Friday, January 25, 2008

Puppy Draining A Teat





Philippine Star
Puppy Draining a Teat
SLEEPWALKING By Yason Banal
Friday, January 25, 2008


For the second installment of UTOPIA:SLEEPWALKING, I’ve asked young artist Robert Langenegger to contribute, in this case, two drawings. The first time I encountered Robert’s work was in Mag:net Katipunan – Poklong Anading curated a programme of recent video art from the Philippines, and included works by the likes of Louie Cordero, Lena Cobangbang, Cocoy Lumbao and myself. His video piece, entitled Emotional Intelligence, combined drawing, sound and stop animation to create surrealistic vignettes that resonate with dystopic energy and desire. Figures and scenes swiftly dissolve from one to the next like torrential rain, as if the in/stability of nature itself (and our perception of it) hangs in the balance. There is no closure, no exit; only transitions and rebirths.

An email conversation is similar in this aspect. As a regular conversation is a model for the fruitful exchange of ideas, online chatting also produces a generative relation – a virtuality that simulates a soft “seeming” of ideas and attitudes, open to mystery, multiplicity and mutation. In a way both the “conceptual structure” of Robert Langenegger’s work and the “feel” of this online conversation reflect an approach that is both systematic and emotive, factual and fictive, dissolving in-between the precipices of thought and form.

Yason Banal: Hi Robert, where are you doing this email conversation?

Robert Langenegger: I’m at a doctor’s house.

YB: Really? That's interesting. What kind of a doctor?

RL: An aspiring neurosurgeon specializing in lobotomy

YB: Now that you've mentioned neurology and lobotomy, do these medical fields, or medicine in general, bear a strong influence in your art practice, if not a significance in your view of the world?

RL: I am more versed in the field of veterinary science so I treat humans as mere mammals with the same basic organs and bodily functions . I value the canines higher than primates. My influence is nature, particularly Darwinism or evolution.

YB: In 2003 you had a series of photographs of animals, dead or on the way. There was a puppy sucking on a teat, and someone's finger inside a reptile. There was also a gecko, an ostrich, a rat - all in various states of death and decay.

RL: I just wanted to document the various evolutionary dead ends or the process of achieving our imprinted evolutionary code which is to contribute to the gene pool of the natural world - in other words - to prove your mettle as a specimen able to adapt and contribute to the world’s evolution.

In my photos I wanted to cover the pre infancy all the way to the very end where the atoms dissipate into convertible energies of lower life forms in no way less important than the ones in the photos.

YB: How does the grotesque play in the evolutionary process you think? I mean on one hand there is the idyllic scenery, and then on the other there is your photograph of excrement forming a heart in a field of grass. It's as if the feces has offered the earth a gift of what the future could be like.

RL: Grotesque only applies to humans. There is no such thing in the natural world.

YB: Nature is violent, even virulent, and in representation, including art and science, the grotesque does play a role in evolution. In your work Untitled 9, the numbered drawings seem to indicate another transformation of some sort. Was it based on a surgical procedure or did you conjure the sex operation yourself?

RL: That work was the sum of all my rationality and understanding of mammalian functions. I see it as a crude short cut to a similar end.

YB: What do the scribblings say?

RL: They are a vague guide to muscular inversion.

YB: There is quite a lot of inversion going on in this work, but, not in a way that is grotesque or perverse. It's like a surreal scientific method, odd but nevertheless convincing.

RL: It lacks the grotesque element for me because it is done in a systematic manner. For me it isn’t the process which is surreal. It’s the person doing willing to do it.

YB: Who are the other surreal figures you find possessing a systematic manner in creating work - be it art, music, or other forms that interest you?

RL: Everyone I know is a surrealist to a certain extent. For me it’s safe to say that everyone’s a surrealist if we look at it relatively.

I am not really discerning when it comes to what I like or not. It just has to connect at a certain level like a private joke or if you get that feeling of "why didn’t I think of that" you see the genius of the work. I can appreciate all kinds of music except R & B. The heavier the better. Films with dogs make me cry.

YB: Whatever gets you through the moment, or gives you one. Can you talk a bit about the other work, Untitled 08? The girl's expression is quite ambiguous, as is what's in the plastic packet.

