this was something i wrote 2 years ago, after ending my term as Editor-In-Chief of the Xavier Alumni Times. It was written for private publication in the XAT but I never knew if it was ever published at all. So, for the benefit of the people I mentioned in this article...
The Paul Yan Chronicles
FROM EARL KLUGH TO DEPAPEPE IN 25 YEARS
Having had the opportunity to teach photography in Xavier last year, I was half-expecting that there would be as few musicians now as there were 25 years ago, but I was told that I was in for a surprise. In the span of one generation, the musical aptitude of Xavierians has grown exponentially.
I first learned to play the guitar in grade 6, during a 4-day bout with chicken pox. Needing to entertain myself, I picked up my brother's Cebu-made guitar along with a battered copy of Jingle magazine and proceeded to teach myself the three simplest chords: D, G, and A. Within the day, I already was playing my first three-chord song, which didn't sound anything close to how it was supposed to, but I was so blown away at what I had achieved. Incidentally, that song was “Let your love flow” by the Bellamy Brothers, which was a big hit in 1977 and was used as the music bed of the popular Levi's commercial.
Being the third guitar player in the batch as we were stepping into high school made me quite popular with everyone else who couldn't play, but wanted a musical experience nonetheless. In a short span of time, I learned to play the songs of James Taylor, Jim Croce, Florante, and the ever-popular Mike Hanopol and the Juan Dela Cruz band. This was the music of the late '70s, and I was playing them for my batchmates!
Within the school year, I witnessed a powerful instrumental performance by Neil Huab and Norman Sese, both from batch 82. They played a guitar duet arrangement of Earl Klugh's version of “Dance with me” and Antonio Carlos Jobim's “Wave”. Since it was my first time to watch a guitar performance, I was mesmerized at how they transformed the guitar from providing basic accompaniment to a completely melodic instrument. In an instant, my musical horizon shifted. Soon afterwards, I bought a cassette of “Finger Paintings” by Earl Klugh, and borrowed “The Composer of 'Desafinado', Plays” by Jobim.
I eagerly anticipated the annual songfest, not because I wanted to compete, but because I heard that Neil and Norman were both entered in the Guitar category, not as a team, but as individual competitors!
For me, this was wonderful opportunity to watch two of the best instrumental guitar players from my generation. Half-expecting a battle royale, I was caught by surprise when they both played the same piece, Burt Bacharach's “April Fools”, as arranged by Earl Klugh. Both performances were technically flawless. Both were tremendously expressive. How did the judges score it? Both were given identical first place awards!
I walked away from that songfest feeling as if I was part of their shared victory. But musicians, just like other artists, are like that. That was the last time I saw them play, as I moved to another school shortly thereafter. But their music had already made an indelible mark on me.
I carry a copy of Earl Klugh's version of April Fools with me to remind me of that moment.
Now, I recently had the opportunity of teaching in Xavier to mark the 25th anniversary of my batch. Half-expecting things to be similar to how it was when we were walking through those same corridors, I inquired about the guitar skills of Xavier students and was told that things have changed considerably since my batch graduated in 1983. Now, each class has more than enough musicians to put up their own band! “And did I tell you, 'cher, that we write our own songs now?” said Xavier Francis Su, a student from the first batch of The Paul Yan Experience photography course, and my main reference for this article. Incidentally, Xavier Su belongs to the graduating batch of 2010, and is the son of Fulton Su from the Dragons of batch '72.
After recovering my composure from the shock of Xavier's revelations, I asked what sort of music they listen to now. As it turns out, 1970's rock is still very much the “in” thing today. Perhaps because everyone else from their generation listens to “current” music, they prefer to listen to older music to set them apart. Incidentally, '70s rock is now called 'classic' rock. One of their so-called 'anthems' is “thunderstruck”, which I picked up from Avi Hemandas, also from the batch of 2010. I only got a perspective of how popular “thunderstruck” still is today when I heard it being played as Manny Pacquiao made his entrance during his fight with Hatton. But enough of classic rock.
