Ago 3, 2018
Hul 28, 2018
sotto voce
balanced mewl
carbon news
dated pews
fearless queue
garland ruse
harvest shoe
juicy truce
kiss/mass views
landfill woods
carbon news
dated pews
fearless queue
garland ruse
harvest shoe
juicy truce
kiss/mass views
landfill woods
Hul 16, 2018
40 blue shadows
On Akat, Akat Revisited, Re:Visions, and Another Place
Irma Lacorte’s current solo exhibit is presented by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts . It will run until July 31 at the NCCA Gallery, Intramuros, Manila.
For now, let us believe that the act of an epic is to preserve, to carry farm produce, trinkets, magical pets, vats of dye, and rolls of fabric aboard the same story. Our elders wanted to keep it together, we are told, to each its proper place, every detail as if charged with command:
Let there be light
As on heaven so on earth
Eat the world
Still life
So we take and keep, and what we can’t preserve we transform into something not fully tangible, something that might yet outlive us. How do we keep such non-things in? How do we leave an inkling of something to the next carriers, to those destined to find some other yet unforeseen use for it? And what if the notion is to multiply, “scatter”?
Irma Lacorte comes to us now with four of her exhibits, cut portions of her creative prime, her decades of making, gifts from walking about among under shades of violet and yellow ochre, swimming in blue, breathing out variants of white. Her Akat and Akat Revisited play on the T’boli word for scatter, and while one celebrates land and wind, the other invites water.
And water pervades my way of looking at it: Irma doesn’t take the word “akat,” she takes to it—as Rilke once took to the phrase “nature morte”. Heroines and heroes of creation myths would behold the leaf and name it “leaf,” and when millennia after we invented bound pages, it was as if we could not think of any other word. Perhaps even back then, while envisioning contracts and narratives, we also saw how these leaves torn from their contexts would take flight.
In Re:Visions, a partial gloss was placed over previous compositions to extend and renew the tale, maybe even change it, push the thought off the weathered groove. But there is no abandoning the old meter: though limned, the original make might yet be traced through the new membrane. Life is cut and layered in a variety of modes—dried petals and a flower print cut-out drift toward a silhouette abloom, and alongside them dart fragments of anthologies (“anthology,” from the Greek for “bouquet”)—across the sprawl of a sheet that was perhaps not done saying something else.
We have followed the chant from lake to sea, the artist from hilltop to her far shore. But Another Place takes us to the root of it, the wild vision all of a sudden grounded, as if children unraveling from crawl to walk, or fingers held high, but steady, to gather wind, and at the base of it, the hidden decay, decomposition informing composition, this old, irremediable striving, the pain beholding itself, hoping to exhume some pattern, the expectation itself painful: and maybe—receiving nothing, hearing no whisper, finding no opportunity—we are brought to latch, finally, onto beauty.
Irma Lacorte’s current solo exhibit is presented by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts . It will run until July 31 at the NCCA Gallery, Intramuros, Manila.
For now, let us believe that the act of an epic is to preserve, to carry farm produce, trinkets, magical pets, vats of dye, and rolls of fabric aboard the same story. Our elders wanted to keep it together, we are told, to each its proper place, every detail as if charged with command:
Let there be light
As on heaven so on earth
Eat the world
Still life
So we take and keep, and what we can’t preserve we transform into something not fully tangible, something that might yet outlive us. How do we keep such non-things in? How do we leave an inkling of something to the next carriers, to those destined to find some other yet unforeseen use for it? And what if the notion is to multiply, “scatter”?
Irma Lacorte comes to us now with four of her exhibits, cut portions of her creative prime, her decades of making, gifts from walking about among under shades of violet and yellow ochre, swimming in blue, breathing out variants of white. Her Akat and Akat Revisited play on the T’boli word for scatter, and while one celebrates land and wind, the other invites water.
And water pervades my way of looking at it: Irma doesn’t take the word “akat,” she takes to it—as Rilke once took to the phrase “nature morte”. Heroines and heroes of creation myths would behold the leaf and name it “leaf,” and when millennia after we invented bound pages, it was as if we could not think of any other word. Perhaps even back then, while envisioning contracts and narratives, we also saw how these leaves torn from their contexts would take flight.
In Re:Visions, a partial gloss was placed over previous compositions to extend and renew the tale, maybe even change it, push the thought off the weathered groove. But there is no abandoning the old meter: though limned, the original make might yet be traced through the new membrane. Life is cut and layered in a variety of modes—dried petals and a flower print cut-out drift toward a silhouette abloom, and alongside them dart fragments of anthologies (“anthology,” from the Greek for “bouquet”)—across the sprawl of a sheet that was perhaps not done saying something else.
