A universal truth has been constantly making itself apparent to me these past few months: Wherever you are in the world, you cannot create good art without sufficient support.
Last April, I had the opportunity to attend the Taiwan International Festival of Arts, enjoying four days packed with cultural and art experiences all over Taipei. This was my first exposure to Taiwan’s vibrant and enviably well-supported performing arts scene, and it has been nothing short of enlightening.
Innovative creativity
Among the works we had the chance to catch was the virtual reality theatrical screening of Mainstream Studio’s “In The Mist,” an impressive, immersive, and incredibly (almost uncomfortably) intimate look into a queer experience of encounters in a bath house.
“In the Mist” was an uncanny intermingling of theatrical performance and virtual reality film, which director Chou Tung-Yen has already been known for. Visually, it presented itself like an immersive piece, where the audience feels (or sees) themselves in the performance space, among the actors yet with the physical distance provided by the virtual reality/film format.
Questions on the necessity of that level of intimacy notwithstanding, the experience of “In The Mist”—and the possibilities the technology offers the theatrical arts—left me wondering that if the Philippines could one day adapt this innovation, what kinds of stories could we possibly tell? What narratives or experiences would our theater-makers deem perfect to adapt to this hybrid platform of storytelling?
Another interesting presentation was Against Again Troupe’s “Book of Lost Words,” which combines audio performances of narratives based on written accounts of political prisoners, with a walking tour. I found it to be a creative and engaging immersion, where history and contemporary spaces overlap. “Book of Lost Words” proved to be incredibly profound—a way of preserving the memory of those historical places and key historical figures, while also honoring the history beneath the now-modern spaces.
It was particularly striking how the walking tour has been “choreographed” or plotted along with the audio performances; during our tour, in moments during the narrative that mention looking over landscapes, or traversing crosswalks, we, too, experience the same in the present day. The tour ending with a solemn memorial by the river also lends more meaning.
This walking tour mixed with audio performance was so engaging you wouldn’t even feel that you’d been walking for an hour. Discovering the hidden past lives of Taipei’s cityscape—hearing and learning what the spots we see today used to be, and the scenes and atrocities it has witnessed—reminded me of our own local context.
Again I found myself imagining how we could adapt this: If learning and remembering the dark chapters of our history is a problem (thanks to historical revisionism, misinformation, and denialism), we need to explore new ways to keep the story alive. What spaces in the Philippines could possibly allow for this kind of storytelling?
READ: Worse than forgetting–misremembering: How do we teach millennials about martial law?
Amid unquestionable technique, a search for emotional connection
What has also been especially inspiring during this arts trip with the ArtsEquator fellows was being able to experience the same shows together and talk about them from our different lenses—as critics of our own individual practices, and our own cultures from our own countries in Southeast Asia.
During the arts week, we were also able to witness spectacular contemporary performances, such as “Lingering” by Barefeet Dance Theatre, “Journey into the Apocalypse” by Dark Eyes Performance Lab, and “Sounding Light” by the renowned Cloud Gate Dance Theatre. It struck me how similar most fellows’ thoughts were: We all agreed on the impeccable technical skill of Taiwanese performers but also felt disconnected from most of the works we’ve seen, some of us left seeking for some sort of emotional connection or understanding from the pieces.
While we could generally follow some sort of narrative that was being presented, something just didn’t hit. I floated the question to some fellow critics: Is this a case of us just not being Taiwanese, therefore being unable to connect with the piece and its context? Would we better appreciate these pieces if we were more immersed or knowledgeable in the culture?
In our casual exchanges, the idea was also raised that art should have some universality to it, regardless of being made in a specific context. I suppose “Sounding Light,” which Cloud Gate posits as an ode to nature, touches on this to an extent. Party Theatre Group’s one-man play, “Cinderfella,” is also a good example. Though it is specific in that it revolves around a gay romance-spy story set during Taiwan’s White Terror era, its themes of love and humanity amid oppressive circumstances are universal, and thus engaging despite the language difference.
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Support for the arts
In the Philippines, we have a colloquial phrase we often (jokingly) blurt out in response to something or someone we may admire and/or feel jealous of: “Sana all!” In essence, it’s an expression of hope: “I wish I could have what you have, too.” A wish to attain the same success or good fortune as others.
Walking through the awe-inspiring Taipei Performing Arts Center and the stately National Theater had me thinking the very same thing. Sana all. I wish we in the Philippines could have the kind of support for the arts as Taiwan does.
While we do have an exciting arts scene now, conversations with several creators in Manila’s theater scene share that there is much to be desired in terms of institutional and financial support for the arts. A recent conversation with a director also revealed potential new challenges that weren’t yet present at the time of my ArtsEquator project.
The few days of immersing in Taipei’s performing arts scene was enough of an eye-opener at how far we still have to go. But at the same time, it left me inspired. Many of our theater-makers dream of seeing Manila become a theater hub in Asia. Coming home after seeing Taiwan’s rich arts scene, I feel a renewed sense of dedication to continue being a witness to how our own creators will make it happen.
