Why many dancers will never be National Artists
July 28, 2003 | 12:00am
I attended CCP’s Gabi ng Parangal for the new National Artists for the first time in my life. My good friend and mentor Salvador Bernal made it to the most distinguished albeit infamous award, for doing what passion dictated in his life. I couldn’t pass up witnessing him bask in the limelight, which he didn’t, not having been a performer himself. Whisked on stage, he stood still with nary a smile nor did he wave during the duration of his celebrity as National Artist for Theater and Design.
His genius permeated the night though. Mannequins were dressed in Bernal costumes, rigged and hanging like angels, plus his stark and simple cross set for Ballet Philippines’ Te Deum, proved why he was being honored at all. The evening was fittingly solemn and denuded of the razzmatazz that other directors (here it was Monino Duque, another old colleague) might have injected in the proceedings – very appropriate for an evening of honor.
Watching the show, I reflected on my own impressions of the most coveted title, National Artist. The award is one that all artists (local, international, young, old, excellent, mediocre, wannabe) should revere, but never vie for consciously or subconsciously. One does not do his art to get the National Artist Award. One does art because of passion.
There is no need to campaign for it, no need for a President to bestow it. Peers grant it out of serious respect and admiration. And this is hard to achieve – almost impossible – the arts community here being composed of many competitive, suspicious and insecure rivals. This is why Bernal’s designation is significant. There was no real crusade on his behalf. He won the battle by simply being good.
In dance, we have not had a National Artist in 15 years. Many dance artists have been fretting about this, an it’s-about-time-we can’t-allow-this-to-happen kind of protest. We have just three of them, Francisca Reyes Aquino (1973), Leonor Orosa Goquingco (1976), and Lucrecia Reyes Urtula (1988).
Amazingly, the whole country is submerged in a plethora of street dance festivals and competitions. There are the Sinulog Festival of Cebu, Kadayawan of Davao, Pintados of Tacloban, Ati-Atihan of Aklan, and various onion, cow, bangus, scarecrow, name-it festivals. There is a dearth of serious theater choreographers, but an abundance of PE teachers choreographing 60 to 300 children in every barrio, town and city dance competition.
Whatever it is, dance seems to be a significant artistic outlet, the most popular medium of expression. One cannot compare the number of dance competitions with the music, theater, literature, film and visual arts competitions we have in the country. In the Philippines, people just love to dance.
Yet, our roster of National Artists includes 12 in the visual arts, 10 in music, 10 in literature and nine in theater, film and cinema combined as opposed to three in dance.
Why is this so?
Some say this is because of the power brokers, the choosers at the last stage of election. They are composed mostly of scholarly academicians with more theoretical than practical interests and who have done little research on or have little interest in dance. They prefer to put their own people in (literature, music, visual arts, etc.).
That’s the biting talk I hear.
Others say it’s about popularity, politics and pull more than an objective eye for artistic excellence. There’s always something giving off stench in this country, even in the idealistic confines of the arts.
For me, this is what the scarcity in dance is all about: Music is heard, theater is scripted, literature is read, the visual arts, architecture and film can be seen over and over for hundreds and thousands of years. Dance, as a performing art, has the tendency to be lost from memory and lapse from consciousness in a span of time. It needs live energy to gain full appreciation.
Artists age like wine except in the field of dance. Here, most become ancient, dated and passé, when bones are too exhausted to move or minds too worn out to create. A dancer and a choreographer have only about 20 to 30 years in his career before he burns out into scorched tinder. The next dancer will always be more technical and the next choreographer will always be more innovative. Besides, dingy records condemn many to be the laughing stock of contemporary tastes.
In one of the creative work shops I gave in the province, I asked 15 year old dancers who among them knew Maniya Barredo. None did. Nonoy Froilan and Anna Villadolid? Nope. The only record of their dancing is in moldy Betamax video tapes that costs to transfer to CDs. Lisa Macuja, yes! (Heaven forbid she stops dancing, but she will, too). Margot Fonteyn, Rudolf Nureyev, Mikhail Barishnikov? Uncomfortably they say, "Naaah." I was aghast that these stars were the biggest names a few years back and now nobody knows them. Does this affirm my belief that dancers are doomed to oblivion? How about our National Artists, namely Francisca Reyes Aquino, Leonor Goquingco and Lucrecia Urtula? I ask. They look at each other in discomfort. "Sorry, Ma’am, never heard."
