2003: The return of the terno
January 4, 2004 | 12:00am
Now showing at the Metropolitan Museum of Manila is an exhibit that focuses on the most talked-about item this year: the terno. Here’s the inside story.
The Turns of the Terno exhibit was the culminating activity of the Met Museum’s terno project. We had conceived the project to review how an art form like the terno can contribute to national development. There were many program components.
The first was a national competition to design ternos for the 21st century. More than a hundred entries were received from all over the country. Ten finalists were chosen by a panel of preliminary judges. Hailing from Iloilo, Cebu and Davao, their home bases reflected the national scope of the contest.
The finalists were then asked to join a terno-making workshop in Manila. Here they refined their designs before turning out the finished ternos which were then presented in a fashion show during a gala dinner in honor of Joe Salazar. This was held at the Museum on November 22, 2003. One of the evening’s highlights was the announcement of the contest winner who received the Joe Salazar Award. The final board of judges took pains to choose a terno which they felt could truly project an image of Philippine identity to the world.
Then came the exhibit which opened a few days later on December 11 to run until the end of February. Many minds and hands participated in formulating the show. Dr Patrick Flores worked on the exhibit outline and texts. Joey Panlilio curated the section on the evolution of the terno. Gino Gonzalez was in charge of the over-all exhibit design while Mitzie Icasiano and Mike Muñoz produced the segment on terno-making. Maita Reyes was textile conservationist. Finally the CCP Production Center and the NHI provided back-up for preparing the pieces for exhibition. Principal presenters were Bench/Pinoy Lab and Metro Magazine.
Many stories unfolded in bringing the exhibit together. Much of the action was in finding the pieces. To find exhibit items we went as far as Bohol and Zamboanga. Along the way we came across a colorful cast of characters. The variety was the result of our efforts to showcase not just designers but the communities of craftspeople involved in the many stages of terno-making. It was our intention to show that a terno, like many works of art, provided jobs for people like weavers, cutters and sewers. Then there were the burdaderas of Lumbang, Laguna creating fantasies of flower and fable on swirls of piña. There were also the beadworkers of Marilao. I was quite surprised that a special kind of embroidery, the cadineta, made in a barrio of Bocaue in Bulacan, was actually the work of men.
Another concern of the exhibit was to feature works of designers outside of Manila. Included in the show is a piece by Betty Real Brua of the quiet town of Baclayon in Bohol. There are also the works of the likes of Jhun Calalang of Bulacan, Ben Natividad of Iloilo and Boy Ginoo of Davao.
Another provincial designer in the show is Pancho Uytiepo of Bacolod City. Pancho is something of a local legend. It was truly a treat to meet him. To begin with he is already 80 years old but still very active and productive. From his creative spring have come countless fashion designs as well as songs, plays, musicals, theater sets. He also maintains a brisk business supplying special hand-crafted embroidery pieces for various designers, many from as far as Manila.
Pancho enjoyed recounting how he used to hang around Ramon Valera ( who is about 10 years his senior) as a young man. He noted that when he heard that Valera was espousing the panuelo-less terno he found the news both painful and exciting. Painful, because he had practiced for many hours the genteel art of making and folding the perfect panuelo. Exciting, because he was always stimulated by innovations.
He had had his share of fresh ideas. He had been working for many years to revitalize weaving in Negros. He helped popularize the resulting fabric – hablon. In response to Valera’s panuelo-less terno, he conceived of shortening the skirt. Thus was born the terno cocktail dress! I found this idea so interesting that I asked him to try to locate one of his cocktail dresses for the exhibit. He promised to do so. Weeks later he called me, almost tearful. He explained that since most of his creations were from the ’50s he could no longer find an existing example.
Another of his statements resulted in a major insight for the exhibit. He observed that he was very amused when he heard that Valera was calling his panuelo-less outfits "terno." His comment made me ponder further the meaning of the term "terno." Why did Valera’s usage amuse him?
