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Pilipinas Street Plan exhibit blows the place apart


The truth is I’ve come to like going to art exhibits on quiet weekday afternoons when no one bothers me and everyone thinks I’m some crazy person taking too many pictures. This I like instead of going to those fancy openings which are a tad uncomfortable, art reviewer as I am. Don’t get me wrong. In the past two years or so that I’ve been covering the art circuit, artists have been wonderful, some have even become friends, most respect the space I need to take pictures and assess work on my own. Ah, but the gallery owners? They never quite know what to do with me, short of forcing me on their artists, something that can only be uncomfortable for both artist and reviewer. Yet sometimes art exhibit openings are worth going to. The Lopez Museum’s Extensions opened to music and food and a party atmosphere, with Johnoy Danao and Peryodiko both of whom I love, but I actually arrived perfectly late and skipped all that.

The stark white of the museum walls contrasts with the exhibit itself. Photo by Gerhard Bandiola
It was perfect because my late arrival meant seeing people comfortably in their spaces: guests in the lobby socializing, artists in their proper areas of the museum. Extraneous to the Lopez Library, the museum has three major exhibition rooms, each one hosting a different organization for the concept of Extensions: basically that of opening museum doors to art it would otherwise not hold up on its walls and install within its halls. At the far end is Rock Ed’s exhibit Loob at Labas about Wednesdays spent in the Bilibid Prisons Maximum Security Compound, bringing creative writing and music. On one side is Plataporma’s re-imagination of the Lopez Museum’s history. But the organization that truly rocked it? Pilipinas Street Plan or PSP. And it was in the midst of their exhibit that I was thankful I was late, missing the food and performances notwithstanding. My rebellious streak could only be fascinated not just by the work of this street art organization, but by the museum people’s discomfort in the face of these kids who came for the opening. Because really, the loud rock ‘n’ roll music that spans the various incarnations of Dong Abay? I imagine that to be rare for the Lopez Museum. Kids noisily dropping the canisters of paint that guests are supposed to paint on, some of them writing against the walls to give out their numbers or email addresses? Even less plausible given museum rules.
The Philippine map is reimagined as a map of pop political culture. Photo by Gerhard Bandiola
Here, in the room inspired by and created against the mixed media work of National Artist J. Elizalde Navarro (1975), a painting by Fernando Zobel (1961), and the 18th century map of the Philippines by Pedro Murillo Velarde, PSP gave us all a party. At least a party for like minds and hearts, maybe for those with the most rebellious of streaks. I couldn’t for the life of me leave that room. I wanted to trace that map from one end to the other, or better yet, to those multiple ends it seemed to have, with images of the spaces where PSP has done some street art, anonymous as that comes, ephemeral as that is. I settle for seeing an illustration of one of the toys on the floor, with the world “melancholy" across its body. I wanted to stare at that image of FPJ, in the stance that only the action stars of old could get away with, fists up and ready to take a punch, head at an angle and eyes piercing through the real – or imagined – opponent. The head images of what look to be configurations of the Pinoy every-man were overwhelming against one wall – overwhelming because they are larger than life, bigger than the faces on the walls or that opening night for that matter, an almost mirror of self that strangely enough is laughing at you.
Reconfigurations of Pinoy culture can only have FPJ. Photo by Gerhard Bandiola
I could stand forever in front of that wall filled with black and white graffiti alongside shadowboxes and photos. There’s a reconfigured Pacquiao in the center, a smattering of agimat, unconventional skulls and animal heads around him. I was enamored with that woman with wings, wearing a Maria Clara dress, and could’ve stared at her longer were there no crowd jostling for a picture or a view: I settled for a photo of the unconventional Maria Clara. I wanted to play with those toys on the floor, discover what they were by holding them in my hands. I practically sat on that floor, fascinated by the life that this section invoked, and actually gaining an amount of happiness because of it all. Here, in a room filled with transient art, only happy art could happen, the kind that’s playful and cheerful and borne of the streets we used to inhabit as children. And this is what makes Pilipinas Street Plan’s exhibit via Extensions extraordinary. There is a playfulness to it that doesn’t forget the need for intelligence, a lot of fun that’s also about the politics that permeate our lives, there’s popular culture in both content and form here. It’s also as changing and transient and ephemeral as art that’s free: the kind that can only be consumed via experience, the kind that costs nothing yet gives the spectator so much more than just graffiti. This generosity is clear in Pilipinas Street Plan’s work here. It’s also what reverberates through the halls of the Lopez Museum. Right here, we see where the great hope for revolt in Philippine art lies. It lies in the hands of those who are nameless. It’s in the imagination of those who want to change the way we consume art and live on our streets. It’s in the minds of those who rethink our politics for us, in big bright colors and the strangest of images.
The city of toys on the floor. Photo by Gerhard Bandiola
In fact, Pilipinas Street Plan seems to be changing the landscape of our lives. And it does so by taking your breath away and blowing your mind apart, all at the same time. - GMANews.TV Extensions runs until April 20, 2011 at the Lopez Museum, G/F Benpres Building, Exchange Road corner Meralco Avenue, Ortigas Center, Pasig City. Contact them at 02 - 6312417 and 6359545.
Tags: artexhibit
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