LARITA KUTSARITA'S SPOONFULS: Blues Schmooze

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Blues Schmooze

The Moon is in her most beautiful, almost perfect shape tonight…and I can’t even relish the sight of her on the deck (it’s like the dorm’s “secret” rooftop). You’re not at all deprived of significant people whom you love and who, fortunately, love you back…and you can’t even be with them when all you wanna do is give ‘em a hug tight enough to kill. Bamboo and a smorgasbord of other bands are coming on the UP Fair kickoff…and I can’t even be totally certain about seeing them (in cases like this, I usually don’t let anything get in the way), never mind that the ticket’s only P85, an eensy-weensy glitch in the wallet that’s worth all that real, face-melting music. Oh, and my roommate’s just told me about Heath Ledger’s death…and I can’t even feel sorry enough for the guy or Michelle or their little daughter. Nah…all because it’s February, and all the professors are chasing after time like a ravenous pack of wolves in search of Paradise (Wolf’s Rain, anyone?). Summer’s just round the corner…but kids are talking about “hell weeks” and “DEADlines” and “suicide” (yep). Life is beautiful…and yet, sometimes, you’re just too busy to actually live it. The “human blues,” I call ‘em…the inexplainable wretchedness caused by your lack of control (or entire bereavement thereof) of the things that happen to you…the same things that you have to deal with yourself. It’s when you’re reminded how utterly powerless you are, when all your life, your parents [and everybody else who has always wanted you to believe in yourself] have all been telling you that “it is you who charts your own destiny…it is you who decides your fate...it is you who makes something happen.” Well, not entirely, but thanks anyway. See, “making something happen” is one thing…“what happens next” is another, and how d’you cope? Well, I can almost hear God saying, “Maybe it’s your call, but it just ain’t your ball, man.” Me: scowls …goes back to work. Whoop-de-doo.

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IT IS A CRIME TO REST

Of all the speeches I have ever read, this one--a Response Speech upon receiving the
1985 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism--from a great Filipino artist has made the deepest mark in me. It sings to my soul, reverberates with my heart, and enlightens my mind. Mr. Lino Brocka, thank you for lending me the words that I could not articulate for myself, and for providing me a reason to keep fighting. Kung mayroong paraan upang mamulat nang ganap, hindi ito ang pag-aninag sa liwanag kundi ang pagharap sa dilim, at ang paghahanap ng bukang-liwayway--tunay, puro, at dalisay.

The filmmaker, like his peers in the other media, now realizes that the artist is also a public person. He no longer isolates himself from society. Instead of working in his ivory tower he is a citizen of the slums, of the streets, of the battlefields if need be. The artist is becoming a participant. He tries to be true, not only to his craft but also to himself. What he says on the screen, he also says in the streets. For it is the supreme duty of the artist to investigate the truth no matter what forces attempt to hide it. And then to report this truth to the people, to confront them with it. Like a whiplash it will cause wounds but will free the mind from the various fantasies and escapist fares with which "the establishment" pollutes our minds.

To the best of our abilities, and even if we often times fail, we must produce films that will hurt, films that will disturb, films that will not let you rest. For the times are bad and, given times like these, it is a crime to rest. We cannot rest, and should not, while there is a Filipino starving in Negros, an Aquino crying for justice, a victim of police killing lying in a garbage heap. Although it is the duty of the artist to work for what is true, good and beautiful, first we must expose and fight what is wrong.

In these times, when the government-controlled media hide the truth, when most of what we get is silly gossip, pretty flesh and sensationalized crime, we must go to the streets to find out what is happening. We must listen to those who dare risk their lives and livelihoods, who reiterate once more the utmost duty of the artist, that he be a committed person, taking the side of any human being who is violated, abused, oppressed or dehumanized, and that he use whatever instrument is his--the pen, the brush or the camera.

I accept this award for all such artists, dedicated persons whose names may never be known or published, doing their share, whether inthe streets or in prison camps. Some of them may even have died, or at this very moment be fighting for their lives. This award then is for these artists.

They may gag and blindfold you, silence and imprison you, but they will never be able to destroy what made you an artist in the first place--your brave and continuing dedication to the human race.

Together with you I thank the Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation for telling us that we should continue our work.