“Is there anything current that is popular with Xavierians today?” I asked Xavier Su. He ponders for a moment and tells me about a Japanese instrumental guitar duo whose music is currently enjoying cult following in school.
“Have you heard about 'Depapepe'?” he asked.
“Depa what??” I answered, with images of anime and manga in my mind.
“Its a Japanese band, with just two guys, both playing acoustic guitar”. “Thats what my band plays right now. Music from Depapepe”. And he makes me listen to a tune. “Their band is named because one guy has an overbite”. I laugh, remembering how odd the reasons for a band's name actually are. “Red, simply Red!!” as it was shouted over the phone to the promoter on the other side of the country who inquired about the name of the band they were featuring. “Dr. Hook”, as a result of wearing an eye patch for an infection during their first few gigs. Or broadcasters asking which one from the band is “Hootie” from the Blowfish. Some of the bands I managed in my younger days also had names which came from left field, such as “Manang Damo”, “Mortal Yell”, “35-EC', “Praxis” and “Shanghaied”. Somehow I think that Depapepe probably has a private joke in there somewhere as well.
My next logical question was about this band he plays with. It turns out that they play mostly instrumentals, and mainly Depapepe music. His bandmates are from batch 2009, and they also currently have 2 understudies from batch 2011, in anticipation of graduation issues. “Would you like to meet them?' Xavier asks me. I agree and we look for them around the new high school building. We bump into 2 of them, Avery Wong & Ian Go, and they bring out their beautiful Lumanog guitars. They hit the opening chords of “Hi D” and instantly I was mesmerized all over again. Although Depapepe music is quite fast and complicated compared to the simple and slow melodic style of Earl Klugh, this was still guitar music and that thought alone brought back memories of the lecture hall from a quarter of a century ago. I offer to photograph them for their “album cover” and they both agree. I try to conjure up something in the scale of the visually iconic, and I pull it off. The images have preserved the moment of our first encounter. They walk away with smiles on their faces, not too sure about how the final image will turn out. I walk away knowing full well that I have bumped into another set of musical prodigies.
And while everything else may have changed in Xavier, the love for music, apparently, is still the same.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Pain of a Word Called Solitude (rated PG-18)
We are social creatures after all.
I am not an exception.
Through the years, I have learned to crawl into an emotional cubbyhole when everyone else has left.
I have learned to be in solitude, even when in the midst of a crowd.
Being in solitude meant that I could reserve my innermost feelings to be shared with the one person I cared to be with. To be open to only one person; and not to share that intensity with anyone else.
Occasionally it backfires.
Occasionally you realize there is no one else in the cubbyhole with you. And then you realize that the pain of solitude is unlike no other. And that there is no one else to share your pain with.
There is no positive note here.
All I know is that the light at the end of the tunnel just got a little closer.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
I am not an exception.
Through the years, I have learned to crawl into an emotional cubbyhole when everyone else has left.
I have learned to be in solitude, even when in the midst of a crowd.
Being in solitude meant that I could reserve my innermost feelings to be shared with the one person I cared to be with. To be open to only one person; and not to share that intensity with anyone else.
Occasionally it backfires.
Occasionally you realize there is no one else in the cubbyhole with you. And then you realize that the pain of solitude is unlike no other. And that there is no one else to share your pain with.
There is no positive note here.
All I know is that the light at the end of the tunnel just got a little closer.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
haven't written a ghost story in a while (work in progress, visible mode)
You are aware that I was born in New Manila, right? Yep, virtually one hundred meters away from the infamous Balete Drive.
The Prodigies I Have Come Across
Three people come to mind right away.
Matt Sia was never formally a student. But he sought me out after classes each week for an entire semester. Of the three, Matt for me was the most gifted, photographically.
When I first met him, he was a lanky teenager, kinda unsure of how to go about interacting with his peers. I notice that it is a common thing among young prodigies. But Matt had a handle. Everyone knew how good he was with photography. That somehow made interacting a little less difficult for him.
