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[May. 5th, 2009|01:20 am] |
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The informal jottings of a hometown tourist
I went to the BenCab Museum in Baguio City this weekend, to make a feature story on the newly opened art gallery-cum-eco-tour-area-cum-cafe.
A good omen of things to come, the taxi driver cursed at me saying that I had tricked him into bringing me to a really, really far place (enough to make him clench in his seat and throw me dirty looks) which didn't look so far on the website's map. My boyfriend, who came to see me there, faithfully followed my directions ("Malapit lang sa church") but ended up walking two kilometers in leather shoes, in the glaring heat. Yan ang pagmamahal.
Anyway, after paying the fare plus extra (kasi lugi siya at mahal ang gas at krisis ngayon), I got down from the cab to be greeted by a bearded man who flashed me a smile and said, "Hi. Kilala mo ako?"
I said, "....BenCab?"
He said, "Hindi, driver ako ni Virgilio Almario! Nandyan siya sa loob! :)"
"Ah ganun po ba? Sige po thank you!"
I entered the light-filled museum, paid the P100 entrance ticket, was pointed to the gift shop, where a girl told me this would be my last stop and that I should go downstairs. It was all so new and nice. There was a huge painting "32 faces of Sabel" at the balcony, which gave a view of BenCab's house and private studio/enclave. I should have arranged for an interview with him, I swear.
Then downstairs, a chipper tour guide said "Hello, Bakit ka mag-isa?" I don't know if this was in reference to the fact that, apart from Almario and his staff who were wandering somewhere, I was virtually the only guest at the museum. (Sheh, tour guide, said this is not the case on peak seasons, but it's generally quiet most days. More so since it was Pacquiao-Hatton's fight.)
She led me to the Indigo Gallery, where a show was ongoing, and I was immediately drawn to the work of Leonard Aguinaldo ("How to Eat A Poisoned Dog") because I had interviewed him for an Art Studies paper in college, and I found his rubber etching technique quite piquing. Based on the red dot on the small card next to the painting, this one was sold.
A few feet away, there were sliding glass doors giving a great view of the hilly, tree-rich property where there would soon be a fully functional garden (inspired by rice terraces) and an eco-tour a la Tam Awan Village.
Then I was treated to the Bulul collection, all 133 artifacts, non-curated as Almario pointed out in our interview. The black or brown figures stood in stark contrast to the plain white walls. It was lovely. BenCab has been collecting this for more than two decades, from native weapons to lunch boxes to containers of lime for the traditional betel-nut chewing ritual, a way to say hello to guests. Sheh told me I could even lie down on the old carving meant for foot massages.
Then the bululs, whose positions varied according to the tribe, and their functions varied from fertility to protection to health. At this point my Sagada-born boyfriend was still walking, and I failed to tell him how far he would have to go.
Then there was the Erotica section, which housed works by Ben Cab and others. There were sculptures of bulus in the act of copulation, something my tour guide said was not traditional. Her exact term was "Ewan ko ba kung bakit naggaganyan ang mga artist." haha.
Then downstairs, there were Contemporary Galleries, one reserved for young artists from the Cordilleras. In one of the shelves, I saw a bust by Anastacio Caedo, the one who posed for the U.P. Oblation. At this point, another tour guide, who seemed to be the more senior of all of them, came and chatted with my new tour guide (there's one on standby on every floor) about Manny Pacquiao and other gossip, and I wandered off into the other Contemporary Gallery and the Maestro Gallery.
I thought it was significant how the museum, like art, has hierarchies and classifications. Famous ones versus not famous ones. But the thing was, the maestro gallery, composed of works handpicked by Ben Cab, was smaller than the Contemporary galleries. I just found that sort of telling.
Downstairs, I peeked in for a bit at their cafe, which led directly to the garden (the website said it housed poultry and other plants, but I didn't see). I just said hi to the staff, who were milling about and waiting for people.
And I left feeling very impressed but I had so many questions still. Jeeps were hard to come by, more so for cabs, so I started trekking up to the villages, seeing a lot of woodcarved handicrafts stores on the way. And I thought, "Hmmm... Are some of these handicrafts showcased in the museum? Why don't they deserve to be housed in a museum? Does this come under the high-art-low-art dichotomy?"
Then a few feet up, I felt the wound on my ankle (damn you Hush Puppies) swell, and I saw blood stain the leather so I stood in a shade and contemplated. Then boyfriend came, his face like one of those fierce-looking paintings of an Igorot man in the museum, and the first thing he said to me was, "My leg muscles are cramping and I am going to die." Then he asked me, more gently, why I didn't inform him earlier that the place was pretty frickin far.
He said he had followed the "This way to Ben Cab Museum" signs but started getting worried when he got to the twelfth sign. Haha. I made it up to him naman.
But was the blood and sweat worth the trek to BenCab's homage to art? Definitely.
See Multiply album for more pictures.
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