The Heritage Conservation Society

http://news.inq7.net/lifestyle/index.php?index=2&story_id=61084
By Augusto Villalon

AFTER
SPEEDING ON high gear throughout the year, we need Christmas to slow
down and recharge. It is the time for returning to family and friends,
and going back to the familiar rituals and traditions that reconnect us
to our roots.

I reconnected with my Cebuano roots last Dec. 16
when I attended a revival of an old Christmas tradition in Cebu’s
Parian district.

The Parian of Cebu was once a residential
district in the center of the city that focused on its main street,
Calle Colòn, said to be the oldest street in the country.

The
district survived many identity transformations. Beginning as a ghetto
of Chinese merchants established toward the end of the 16th century,
the Parian district evolved into a market and trading center.

As
the center of Cebuano business activity, the Parian peaked in the late
19th as the most prestigious section of the city, where the founding
families of Cebu, mestizos of Chinese and Spanish origin, lived and
worked.

Houses in the Parian were not simply dwellings. They were
"substantial stone-and-wood houses that followed a distinct pattern:
the solid, permanent-looking structure fronting the street, the bodega
ground floor and the upper-floor living quarters with the often
excessively large rooms, wide windows and azoteas that responded to the
need for ventilation and the impulse toward gracious display… that
spoke of the Hispanified lifestyle of the local principalia," writes
noted Cebuano scholar Resil Mojares.

The vanished architecture in
Cebu’s Parian follows the shophouse tradition prevalent in most
Chinese-influenced trading posts in Asia of the era like Pekalongan
(Indonesia), Malacca (Malaysia), the Rattanakosin section of Bangkok,
and Vigan (Philippines).

Entrepreneurial families conducted
business and warehoused their merchandise or agricultural produce on
the ground floor of their shophouses. Families lived on the second
floor.

Today’s Parian has become an inner-city, working-class
neighborhood. The old families have all moved to other parts of the
city, country and world, leaving behind their houses and their Parian
lifestyle.

Only the former Gorordo family home (now maintained by
the Ramon Aboitiz Foundation as the Casa Gorordo Museum), the
Mancao-Sandiego House and the former Jesuit Residence (now a hardware
warehouse) remain.

Kaguikan sa Parian, an association of
descendants of the old Parian families that aims to reawaken Cebuanos
to the history of Parian, joined the Ramon Aboitiz Foundation and the
Barangays of Parian and Tinago to revive the Misa de Gallo procession,
a forgotten Christmas tradition that originated in the Parian.

Joyful procession
For
the nine days leading up to Christmas, a pre-dawn procession joyfully
winds its way from Plaza Parian to Cebu Cathedral, reenacting the
Nativity with neighborhood children taking part in the tableau. The
procession street-dances its way to the cathedral.

Children bring
life-size papier-mache lambs and other animals. Boys compete for the
honor of pulling the huge, life-size paper replicas of the Three Kings
astride life-size camels along the streets to the cathedral.

Neighborhood bands march in the procession, each accompanying a choir of children singing traditional Cebuano Christmas carols.

After
a festive Misa de Gallo in Cebu Cathedral, the procession returns to
Plaza Parian to enjoy a traditional painit (snack) of Cebuano
delicacies.

The Misa de Gallo procession is a neighborhood
celebration where residents give thanks for the blessings received
during the past year. More important, it is a celebration where bonds
are strengthened-between neighbors, between current and former
residents of the district, and, most significantly, between present and
past.

Much of the credit for reviving the procession goes to
Kaguikan sa Parian, but its moving spirit is Val Sandiego, who traces
his roots to Parian families, Mancao-Sandiego.

Val researched the
Misa de Gallo tradition, conceptualized the entire procession, and
trained the neighborhood children who participated in it.

There
was a feel of authenticity to the celebration. It was one participated
in joyfully by residents, not an artificially conceived, well-rehearsed
act simply for tourist consumption.

And to Val’s credit, everyone had a good time. I certainly did and will definitely return for more next year.

"As
a city moves through time and space, much of what it once was remains.
Yet, much of what it can become is also expressed," observes Resil.

By
reviving its past traditions, Kaguikan sa Parian teaches Cebu to
express what it can become. It shows Cebuanos proudly living their
heritage while firmly being on the forefront of 21st century life.

It looks like Kaguikan sa Parian is taking Cebu in a direction that I am proud to be a part of.

E-mail the author at afvillalon@hotmail.com 

http://news.inq7.net/lifestyle/index.php?index=2&story_id=60428

   
Dec 19, 2005

By Augusto Villalon

TWO
COFFEE-TABLE BOOKS published by the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP)
documenting its extensive gold and painting collections are welcome
additions to the meager printed records of our national patrimony.