RL: It was a plate for my class in Kalayaan College. The sachet attached is full of my pubic hair when i got infected with pubic lice. I had shaved it all off and applied Quell to the stubble.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Utopia in Progress








Philippine Star
Utopia in Progress
SLEEPWALKING By Yason Banal
Friday, December 7, 2007

Since SLEEPWALKING came out in The Philippine Star two years ago, it has been interested in exploring the potential of “the printed page” as an imaginative space for art and ideas. There had been e-mails, phone conversations, dream sequences, suicide notes, rumors, conceptual works and critical theories, punctured with bits of sex, politics and culture. Beginning this month, I will occasionally be converting my newspaper column into a project space, inviting creatives, thinkers and curators to make unique works or organize special projects specifically for publication — the works will not exist anywhere else in the same form as they will have here. Spread sporadically over 12 issues in the course of one year, UTOPIA:SLEEPWALKING will serve as a platform for exciting and experimental practicioners from various disciplines and countries to create “projects for the printed page,” thus communicating such “propositions” to a broader public. It is imperative for an exchange to happen, not just of ideas and images, but of communities and contexts; these gestures, this space, can only hope to be insightful and transformative for both creator and audience.

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Figure 1-A: John Torres, filmmaker, Philippines

"The Philippines is rich with very young film talents. John Torres is one of these. His films are close to the street, but their implications are far from earthy."

— Gertjan Zuilhof, International Film Festival Rotterdam

In 2005, John Torres bagged the 2005 Cinemanila award for Best Short Film and the Ishmael Bernal Award for Young Cinema for his short film, Salat. In 2006, he was awarded the Dragons & Tigers Award for Young Cinema at the 25th Vancouver International Film Festival for his debut feature, Todo Todo Teros. He also won the NETPAC and FIPRESCI critics awards at the 2006 Singapore International Film Festival and a Jury Special Mention at the Jogja-NETPAC Asian Film Festival. In 2007, the Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino (Film Critics of the Philippines) nominated his film in four categories, namely: Best Screenplay, Best Editing (won), Best Director, and Best Picture. His second feature film, Years When I was a Child Outside, funded by the Hubert Bals Fund and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, was awarded the Grand Jury Prize in the 2007 Cinemanila International Film Festival, where the film was screened as a work-in-progress.

For UTOPIA:SLEEPWALKING, I am happy to present the world premiere of John Torres’ debut film for the printed page, Flash Elemental.

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FLASH ELEMENTAL: a short film for the printed page
by John Torres


Sawa na ako sa mga taong biglang-pasok, biglang-alis sa buhay ko. (I saw her on a train.) Nanghihinayang ako. Wala ba tayong kwento? (Dahil ayoko na ng tamawo.)

I was raised by a tamawo.

Manang Betty had been our help for three decades. My first memories, she was already there. One afternoon, she showed me an instructional video my father shot and sold to the masses: ABC and Numbers, published by his Listen-N-Learn Enterprises to “raise brighter children.”

I grew up bright but I still don’t know much about being, beings. B. B as in bicycle.

“Mga kapatid mo sa labas.”

Kids on bikes call my father father.

Manang Betty, after telling me I have half-siblings. She left her usual place by the laundry area.

Manang Betty, projected, split between parents, asking her to tell two truths. I frame with my two fingers.

Manang Betty wanted to work abroad. To do that, she had to have her face exposed, scanned, printed out — visa, NBI clearance, security stuff.

Manang Betty, photocopied, printed out, scanned, scarred, and projected on a green towel.

I went away and found that Ilonggos are all tamawos.

I was shooting around Iloilo. A young Ilongga asked to tag along. I did not shoot but kept snapshots of her in memory. There’s no proof of her existence. She didn’t speak much, but I remember her eyes not shining no matter how beautiful the sun angled itself. She always managed to walk away.

Tamawos have no pupils. I am learning from this young Ilongga.

This is a tamawo film; my film is another tamawo, borne out of found characters.

No money was spent during production. I made friends: man’s nature.

(Man vs. nature: Footage captured as interlaced frames, always in between. I long to store progressive stills instead.)

But my heart is still with the girl on the train.

We’re having a story now. But she’s away, studying language. And I am thinking of studying her language, new words Tagalogs don’t have. (Pero tama ka, paano ang Hapdi at Kirot?)

I’m tired. I’m old. Her youth rents spaces in faraway distances. I am tired of knowing and being left behind.

She arrives in a month but she leaves again. I have this card 722663251549 to say goodbye. 92 pesos left. Check if you want. Zero balance means I’ve called her and given up.

This is just 12 minutes worth to St. Petersburg. She arrives on Christmas Day.
If there’s load in this card on Christmas, give me credit. I have survived and promised to wait some more. Check on me. Dial 10-10-11.

Now, I must finish my film. And Manang Betty’s calling. It’s early, still.