His first questions delved mostly on equipment choices; the kind that I get from people who had money to burn and needed advise about what equipment to display. But then I realized that Matt was sincerely asking about the best equipment and optics because he was already at the point where it would start to matter. I took pains to go through specific equipment test results with him, discussing areas of strengths and weaknesses, while addressing his point of view. We would spend an hour after class, over bites of chili footlong hotdogs, discussing equipment. I realize that beyond the equipment knowledge, I needed to give him a better motivation to shoot. Which I did. Aside from occasionally giving Matt access to better equipment, I also provided specific shoot opportunities to get him to hone his skills. Photography is a craft. And crafts needed to be practiced to keep the skills sharp.
I remember one such situation where I brought him with me on a fashion and headshots shoot. He actually came up with a better visualization than I did. Of course I should say I expected that, since I was building up a prodigy. Matt, I am talking about the shot in front of the semi-rusty green gate which I asked you to hold, in private, for half a year. if you still have it, please post it here.
Matt has the ability to make a livelihood from Photography. Parents would always prefer that their children should just continue running their family business. It will eventually be Matt's judgement call. My role in the equation was merely to provide the stabilizing element to calm down the emotions of prodigies. Matt calmed down enough to graduate from Xavier, and then move on to UST for college.
Timothy Ong came the year after.
Everybody also knew how gifted he was, photographically. Everybody called him TONG, attaching the T from his first name to his family name. Tong first blew me away when I had his class come up with a special concept christmas card for their plate. It was a collaborative effort with Alex Oh, who was also quite talented.
here is a sample Alex's Photo
Immediately I saw where Tong's skills lay. He had the ability to conceptualize visuals in much the same way we do it for advertising projects. Just to digress a bit... print advertising requires the marriage of the written word with strong visuals. Marriage, because the combination produces a communication material that should be much much stronger than the sum of the individual parts. I also took pains to bring him up to speed on photographic fundamentals as well as aesthetics, by offering both of them scholarships to several workshops I was doing at the Astoria Plaza. I also brought them along to a walking shoot of rustic Manila just to give them both a flavour of shooting real-world situations.
Tong is a typical teenager, but with goth streaks. A typical advertising guy will have goth streaks, but behaves like a teenager. So Tong seems like a natural. He will probably gravitate towards the noveau art scene soon.
Tong, if you still have the christmas card, please post it here.
Chris King came during my last semester. He was also the youngest, but most mature emotionally. He also was the only one among the three that did not own a decent camera. What he used in class was a beat-up Nokia N95.
As every "Paul Yan Experience" alumnus knows, the first plate is mandatory for everyone, and that is what you first ask for when you meet another alumnus. "How does your Coke plate look like?"
For the Xavier alumni, their coke plate will probably revolve around their computers, or their playthings; mostly photographed inside their rooms.
Chris's plate was photographed on top of a hill he just climbed, sky, grass, and the red can of coke. Uncluttered, open to so many interpretations, all positive and conquering. Lucky he had a Nokia N95, instead of my then uber-expensive Motorola Razor Executive series. The N95 focuses. The razor is focus-free. Now those two phrases will suddenly be a lot easier to understand.
Chris followed this up with his plate on lines, even capturing the motion trail of a moving vehicle. I asked "what camera this time?" and he answered, "the same N95..."
Chris, put up any photo of your choice.
Although I knew that he was already at that point where his skills can not go any further unless he moves on to a "real" camera, he takes his time and chooses to buy a mountain bike instead. I do not rush him. Talent takes time to mature. We have 1 hour conversations over the same foot-long chili hotdogs as Matt was now at University. We talk about life. And then out of the blue he says, "The Will of The Wind. Right?" referencing a blog post I did around that time. I look him strait in the eyes, and just nod. Silence.
Of the three, Chris is least likely to pursue a career in photography. For me, teaching Photography to Chris was to give him a steadying influence he will need to bank on, in a future world that he will find himself in.
I made sure Chris became a legend in front of his peers, by getting him to give my card to someone, in front of everyone. Chris will probably still hear the cheers and clapping everyone gave him. I also made sure Chris became a legend with the fellow non-Xavier PYE alumni when I elevated him to PYE Team status in Puerto Galera. What he does beyond that is totally up to him.