Checking native speakers from Spain and the Instituto Cervantes, one thing became clear: contrary to standard knowledge, "terno" does not mean "matching" in Castillian Spanish. In fact, the term is virtually unknown on the Peninsula. The term is really Latin American for a "suit" or a "set." For the baro or blouse, panuelo or shawl, saya or skirt and the manggas or sleeves which all had identical designs formed a suit or a set. So the panuelo-less terno was no longer complete making its name a misnomer. This helped explain Pancho’s amusement.
Pancho’s story is a reminder of the many turns in the terno’s history. Part of this history is portrayed in the evolution section of the exhibit which was produced by Joey Panlilio. Featured in this area are lovely piña baros from the 19th century including a magnificent piece executed using the sombrado technique. This is a kind of appliqué that creates a subtle pattern of shadows on the skin. Also on display is the oldest known secular painting in the Philippines dating to the 1730s. It was included to show an example of dress from that period. This section should underline how every terno actually is a record of our social history as captured in the changes in fashion. In fact, when the panuelo was removed from the terno ensemble in the 1940s there was an uproar!
The exhibit display of 1930s panuelos and baros, mostly from the collection of Patis Tesoro, is particularly instructive. We can see here that it had become the rage to pick out a fabric for a skirt and then to commission panuelos and blouses that had matching embroidered designs. With all this matching of motifs going on, it was no wonder "terno" came to mean exactly that in the Philippines – and only in the Philippines. Many of the designs are fantastic. One baro featured cartoon-like figures of a park. Another sported little trousers and shirts hanging on a clothesline! These baros together with the various innovative designs of the many ternos on exhibit should clarify one of the show’s aims: to stress the importance of Filipino’s artistic creativity especially in a time when we need novel solutions to our country’s problems.
Some of the places that we had to visit while borrowing were treats in themselves as well. One of these was the Balay ni Tana Dicang in Talisay, Neg. Occ. To facilitate the gathering of the ternos from the different owners, our coordinator in Negros, Alvaro Pertierra decided to invite everyone for merienda at the 19th century ancestral home. The collection of the exhibit items became a party. Elderly ladies showed up proudly bearing their ternos. One even brought an album of photos showing the ternos actually being worn. She also pointed out an old picture of someone she called her "ex-husband." Her children had to gently remind her that she really meant "late husband"! Of course, I kept up my end of the elegant party banter by making a presentation on the programs of the Met!
In Iloilo, one of the settings for our borrowing was even more spectacular. It was no less than Nellie Garden – probably the most imposing of all the residences of the South. With its long driveway leading up to a sparkling white mansion, I felt a little sheepish as I arrived in a cab with three huge maletas ready to make off with the ternos of the house. Fortunately, Zaffy Ledesma had arranged everything beforehand with the Lopez-Jison family and a few hours later I was off again, my trunks bursting with sartorial treasures.
Looking at all the ternos on exhibit (about a 150!) one gets a satisfying sense of having been able to give forgotten masterpieces new leases on life. So many of these outfits had been the object of so much attention and efforts. And yet they had long remained hidden away. How wonderful that they can again be seen as records of history, products of livelihood , markers of identity and sources of inspiration for creativity.
One last tale of the terno remains to be told. I was rummaging through the chests of Estrella Ybiernas, a 102 year old living legend in Iloilo and a well-loved fashion trendsetter in her younger years. I came across a crumpled outfit of cream-colored silky material with pink and gold stripes. Though tattered, I could tell that the fabric was hablon. Pulling it out, I was surprised to see that the terno was quite short – it was probably knee-length. Maybe it was owned by a very short woman! I noticed it had some interesting ruffles on its side.
Later on with some help from the ladies of the CCP Production Center the little terno took on a new life. Many paused to admire it. Then it hit me! Recalling that Estrella Ybiernas had been one of his clients, I suddenly realized that I had found perhaps the last example of our dear Pancho Uytiepo’s terno cocktail dress! Here was additional proof of the Filipino’s creative ability to innovate.