"Ginto,
History Wrought in Gold," written by Ramòn Villegas and photographed by
Wig Tysmans, has won the Anvil and National Book Awards.

Villegas
comprehensively catalogues the vast gold collection of the Central
Bank. The collection was started by the Money Museum in the late 1970s
to trace the evolution of Philippine currency. Since then it has grown
into one of the most important gold collections in Asia.

Gold has
always figured in Philippine history. Since ancient times, the
Philippines has been an active gold producer, proven by the oldest
piece in the collection, a gold bead from Palawan dating to
approximately 700-500 BC. For most of the 20th century, the country
topped gold production in Southeast Asia.

Butuan, writes
Villegas, owed its existence to gold mined at the headwaters of Agusan
River in the Diwata mountain range. The economic influence of the
ancient settlement was great. It was where local merchants bartered
gold for foreign goods.

Other goods recovered from
Butuan-ceramics, glass beads, bronze-illustrate the extent of Butuan
trade, all evidence of contact with China, Vietnam, and other Asian
countries. As a result, it emerged as an urbanized port center and an
entrep“t during the first millennium.

The high quality of the
gold artifacts establish that our ancestors were not only adept at
sourcing and mining the precious metal. They were also excellent
craftsmen who worked and shaped the element into extremely fine objects
for barter or body ornamentation.

One of the Philippines’ most
famous archaeological artifacts, the 20-cm high, 24-karat Gold Image of
Agusan, now at the Field Museum in Chicago, resembles a Hindu goddess
with an intricate headdress that links the gold tradition to Javanese
or Indian influences, as eminent Philippine anthropologists believe.

Gold brought the early Philippines in contact with Asia.

Villegas
traces Chinese records that say, "from the 10th and 13th centuries AD,
diplomatic and trade missions from the Kingdom of Butuan were being
received at the Imperial Court," proof that it was a flourishing
international port and a settlement with an established civil structure
that exercised governance over residents who would have included
traders, craftsmen, and others who would have had religious and
cultural activities as well.

Butuan declined in the 14th century
for reasons still unknown today. By the time the Spanish arrived a few
centuries later, its glory had gone. The splendor of the BSP’s gold
collection, now on permanent exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of
Manila, gives a good idea of the extent and quality of early Philippine
gold production.

Important painting trove

The
BSP is truly the repository of the nation’s wealth. It is also the
custodian of an important gold collection and probably the country’s
most important collection of paintings.

The painting collection
is not accessible to the public, so the lavishly illustrated
publication of the collection in "Tanaw: Perspectives on the Bangko
Central ng Pilipinas Painting Collection" is the next best thing.

Ramon
Lerma edits essays by Jaime Laya, Alice Guillermo, Cid Reyes, Ma.
Victoria Herrera, and Fatima Lasay, who give their perspectives on the
collection.

In "Progenitors of the Filipino Nation," Laya writes
about portraiture, an art form where "we gain a better idea of the
development of the Filipino nation. They [portraits] help us trace our
roots and sharpen our sense of national identity."

Portraits from
the 19th century to the present record costume, jewelry, furniture, and
interior architecture changes. They also record history, inspire the
viewers by capturing on canvas memories of heroes, presidents, clerics,
businessmen, matriarchs and others who have shaped the nation
physically or spiritually, as portraits of saints, mostly anonymously
done, speak of rewards in the afterlife.

"The art of a country
does not speak in unison but with many voices-as in the telling of a
narrative from different points of view, concerns, and interests,"
writes Guillermo.

Guillermo illustrates her narrative with
contrasting points of view, pastoral paintings from the 1850s, Amorsolo
pastorals of the 1930s and Baldemor’s Paete of the 1980s.

The
narrative continues with different views of Philippine life, Tayag and
Parial’s takes on the Ati-Atihan, bloody flagellants and variations on
the Mother and Child (either soft and tender or full of angst). The
collection, indeed, tells the nation’s story graphically.

Herrera
examines Philippine imagery, from the religious to the mundane, from
the bucolic countryside to the urban density of the city, investigating
the layers of transparency in Joya and Zobel.

Guillermo’s insight
that an art collection narrates a story from many points of view is
precisely what both publications bring out. They tell the story of the
Philippines through two collections under the stewardship of the BSP.

The Philippine story is one of excellence, whether told by gold or paintings, as the collections do.