Matt Sia was never formally a student. But he sought me out after classes each week for an entire semester. Of the three, Matt for me was the most gifted, photographically.
When I first met him, he was a lanky teenager, kinda unsure of how to go about interacting with his peers. I notice that it is a common thing among young prodigies. But Matt had a handle. Everyone knew how good he was with photography. That somehow made interacting a little less difficult for him.
His first questions delved mostly on equipment choices; the kind that I get from people who had money to burn and needed advise about what equipment to display. But then I realized that Matt was sincerely asking about the best equipment and optics because he was already at the point where it would start to matter. I took pains to go through specific equipment test results with him, discussing areas of strengths and weaknesses, while addressing his point of view. We would spend an hour after class, over bites of chili footlong hotdogs, discussing equipment. I realize that beyond the equipment knowledge, I needed to give him a better motivation to shoot. Which I did. Aside from occasionally giving Matt access to better equipment, I also provided specific shoot opportunities to get him to hone his skills. Photography is a craft. And crafts needed to be practiced to keep the skills sharp.
I remember one such situation where I brought him with me on a fashion and headshots shoot. He actually came up with a better visualization than I did. Of course I should say I expected that, since I was building up a prodigy. Matt, I am talking about the shot in front of the semi-rusty green gate which I asked you to hold, in private, for half a year. if you still have it, please post it here.
Timothy Ong came the year after.
Everybody also knew how gifted he was, photographically. Everybody called him TONG, attaching the T from his first name to his family name. Tong first blew me away when I had his class come up with a special concept christmas card for their plate. It was a collaborative effort with Alex Oh, who was also quite talented.
here is a sample Alex's Photo
Immediately I saw where Tong's skills lay. He had the ability to conceptualize visuals in much the same way we do it for advertising projects. Just to digress a bit... print advertising requires the marriage of the written word with strong visuals. Marriage, because the combination produces a communication material that should be much much stronger than the sum of the individual parts. I also took pains to bring him up to speed on photographic fundamentals as well as aesthetics, by offering both of them scholarships to several workshops I was doing at the Astoria Plaza. I also brought them along to a walking shoot of rustic Manila just to give them both a flavour of shooting real-world situations.
Tong is a typical teenager, but with goth streaks. A typical advertising guy will have goth streaks, but behaves like a teenager. So Tong seems like a natural. He will probably gravitate towards the noveau art scene soon.
Chris King came during my last semester. He was also the youngest, but most mature emotionally. He also was the only one among the three that did not own a decent camera. What he used in class was a beat-up Nokia N95.
As every "Paul Yan Experience" alumnus knows, the first plate is mandatory for everyone, and that is what you first ask for when you meet another alumnus. "How does your Coke plate look like?"
For the Xavier alumni, their coke plate will probably revolve around their computers, or their playthings; mostly photographed inside their rooms.
Chris's plate was photographed on top of a hill he just climbed, sky, grass, and the red can of coke. Uncluttered, open to so many interpretations, all positive and conquering. Lucky he had a Nokia N95, instead of my then uber-expensive Motorola Razor Executive series. The N95 focuses. The razor is focus-free. Now those two phrases will suddenly be a lot easier to understand.
Chris followed this up with his plate on lines, even capturing the motion trail of a moving vehicle. I asked "what camera this time?" and he answered, "the same N95..."
Chris, put up any photo of your choice.
Of the three, Chris is least likely to pursue a career in photography. For me, teaching Photography to Chris was to give him a steadying influence he will need to bank on, in a future world that he will find himself in.
I made sure Chris became a legend in front of his peers, by getting him to give my card to someone, in front of everyone. Chris will probably still hear the cheers and clapping everyone gave him. I also made sure Chris became a legend with the fellow non-Xavier PYE alumni when I elevated him to PYE Team status in Puerto Galera. What he does beyond that is totally up to him.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The Child I Never Had
In the few conversations we have had about having a child, we felt that gender was of less importance to us, as we simply preferred a normal, healthy child.
