'Sunday Morning,' starring Butones

First sight to greet us just outside the pedestrian gate was Ms. Lovely Purple Photos by Booboo

"...[T]here are two big problems associated with taking pictures. Firstly, we’re likely to be so busy taking the pictures, we forget to look at the world whose beauty and interest prompted us to take a photograph in the first place. And secondly, because we feel the pictures are safely stored on our phones, we never get around to looking at them, so sure are we that we’ll get around to it one day." - "Why you should stop taking pictures on your phone - and learn to draw," from the blog www.theschooloflife.com, posted by The Philosophers' Mail on 12 May 2014.

It's one of those miraculous mornings after two consecutive gray days in Baguio. Our little bossing wasn't gonna let it pass without a walk around the village. She was still in her jammies with monkey prints with one monkey saying "I'm not tired." I was in my house dress with snowflake prints (thank you, Lara Halili!) so I a pulled a long pullover over it for decency's sake. I put on my dark glasses, and Butones returned to her room to fetch hers. I put on a made-in-Batanes hat, she put on her yellow polka-dot cap but decided at the last minute to toss it back in the living room as we prepared to leave.

The pictures that follow are the ones that Butones said I should take. She always prefaced her command with "Look!" And look I did: at flowers, spider webs, clumps of fallen pine needles, banks of clouds, etc. What is a mere pretender to the title of "photojournalist" to do but to follow the keener and more curious eyes of Da Bossing?

I'm posting and sharing our pics from a few hours ago. Taking pictures is faster than drawing. And like I wrote before, pictures help me remember, especially one child's precious observations.

The finger points to the direction we're about to take.

Whenever she encounters her shadow, she's always gleeful. Reminds me of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem that we had to learn in kindergarten in my St. Paul Quezon City days. It begins with these lines: "I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,/ And what can be the use of him is more than I can see."

"Look, I'm stepping on your shadow, Booboo!"

Self-portrait with grandchild

"That's the lala of Boots!" Butones cried out when she saw this dachshund. She was referring to the mixed breed dog that she and her Mamay Kimi adopted. And, in her excitement, she said "lala" instead of "lola."

She puts on her pair of sunglasses when the morning sun rises higher.

"It's not yet open, Booboo."

"That one's open na!"

"Spider web! Over there!"

Trying to spot the roof of her house with Mt. Santo Tomas in the background

Beyond those fluffy cotton candy clouds is the China Sea.

Outside the neighbor's gate, I asked Butones, "Can you read out the number for me?" Answer: "It's three-three!"

"It looks like a walis." Indeed, it does look like a broom.

Home again to rock on her Horse With No Name before she steps into the house for her Sunday pancake

And then along comes Stephanie

Stephanie Aguilar, resplendent in her Mel Orlina gown whose color is on the soothing side of teal, on Aug. 20, the night of her professional debut concert at the Ayala Museum lobby

Her dream is to play the title role in Puccini's Madame Butterfly. Her reason is simple yet true: she wants to sing what is one of the most beautiful and passionate arias, "Un bel di vedremo." And why shouldn't this girl-woman with the voice of an angel sing of a love that waits but waits in futility?

This observer is willing to wait, too, in order to watch Stephanie "Teepee" Aguilar achieve a depth to her singing, a sign that she may have had a firsthand experience of love, of abandonment or something close to it and a willingness to do the ultimate sacrifice for someone. Or she can give the lie that she has undergone that experience. If it's the latter case, then thumbs-up for her acting chops, something an operatic singer also needs to be equipped with.

So far in her debut as solo professional singer she acquitted herself in a Puccini aria from Turandot where she sings the part of Liu, the slave in love with a prince. Liu is tortured to extract information, another of those over-dramatic elements that happen in a tragic opera. As Teepee gestured towards the end how she was about to be pierced by Turandot's henchmen, we feel that next shock of pain.

Our personal favorite is her interpretation of Rachmaninoff's "Vocalise." This one has no words/lyrics, except for "a single vowel of the singer's choosing, " according to the program notes. (By the way, the Manila Chamber Foundation must also congratulated for the pains it takes to produce instructive souvenir programs and translations of songs from their original German, Russian, Italian, Spanish, even Bisaya in Antonio Molina's "Oras nga labing mangitngit" or "Dark Hours).

Teepee was one of the voice students who was in Sumi Jo's master class at St. Scholastica's College in February this year. The evening before the class, the Korean soprano enthralled the Samsung Hall audience with her own take on "Vocalise" that, of course, gave one a vision of the rapture that follows a yearning for the Divine. The student truly learned from a master.

In an earlier interview with the blogger, Teepee described her "surreal feeling" when she shared the stage with the soprano superstar. "I only had YouTube videos as references of what she sings like. Then there she was, shaking my hands, hugging me, giving me compliments, telling me how I can better my singing."

Wilson Go, an avid voice music fan and who, with his pal Edward Yap, led the standing ovation for Teepee, exclaimed as he gestured from head to diaphragm, "Perfect instrument! Imagine how she'll sound like when she reaches 35!"

