Wednesday, September 26, 2012


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I think a person's roots which are constantly looked for have much more meaning than what a person is born with.

Recently, while travelling, I saw this Philippine flag hanging on a wall at the Boni MRT station. I was surprised with myself. Instead of feeling nationalism, I felt it was out of place, without purpose, abandoned even as Araw ng Kalayaan--the most probable reason why the flag was hung there--was over three months ago.

The flag for me was like a representation, of the likes of Santa Claus, Cupid, or the Easter Bunny. Excited to see them during times when they were expected, but unwelcomed guests when not.


Tuesday, September 11, 2012

A nomad with roots


Your photos remind me of how Taguig is your hometown. It shows in the way you observe and photograph life while riding jeepneys, trains, and buses. Your eyes are trained from years of long commutes to and from Taguig.

Unlike you, I can't actually name my hometown. Where I was born is different from where I spent my early childhood. Which is different from where I went to grade school or went to high school or went to college. Which is different from where I studied and worked later on. It's different still from where we live now.

Lacking a specific hometown used to bother me before, but I've come to realize that my family, friends, and experiences are what made each of these places my hometown, at least for a little while. I don't feel unrooted; I just feel that I have roots in various places. Certainly, I still care about these places, wanting to return to them again and know them better. Being a type of nomad has probably influenced how I see and react to the world. I pick up quickly on people marginalizing those different from themselves and treating others poorly. I also have little patience for narrow, provincial attitudes, or when small-mindedness clouds people's beliefs about religion, ethnicity, nationality, sexuality, and gender. Does this translate into my photography? Building upon my experiences, I think it's the process of making images (and learning from the images themselves) that challenges me to go beyond myself and still dig my roots deeper.

Through photography, I keep searching for that sense of being at home, of finding my hometowns, both outside of myself and within.


Sunday, September 2, 2012

full circle

I came to Quezon City to be with you.

It's actually a full circle thing. I was born in Quezon City, but grew up in Taguig. I studied College at Quezon City, worked at Quezon City, too. I'd also go to Quezon City to do that boyfriend thing.

And now, I live in Quezon City in a little apartment full of books with you.

I miss my travelling days from Taguig to Quezon City though. Here is a documentation of my last travel to the place where I grew up.

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A dog enjoying the waters at an abandoned lot along Mindanao Avenue corner Road 20.

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A Blind singer at the Quezon Avenue MRT Station.

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Two girls holding hands along EDSA near Megamall.

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A vine snaking along a concrete wall also along EDSA near Megamall.

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A woman in a contemplative mood, oblivious of the vehicles passing by in front of her carinderia along Signal, Taguig.

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A kid trying to open the door of an Alfombra store along Pateros.

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Grandma, mother, and sleeping son waiting anxiously for the traffic to move along Pateros.

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A kid hanging behind a jeep (sabit) while his friend tries to catch up at Pasig.

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A girl comforting herself by sucking at her arm on the MRT.

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A mother with her tres marias on the MRT.

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A man hanging on while waiting for the door to open on the MRT.

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And lastly, a Cafe Breton service crew taking a picture of some customers while I wait for you.