History told through art

THE ONGOING Manila Biennale aims to celebrate art and commemorate our history by turning Manila’s oldest district, Intramuros, into one big treasure trove, with artworks peppered, and sometimes hidden, throughout, waiting for our discovery and contemplation. In doing so, the month-long celebration becomes a multi-sensory journey thanks to installations, video projections, sound simulations, sculptures and paintings that revisit our past while we reassess our future.

Inside the walled city, Fort Santiago has been turned into a gallery and a canvas for the 15 artworks it houses for the biennale. The fortress itself is a sight to behold, especially at sunset when it is bathed in a rich orange which amplifies the otherwise lifeless Pasig River. Facing the river is Kawayan de Guia’s Lady Liberty, a replica of New York’s Statue of Liberty made from fiberglass, wood, and various scraps. Mr. De Guia’s large-scale statue, which is made to look worn out, overlooks the urban jungle outside the fortress’ walls. Lady Liberty recasts the fall of the Americans and the destruction of Manila during World War II, and when the artist invites the audience to vandalize his work — yes, they can — he is symbolically commenting that we are always vulnerable to, or causing, attacks that lead to degradation and decay.

Nestled inside one of Fort Santiago’s tunnels is Oca Villamiel’s Children of War which portrays the victims of tragedies. The installation is composed of dolls placed inside cages that stretch along the entire tunnel. Mr. Villamiel’s dolls are toys scavenged from the Payatas garbage dump and he placed them inside handmade wire cages. His installation inside the narrow tunnel is an eerie commentary on the horrors of war and the loss of our innocence.

Just above Mr. Villamiel’s tunnel is Felix Bacolor’s Thirty Thousand Liters — an installation of 150 metal drums stacked on wooden pallets. The piece’s description tells the viewer that there is more to the otherwise mundane blue drums — they are the artist’s commentary on the “‘systemic, industrial purging’ and escalating violence in the country today.” Apparently, the drums can contain a combined volume of 30,000 liters of liquid, which is Mr. Bacolor’s commentary on the blood shed in the “current wars in the Philippines.” This is a representation of just a faction of the lives lost within a year based on his estimation, since each person needs five liters of blood to live.

Using a stone dungeon as his canvas, artist Arvin Nogueras presents Incite Modulation, a piece of digital sound art which simulates the echoes of the torture, despair, atrocities, and agonies of war. He recorded the sounds created by scratching a microphone along the walls and other parts of the dungeon, and later manipulated, sequenced, and resampled them to form new soundscapes.

Dressed in a simple white shirt without his iconic “Jose Rizal” hat, Carlos Celdran, the festival’s organizer, told ����ý during the art tour — one can explore the various sites by walking or riding a calesa or tramvia (horse-drawn carriages and buses) — that all the art is not meant to be consumed in one day.

“It’s meant to bring people back in Intramuros more than once” he said, smiling. He said the artworks found in Intramuros are not only about the memories of war but “what’s even going on right now. So these are artists and their reflections.”

Meant to be a parting salute to Jose Rizal, Pete Jimenez’s Walang Boots installation of 150 pairs of wooden shoe lasts, toy guns, and bullet shells, is placed near the bronze footsteps marking the National Hero’s last walk in Fort Santiago. Mr. Jimenez’s work is not only a tribute to Rizal, but a “wry commentary on the modernization of the Philippine military.”

Many of the works in the biennale revisit World War II with a sense of nostalgia and profound eeriness, like Mideo Cruz’ Golgotha, found in a chamber at the Baluarte de San Diego. Made to appear like buried hands that need to be pulled and saved, his art responds to the hidden stories and secrets of the historical chamber. Scattered among the many hands are four small bleeding statues. Inspired from the Biblical story, Golgotha (which literally means “place of skull”) is a tale of atonement, achievements, and sacrifices.

Home to 60% of all the artworks of the Manila Biennale, the four floors of the newly rebuilt San Ignacio Church and its attached Jesuit Mission House house art that are also reminders of the war that devastated Manila.

Artist Renz Baluyot has his own corner, where his six works are reflections of what the World War II means to a millennial artist. He says in his artist’s note that while he was in Japan for an arts residency, a Japanese man knelt at his feet and begged for his forgiveness. He did not know what to feel because he only knew about the WWII through books, so his artworks — Smoke, Zero, Marston Matting, Frames of Reference, In Retrospection 1 & 2, and Post-war Guerilla Skirmishes — are his ways of relieving the lessons and feelings of the war.

Wander, and wonder, around Intramuros’ walls, corners, and tunnels in Plaza Roma, Puerta Real, Casa Manila, Baluarte San Diego, Fort Santiago, and Mission House in search of the art and the history.

Manila Biennale runs until March 5. — Nickky Faustine P. de Guzman

For details and schedules of events on the Manila Biennale, visit .