Born in Manila to a family of architects (brothers Manuel and Jose are also architects, and the three were partners in a much-sought after architectural firm before each went solo), Bobby Mañosa graduated from the University of Santo Tomas in 1953. He is the Seventh United Architects of the Philippines (UAP) Likha Awardee. On top of this, he has received numerous awards from his peers and various civic and religious organizations, among them the Bahay Filipino Award, the Patnubay ng Kalinangan Architect of the Year Award, the Kalakbay Special Award for Architecture and even a Papal Knighthood of the Pontifical Order of St. Gregory the Great, given by Pope John Paul II.
His own home in Alabang, called the Bahay na Bato, stands as testament and showcase of the possibilities of Philippine architecture. "Naturally, with no client looking over my shoulder, I could really ‘go to town’ executing my ideas, giving me a medium by which I could show clients what could be accomplished within the parameters of what I’d be proposing to them," he says. "When I built the house, it was with my wife and children in mind; but in typical Filipino fashion, it’s grown and evolved to be something even the grandchildren can now enjoy."
Come July, a book that will serve as a retrospective of this illustrious Filipino architect’s career will be launched, and it’s not for nothing that the qualifier Filipino has been used. If there’s one thing that Bobby has championed throughout his life, it’s that within the body we can refer to as Asian architecture, there is a concept that is uniquely Philippine. Bobby’s contention is that while Philippine architecture owes much to the multi-colonial heritage we are saddled with, its foundation lies in the bahay kubo and there is much to be proud about in this arena. Sadly, we have not given this cultural, technical and architectural treasure the credit it deserves.
Listen to Bobby: "There are more than 47 universities in the Philippines offering degrees in architecture. Yet, it’s rare to find professors who truly believe there is such a thing as Philippine architecture, or push their students to be staunch believers in promoting such a concept, or using the concept as the cornerstone of their practice when they graduate."
He continues in almost the same breath, "I’m often invited to do lectures or act as guest speaker at these universities, and it still surprises me how so many of these 18- and 19-year-old students comment during the open forum or come up to me after, about how what I’ve said has made them feel guilty... that it’s so easy for them to lose sight of how they’re essentially Filipinos taking up architecture, and how that puts them in a unique position."
Bobby downplays the notion that he’s some crusader; he knows he’s not alone in this quest for nationalism. But in his field, he’s only too aware of how the people with money, the ones who give you jobs and put money on your table, are so obsessed with looks or styles that come from overseas.
"How often, as an architect, are we asked to come up with something Mediterranean, to create a Swiss chalet in Tagaytay or Baguio, to give their home a Balinese look, or produce a French chateau," he laments. "This perpetuates the myth that what’s indigenous or truly Filipino is something you escape as you attain a certain economic status. It’s so sad to find this the case, and as a profession, the architects are caught in this situation. The young ones who have just graduated have no choice–you either go with this flow or end up not feeding your family."
At its most basic, architecture is about shelter, and we’re taught as students that form follows function. But as I like to say, disparagingly, here in the Philippines, form follows fashion. Why else is there a predilection for creating forms that have nothing to do with this country?" he wants to know. "Think about it, how truly logical is it to find some Swiss chalet in Tagaytay? It doesn’t snow here and summer is still summer, with only the rainy season as a respite; throughout the year, it’s still a tropical clime."
Bobby’s ideas on architecture go way beyond mere shelter. "Architecture is all about creativity. I can talk about a chair and say it has four legs. Then if someone asks me can I design a chair with three legs, I say yes. If someone then says can I design one with no legs, I give him a bench. It’s all about creativity, the sister of invention. If we are to say that the bahay kubo is the cornerstone of Philippine architecture, then it is incumbent on us, the architects, to find ways to develop from that essential structure and produce forms that are relevant to today’s needs.
"And why shouldn’t we? On almost all other strands of culture or customs, our pagka-Filipino is resilient. Take Filipinos who go abroad. We can be in Europe, be in Paris or London, enjoying the red wine, the rich French cuisine, but on the third day, so many of us will be looking for a Chinese restaurant, for the rice and noodles–something that brings us a little bit closer to home. That’s something that’s there inside of us."