If I had a choice, I would prefer a girl, over a boy. Young girls seem to be easier to control, at least superficially, than young boisterous boys. Emotionally, I know they will be opposite.
I would prefer my daughter to start fat. Cute fat, not obese fat. Probably until the age of 5 or 6. Early school age. She will probably have relatively long hair. At least shoulder-length, probably a touch longer than that. It will probably be curly, or at least have curls somewhere.
She will have large doe eyes. Expressive. Transparent windows to her soul. I do not know how she will have large eyes, considering I do not. She also does not. But large doe eyes will give her such a disarming look, from which no one is immune. From the direct-ascendant lolas who are all not around anymore,to the lateral lolas, and titas (aunties as we call them on our chinese side) and the adopted lolas and sisters, and best friends. Same thing with the non-existent lolos, to the lateral lolos and titos (uncles) and our other male friends. Once she flashes the doe eyes, she will get her toys, chocolates, osh koshes, little tykes and barbies.
upon reaching early school age, I will prefer that she picks up a sport. it doesn't matter which one exactly. so long as she enjoys it, and takes to it naturally. Sports has a way of steadying a person. It also provides early learning for handling failure, as well as reinforcing the corellation between success and hard work. And sports will help make her lose weight. Ok, make her lose the baby fat.
She will probably have above-average intelligence. At least I hope she does. Although genetics does not assure it, her gene pool will be just 2 or 3 points away from genius ranking.
I hope she does not become a wiseass. However, I have been made to understand that being a wiseass is a little more desirable than being a dumbshit. Eitherway, both will not sit well with me.
I hope she does not use her intellect to bully people. Or to put them down. Or to get ahead in line. She should use her intellect to help people build better lives. or at least discern about the quality of life she helps improve.
Here is the ticklish part. She will not hear anything from me about having to be first honor, all the time. I never was. She was. I will just want her to enjoy school, and the socialization it offers. She can save the studying for college, when I think it will start to matter. Hopefully, she takes post-graduate studies. I never did; She was summa cum laude status at her M.A. in Journalism. Academically, I have nothing to be proud of.
Here is another ticklish situation. How do I cope if she underachieves? Parents have that frustration. From the years that I have dealt with the children of prominent families, I have come to realize that their sons and daughters do not find their motivation from their parents anymore, but from role models they aspire to. Through me, and my role as a new force in their lives, I have helped mould children into something their parents will have assumed they should have developed into, on their own. I know that. I have seen that. I have done that, and it is well-documented. But how do I grapple with it as a parent; that my child will not see me as her source of motivation? If it happens, I hope she finds inspiration in another "teacher Paul". Hopefully, the new teacher paul will know how to rechannel it all.
I hope that she will have a heart as big as mine. she will probably not wish that. My heart has caused me both pleasure and pain. and not always in that order. I hope she takes her relationships as seriously as I did; regardless of whether it would end in pain or not. We, I, will be here, waiting to comfort her, each time it did. She will live, and love, and care, and dream, just like we did. Just like I did. Just like I do. Just like I am doing now.
But she is the child I never had.
My time has come and gone.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
(feedback welcome)
If I had a choice, I would prefer a girl, over a boy. Young girls seem to be easier to control, at least superficially, than young boisterous boys. Emotionally, I know they will be opposite.
I would prefer my daughter to start fat. Cute fat, not obese fat. Probably until the age of 5 or 6. Early school age. She will probably have relatively long hair. At least shoulder-length, probably a touch longer than that. It will probably be curly, or at least have curls somewhere.
She will have large doe eyes. Expressive. Transparent windows to her soul. I do not know how she will have large eyes, considering I do not. She also does not. But large doe eyes will give her such a disarming look, from which no one is immune. From the direct-ascendant lolas who are all not around anymore,to the lateral lolas, and titas (aunties as we call them on our chinese side) and the adopted lolas and sisters, and best friends. Same thing with the non-existent lolos, to the lateral lolos and titos (uncles) and our other male friends. Once she flashes the doe eyes, she will get her toys, chocolates, osh koshes, little tykes and barbies.
upon reaching early school age, I will prefer that she picks up a sport. it doesn't matter which one exactly. so long as she enjoys it, and takes to it naturally. Sports has a way of steadying a person. It also provides early learning for handling failure, as well as reinforcing the corellation between success and hard work. And sports will help make her lose weight. Ok, make her lose the baby fat.
