What our young writers are thinking
I’ve been promising to share what our fellows presented to us in last month’s UP National Writers Workshop in Baguio, so here, finally, is a sampler of excerpts from some of the fellows’ poetics — in plainer words, why they write what they write. I think the range of voices and concerns represented here is reassuring — from the challenge of revisiting history and the mythic past to the delights and rigors of a new formalism. The future of Philippine literature is in good hands.
Kristian Cordero: “Bilang manunulat, malay ako sa mga isyung kinakaharap ng isang makata lalo na’t nasa akademya rin ako. Naroon ang mga sosyo-pulitika na kaayusan, ang dalumat ng kasaysayan, ang mga pwerasang nakatitig sa akin. May mga teoryang maaari kong gamitin para basahin ang aking karanasan at kung ano ang nakapaloob sa mga tekstong binubuo ko. May mga inaasahan na rin akong pagbasa sa aking mga akda. Maaari rin akong dumulog sa karanasan ng aking kubling-malay, sa aking etnisidad, sa aking topos, at sa kung anu-anong kategoryang ipinapatong sa akin na tila unos na rin, mga di mapangalanang bagyong nakalambong sa aking alaala, sa aking abot-tanaw.
“Maaaring kong gawing lunsaran ang mga tambisan ng loob at labas, ng kung ano ang rehiyonal at pambansa, ang kanon at ang alternatibo, upang gamitin bilang representasyon ng sarili, ngunit gusto ko nang igpawan o kung baga man, mas tingnan ito sa ibang pamamaraan, itong mga sangang daan na pauli-ulit na tinatahak ko upang ang mga pagkilos at iba pang mga karanasan na may kinalaman sa aking pagsusulat ay mailagay sa konteksto ng isang mas lumalawak at mapagpalayang karanasan ng panitikan at ng nagbabanyuhay na lipunan.”
Mabi David: “Ten years after the 50th anniversary of the Battle for Manila, which devastated our city and killed 200,000 Filipinos, I undertook the appraisal of the general registry of its survivors. While horrific, this incident was safely tucked away as ‘history.’ Studying the records was a turning point for me. For 50 years the survivors refused to talk about the events. According to one, ‘After this month, I shall not talk about it anymore and the story will be buried with me.’ Conversely, a lot of the survivors chose to finally speak about the horror they experienced so that the story would not be buried with them.
“My encounter with the archives was unsettling to say the least. Everything seemed spoken from an abyss and would soon recede back into it. And the burden of speaking has come upon us: a generation that did not directly experience the horror, whose knowledge of history is, at best, partial and mediated, and whose parents only vaguely remember living inaudibly throughout the period…. My preoccupation with this particular incident was bedeviled by a nagging voice that said, ‘You were not there. That is not your story.’ And consequently, I wondered, does it also mean that it is not my history?
Marc Gaba: “My artistic activity has been premised on the art object’s capacity to be, rather than a receptacle of experience, an experience itself. That is to say that in poetry, I select, orchestrate and calibrate a number of poetic techniques in order to produce an experience that, outside rare instances of such visceral clarity, could not be had in life as its common days are lived. Without a gift, a fondness, the material nor the temperament for the anecdotal style, but with a deep appreciation for craftsmanship, well-designed processes and philosophical vantage points, my creative impulse has been mostly based on a desire to construct — and the book, a ready and wide-open site of possibilities for construction, has since 2004 been my main unit of composition.”
Alwynn Javier: “Bagamat karamihan sa mga tula ko ay nasa anyong berso, medyo dumarami na rin na ang mga nasa anyong prosa. Nang binubuo ko ang konsepto ng bago kong proyekto at basahin ang mga tulang nasulat ko na sa ganitong anyo, napagtanto kong mas nagagamit ko ang isang nakahiligan kong istilo na malamang napulot ko sa pagsusulat ng dula—ang paggamit ng eksena o dramatikong sitwasyon bilang talinghaga. Napansin ko rin na naibubuhos ko ang lahat ng frustration at kagustuhan kong makapagsulat ng kuwento sa ganitong anyo — mas nakakadaldal ako nang walang iniisip na putol ng linya at nakakapagpalusot ako ng mga salita at parirala na kadalasa’y hindi maituturing na matalinghaga.”
Telesforo Sungkit: “I am striving to write what I am now. And thus my writings reflect what I have become. I am a Higaonon but I write in the tongues which still are symbols of oppressive colonizers. For I was molded to become a colonized subject to the king of Spain, then to the white men of North America, and finally to the brown men of Luzon and Visayas. And so I got acquainted with Cebuano, Filipino (which is considered another name for Tagalog by my brothers), and yes, English. For me, Cebuano will forever be associated with unscrupulous people who benefited much as business intermediaries between Higaonons and the colonizers; Filipino still represents imperial Manila; and the English of North America has yet to answer what happened to Higaonons brought to the St. Louis Fair.”
Auraeus Solito: “In making this film, I shall recreate a time of isolation and innocence, of great magic and a culture that is almost gone, of stories that are almost forgotten, and how its own people and the country’s political history contributed to its eventual fall from grace. It is a film that will fulfill a promise by my ancestors to the spirits of the islands, that no children of their children will ever leave Palawan. Even though I grew up in the city, it’s as if I grew up in Palawan itself through my mother’s stories. Through my film Sumbang, I shall relive my mother’s world, as if she and I never left Palawan and by this, fulfill a promise made by my ancestors.”
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With another Baguio workshop having concluded successfully, let me thank our usual friends who make every April sojourn to the highlands a special delight: National Artist Ben Cabrera, who hosted a merienda for the workshop staff and fellows in his museum; AIM Igorot Lodge manager William Aquino, who went of out of his way as usual to make us feel welcome and comfortable at the lodge; UP Baguio Professor Del Tolentino, whose home remains Baguio’s coziest cultural nook; filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik, poet Padma Perez, the Café by the Ruins, and Baguio’s other writers and artists, kindred spirits all; and, of course, the On Call Vocals (now performing at the Manor), whose debut CD we snapped up to cheer us back in steaming Manila. Thank you, all!
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E-mail me at penmanila@yahoo.com and visit my blog at www.penmanila.net.