His discussions always go back to building something Filipino. "So the architect has to design forms for this country–be cognizant of climatic conditions, typhoons, earthquakes. Six months of sunshine and six months of rain–bring all of this and his personal interpretation of Filipino culture into his architectural designs, detailing with all of that in mind."
"For example, I can put a bench or lounging chair in this verandah or lanai because that is how we are. Late in the afternoon, or on the weekend, we go out and lie on it, or take a siesta. You may not look for it, or consider it essential, but if it’s there, it talks to us in a way it may not to other nationalities. That’s a very basic example, but the point is these are architectural considerations that we, as Filipino architects, should be imbued with. You really don’t separate culture from technology. Similarly, architecture has to be a blend, a science and also an art."
Given the present day situation, this message could not be more cogent. Technology has truly made the world smaller; what is considered common, like calling a friend who’s abroad, was something we could only do at home or at the office by landline a few decades ago. As Bobby relates, "Technology to me was astounding enough when you spoke of landing on the moon. Now it’s looking at a map, zeroing in on a country, then a city in that country, then a building in that city, then a window in that building and sending a bomb through that window from so many miles away. And while we can marvel at all that technology has brought us, there’s also the need for caution."
He explains, "Look, we are a Third World country. I’m a Third World architect. Here in the Philippines, we’ve never even built a plane from scratch. So while we can take advantage of all that technology has to offer, we have to also make the effort to set things right in our own country. We can join the joyride of globalization and all that it entails, but we have to also realize that it affects only so many of our people, that the vast majority still have basic needs that just aren’t being addressed.
"Jose Rizal wrote that it would take a hundred years for the Filipino people to unite. Well, it’s more than a hundred years and look at us, we still can’t get our act together. For me, one important reason for this is our lack of identity. That’s why it’s so important for us to discover what truly makes us Filipino and for us, to take pride in that. As an architect, I push for us to be proud of the form of the bahay kubo, accepting it’s ‘us’ and finding ways for it to still be a form that’s for today, through creativity and invention. Similarly, I take what’s Filipino, in terms of material, wood and craftsmanship, and make it a must in my designs. It’s ironic, but by being so staunchly Filipino, I do end up being global."
How was this achieved? Well, Bobby explains that there are two projects–one a resort in the Bahamas and the other a cultural center in Palau–that had the proponents seeking him out specifically for the distinctive Philippine elements that exist in his designs.
Adrian Zeccha, who started the Aman Resorts, was talking to a friend who wanted to put up a new resort in the Bahamas. Pleased with the work Bobby did with the local Amanpulo, Mr. Zeccha told his friend that if he wanted something very different from all the resorts that already exist in the islands, and was looking for someone who could truly understand the tropical climate’s demands on architectural design, Bobby was the man they should hire.
Similarly, the Palau project necessitated Bobby intensively studying and creatively incorporating Palau culture into the project design–the client had seen how Bobby fuses culture with architectural design and wanted something on a parallel note. These are two prime examples of how, by being so Filipino, Bobby was gaining a global footing.
As a young child, taking walks with his parents from Azcarraga to Escolta (the streets’ old names), it was already ingrained into Bobby that pride in what you are was integral to identity.
"My father saw me as the entertainer in the family, the funny man; but he was also a very strict disciplinarian," Bobby relates. "Values, family ties, religion and belief–they were all very important. And just as important was his lesson that the Philippines was the only country we had and we must both love it and be proud of it. I’ve carried that with me and I can only hope I’ve passed that on to my children, as well as to anyone else who’ll listen."
The Coconut Palace, the Pearl Farm Resort, Amanpulo, various churches and religious structures, the homes of many of the country’s most prominent families–all these structures exhibit the strident nationalism of Architect Mañosa. Without compromise, they stand both as paragons of international design excellence and as fine examples of what Philippine architecture can be.