She will probably have above-average intelligence. At least I hope she does. Although genetics does not assure it, her gene pool will be just 2 or 3 points away from genius ranking.
I hope she does not become a wiseass. However, I have been made to understand that being a wiseass is a little more desirable than being a dumbshit. Eitherway, both will not sit well with me.
I hope she does not use her intellect to bully people. Or to put them down. Or to get ahead in line. She should use her intellect to help people build better lives. or at least discern about the quality of life she helps improve.
Here is the ticklish part. She will not hear anything from me about having to be first honor, all the time. I never was. She was. I will just want her to enjoy school, and the socialization it offers. She can save the studying for college, when I think it will start to matter. Hopefully, she takes post-graduate studies. I never did; She was summa cum laude status at her M.A. in Journalism. Academically, I have nothing to be proud of.
Here is another ticklish situation. How do I cope if she underachieves? Parents have that frustration. From the years that I have dealt with the children of prominent families, I have come to realize that their sons and daughters do not find their motivation from their parents anymore, but from role models they aspire to. Through me, and my role as a new force in their lives, I have helped mould children into something their parents will have assumed they should have developed into, on their own. I know that. I have seen that. I have done that, and it is well-documented. But how do I grapple with it as a parent; that my child will not see me as her source of motivation? If it happens, I hope she finds inspiration in another "teacher Paul". Hopefully, the new teacher paul will know how to rechannel it all.
I hope that she will have a heart as big as mine. she will probably not wish that. My heart has caused me both pleasure and pain. and not always in that order. I hope she takes her relationships as seriously as I did; regardless of whether it would end in pain or not. We, I, will be here, waiting to comfort her, each time it did. She will live, and love, and care, and dream, just like we did. Just like I did. Just like I do. Just like I am doing now.
But she is the child I never had.
My time has come and gone.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
(feedback welcome)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
intermission number 5
As a professional photographer, I actually have had very few professional projects which specifically needed a Manila Bay sunset. The thing with it is that there is an island that lies smack in the middle of where the sun is supposed to set, at least for most parts of the year.
So, what do you do next? You partner with Prestige Cruises and arrange to have a yacht move you around the bay so you will eventually get a good vantage of the sunset! And while everyone is mesmerized by the sunset, I look out for special one-of-a-kind shots that no one else sees. Here is one such shot; photographed probably early 2010.
As usual, the photograph is displayed as photographed. No photoshop, no tweaks. Shown the way I saw the scene unfold.
If you like it, please post a comment. I am a sucker for feedback.
enjoy.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Chubby, remembered.
Chubby loved her treats. My wife and I used to kid around that Chubby would easily be the hands-down choice for endorser of Beggin Strips. All you had to do was to crush the foil packaging and she would run towards that sound, wherever she may be.
Once she had the treat, she would find a comfortable rug somewhere and then methodically start to work breaking up the beggin strip into smaller portions before starting to eat them.
A single strip will often take her about 90seconds, as she chews it quite thoroughly. the exceptions happen when she hasnt been given a treat in a week; as she will munch through the entire thing in 2 seconds.
On my wife's first trip to the U.S., Chubby, who knew her pack hierarchy very well, (#1 my wife; #2 chubby; #3 me) suddenly jumped on the bed. this was the first time ever that she did that; I took the picture to send to my wife. Either Chubby was conscious that she was temporarily in top position, or she just missed my wife very much that day.