Contemporary choreographers are bound to diffuse easily, too. To move 50 bodies in coordinated motion, given their minds’ predicament, physical condition, and emotional state, is a Herculean task. How difficult is it to choreograph? Imagine an orchestra conductor driving his orchestra to dance the opus, instead of playing it.
Where are the Alice Reyeses and Julie Borromeos? Heard of them? Maybe not. At least Gener Caringal is still choreographing for Philippine Ballet Theater, Denisa Reyes is doing Ballet Philippines’ upcoming Darna this August with cohort Alden Lugnasin, Agnes Locsin has hied off to her native Davao and choreographs at random, and Douglas Nierras still creates for his Powerdance. The most prolific choreographer right now is Tony Fabella, doing works not only for his street children but also for all the major dance companies and schools. Will he ever be National Artist? What would the academe say of his works 10 to 20 years from now when they have become quaint and dated?
And yet, I disagree with the notion that a field of art must have a National Artist no matter what. This award is indeed weighty regardless of its oblivious nature to the youth. I’m hoping that in the future young artists will know their pioneers, look up to them and aim for their achievements. I want them to say, uplifted and encouraged, "Hey, if it was done, I can do it, too!"
If the Amorsolos and Botong Fransiscos did their art mainly propelled by passion yesterday, today our society needs art for a much bigger mission. It’s not in the body of works, number of performances or artistic excellence alone. One can suffer all these for the record. Did one create impact? Inspire? Shape minds? Enlighten a society? Teach well? Share generously? Touch lives? Work to serve country and not his personal glory? This, for me, is THE Filipino National Artist of the 21st century.
The title should bring people back to the arts where souls, not pockets, are fed. It is not there for a teacher to say, "Okay class, memorize the names of our National Artists." It is not there to make people stand on the stage of the CCP to bask (or not) in the limelight and be forgotten immediately by the rest of society, nor to give them P20,000 a month, pay hospitable bills and give a grand funeral service. It’s there for our future artists and to keep art going. So yes, choose them well.
And the dancers and choreographers? If they don’t get it here, I’m sure they’ll get it in heaven. It’s just a man-made reward after all.
His genius permeated the night though. Mannequins were dressed in Bernal costumes, rigged and hanging like angels, plus his stark and simple cross set for Ballet Philippines’ Te Deum, proved why he was being honored at all. The evening was fittingly solemn and denuded of the razzmatazz that other directors (here it was Monino Duque, another old colleague) might have injected in the proceedings – very appropriate for an evening of honor.
Watching the show, I reflected on my own impressions of the most coveted title, National Artist. The award is one that all artists (local, international, young, old, excellent, mediocre, wannabe) should revere, but never vie for consciously or subconsciously. One does not do his art to get the National Artist Award. One does art because of passion.
There is no need to campaign for it, no need for a President to bestow it. Peers grant it out of serious respect and admiration. And this is hard to achieve – almost impossible – the arts community here being composed of many competitive, suspicious and insecure rivals. This is why Bernal’s designation is significant. There was no real crusade on his behalf. He won the battle by simply being good.
In dance, we have not had a National Artist in 15 years. Many dance artists have been fretting about this, an it’s-about-time-we can’t-allow-this-to-happen kind of protest. We have just three of them, Francisca Reyes Aquino (1973), Leonor Orosa Goquingco (1976), and Lucrecia Reyes Urtula (1988).
Amazingly, the whole country is submerged in a plethora of street dance festivals and competitions. There are the Sinulog Festival of Cebu, Kadayawan of Davao, Pintados of Tacloban, Ati-Atihan of Aklan, and various onion, cow, bangus, scarecrow, name-it festivals. There is a dearth of serious theater choreographers, but an abundance of PE teachers choreographing 60 to 300 children in every barrio, town and city dance competition.
Whatever it is, dance seems to be a significant artistic outlet, the most popular medium of expression. One cannot compare the number of dance competitions with the music, theater, literature, film and visual arts competitions we have in the country. In the Philippines, people just love to dance.