The
books prove to the reluctant Filipino that he is the heir to rich
traditions, that he no longer needs to be obsessed with looking outward
to foreign shores for inspiration. Rather, he must look at his cultural
legacy to rediscover his missing sense of national pride.

To order the books, call the BSP Corporate Affairs Office, 5247011 loc. 2377 or 5249534.

Feedback is welcome at afvillalon@hotmail.com.

By Paulo Alcazaren
The Philippine STAR 12/17/2005                   

My
first memory of the University of the Philippines was in 1965. My
father had bought me a toy rocket ship and we launched it from one of
the many open green spaces set within the lush campus landscape. I
thought at the time that it was cool that we were the first to bring
the space age to the UP. I was wrong. I found out later that it had
come much earlier – in 1955 – with the completion of the Chapel of the
Holy Sacrifice, affectionately known as Diliman’s "flying saucer."

Less than 10 years after that rocket launch, I found myself
enrolled at the UP and painting that domed chapel in watercolor for a
class in architectural rendering. That prompted my first visit and the
experience was profound. I had never been in a circular church before
and it felt strange to see the altar in the center. Nevertheless, I was
drawn to it. Despite its small scale (only a hundred feet across), the
space had an impact and a focus few structures here could match then,
and that holds true even today.

The interior space was enhanced with artwork – a two-sided
crucifix above showing the tortured, then the risen Lord, an abstracted
river of life in a terrazzo-patterned floor below and 15 striking
murals (Stations of the Cross) between the dome’s 32 columns – and
added to the whole effect of embracing the visitor spatially and
spiritually. The chapel was wonderfully open, blending the interior
with the green outside. Finally, the setting – a simple, green lawn
rising gently from the road – completed the postcard-pretty scene.

That scene and the chapel had a great influence on thousands
of Dilimanians’ lives. Next Tuesday, Dec. 20, marks the chapel’s golden
anniversary. The chapel is special not just because of its physical and
religious landmark status on the campus but also because of the
personalities behind its inception, design, construction and
embellishment.

Fr. John Delaney, the controversial but charismatic Jesuit chaplain
assigned to the campus, orchestrated the project. National Artist for
Architecture Leandro Locsin cut his teeth designing it. Dean Alfredo
Juinio of the UP College of Engineering came up with the innovative
thin-shell approach which a young David Consunji implemented to
perfection using the simplest of machinery and lots of guts.

Finally, three cutting-edge artists – Napoleon Abueva, Arturo
Luz and Vincente Manansala – created the crucifix, floor and murals
respectively, which started them on the road to national artist status.
(Another national artist, in music this time, Jose Maceda, would
premier his concert "Pagsamba" there in 1968 and repeat it
regularly in the same venue.) One renowned religious leader, four
national artists and two giants in Philippine engineering and
construction make for a really special structure …and a compelling
story of how it got built.

The UP transferred to Diliman in 1949. It was meant to do so
in 1942 as part of a massive transfer of civic structures that included
a new capitol complex at the elliptical circle. The war intervened.
Immediately after, the future campus was commandeered by the American
Armed Forces as their headquarters. The two Juan Arellano-designed
structures built in 1941 meant for the colleges of law and education
became military offices. Around it rose dozens of quonset huts and a
chapel of wood, galvanized iron roofing, bamboo and sawali that
had a distinctive vernacular-inspired roof (my suspicion is that it was
also Arellano-designed because of some references in the literature to
his experimentation in pitch-roofed silhouettes for the state
university’s architecture).

That
chapel deteriorated into stables towards the end of the UP’s military
term. It was in shambles when Fr. Delaney found it but he quickly went
to work to clean it up, aided by an ever growing flock of students,
faculty and residents. After the patch-up, the UP chapel became the
religious center of the campus. In the early ‘50s it was shared with
the Protestant and Aglipayan congregations reflecting the open spirit
of community in UP then.

The growing population of students and residents in the
493-hectare campus, however, took its toll and Fr. Delaney, as well as
the Protestant church leaders, finally decided it was time to build new
and separate chapels. Under UP president Vidal Tan, the campus also
accommodated requests and allocated parcels in the non-academic north
section of the university for both.

Those were trying years for Delaney, president Tan and the
university. Issues of academic freedom, the threat of sectarianism
(fueled by Fr. Delany’s extremely pro-active involvement in campus life
and the growing political clout of the Delaney-mentored UP Student
Catholic Action organization), and fraternity and sorority violence
(which the chaplain tried his best to solve) made for a more
complicated narrative, whose total complexion colored the entire
decade.