I could not pull her down. I also was conscious about my pack position. if i pulled her down, she would surely lunge at me. and I make a huge, slow-moving target. hahaha. by the way, this was our new manila house. My wife had her own library and reading room, and I had my own darkroom and cigar area in the attic. occasionally i would have a four-legged visitor who would go up the flight of stairs to hide out with me there. unfortunately, going down the stairs was not her strong point, so she did not visit me that often.
this was at the foot of the stairs, which was chubby's daytime area whenever we weren't around.
chubby ate twice a day, and from the same bowl ever since we had her. her usual meal treats was either ground beef, or chicken. as you can see, she was having chicken that day, so it was a special day. we probably came from Savory the night before.
and this is how she looked halfway through her usual meal.
and this would be how she looked if you forgot to feed her. she would wait beside her bowl. too dignified to let you know.
chubby was also a cultured dog. she used her paws to handle her beggin strips whenever she can. and she chews discretely.
ok, not all the time.
while she would be eating, this is what i'd be eating. keep in mind i was alone for two months.
let me pause for now.
Chubby loved her herb garden. she has had several. way back in new manila, she loved munching on her ferns, but she had to reach across the koi pond, at the narrowest point. She occasionally would need roughage especially after a bout with indigestion. when we moved over to Wilson, I had to build a special herb garden for her, and my wife; not necessarily in that order. the most complicated one i did had basil, tarragon, rosemary, and dill. i planted those as a surprise to my wife when she studied at the French Culinary Institute in New York. I timed them to grow just as she was on her way back. Instead, I was surprised one morning when i saw chubby hovering at the herb garden. after her first taste of basil, she was hooked. hahaha. I think she decimated the herb garden in three days.
Since it took a while to set up a herb garden, if i didn't have one prepared when chubby gets a tummy ache, the fastest way to go is to pop in a handful of mung beans in water, overnight; then plant them the following morning. in two days, they grow to this size. the clay pig on the left was something we picked up in suan lum in thailand in 2005 i think. i handcarried it, not too sure if it would make the 4hour trip in one piece. it did. I originally intended it to be modified into a fountain tip for the koi pond, but never got around to buying the pumps.
occasionally, chubby would stand guard over her puny munggo herb garden, while looking at her kingdom from the balcony. The bamboo chimes were a gift, but i do not quite remember from whom exactly.
when she gets tired standing, she sits and watches the munggo grow. she is a very patient dog. patient, unless suddenly unterrupted by pack hierarchy animal number 3 (me). and she makes sure i notice that she was irritated by my distraction.
irritating chubby was something you wouldn't want to do. although she doesn't turn green, she somehow gets scary when you know she's got your number. she has actually been a very well tempered dog most of the time. with the operative word being "most". I, who takes the brunt of her intolerances, am occasionally fearful of her when she gets jealous of me. the few times she has snarled at me, it was mostly as a warning to back off; to give her space. I almost always did.
i remember when we moved to wilson. whenever she needed to use the toilet (she had her own, and I trained her to use it) which was in the other room and needed someone to wake up to open the door for her, she learned to growl in a very low register, and at a low volume so as it would not be enough to wake up my wife. if my wife woke, she would shout at chubby to stop it and just wait for morning. chubby knew who to wake up. hahaha. and she would "knock" on the door after finishing her business, so i would let her back in again. For some reason, if she woke me up, i knew she had to do her thing at that moment. shouting at her to stop it would only break her spirit. all it took for me was to wake up, open the door, and wait for her to come back.
id like to end this article with a black and white photograph of chubby, as she was staring out towards north east. i think this was taken a few months before she died. she would often look out towards that direction, perhaps conscious that both my wife and i would be in that direction. in her last two months, she often stared in that direction, waiting for her master to come home. you can sense her loneliness, perhaps even desolation, as she probably knew her time was coming up. perhaps she was waiting for her master to come home and be with her for the last time. Louie Aseoche, i vividly remember you telling me that Chubby lunging at my pulse when I assisted the doctors in putting chubby in the cage was "her way of telling me she did not want to die away from you, but perhaps in your arms". I must have really really irritated her sending her off to the hospital. I sent her off because I was hoping that her sickness/lack of appetite could be cured by the best doctors money can buy. She did not want to be sent off because she knew she only had 24 hours left to live; and she wanted the last 24 hours to be spent with someone who had needed to love her. I realized that because of what you said, Louie. I will always wear the watch i wore that day, when she bit me at my right pulse. it will always remind me that things are not always what they seem to be.
i badly miss you, baby.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Casablanca, revisited
CASABLANCA, Revisited
They first met at MAXIM’S in Paris. She, a beautiful cover for the man she was with; working for the overthrow of the status quo. He, a man with a history that needed to be shaken off; working discretely with a man named Sam.