Yet, our roster of National Artists includes 12 in the visual arts, 10 in music, 10 in literature and nine in theater, film and cinema combined as opposed to three in dance.
Why is this so?
Some say this is because of the power brokers, the choosers at the last stage of election. They are composed mostly of scholarly academicians with more theoretical than practical interests and who have done little research on or have little interest in dance. They prefer to put their own people in (literature, music, visual arts, etc.).
That’s the biting talk I hear.
Others say it’s about popularity, politics and pull more than an objective eye for artistic excellence. There’s always something giving off stench in this country, even in the idealistic confines of the arts.
For me, this is what the scarcity in dance is all about: Music is heard, theater is scripted, literature is read, the visual arts, architecture and film can be seen over and over for hundreds and thousands of years. Dance, as a performing art, has the tendency to be lost from memory and lapse from consciousness in a span of time. It needs live energy to gain full appreciation.
Artists age like wine except in the field of dance. Here, most become ancient, dated and passé, when bones are too exhausted to move or minds too worn out to create. A dancer and a choreographer have only about 20 to 30 years in his career before he burns out into scorched tinder. The next dancer will always be more technical and the next choreographer will always be more innovative. Besides, dingy records condemn many to be the laughing stock of contemporary tastes.
In one of the creative work shops I gave in the province, I asked 15 year old dancers who among them knew Maniya Barredo. None did. Nonoy Froilan and Anna Villadolid? Nope. The only record of their dancing is in moldy Betamax video tapes that costs to transfer to CDs. Lisa Macuja, yes! (Heaven forbid she stops dancing, but she will, too). Margot Fonteyn, Rudolf Nureyev, Mikhail Barishnikov? Uncomfortably they say, "Naaah." I was aghast that these stars were the biggest names a few years back and now nobody knows them. Does this affirm my belief that dancers are doomed to oblivion? How about our National Artists, namely Francisca Reyes Aquino, Leonor Goquingco and Lucrecia Urtula? I ask. They look at each other in discomfort. "Sorry, Ma’am, never heard."
Contemporary choreographers are bound to diffuse easily, too. To move 50 bodies in coordinated motion, given their minds’ predicament, physical condition, and emotional state, is a Herculean task. How difficult is it to choreograph? Imagine an orchestra conductor driving his orchestra to dance the opus, instead of playing it.
Where are the Alice Reyeses and Julie Borromeos? Heard of them? Maybe not. At least Gener Caringal is still choreographing for Philippine Ballet Theater, Denisa Reyes is doing Ballet Philippines’ upcoming Darna this August with cohort Alden Lugnasin, Agnes Locsin has hied off to her native Davao and choreographs at random, and Douglas Nierras still creates for his Powerdance. The most prolific choreographer right now is Tony Fabella, doing works not only for his street children but also for all the major dance companies and schools. Will he ever be National Artist? What would the academe say of his works 10 to 20 years from now when they have become quaint and dated?
And yet, I disagree with the notion that a field of art must have a National Artist no matter what. This award is indeed weighty regardless of its oblivious nature to the youth. I’m hoping that in the future young artists will know their pioneers, look up to them and aim for their achievements. I want them to say, uplifted and encouraged, "Hey, if it was done, I can do it, too!"
If the Amorsolos and Botong Fransiscos did their art mainly propelled by passion yesterday, today our society needs art for a much bigger mission. It’s not in the body of works, number of performances or artistic excellence alone. One can suffer all these for the record. Did one create impact? Inspire? Shape minds? Enlighten a society? Teach well? Share generously? Touch lives? Work to serve country and not his personal glory? This, for me, is THE Filipino National Artist of the 21st century.
The title should bring people back to the arts where souls, not pockets, are fed. It is not there for a teacher to say, "Okay class, memorize the names of our National Artists." It is not there to make people stand on the stage of the CCP to bask (or not) in the limelight and be forgotten immediately by the rest of society, nor to give them P20,000 a month, pay hospitable bills and give a grand funeral service. It’s there for our future artists and to keep art going. So yes, choose them well.
And the dancers and choreographers? If they don’t get it here, I’m sure they’ll get it in heaven. It’s just a man-made reward after all.
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