I can’t wait for the day when Pancho and Mrs. Ybiernas will come to see the exhibit and make the confirmation!
The Turns of the Terno exhibit was the culminating activity of the Met Museum’s terno project. We had conceived the project to review how an art form like the terno can contribute to national development. There were many program components.
The first was a national competition to design ternos for the 21st century. More than a hundred entries were received from all over the country. Ten finalists were chosen by a panel of preliminary judges. Hailing from Iloilo, Cebu and Davao, their home bases reflected the national scope of the contest.
The finalists were then asked to join a terno-making workshop in Manila. Here they refined their designs before turning out the finished ternos which were then presented in a fashion show during a gala dinner in honor of Joe Salazar. This was held at the Museum on November 22, 2003. One of the evening’s highlights was the announcement of the contest winner who received the Joe Salazar Award. The final board of judges took pains to choose a terno which they felt could truly project an image of Philippine identity to the world.
Then came the exhibit which opened a few days later on December 11 to run until the end of February. Many minds and hands participated in formulating the show. Dr Patrick Flores worked on the exhibit outline and texts. Joey Panlilio curated the section on the evolution of the terno. Gino Gonzalez was in charge of the over-all exhibit design while Mitzie Icasiano and Mike Muñoz produced the segment on terno-making. Maita Reyes was textile conservationist. Finally the CCP Production Center and the NHI provided back-up for preparing the pieces for exhibition. Principal presenters were Bench/Pinoy Lab and Metro Magazine.
Many stories unfolded in bringing the exhibit together. Much of the action was in finding the pieces. To find exhibit items we went as far as Bohol and Zamboanga. Along the way we came across a colorful cast of characters. The variety was the result of our efforts to showcase not just designers but the communities of craftspeople involved in the many stages of terno-making. It was our intention to show that a terno, like many works of art, provided jobs for people like weavers, cutters and sewers. Then there were the burdaderas of Lumbang, Laguna creating fantasies of flower and fable on swirls of piña. There were also the beadworkers of Marilao. I was quite surprised that a special kind of embroidery, the cadineta, made in a barrio of Bocaue in Bulacan, was actually the work of men.
Another concern of the exhibit was to feature works of designers outside of Manila. Included in the show is a piece by Betty Real Brua of the quiet town of Baclayon in Bohol. There are also the works of the likes of Jhun Calalang of Bulacan, Ben Natividad of Iloilo and Boy Ginoo of Davao.
Another provincial designer in the show is Pancho Uytiepo of Bacolod City. Pancho is something of a local legend. It was truly a treat to meet him. To begin with he is already 80 years old but still very active and productive. From his creative spring have come countless fashion designs as well as songs, plays, musicals, theater sets. He also maintains a brisk business supplying special hand-crafted embroidery pieces for various designers, many from as far as Manila.
Pancho enjoyed recounting how he used to hang around Ramon Valera ( who is about 10 years his senior) as a young man. He noted that when he heard that Valera was espousing the panuelo-less terno he found the news both painful and exciting. Painful, because he had practiced for many hours the genteel art of making and folding the perfect panuelo. Exciting, because he was always stimulated by innovations.
He had had his share of fresh ideas. He had been working for many years to revitalize weaving in Negros. He helped popularize the resulting fabric – hablon. In response to Valera’s panuelo-less terno, he conceived of shortening the skirt. Thus was born the terno cocktail dress! I found this idea so interesting that I asked him to try to locate one of his cocktail dresses for the exhibit. He promised to do so. Weeks later he called me, almost tearful. He explained that since most of his creations were from the ’50s he could no longer find an existing example.
Another of his statements resulted in a major insight for the exhibit. He observed that he was very amused when he heard that Valera was calling his panuelo-less outfits "terno." His comment made me ponder further the meaning of the term "terno." Why did Valera’s usage amuse him?