We have followed the chant from lake to sea, the artist from hilltop to her far shore. But Another Place takes us to the root of it, the wild vision all of a sudden grounded, as if children unraveling from crawl to walk, or fingers held high, but steady, to gather wind, and at the base of it, the hidden decay, decomposition informing composition, this old, irremediable striving, the pain beholding itself, hoping to exhume some pattern, the expectation itself painful: and maybe—receiving nothing, hearing no whisper, finding no opportunity—we are brought to latch, finally, onto beauty.
Hul 14, 2018
Hul 13, 2018
Hun 2, 2018
BVX
B figures hmm, they’re just like the Rs in a fight when on a steady diet of training runs with the fam. So he’s scanning for patterns, testing with projectiles and feints, all the while using their own field anxiety against them: hitting a friend. As B I’d ride A, but only if it’s fun rodeo, I mean, if there’s a golden bridle of sorts (I’m thinking D’s), otherwise it would be like riding a metal cactus which is also a god-besotted pegasus. So if I’m not riding him, I’m defending against him. Blind him until you figure him out, etc. If I’m not deploying anything, it wouldn’t be ideal to take I. However, if I have my anti-F gear, then it’s I, but only to incapacitate as how’s it B-like to use someone unconscious as a shield? It’d be too much of a hostage sitcom, too desperate. Maybe the weakest link is C if you have a B skill-set (oh, B must have a thing for S-type eye burns, should be able to defend against those in his day-sleep). Get behind him! Though C is the brainiest in terms of tactics: it would be like dodging O-beams. Counter-though if B sets up the surroundings, you know, smoke, etc. But if he isn’t U-belting anything? So it’s I cracking jokes, maybe all that fear factor not biting. It’s H, and if he’s holding something science-y or mystic artsy, B will take it from him, but if H is all body? Well it shouldn’t be easy throwing against any of them alone or together, as adults or as kids (what’s a human if you’ve toed field against E?). Anyway, enter J (X’s J not B’s). B resists with some zen-type jujitsu or whatnot, maybe surprise J (B pulled a trick like this against the M, but he had time to study the M). Anyway, J gets revived (everyone always rushes to save her, we all know this) and though B makes happy with the folk thrown off, J at round 2 will use bigger, headier stuff, maybe a TK to go with the TP. So, J’s inside, and H pins B down, C takes aim (at, I don’t know, the brand, I suppose, though he must realize that its up front and “eye-catching” because, hey, don’t look at the chin), A is enraged (I’s look guys, she has this, and they know she does, the universe is her fire-buddy like that, but B seems like the slippery sort of SR, and you should at least pose to maintain focus) but J goes, no, don’t hurt him, please, don’t hurt him, because the pain, the rage. Little boys right, what can I say? J’s in tears, and C’s jealous (and if it’s as kids, then so’s H). I’s playing his usual dumb, so, is it over, are we friends now? A is trying to shrug off the acid (or if it’s as kids, to burn it all off). B glares, recalculates, accepts that the files are out, has been shared, the thing to consider is 01. will they work for him, 02. will they work with him, 03. will they get out of the way long enough for him to accomplish what needs accomplishing? .04 Who has time for this? He decides he can’t have all these wild cards running about, has to distract them somewhat. It’s a good thing he called N at the outset, before the first blow was even struck. Yes, N, the time-saver. N, a prettier pair of lips than even C. N gets J confused (at the very least) and I, too (though the adult I would deny it). H gives it his trademark oh my, and that very instant he gets to “garters” he regrets it.
May 26, 2018
Gender grafitti
Thirteen rights recipients “somersault,
a select form in which recorded facts are in step.”
We map the growth of hosts.
The big dog process,
I learned from the manual, layered across
“replays, pauses, and Manila.”
Crafting ticks requires surrender to the silversmiths
—a kid, split into three items,
peopled with gestures and participatory cities.
Ice caps melt on a subverted, ongoing street.
a select form in which recorded facts are in step.”
We map the growth of hosts.
The big dog process,
I learned from the manual, layered across
“replays, pauses, and Manila.”
Crafting ticks requires surrender to the silversmiths
—a kid, split into three items,
peopled with gestures and participatory cities.
Ice caps melt on a subverted, ongoing street.
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