samedi, avril 14, 2007

Grayson Perry

David Shrigley. I like.

mardi, novembre 21, 2006

You are invited


lundi, novembre 20, 2006

("All sentient beings are equal")
By Rikki Sta. Ana, 20 nov 06.

Randall says I should say it stands for "Biceps coming soon."

While getting my tat, I received the following missent text message:

mag ingat wag magpavictim
2nay panloob pagkatao nila
i sakim liar mangagantso
MAGNANAKAW d tkot sa
GOD&karma pro vry duag
mga 7libo pso lang sasama
nsau khit cno grl member ng
dsprado salot no
dgnidad&palabra d onor
fmily yan
nir n pasko wag na wag u
bati cla Xmas pipilitin nila X i
sex ganon kabaluktot&libog
From: +639154306383
12:18pm 20-NOV-06

mardi, novembre 14, 2006

My Johari Window

Many thanks to those who have participated.

Which one is more kick-ass?

I need to decide on one for an upcoming exhibit. Please help.

mardi, septembre 26, 2006

CCP’s 13 Artists chosen

The Cultural Center of the Philippines announces 2006’s recipients of the CCP Thirteen Artists Awards, periodically conferred to progressive young artists.

Out of 59 impressive nominations, the panel of judges -- composed of Brenda Fajardo, Ramon ES Lerma, Vita Sarenas and Sid Gomez Hildawa -- unanimously selected the following: Ronald Anading, Jeho Bitancor, Mariano Ching, Lena Cobang­bang, Daniel Coquilla, Luisito Cordero, Lyra Garcellano, Eugene Jarque, Jayson Oliveria, Gary-Ross Pastrana, Yasmin Sison-Ching, Ma. Christina Valdezco and Jevijoe Vitug.

The winners’ works will be featured in a group exhibition at the CCP Main Gallery, which opens on September 28 at 5:30PM with awarding ceremonies at the CCP Main Lobby. Former recipients Karen Ocampo Flores and Noel Cuizon will curate the show.

Named in honor of the pioneering group of 13 Modernists in Philippine art, the CCP Thirteen Artists started in 1970 as an exhibition series and has developed into a triennial awards program well regarded by the artistic community. What has characterized the work of Thirteen Artists awardees then and now is a fresh visual language, innovative solutions to artistic concerns, and sustained creative output.

Exhibit runs until October 31. For particulars, call the CCP at 8323702.

Lyra and I would love to see you at the opening! : )

lundi, septembre 04, 2006


Don’t you hate those moments when you don’t speak up when you should? Well after the moment has passed, you kick yourself for not having done anything? Maybe you didn’t want a bad situation to become worse. Maybe you didn’t want to lower yourself to the level of the jerk who had been rude to you or your companion. Maybe it’s not your style to speak out. Maybe you were too shocked to react.

I fucking HATE those moments.

I am at my bank, waiting for my number to be called. I keep myself occupied by observing everyone else: the tellers, the guards, the other customers. A middle-aged Caucasian man walks in and I spend a few minutes trying to figure out his nationality. Before long, my attention is diverted elsewhere.

Some time later, having completed my transaction, I step out and head to my car. There’s a white car parked behind mine, blocking my exit, so I ask one of the security guards to see to it. He disappears into the bank and in a few moments the white dude I had been observing earlier steps out. The car is his, it seems. He opens the door and gets in.

My right side mirror is askew and I lean forward to adjust it. Suddenly the white car parks beside me. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you know how to drive, you idiot?” I jerk my head in the direction of the voice and see the man looking at me from his car window. “What the fuck did you say?” I manage to shout, despite my surprise. “You heard me!” he says, and slams his door shut. I step out of my car. “Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that?” I demand. His reply is amazing: “A white man, that’s what.”

His German accent is icing on the cake. I’m so mad I don’t even bother to lock my car. I follow him into the bank, giving him hell. Everybody turns to look. The guard holds me back and tries to calm me down as I attempt to make it loud and clear to everyone present that there is a Nazi in their midst. This is probably the first time a Filipino – a member of a race that has proven time and again to be too passive for its own good – has reacted in anger to his insults. There is fear in his face as he puts up a brave front, waving me off and saying “Go on home, boy.”

My frustration can’t get any greater. The fucking bastard is being protected by the very people he looks down upon. I flick him the bird and shout a few more insults his way before storming off.

As I drive away, frustrated and fuming, I manage to congratulate myself for giving the arschloch a piece of my mind. There have been too many moments in my life wherein I let pricks get away with rudeness and bad manners. But ignorant jerks like that deserve more than angry words and an extended middle finger. I pull over and, from the side of the road, choose a good-sized rock. I deposit it on the floor of the car and make a U-turn.

While driving back toward the direction of my bank, I try to decide whether to scratch his car’s paint job or smash the windshield. Should I scrape the word "NAZI" on the passenger side? Will I be able to find a convenient parking space nearby so that I can make a clean getaway? Will I be stopped by a bunch of my countrymen and charged for vandalizing the white supremacist’s car?

My rage has dissipated somewhat and rationality has kicked in. I realize that, since it is my bank, they’d easily be able to trace me.

I make another U-turn and head home.

- 3 sep 2006

mercredi, août 02, 2006

Atomo's in Singapoh, lah!