It was in the middle of this maelstrom that the idea for the
"saucer" started. In May 1954 the Protestant chapel was first to start
construction. The modern structure, by university architect Cesar
Concio, was completed a year later. The Protestant Chapel of the Risen
Lord was funded by donations from America. The Catholic congregation
was not so lucky and had to scrounge and scrape, egged on by the
tireless Fr. Delaney to "give till it hurt." Fr. Delaney also did not
want to sell out to corporate sponsorship or be beholden to endowments
from the rich. Almost all of the P150,000 it took (remember, the peso
was 2:1 back then) was raised by the UP congregation. Students missed
their lunches and faculty donated portions of their salary to the fund.
No wonder the chapel was named The Chapel of the Holy Sacrifice!

It
was more than sacrifice that added to the value of the chapel, it was
the creative resource and risk Fr. Delaney took in the team that he
selected to build it. He probably also felt the pressure to deliver to
his flock a structure as modern as the neighboring Protestant Chapel.
The saddle-shaped structure cut a handsome sight and his congregation
would settle for no less.

During dinner one night at the home of the Abuevas, he met a
26-year-old architect whose only experience after college was to spend
a year designing a radical circular chapel for a sugar magnate in
Negros. It was supposed to be a gift to the Don Bosco fathers and meant
to symbolize unity and openness. The chapel was never built but Fr.
Delaney had almost identical requirements. The loss of the Bosconians
(a congregation to which I belong) was UP’s gain.

Fr. Delaney wanted a simple but strong building that would be
open to the light, air and space that UP had plenty of back then. He
also wanted to maximize the potential of the site allocated by the
university, an elevated platform rising slightly above and across the
university infirmary and the Protestant chapel.

With the previous client’s permission, Locsin adapted the
original design to fit the site. Fr. Delaney then roped in Dean Juinio
for the structural design and Jose Segovia for the electrical design.
The contractor was a young maverick named David Consunji, the founder
of today’s construction powerhouse DMCI. The dean worked hard at
fulfilling the requirements to create a dome to float above a thousand
worshippers lightly and at the least cost. His answer: a thin shell
nine inches at the base and diminishing to only three inches at the
top.

This type of roof had never been built in the country. It took the
ingenuity of Consunji to construct it within the constraints of the
meager budget and the lack of equipment needed to pour the shell within
the 18-hour window Juinio set. The solution was ingenious and daring –
four construction towers and a continuous ramp circling the structure
allowed ordinary concrete mixers (churning out high-strength concrete)
to supply a squad of workers in buggies rotating to pour the concrete.

The pour date was Aug. 25, 1955. It started to drizzle in the
early morning and threatened to wreck the operation (the water would
dilute the mix and weaken the concrete). But Fr. Delaney held a prayer
vigil with UPSCANs taking turns asking for divine intervention. They
got it as the site remained totally dry even as other parts of the
large campus were drenched, even the University Theater, where the
Nobel Prize winner for literature, William Faulkner, delivered a
lecture.

With the dome completed, Locsin and Delaney sought the artists
needed to furnish and embellish the structure. They were all given
complete artistic freedom (so long as they stayed within the budget).
Abueva hung his heavy wooden cross from the oculus (above which Locsin
put the chapel’s bells). Luz integrated the symbolism of nature in the
"river of life" into the terrazzo floor that connected the interior
spaces with the circular lanai, which in turn was the smooth transition
to the simple lawn outside. Manansala added color literally to the
chapel with his murals of the Way of the Cross (with a 15th panel
showing the Risen Lord – an attempt to relate to the neighboring
Protestant chapel, perhaps?).

At
four in the morning on Dec. 20, 1955 the chapel was blessed by
Archbishop Rufino J. Santos. Fr. Delaney said the first mass (also the
first Christmas mass) to an overflowing crowd. In his sermon, he
thanked all those who made sacrifices to see that the chapel would be
completed. The mood of the congregation was joyous and it spilled over
to January only to be dashed by the news of Delaney’s death from a
stroke. The sacrifices and trials he faced in the last few years had
taken its toll. His body was brought from the Ateneo to the new chapel
for the requiem mass, starting a tradition of honoring those of UP who
had made a difference.

The new chapel and the loss of their mentor only spurred
UPSCANs to carry on their perceived mission of shaping campus life. In
the years that followed they took political control of the student
council stirring up a hornet’s nest of trouble that ended in the
suspension of student political life in UP until a decision by the
Supreme Court in the early ‘60s.