Checking native speakers from Spain and the Instituto Cervantes, one thing became clear: contrary to standard knowledge, "terno" does not mean "matching" in Castillian Spanish. In fact, the term is virtually unknown on the Peninsula. The term is really Latin American for a "suit" or a "set." For the baro or blouse, panuelo or shawl, saya or skirt and the manggas or sleeves which all had identical designs formed a suit or a set. So the panuelo-less terno was no longer complete making its name a misnomer. This helped explain Pancho’s amusement.
Pancho’s story is a reminder of the many turns in the terno’s history. Part of this history is portrayed in the evolution section of the exhibit which was produced by Joey Panlilio. Featured in this area are lovely piña baros from the 19th century including a magnificent piece executed using the sombrado technique. This is a kind of appliqué that creates a subtle pattern of shadows on the skin. Also on display is the oldest known secular painting in the Philippines dating to the 1730s. It was included to show an example of dress from that period. This section should underline how every terno actually is a record of our social history as captured in the changes in fashion. In fact, when the panuelo was removed from the terno ensemble in the 1940s there was an uproar!
The exhibit display of 1930s panuelos and baros, mostly from the collection of Patis Tesoro, is particularly instructive. We can see here that it had become the rage to pick out a fabric for a skirt and then to commission panuelos and blouses that had matching embroidered designs. With all this matching of motifs going on, it was no wonder "terno" came to mean exactly that in the Philippines – and only in the Philippines. Many of the designs are fantastic. One baro featured cartoon-like figures of a park. Another sported little trousers and shirts hanging on a clothesline! These baros together with the various innovative designs of the many ternos on exhibit should clarify one of the show’s aims: to stress the importance of Filipino’s artistic creativity especially in a time when we need novel solutions to our country’s problems.
Some of the places that we had to visit while borrowing were treats in themselves as well. One of these was the Balay ni Tana Dicang in Talisay, Neg. Occ. To facilitate the gathering of the ternos from the different owners, our coordinator in Negros, Alvaro Pertierra decided to invite everyone for merienda at the 19th century ancestral home. The collection of the exhibit items became a party. Elderly ladies showed up proudly bearing their ternos. One even brought an album of photos showing the ternos actually being worn. She also pointed out an old picture of someone she called her "ex-husband." Her children had to gently remind her that she really meant "late husband"! Of course, I kept up my end of the elegant party banter by making a presentation on the programs of the Met!
In Iloilo, one of the settings for our borrowing was even more spectacular. It was no less than Nellie Garden – probably the most imposing of all the residences of the South. With its long driveway leading up to a sparkling white mansion, I felt a little sheepish as I arrived in a cab with three huge maletas ready to make off with the ternos of the house. Fortunately, Zaffy Ledesma had arranged everything beforehand with the Lopez-Jison family and a few hours later I was off again, my trunks bursting with sartorial treasures.
Looking at all the ternos on exhibit (about a 150!) one gets a satisfying sense of having been able to give forgotten masterpieces new leases on life. So many of these outfits had been the object of so much attention and efforts. And yet they had long remained hidden away. How wonderful that they can again be seen as records of history, products of livelihood , markers of identity and sources of inspiration for creativity.
One last tale of the terno remains to be told. I was rummaging through the chests of Estrella Ybiernas, a 102 year old living legend in Iloilo and a well-loved fashion trendsetter in her younger years. I came across a crumpled outfit of cream-colored silky material with pink and gold stripes. Though tattered, I could tell that the fabric was hablon. Pulling it out, I was surprised to see that the terno was quite short – it was probably knee-length. Maybe it was owned by a very short woman! I noticed it had some interesting ruffles on its side.
Later on with some help from the ladies of the CCP Production Center the little terno took on a new life. Many paused to admire it. Then it hit me! Recalling that Estrella Ybiernas had been one of his clients, I suddenly realized that I had found perhaps the last example of our dear Pancho Uytiepo’s terno cocktail dress! Here was additional proof of the Filipino’s creative ability to innovate.
I can’t wait for the day when Pancho and Mrs. Ybiernas will come to see the exhibit and make the confirmation!
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