We can only agree and expect to be more astonished by her ripening.

Taking a grand and graceful bow at the close of her performance. Jade Rubis Riccio (far left), Stephanie's fellow soprano who served as page turner for accompanying artist Farley Asuncion that evening, joins the applause and ovation. Teepee obliged with two encores: "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" and "Mutya ng Pasig."

Signing a souvenir program Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Music on a Monday

Oliver Salonga in concert last night at the Ayala Museum lobby. He began with something very modern or 20th century (it had atonal and dissonant qualities), Samuel Barber's Piano Sonata in E-flat Minor, Op. 26, then moved without a break to Rachmaninoff's Etude Tableaux, Op. 33 and ended with the more traditional sounds of Franz Liszt's Reminiscences de Norma du Bellini. The Scarlatti sonata that he played as an encore really gripped my heart. It's the sort of music I like to cry along with, but it was a happy night so no tears, except for the thunderstorm that raged outside. Photo by Anna Leah Sarabia

From boy to big man of the piano, we've watched him grow to even teach us how the Rachmaninoff etudes "are not like Chopin etudes that target a specific technique for each etude. The etudes teach you to apply different techniques based on what's written with emphasis on the actual application rather than a mastery of a certain technical device." Photo by Anna Leah Sarabia

Oli triumphant. His friends from his Makiling years still like to call him "Berong," short for Keroberong or a Filipinized version of "Care Bear" because of his chubbiness. He's a graduate of the Philippine High School for the Arts in Laguna. He's winding up his Ph.D. studies in piano performance at the University of Southern California under Norman Krieger. Photo by Anna Leah Sarabia

At almost any recital in any venue, an appreciative audience that includes neurosurgeon and art patron Joven Cuanang and sculptor Julie Lluch likes to have a moment with the musical artist to hold his hand or hug him. As an aside, Julie is teaching herself to play the piano after she had her upright at home tuned up. Photo by Babeth Lolarga

"Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul." - Unknown

"...(M)usicians are willing to give their entire lives to a moment - to that melody, that lyric, that chord, or that interpretation that will stir the audience's soul. Musicians are beings who have tasted life's nectar in that crystal moment when they poured out their creative spirit and touched another's heart. In that instant, they were as close to magic, God, and perfection as anyone could ever be. And in their own hearts, they know that to dedicate oneself to that moment is worth a thousand lifetimes."-David Ackert, Los Angeles Times

The unknown author of that quote and Mr. Ackert I must thank profusely and publicly for giving me a good shove so I can recall in a semi-tranquil mood the times the musical "guns of August" fired and caused a pleasurable trembling in my soul. I've used an Ackert quote in a past blog about pianist Cecile Licad, but I keep coming back to it.

There's almost a "near-suicidal" quality to a true musician's playing. It's in the way they give their all to an elusive moment that will quickly become a memory for the listener unless everything, every nuance of a note or a gesture, is caught in an audio-video recording. Otherwise, there is nothing more exciting, more electrifying than being present in a live performance. Especially if it is someone like Oliver who I first watched at his farewell recital at the then PCIBank's Francisco Santiago Hall in Makati before he first left for his undergrad music studies in the States.

I've seen him at a tertulia at Odette Alcantara's Heritage House in Blue Ridge, Quezon City, where he attempted to do the folk ditty "Pamulinawen" as his encore piece. After repeated mistakes, he apologized and instead played a longer and more difficult Chopin piece. This has led to my impression that Oliver doesn't take the easier path. Gusto niya talagang pahirapan ang kanyang sarili.

And it's good for him. We, the audience, also benefit. I've also watched him play at the Baguio Country Club ballroom, at the former Kiss the Cook Gourmet at UP Village to kick off the Pablo Tariman-initiated Intimate Concert Series, at Abelardo Hall last year and then last night at a museum. Oliver is a life force, indeed, like the backdrop of paintings by Jana Benitez. Unsolicited advice from a concerned tita: Lose some of the weight. It may keep your stamina up.

The pictures tell of my latest experience of him better.

Thanks for putting this recital together, Ray Sison of ROS Music Center, Pablo Tariman of Music News and the Ayala Museum for opening up the lobby space on a Monday and a holiday (yesterday was the advanced celebration of National Heroes Day). Don't ever be discouraged by slight weather disturbances or the challenge of producing and marketing a recital.

When I think of contemporary heroes, politicians never cross my consciousness or my radar. It's always the authentic artists and tireless cultural workers who do. They are the ones who take the greater risks and make a nation truly proud and great. And people like me, a mere music fan, are grateful. Once again, Oliver, bravo!

The ordinary and the ecstatic

Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable, but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

-William Martin

On an ordinary day in the week just ended, I got up after hours of reading, sitting and trying to put words together to stretch a bit, see what's going in the world outside the nook where I do my work.

From a corner of my mother's kitchen, I saw this play of light and shadow. If I only knew how to turn on the video component of an old digicam, I would've recorded the dancing shadows of the atis tree from outside, how the sun during the sunset hour caused this shadow play to happen.