The story of the chapel and the university by then was moving
at a breakneck speed towards more tumult from the left, right and
center (literally). Martial law followed with the neutering of the
university’s feistiness. People Power followed and the UP’s gentle
decline caused by financial woes, the indifference of government,
physical deterioration of facilities and an inability to maximize its
potential and pull itself out of the morass of internal strife and
political issues that date back to those unresolved in the 1950s.

I
visited the chapel recently and was glad to see that the work of
Locsin, Juinio, Consunji, Abueva, Luz and Manansala has stood the test
of time. The ceiling is flaking a bit but most of the interiors,
artwork and furnishing have stood up well despite five decades of
service. The feeling inside is still magnificent and clearly the
structure should be declared a national treasure.

I was appalled, however, at the condition of its gardens and
the surrounding landscape. The chapel cannot now be appreciated as it
was originally intended – a structure that was open and barrier-free.
Gone are the visual connections to other buildings and the transparency
and friendliness of the 1950s setting. The place has been eaten by the
virus of horror vacuii – the fear of empty spaces that
politicians with their city halls and parish priests with their
churches perennially suffer from. Moreover the circulation of air is
compromised because the structure is choked by so much extraneous
material.

The chapel’s formerly simple and elegant grounds have been cut
up into numerous odd-shaped parcels and "decorated" with themes,
awkward fountains, "decorative" odds and ends (although the statuary
isn’t bad) along with an over-busy landscaping that obviously cannot be
constantly maintained.

I was told that a previous parish priest run amuck and turned
the grounds into a succession of follies that pushed the bounds of
aesthetics and gives meaning to the word "ugly." I would gladly go on a
starvation vigil to have all of it removed and the chapel given back
its proper and distinguished setting, however humble it may be.

The rest of the campus’ balkanized landscape suffers similar
fate. Colleges cage themselves in or surround their buildings with
parking lots that are pedestrian-unfriendly. The architecture of new
buildings seldom relate to their surroundings while lack of funds is
evident in the lack of maintenance for almost every corner of the
university. Gone are the days when UP Diliman carried an image of
idyllic pursuit of scholarship. Today’s students pursue the next class
across unsheltered narrow sidewalks and unsafe stretches of overgrown cogon.

The space age has come and gone for UP. Vestiges of its
former glory are seen in structures like the chapel but just barely.
The campus seems to have been sacrificed by the gods of macroeconomics
at the altar of national belt-tightening. It may also be abandoned by
Delaney’s God soon if we do not make the real sacrifices needed to
ensure a rational, open-minded, non-sectarian, politics-free and
aesthetically-abled future for the university.

A eucharistic celebration on December 20, Tuesday, at 5:30 p.m. will
bring together past and present community members and friends of Fr.
John P. Delaney, SJ, and all those who helped build the UP Chapel
through their prayers and sacrifices. The National Historical Institute
(NHI) through its chairperson, Ambeth Ocampo, has signified its
intention to declare the chapel as a national historical landmark.
Tentative date for unveiling of the marker is Jan. 12, 2006, the 50th
death anniversary of Fr. Delaney.

Feedback is welcome. Please e-mail the writer at paulo.alcazaren@gmail.com.

http://news.inq7.net/lifestyle/index.php?index=2&story_id=59684

   
      By Augusto Villalon

TWO
NEW BOOKS BRING out diverse aspects that contribute to the rich
tapestry of Philippine culture. One is a collection of essays on
Manila. The other documents lighthouses built during the Spanish
colonial period which stand in solitary, decaying splendor in the
farthest outposts of our islands.

Manila is the city I love to
hate. It is a city on the brink of self-destruction which eats up
anyone who tries to improve it. I impatiently look forward to leaving,
and when I do, I always return. I have days of not wanting to have any
involvement with it, but in the end I realize I can’t have enough of it.

Manila is my karma.

It
is David Guerrero’s karma as well that he and others wrote "Manila
Envelope" (published by Sanserif Inc., and sponsored by the Philippine
Daily Inquirer), a fascinating reality bite of an unreal city, a
"compendium of interactions between the tropical dream bubble sitting
next to the world’s deepest ocean trench and the rich, grey, pinstriped
world beyond the seas."

Guerrero’s interactors are a potent
compendium, indeed: Lourd de Veyra, Krip Yuson, Jessica Zafra, Randy
David, Matthias Urban, Ambeth Ocampo, Conrad de Quiros, James Paterson
and Uro de la Cruz all write personal and incisive takes on Manila.

Carlos
Celdran walks us through the web of intricacies and inconsistencies of
Quiapo, from hawker-packed Carriedo sidewalks to Evangelista Street,
where you can find magic spells, amulets, charms, and potions that can
guarantee your good luck or bad wishes.

