TUBIG ALAT

This is as true as the sun setting in the west: A precarious set of territorial claims bubbles in the sea west of the Philippine archipelago, which contributes 12 percent of the world's fish catch annually, while rife with oil and gas deposits underneath; Imperial interests influence the country's sovereign affairs much like a pendulum, where there are allies now there may be oppressors later; Just as taking in saltwater the wrong way creates a lasting burn on our senses, so do these truths linger sharply.  

Tubig Alat is a two-person exhibition by Nicolei Buendia Gupit and Jonathan Madeja that examines the relationship between water as a means of survival and Filipino society and its diaspora. The works in Tubig Alat portray the intersection of global and local politics, and cultural narratives that intensify the grip of capitalism while uncovering the colonial thinking embedded in the Filipino mind and territory.       

In Nicolei Buendia Gupit’s new works, the luminescence of gold glitters in front of the eye. The treasured ore is a peculiar yet critical comparison to water in terms of its perceived value under a global capitalist system. Through varied material approaches, Gupit merges the concept of water with the spectacle of gold to consider the connections between fortune, bad omens, and meritocracy in contemporary Filipino culture.

M$N$CULTURE is an expansive mixed-media work constructed from a pulp that combines used lottery scratchers with abaca and gampi plant fibers. At the center of the work is a representation of a pyramid surrounded by ink drawings of oil palm monocultures. This references the rise of monoculture farming in the Philippines since the 1960s, entering the country with the investment of Filipino elites and foreign companies. This type of farming continues to deaden thousands of hectares of soil and poison waterways with its use of chemicals, often dispossessing Indigenous communities from their lands. At the top of the pyramid is a small triangle gilded with gold leaf. This symbolizes the goal of economic success that meritocracy advertises, which is the belief that hard work will always pay off. This desire for riches is contrasted with the visible lottery scratchers throughout the piece, a reminder that most of us will not achieve the gross amount of wealth that the top 1 percent has hoarded. Even if we entertain the smallest possibility of winning big when we mark a lottery ticket, capitalism ensures that the vast majority of Filipinos will always bear the brunt of the widening economic gap.   

In the sculptural work, Oro, Plata, Mata, imitation gold bars are arranged to echo ascending steps, alluding to the dream of moving up the financial ladder. Culled from the Spanish and Filipino superstition of the same name that warns against designing stairs in multiples of three,  Oro, Plata, Mata intentionally places the last step on ‘mata’ (death), as opposed to ‘oro’ (gold) or ‘plata’ (silver), as a reminder that clinging to the false narrative of meritocracy will lead to our misfortune.   

Her work, Tubig Alat, is a series of 22 clay bodies each molded in the shape of a common water bottle wrapped in imitation gold. Hinting at the myths of the Yamashita treasure and Tallano gold that were popularized during the martial law years, which led many to believe that the Philippines has the second-largest gold deposit in the world, Gupit points to the success of such false narratives in Filipino culture. Her work draws attention to the cultural mechanism of deception and sensationalism through her reflection on the overvaluing of material wealth and the undervaluing of basic human needs like drinking water. The artist cites that an estimated 22 million Filipinos still do not have access to safe drinking water nationwide. 

Jonathan Madeja’s meticulous archival ink drawings play on the Filipino expression “Alat!” to speak on the everyday matters of Filipino communities. While ‘alat’ literally translates to salty, it figuratively expresses disappointment when faced with a lack of opportunity.  Madeja expresses this through his reflection on current political events. Likewise, in the series, Bulag, Pipi, at Bingi, his self-portraits exemplify the reality of Filipinos who take bribes despite knowing its questionable source. One tightly grasps paper money while blocking his senses, effectively cutting himself off from reality. 

 Ampaw is a poignant take on the upcoming local elections and their influence on the distribution of money and power. Featuring a Lunar New Year envelope (ampao) the work boasts wit through its illustration of a mother of pearl offering not a gemstone but sweet nothings in the form of Filipino puffed rice (ampaw). For Madeja, what is decided politically changes the fragile relationship between ourselves and the sea.  

Pahinga contradicts the stereotype of a “lazy” fisherfolk, a disingenuous view commonly promoted by advocates of global capitalism. Pahinga argues that their true hardworking character being distorted by industrial capitalist society is a result of being undervalued. As foreign boats loom, the livelihoods of Filipino fisherfolk are threatened, directly affected by the harassment perpetrated by Chinese militia and Coast Guards along the West Philippine Sea.   

We share a commonality with water in how we carry the full weight of our history. Tubig Alat is enriched by how Nicolei Buendia Gupit and Jonathan Madeja each testify to the ways colonial, imperial, and capitalist legacies continue to shape contemporary Filipino culture. They reflect on how their family histories and experiences have been formed through decades of capitalist living, that have led to immigration and lifelong struggles to keep traditions and local communities afloat. In each of their works, there is an urgency to rethink the misshapen values espoused by global capitalism which creates and exacerbates socio economic problems in developing countries like the Philippines. They leave us with the question: What must we value for us to live with dignity? How can we Filipinos navigate life with more unlearning and resistance to safeguard what is rightfully ours? 

Written by Sarah Conanan