All Amateur Advice on an Array of Angles

I recently realized after having recited this prayer so many times as part of communion thanksgiving in our parish here in Pasig, that it can be a chant for journalists.

Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi (excerpt):

Lord, make me a channel of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy ...

I mean, who knew so much can be done with cardboard and body paint?


An Iron Man 3 spoof.

Hey, people! This is I guess my first comeback post to the blogging world. You probably missed me a bit over the past few months when I had an undeclared absence from this ridiculously-named personal site, or maybe you didn't.

But I indeed missed it. I missed writing with "I" after third-person writing stories after stories day after day since I started work at the Philippine Star online last September. The past months have not exactly been grueling--nothing is when you're having fun learning, experimenting and delivering stories worth telling. But they sure have been tiresome.

Anyway, this is just to say that I will try to blog again at least once in two weeks if I can't squeeze it in every week. And I'm excited! I can get to share again with a small part of the world interesting things I come across with. More paintings, more movie recommendations, more commentaries! Let's do this.

After all, there's something rewarding about writing something only few people read and only fewer truly understand. But it's still a few people. Makes a lot of difference.

I join the rest of the world to thank Pope Benedict XVI's great service to the Church. If you would allow me to be corny for the moment, I believe I belong to Generation B--the youth that grew up in the faith during this Pope's term.

Pope John Paul II was someone I revered but it was through the current pontiff that I appreciated the intellectual beauty of my faith. He spoke to the youth not in code nor in plain language--he treated us as thinking individuals capable of understanding, of giving ourselves up, of sacrificing, of having high ideals but at the same time grounded in the realities of the everyday.



As a journalist, I appreciated most his messages urging us on to pause and reflect amid the deluge of information we encounter and create hour after hour in our work. He told us to take a break, disconnect from the digital noise and find out the truths about life, people and God. Though I'm still far from mastering this art of reflection, his words will forever linger as they have been already ringing since the start of my professional journey.

He also encouraged us to consider reporting on what's beautiful and good and to give politics and crime and the inane a break.

No artsy blog posts today. Just 'cause this issue doesn't rest one bit, let me rest easy with this post first.

"Crafty" 'cause it's deceiving. Who'd know there's a fascinating place of peculiar finds and catalogs along that narrow road in Quezon City? Lucky, curious ones. And "crafty" 'cause it's an arts and craft fair. Hihi.

The logotype gate. Photo from 10a Alabama Facebook page.

A friend and I tried to catch before it opened on the first day of the fair last July. Exhibit owners and salespeople were just starting to set up their wares and populate the place with quirky little decors and exotic trinkets from God knows where.

Met up with good friend Noreen Bautista, director at social venture Jacinto and Lirio bags, whose youthful passion, hard work and love for her country drove her to become among today's movers in the country's social entrepreneurship scene.

She appeared at the fair to showcase the latest product line of her company: Journals made of water lilies, the signature native material of Jacinto and Lirio creations. It's called "water lily leather," by the way, and that's legit. Needless to say, innovative and resourceful.

Inside the big house at 10a Alabama. Every space and corner has something curious to behold.

Noreen Bautista poses with Jacinto and Lirio journals.

Journals made of water lily leather.

Noreen's stall was among those other interesting sites at 10a Alabama. There were vintage items, handmade accessories, colorful prints, postmodern displays, lots of dust (literally), an outpouring of creativity, resourcefulness and rare talents.

What's amazing with crafted items is they're devoid of that commercial, industrial feel, miles away from the texture of China-made products we've grown so used to. Every item in this fair bears a stamp closer to our humanity, as if each has been borne from the heart. And well, people, that's what makes art.

An illustration on canvas sitting by the window.

Postcards, anyone? Each is one-of-a-kind.

Recycled notebooks, covered in anyone's favorite slice of pop culture. I'm the last person to be fond of A Clockwork Orange though. Blech, no thanks.

It was the time of transition from Spanish rule to at least an impression of independence, and the Philippine state was slowly evolving to having its own identity. A war was ending, the flag was weaved, and patriotic hymn was composed.

Living room of the Agoncillos.

Given that context of the country's history, we entered a family's dwelling place in a small town in Batangas that may rival Vigan for its preservation of Spanish-era architecture and artifacts. The house where the family of the woman who weaved the Philippine flag, Marcela Agoncillo, lived perked our interests in the life of this minor historical figure and transported us to a time when the study of the liberal arts, musical instruments and foreign languages was staple if one was to become a discerning individual.

Marcela Agoncillo sew the Philippine flag with her daughters in Hong Kong where they stayed for a time to accompany Felipe in his exile.

Portraits of the members of the Agoncillo house.

The master's bedroom and a dress worn by Marcela Agoncillo.

Most the books the Agoncillos read were the classics and serial textbooks on foreign languages.

Marcela's husband, lawyer and the first Filipino diplomat Felipe Agoncillo, carried out negotiations for the Treaty of Paris to be forged. Another foreign power, the Americans, came in and became the mother of the newborn, "freed" state.

But to add anachronism and fun to those scenes of history flashing before us through the material order and space of the residence, my friend took advantage of playing the age-old piano of an Agoncillo daughter and displaced a key in the attempt.

Watch those decaying keys!