He tells you where to buy
sparkling beauty-queen tiaras, vegetables, ribbons, baskets, pirated
DVDs, before leading you to genteel sanity and history at Bahay Nakpil
on Calle Barbosa.

Ige Ramos advises Manila visitors on where to
find bed-and-breakfast. His quick eye spots the gold-plated spittoons
on the floor of the once venerable Manila Hotel, evidence of the Grand
Dame’s shaky taste origins.

To experience the bizarre, Ige says,
go to the Manila North Cemetery to see the homeless living illegally in
opulent mausoleums for the dead. Go to Intramuros. Visit the National
and Metropolitan Museums, but don’t miss the Marikina Shoe Museum where
the non-skeletal contents of Imelda’s closets are laid out in rows of
glass cabinets.

Feast in Manila

Cuisine is
at its best in upscale Makati, on gentrified Adriatico and Nakpil
Streets in Ermita. Find comfort Chinese food in Carvajal Tea House at
Binondo. To really taste the pulse of the city, street food is where to
find it.

"Manila Envelope" takes an insightful look at Manila,
but since the city is the microcosm of the country, it is an insight
into Philippine psyche. Through this book our eyes open to see what
Philippine culture is today.

Lighthouses of heritage

If
"Manila Envelope" is an expression of the collective karma of the
authors, so is "Lonely Sentinels of the Sea," written by architect and
architectural historian Manuel Maximo Lòpez del Castillo-Noche and
published by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House.

Lighthouses
obsess Manolo Noche. He spends his hours thinking about them while in
Manila teaching at UST. When he is not there, he is usually found in a
desolate island outpost, researching, measuring and documenting a
lighthouse. The photographs overwhelm.

Everything there is to know about Philippine lighthouses from the Spanish colonial period, Manolo knows. His search continues.

Noche
journeys to lighthouses in faroff points like Isla de Palaui in Cagayan
province, Bojeador at the tip of Ilocos Norte, Isla de Capones in
Zambales, Lubang in Mindoro, Isla Bagatao in Sorsogon, Islote de
Manigonigo in Iloilo, the Farola in Manila, and other places at the
farthest reaches of the Philippine archipelago.

Manolo tells us
that vessels navigated all over the globe aided by lighthouses, and
when they entered Philippine waters, our system took over the
navigational responsibility.

Lighthouses are classified by their
importance, according to "orders" or size, and the power of the light
as magnified by the complex lenses and prisms. There are six orders,
with the first providing navigational aid for international vessels
entering or leaving Philippine waters. Orders diminish in importance
until the sixth order which provides assistance for ports and harbors.

"Lonely
Sentinels of the Sea" will be launched at the Filipinas Heritage
Library on Makati Avenue on Dec. 13 at 6 p.m. The launching is
organized by the UST Center for Intercultural Studies and Toward a
Common Future, the program for cultural cooperation of the Kingdom of
Spain’s Ministry of Education, Culture and Sports.

The strength
of these two publications is in the total commitment of the authors to
their passions which open up new perspectives that add to the sadly
misunderstood picture of Philippine culture and lifestyle that exists
today.

At this troubled juncture in Philippine history, when each
Filipino needs to rediscover the cultural uniqueness and excellence of
his nation, these books show the Philippines that many Filipinos think
so little of.

What both books do is reaffirm our missing pride of place.

These
are books to have. They are available now at the Filipinas Heritage
Library on Makati Avenue and major bookshops in Manila.

Heritage watch

The
Philippines now leads an international museum association, proof of
international respect earned by local professionals in the highly
competitive museums field.

Director Corazòn S. Alvina of the
National Museum of the Philippines has assumed chairmanship of the
Asia-Europe Museum Network (Asemus), an organization of 60 museums in
Asia and Europe committed to sharing of museum collections and
professional competence among its members.

A forum discussing
each museum’s responsibilities toward their respective collections was
recently held at the National Museum with participation of the
directors of the Asian Civilizations Museum (Singapore), Musùe du Quai
Branly (Paris), and the British Museum (London).

In the spirit of
Asemus cooperation, the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden
(Netherlands) loaned some Philippine objects from its collection for
the exhibition "Pang-ulo" now on view at the Museum of the Filipino
People. The exhibition should not to be missed.

E-mail the author at afvillalon@hotmail.com

http://news.inq7.net/lifestyle/index.php?index=2&story_id=58811

   
Dec 05, 2005

By Augusto Villalon

VERY
RARELY IN THE Philippines do provincial leaders recognize the
uniqueness of their people and so take the effort to assess their
cultural strengths as a prelude to mapping out a program to preserve
their cultural identity.

