Art Beyond the White Walls
- By Lin Bajala
Raindrops pounded on our roof, thumping like rocks falling from the sky. Yet the sound was quickly drowned out by an unspoken question in my mind:
“Will our framework for our community-based ceramic art program, Salinlahi Sining ng Komunidad, thrive in situ?”
I felt anxious about every written detail for the next run of Salinlahi as I re-read When Art is Not Enough by Eileen Legaspi-Ramirez, co-curator of Off Site/Out of Sight, a series of community workshops and site-specific art installations organized at UP Diliman in 2014. In every kwadra of UP Diliman’s stud farm, kids from CP Garcia and Krus na Ligas would come to play and read books with UP students. It was a public space created to address the disparity between the university and its settlers through art.
Off Site/Out of Sight, Video Courtesy of Rai Javier
I had the chance to talk to UP alumnae who volunteered for Off Site/Out of Sight. One of them was Rai, an artist we often collaborate with in most of our present-day workshops, and the other was Oda, lead artist and founder of Odangputik Art Space. Rai read books with kids while Oda painted a hand holding a pencil on one of the walls. Oda used to call the site “paraiso” or paradise, together with Chandra, who is currently a pottery apprentice in our studio. For these former student-volunteers, it became one of their favorite hangout spaces within the campus. It was a place for creativity outside classroom walls, a place to take breaks from academic pressure, and a place shared with kids who were once strangers but soon brought bursts of laughter and kakulitan in every kwadra. Every reading material about Off Site/Out of Sight was not only a reference for a curatorial framework but also a record of unforgettable memories with people I continue to work with on community-based art projects. This made me want to feel the emotions behind the project more than overanalyze the case.
When I learned that Off Site/Out of Sight did not proceed to its next phase, I felt more anxious. I had to pause for a deep breath. Off Site/Out of Sight and Salinlahi Sining ng Komunidad both involve histories of loss – the former involved loss of public spaces, and the latter the loss of security.
In 2022, however, Salinlahi used to respond to the loss of human connections during the COVID-19 pandemic. A free pottery workshop was held at Bacoor, Cavite back then. In Ibajay, Aklan, in 2024, Salinlahi addressed the lack of creative learning activities for children during academic breaks, offering an alternative to spending hours on mobile games. Salinlahi 2024 was a collaboration between Odangputik Art Space and Sanga Artist-Run Space.
Salinlahi 2022. A film by Rex Maure
These phases of Salinlahi may seem more intentional compared with Salinlahi 2023, which was in response to a call from Lokal Lab, a non-profit organization based in Siargao, for a workshop facilitator. Nonetheless, Salinlahi 2023 in San Isidro, Siargao played a crucial role in restructuring our framework and gave a significant drive for the succeeding phases of Salinlahi.
It was an exciting day for all of us in San Isidro, especially for the ates and kuyas who had been with us since the first day of our hand-building pottery workshop series. It was their first time experiencing pit firing, and their excitement made us feel as though the heat from the sun and the fire from the pit did not exist. As the smoke rose with the wind, they began sharing their stories from Typhoon Odette. One ate recalled that their survival felt like a miracle from the heavens, while one kuya admitted he still lives in fear of another deadly typhoon devastating the island again. For them, surviving the typhoon was not a distant memory but a haunting reminder of the past.
Pit firing with locals in San Isidro, Siargao. Salinlahi 2023.
We left the pit firing area at around three o’clock in the afternoon. Oda and I drove the motorcycle as we followed our ates on their way back to to their families, after they have invited us to visit their homes. They were filled with energy when they brought us to a field near their residence; they said it might be a good spot to place a kiln for firing.
Skies were turning pink when we had to wrap up our mini planning session. It was our time to go back to Baybay, a nearly 25-minute motorcycle drive from their place. That was our last day in San Isidro but we promised our ates we would come back for a more comprehensive ceramic program and local clay exploration. Since then, they have been one of our greatest motivators to pursue Salinlahi, with a framework revised and built on the concept of community curation.
Through community curation, we include our partner local communities in all stages of the decision-making process. In this approach, we do not empower but we co-power–trusting that locals already hold the power to influence the status quo. We treat the community as the bearer of authority and the primary source of knowledge, even beyond what scholarly research articles can provide. And curating a community-based art program requires triple the effort to ensure every process is ethical and local insights are valued. It is important to remember that to curate is to take care–to take care of an art collection, an art space, an exhibit, a cultural heritage, collective values and principles, or even the relationships made from the process of art-making.
This approach for Salinlahi, however, must be supported by technical knowledge in pottery-making, art education, social sciences and materials science. If art is not always enough, then, we shall weave its capabilities with the strength of other disciplines.
Looking back at Off Site/Out of Sight and the previous years of Salinlahi, I realize that not everything will unfold according to plan. Making room for acceptance is essential. Fieldwork is a far more nuanced environment than the plans we put on paper. When the unexpected happens, we do not see it as failure but as part of the process, adding more meaning to the project. For example, in Salinlahi 2024, we could not gain access to a kiln in a neighboring municipality within Aklan due to budget and time constraints. Instead of firing these terracotta pieces made by the children of Ibajay, terracotta pieces were placed on their roof as if they were additional art installations within the space.
And as I also look back at the plans made with the locals of Siargao, Salinlahi shall now respond to the need of remembering the devastation caused by storms and floods. Through ceramic workshops which may conclude in a public art exhibit in these typhoon-prone areas, we’re aiming to establish a reminder that many of our fellow Filipinos continue to lose their homes, their livelihoods, and even the lives of their loved ones to catastrophic typhoons.
While this may not solve the root cause immediately, drawing institutional attention to the problem and to the lived realities of communities directly affected by these disasters is already a testament that art may be enough, at least for now. Yet, in rekindling the memory of what humanity has lost to monstrous typhoons, a single matchstick is not enough; we will need many matchsticks, willing to gather in one matchbox, ready to ignite together.
As Oda showed me more photos of Off Site/Out of Sight and I glance at a piece of paper containing my field notes from Salinlahi, I began to accept that:
Art may not always be enough when faced with the entangled systems of power, politics, and individual priorities. But in a world that resists utopia, every impact, no matter how small, still matters. It is a constant reminder that community-based art, or art in general, and even curation, is an unending process of rethinking and evolving.
References:
Legaspi-Ramirez, E. (2015). Off Site/Out of Sight: When Art is Not Enough. Project Bakawan.
Joaquin-Paz, C. (2005). Gabay Sa Fildwurk.
Martin, J., Carrier, D., & Arrhenius, S. (2007). Cautionary Tales: Critical Curating. https://apexart.org/publications/cautionarytales.php
Lin Bajala, raised in South Cotabato, is a poet with literary works in Filipino and Hiligaynon. Her poems metaphorically describe the pain of losing, longing, and hoping.
She is also the curator for the core programs of Odangputik Art Space which are mainly designed for the progress of Philippine contemporary ceramics. Her practice often integrates decentralized structures and interdisciplinary concepts.
She took Master in Business Management Major in Finance in Mindanao State University and she is currently studying Art Studies in the University of the Philippines Diliman.
Above all things, Lin would prefer to introduce herself as a crazy cat lady.