What makes it Filipino? What makes it Cebuano art? These are questions often asked of local art. And of course artists find great difficulty answering them. After all, artists work best when they work from a perspective that is more innate and automatic than rational. The art when it is good is always hard to contain into words.
And questions of identity, because they are framed in words must be answered also that way. Words always have an intrinsic difficulty and shortcoming. They can never completely describe what is “out there”. The less so for things which are “in here”. And “in here” is always where identity resides.
Identity is clearer as a feeling in one’s heart and mind. It is less clear as a physical quality in the things a person does. And so, while questions of identity in art are always important, and yes, valid, we must start from the premise that these questions are inherently unfair. After all, confronted by a painting by Rembrandt, we never ask: What makes him Dutch? Confronted by a Michelangelo, we never ask: What makes him Italian? (In fact, he was Florentine.) Confronted by a Pollock, we neither ask: What makes him American? Confronted by art by a Cebuano, Should we really ask then: What makes it Cebuano?
Does the question derive from a latent insecurity? Does it derive from an obligation to be exotic; a need to wear one’s “bahag” as if it were the fastest way to prove one’s native provenance and link the native to his or her past?
On the other hand, there was the fact of the colonial experience. 400 years under Spain and the United States would have alienated the native from his own culture. And, of course, we are excused to think we would have to get over this alienation if we are ever going to move on in the sense of art and culture. Which must be why we see so much art that announce their “indigenous” roots, as if art can ever be anything if not indigenous. (Which word in my computer’s dictionary is defined as : native, original, aboriginal, autochthonous; local, domestic, homegrown; earliest, first.)
But even so, the act of loving one’s own culture is an important value to develop especially by way of art. And a colonized culture must learn to deal with it. It is an obligation. True. But a wonderful one. Not a cross to bear. And it must be said that since art always encapsulates the collective experience then the fact of our colonized past must find its way into our art. One must see that the fact Dr. Jose Rizal wrote some of his most important works in Spanish contributes to the wonder of these works and does not detract from them. The same is true of Gabriel Garcia Marquez as it is true of Pablo Neruda.
My writer friend Larry Ypil puts it very crisply. He is on a study term in the U.S. now. He presented some writings by his Cebuano friends to his American classmates and they told him how we tend to write similarly. We have a way of using the English. But we do not see this immediately. The uniqueness of our use of the language is more recognizable to those who use the language differently especially native Americans. (And here, bear in mind I do not refer to American Indians, which is a problematic term I would not use unless I had to.)
But this does tell us that language is an essential part of the issue. And we may as well ask: If a Filipino writer writes in English, does he or she lose identity? Indeed not. And just because the prevailing constructs of the visual arts is “foreign” to us, this does not mean the visual arts alienate us from our own people. It is true that not all our people read or look at our works. But this does not mean they never will. Neither does it mean, they are less important that way.
Without even meaning to, art encapsulates the totality of the collective experience. It records how we change as a culture over periods of time. It is how the culture addresses itself across borders of time. And yet, equally as important as this: It is also how the culture addresses the rest of the world across history and geographical borders.
What does this tell us? It tells us we are more Filipino, more Cebuano and more native than we really know or think or even mean to be. Indeed, we have no choice at all over this matter. We are Cebuano. We are Filipino. These are facts plain and simple. The culture, colonized as it was, gave us unique birth. It made us what we are now.
And we are not the same as other peoples, Koreans, Chinese, Germans, Americans, etc. This too is a fact plain and simple. But we do not have to lay claim to this difference to feel better with ourselves. The difference is there. Let others themselves tell us: You are different. You are who you are. You are Filipino. Before that, Cebuano.