Cebu is among the first provinces to
take the step. Spearheaded by Gov. Gwendolyn Garcia, provincial
government authorities met with prominent Cebuano businessmen and the
Archdiocese of Cebu to establish Garbo sa Sugbo (Cebuano Pride)
Foundation.

The private foundation is a landmark. It finally
unites the government, Church and business, all normally having
divergent visions in the preservation issue. Their common cause is to
identify and preserve all aspects of Cebuano heritage. It is a great
first step.

What Garbo sa Sugbo Foundation aims is to make each
Cebuano aware of his or her people’s special story and to eventually be
able to tell that story with pride.

Not many Filipinos have
pride of place these days, much less pride of country. On the other
hand, pride is bred into each Cebuano since birth.

Cebuanos are fiercely proud of their language, their place in Philippine history, and their innate sense of entrepreneurship.

The island’s geographical location made it the logical hub for the maritime shipping industry in the Philippines.

Cebuano craftsmanship has made the province a respected manufacturing center for export products.

Probably
the leading destination in the country, Cebu once promoted itself as an
"Island in the Pacific" to escape negative publicity during the
turbulent days of Philippine politics. The tourists kept coming.

Tourism
has made Cebuanos aware of their island’s natural qualities-clear
water, beaches, islets, and dive sites, truly the "Island in the
Pacific" as it once claimed to be.

Heritage is another issue.
Cebuanos are largely unfamiliar with their heritage. Garbo sa Sugbo
Foundation aims to change all that.

As a first step, foundation
members representing different sectors of cultural activity committed
to completing an inventory of all expressions of Cebuano heritage,
including traditional literature, music, art, crafts, cuisine,
architecture, heritage towns.

What to do next

The next step after the inventory is to determine what to do with all of the cultural riches still existing in the province.

The inventory expands long-established activities for Cebuano cultural regeneration.

One
of the most successful activities is the Cebu Heritage Frontier by the
Ramòn Aboitiz Foundation, which has long been documenting architectural
heritage in four Spanish colonial towns on the south coast of the
island. The program trains locals to respect and preserve their
heritage, and introduces community-based cultural tourism programs
designed to economically benefit the locals.

Other members of
Garbo sa Sugbo Foundation are individually involved with research in
traditional Cebuano art, literature, cuisine.

The foundation institutionalizes research activities and provides a central repository for the information.

Documentation
of Cebuano culture will lead to the preparation of a cultural heritage
plan with programs to establish methods of preservation following
internationally prescribed principles, to categorize and prioritize
certain areas of preservation, and to determine what public-private
cooperation is needed for effective preservation.

A model for
public-private cooperation is now in place with the recent provincial
declaration of Carcar as a Heritage Town and the passing of the Carcar
heritage bill which designates heritage zones, levels of protection for
heritage structures, and, most importantly, enlists the participation
of the Carcar Heritage Conservation Society to provide technical
expertise in the task of preserving their historic town.

Unknown to many, much is being done for the conservation of heritage in Cebu.

Another
example, the Santo Niño Basilica and Casa Gorordo Museum, both national
monuments protected by the National Historical Institute, are being
conserved under the supervision of qualified restoration architects.
This indicates there’s awareness that restoration is a specialized
activity that cannot be done by unqualified professionals.

Despite the work being done to conserve the heritage of Cebu, much is still being lost.

The
Garbo sa Sugbo program intends to reawaken Cebuanos to their unique
heritage and to add the dimension of cultural pride as a defining
factor to the already existing Cebuano sense of pride.

After
regaining pride of its natural and cultural richness, it will be time
for Cebu to at last step out of its island boundaries and offer its
cultural rediscovery and preservation experience to the rest of the
country as a model for nation-building through establishing a sense of
Filipino pride.

Feedback is welcome at afvillalon@hotmail.com

By Paulo Alcazaren
The Philippine STAR 12/03/2005

Philippine
architecture is the least documented of our arts. Philippine painting,
sculpture, music and theater have been studied, recorded, collected,
and archived. Most importantly, art criticism has thrived as part of
the process of evolving Philippine art and keeping it relevant to our
culture. Books on Philippine art are produced yearly, covering past
masters as well as showcasing new talent. Our schools train artists and
performers who benefit from this wealth of knowledge, continuing
research and publication. Philippine art is alive, kicking and making
waves well beyond our shores.

The same has not been true of Philippine architecture. Less
than a dozen books on the subject have been printed in the last 100
years (many of them slim monographs and only two covering the entire
range of Philippine architecture). A new book, just launched at the
Cultural Center of the Philippines, hopes to fill this gap, so that our
architecture may evolve without losing its cultural soul or its
contemporary relevance.

