simply because white people are perceived as the default human being. But you also have to

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look deeper on Japanese society. The style is “deliberate de-Japanizing of the characters is in keeping with the their view of anime as offering an alternative world to its Japanese audience.”.In short, having an anime character that doesn’t look Japanese is embedded in their society and culture. It’s not a western style. It’s anime style. Besides, designing a character that looks Asian (or Japanese in general) would rely heavily on stereotypes on how Asians look. Chinky eyes, uneven teeth and wearing glasses, are those what these people envision how they should be looking?

These stereotypes are so negative that Hayao Miyazaki said that: Japanese people hate their own faces.

A popular phrase also being thrown is: “Race doesn’t matter as long as the quality’s good” is really just undermines the problem. Because a white person wouldn’t care about race so much if they’re just in it for the movie. They don’t care as much when it comes to what GITS ultimately is and what it means to give Asian-Americans/Asians an opportunity to be in lead roles. We know why this exists. And educating us by saying “this is how it works” is just another way of telling us, this is reality and this how it works instead of addressing the problem at its core. We don’t need to reminded time and time away how people love our narratives and culture but not us. In a way, GITS doesn’t only reflect the concerns of the franchise’s value to them but it also highlights the sick ongoing practice of Hollywood that never seems to change. Asking if whitewashing exists in Hollywood is almost like asking if you need to eat when you’re hungry. It’s so apparent that we just become sick of it.

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And finally, I have to add this point so as to address the issue of double standards. Comparing the Attack on Titan live-action to GITS doesn’t hold water. (Although it DID cause uproar especially in Japan.) Attack on Titan was made by the Japanese film industry where white actors are probably non-existent compared to Hollywood’s where Asian-American actors do exist. Only Gaijin Tentaro (comedians) are probably part of the Japanese film industry. Japan is 95.8% Japanese and a majority of the other ethnicities are still Asians - Korean and Filipinos.

I agree, of course, that is so much better to just cast white actors and stay true to the characters but compared to Hollywood, who have a pool of Asian-American actors, Japan can’t just hire white actors on the go. Even English-speaking Japanese actors or voice actors (in Japan not in Hollywood) are rare. True, Hollywood is founded as an American film industry. But Asian-Americans are part of the industry and has kept it going. Japanese film industry are probably 99% (if not 100% Japanese).

But as you see, Attack on Titan changed its characters to accommodate its Japanese actors except for the two main leads. It’s not double-standard, these two industries are not in the same playing field and doesn’t thrive or as “diverse” (ironically) as Hollywood is (which is suppose to be a melting pot).

And since others have used the argument of “race not matter[ing]” in the context of GITS. Well, let me just reserve that and say race doesn’t matter in Attack on Titan so true enough, changing the characters doesn’t take away the essence of the story since we only know that the characters are not of Asian-origin because of their names but their race didn’t matter much in the plot as it’s always been about humans vs. Titans. Attack on Titan wasn’t made in the context of Japan unlike how GITS,

which was made in the context of Japan as a revolutionary power in technological development. You can pretty much tell how low-budget a film has with its effects, Japanese films never really did well in those areas. Of course I’m not saying it’s not a problem. It’s also also another big problem to keep hiring actors to play characters that do not reflect their race and ethnicity (Full Metal Alchemist is having a Japanese live-action adaptation soon). But then again, Japan has to work on its purely Japanese actors industry before they can tackle this problem.

Compared to Japan, the solutions in Hollywood are easy: hire Asian Americans/Asian actors.

With Hollywood’s long history of whitewashing and failed Japanese adaptation, we should be expecting the worst. After all, they did cast all white actors for The Last Airbender (which is not even a Japanese work per say) and cast an Asian as the villain. The much-beloved Dragon Ball, which a lot of Filipinos grew up with was also a flop. That’s not to say it’s just Japanese works. It’s just Asian representation in general. In the end, this is really what they want to tell us: We love your culture but not you.

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With Hollywood’s long history of whitewashing and failed Japanese adaptation, we should be expecting the worst. After all, they did cast all white actors for The Last Airbender (which is not even a Japanese work per say) and cast an Asian as the villain. The much-beloved Dragon Ball, which a lot of Filipinos grew up with was also a flop. That’s not to say it’s just Japanese works. It’s just Asian representation in general. In the end, this is really what they want to tell us: We love your culture but not you.