Yes, Mr. Martin, I feel like that ordinary child who happened upon something extraordinary.

Thank you, oh Divine Master, who leads us not into temptation but to visions of the ecstatic in the every day.

Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Meanwhile, on the shore of the living

"Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces."
--Matthew 7:6

"Pearls don’t lie on the seashore. If you want one, you must dive for it."
--Chinese proverb

Some things keep me awake longer than usual at night. Among them is the origin of expressions. One is "Do not feed your pearls to swine."

And on the matter of pearls, why do we use the phrase "pearls of wisdom?"

It may sound silly, I know, these nocturnal activities of mine. In the morning, the brooding has fled after six to eight hours of quality sleep.

Meanwhile, I've stored this image of a piglet in red boots in my hard drive for several months now, waiting for that moment when I can trot it out like taking a pet for a walk.

A woman from Corfu, Greece, Anna Papadopoulou, who I follow in Twitter, shared this. She likes to post her gathered treasures of photos and videos around the time I'm about to take dinner or should be turning in for the night. When I thank her with a photo I've taken, she responds in the same manner. While I'm already calling it a day, she is just getting warm after breakfast. We've had this relationship for months now.

It's a nice feeling--to know that I'm not alone in learning to dive deeper and deeper into myself, to rise up, then share my own little pearls here and there (for want of a better word, I use "pearls"). And Ms. P, I suppose, is also doing the same.

Here's to you, Ms. Papadopoulou, wherever you are. Mabuhay and good morning from where I am.

A paper person

                                                             Photo by Babeth Lolarga

I'm like Emma Paloma, ICM; we're both paper persons. If you are one, then you're easy to please. Apart from books that we read and later share or give away, you and I like stationery and other paper products. And we use them. Constantly! Especially now in the age of convenient email and texting. We don't hoard or collect. That way we spread the good lovin'.

My youngest child (although she's an adult of 27 years) recently sent me through her older sis this pair of cards from Hanoi where she had another adventure of her young life.

These cards didn't last a week with me. They're on their way to parts outside the Philippines, one to Florida, the other to Virginia. In one card, I couldn't bear writing on it so I wrote on a separate sheet of paper. That way my friend can use the blank card, just find the right envelope to slip it in and send it off to another receiver who, I hope, will be delighted.

The illustrations are actually collages. The crafts person, in all likelihood a woman, cut small strips of cloth (probably the retazo from a real ao dai) and turned them into these six beauties on bikes, complete with sun hats.

Here's to penmanship and paper.

It will come to me again

Detail from Leonard Aguinaldo's "Blog Entry No. 7," mixed media collage, 2013. Recently exhibited at the Indigo Gallery of Bencab Museum on Asin Road, Benguet. Photo by Babeth Lolarga

"Pay attention to poetry. Pay attention to music. Pay attention to paintings and sculptures and photo exhibits and ballets and plays. Why? Because art is God's way of saying hello. Your world is shouting out to you, revealing something intrinsically glorious about itself. Listen carefully. Love art, the way art loves life. Don't let all this go unnoticed." - quote attributed to Neale Donald Walsch

My college classmates and I learned in the editing class of Prof. Raul R. Ingles how the serif font Times Roman is the preferred one for newspapers. Today any serif font is also the norm for “long reads,” as essays and other forms of prose are now called. The human eye is used to reading serif fonts.

Sans serif fonts like the classic Helvetica, Optima, Courier, Arial or Trebuchet MS, the one that I’ve lately been using for my blog entries, are best used for short compositions. Optima is especially preferred for the text of compositions that have a ruminating or philosophical quality. I remember Optima well because art director Lynett Villariba chose it for Jerry Araos's book, The Garden of Two Dragons Fucking (Miratala Books, 1992).

Yes, I promised myself this would be short—just to keep the words flowing before I shift to another writing activity. I often have this thought in mind. It’s beginning to sound more like a declaration so God will heed and help me: that once I’m done with the reading of some books and the writing of my reviews of them, I will finish an unfinished painting I set aside last year. By completing it, I shall dabble with brushes and paints again. Ever heard of painter’s block? Well, I’ve been dealing with it in the aftermath of super typhoon Yolanda.

It’ll come back. I say it with some confidence because now and then I also feel bereavement when, as the song goes, “words don’t come easy.” That's when it's time to do other stuff.

Hello Wednesday—I didn’t forget to acknowledge your presence.

P.S. The title for today's blog entry is from that Mary Travers solo song of almost the same name: "It Will Come to You Again."

The girl with intense eyes

I've taken maybe over a thousand pictures already of this girl, but none satisfies me as much as this random shot. She was waiting for her mother to return to the great-grandma's abode and then to be taken back to her highland home. See you in a week or two again, not so little button of my heart.  She has said goodbye to us temporarily, to the lower land's humidity and prickly heat. Early tomorrow she says hello again to a kinder clime and her friend, the fog. Photo by Booboo Babeth