Philippine Heritage Architecture: Before 1521 to the 1970s
authored by Maria Cristina Valera-Turalba (with an introduction by Dr.
Jaime C. Laya) is the light at the end of our architectural tunnel.
ArchitectTuralba, an associate professor at the College of Architecture
in the University of the Philippines and head of the Sentro ng Arkitekturang Filipino
of the United Architects of the Philippines, has always been an
advocate of heritage conservation. She has, and continues to be,
instrumental in many heritage-related initiatives at the UAP, through
the NCCA and even internationally via the Union Internationale des Architectes (UIA), where she is working on the nomination of Batanes as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The book is the product of over five years of research. The
documentation of heritage architecture was an idea broached earlier by
Dr. Jaime C. Laya to Arch. Turalba. It was finally taken up by the NCCA
and UAP under its president, then Arch. Hedy Luis, and pursued by
succeeding UAP heads. Arch. Turalba was the implementing executive and
rallied a team of UAP members and tireless heritage advocates to comb
the entire archipelago, eventually documenting 1,500 structures in 16
regions.

The project was completed in 2004, but Turalba continued with
the project (with the sole sponsorship of the real-estate company
Active Group Inc., headed by Arch. Tony Turalba) to turn the raw
documentation into a book that would benefit students of Philippine
architecture, practicing professionals and the general public – that
until now had little access and little appreciation for over half a
millennia of architectural heritage literally sitting in their
backyards.

The project and the book could not have come at a more
crucial time. As Turalba reports, "The sad fact is, of the structures
documented in the database… 35 percent have already been
cannibalized, or defaced beyond recognition, or demolished…"

Aside from this continuing destruction, there is a more
insidious malaise that afflicts and threatens Philippine architecture.
Turalba points out that we have entered what architectural critic Fr.
Bobby Perez calls a "post-Filipino" period, referring to the fact that
many of the modern skyscrapers and building complexes built in the
Philippines in the last decade were not the product of Filipino
architects but foreign designers.

In the boom years of the ’90s, Philippine architecture took a
step back as clients and the public began putting more value on designs
created abroad than those produced by local architects. The Asian
downturn thankfully put a damper on this propensity to "brand"
architecture with a foreign label. Today, with the real estate market
slowly coming back, there is worrying evidence that we may lapse back
into this colonial mentality that foreign is better.

The book aims to counter this disturbing scenario. It aims to
provide a sourcebook of architectural heritage to provide inspiration,
as Dr. Laya states in his introduction, "to (Filipino) architects,
owners, and developers to more fully understand Philippine
architectural heritage and rise to the challenges of adaptive re-use
and creative design in a distinctively Filipino architectural style."
This distinctiveness and cultural specificity can mitigate the more
adverse effects of globalization and foreign architectural hegemony.

The book’s featured structures are organized chronologically
in periods – vernacular (pre-Hispanic), Spanish colonial, American
colonial, and 20th century. Its 196 pages are filled with images and
information, much of which will redefine the richness and diversity of
Philippine architecture for most readers. From the Ijangs –
ancient pre-16th-century fortifications – to magnificent brick and
stone cathedrals, to the Art Deco mansions of Iloilo, the structures in
the book amaze, delight, and enlighten.

Turalba says that this book is just the "tip of the iceberg"
and that hopefully means that more books are on the way. A new
generation of culturally-sensitive architects is also coming up to help
advocates like her to continue the fight to preserve our built
heritage. Organizations like the Heritage Conservation Society are also
working hand in hand with members of the UAP and other professional and
cause-oriented groups to address the continuing loss (estimated by some
to be one heritage structure a week).

We do not have to turn our sights (and pocketbooks) overseas
for architecture that will be true to our culture, reflect our passion
or validate our modernity. All we need to pursue is scholarship in
architectural history, theory, and criticism. This should be based on a
conserved treasure of heritage architecture, the likes of which this
book is based on. Secondly, all we have to do is mine the sustainable
resource of our own creative talent and evolve our architecture based
on this body of knowledge. Finally, what we can look forward to, if we
do all this, is a future where our structures can help build better
communities, house our ever-growing population and ultimately shelter a
robust national identity.

Philippine Heritage Architecture: Before 1521 to the 1970s, authored
by Maria Cristina Valera-Turalba (with an introduction by Jaime C.
Laya) is available at major bookstores. Feedback is welcome. E-mail the
writer at paulo.alcazaren@gmail.com.