Often inebriated, he had promised to drown his sorrows in a land far far away, known only to the people who walk the dust-strewn paths in order to avoid the crowd. Sam, his foil, was the only one who knew his pain, swearing to never ever play the song which caused all the trouble in the first place.
From afar, she was visible in the crowd. As if a spotlight was aimed at her table, in an already bright room. His eyes strayed towards the bright. And then, in an instant, he knew that he had been found. She, with her bright glowing eye makeup which made you move your gaze toward her captivating eyes, was like a magnet; drawing his stare. He, never intending to be drawn again, was. And he blamed the eye make-up. And she swears she never had any on that day. Regardless, the situation was cast.
They only had 7 days before all hell would break loose. She had everything with her, and she had to get out in the next seven days. He intended to stay put; not intending to see the end of the year. They spend the first night together. She, inebriated but capable, pretending to be worse than she was. He, not too sober, but pretending to be. They spend the night, together, drinking Cardamon infused Turkish tea. Each one not too sure about each other. The sunrise was too far away. She only asked for one thing, that they both live in the moment. Nothing more. Sam was on vacation that day, and would make an appearance four days later.
He needed to check their way out of Cassablanca and a newly fitted vessel capable of holding up to a hundred passengers was the chosen ride. She needed to spend time away from her situation, not quite knowing what tomorrow would bring. She decides to spend time with her situation, regardless. Her time was moving fast. 5 days away.
She needed her two exit passes from him, not really telling him about who she intended to bring for the second pass. With each day, her decision would start to blur. He did not tell her that he had already decided to give her the two passes, intending to give her her second chance at happiness. He would stay behind and grapple with the german situation, but happy in the thought that she would be happy with the person she was with. They share a drink. Peach Schnappes. Sam walks by, not knowing she was there. She catches up to him and asks, “PLAY IT, SAM”. He hesitates, wide eyed, knowing how much pain that song meant to his boss. “PLAY THE GO**AMN SONG, SAM!” he shouts. Play it just once. It brings tears to their eyes. They spend the night together again, both asleep, holding hands. By now, they have spent four of the last five nights together, leaving only the last night left. He has the exit passes kept somewhere secure. She has no idea what she has to do to get them. She, who had asked that they live in the moment, was now not too sure about the moment. He, the hopeless romantic that never wanted the moment, was now sure about the moment. He was also sure that he would regret just being in the moment, but knew that going beyond that was way beyond what she had planned. He wanted, but knew she didn’t. She didn’t, but now wasn’t too sure. Especially after hearing Sam again, after all those years.
Her company arrives, chased by the german hounds. He provides a hidden passage where they make haste towards the last chance of safe departure. She promises to be with him, making up for lost time. He knows that the cause would be lost if she and her company would part ways because of him. The cause is too big to be overshadowed by petty relationships, he thinks; as he shoves the last two exit passes into her hands. “you know I love you, rick” she says, fully meaning all five syllables of it. He whispers “he needs you” as they move into their last rushed hug. The german comes in, threatening to arrest them all for treason. He pulls out a small revolver from his coat pocket and makes sure that never happens. He whispers one last time; “we’ll always have Paris.” and turns his back on them, as they board.
He never intended to see the end of the year. And now he wasn’t too sure anymore.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
Ps2, ana, I don’t know if it measures up to “death by heatstroke” ha…. I hope it did.
ps3, jerry, thank you for making this story possible.
They first met at MAXIM’S in Paris. She, a beautiful cover for the man she was with; working for the overthrow of the status quo. He, a man with a history that needed to be shaken off; working discretely with a man named Sam.
Often inebriated, he had promised to drown his sorrows in a land far far away, known only to the people who walk the dust-strewn paths in order to avoid the crowd. Sam, his foil, was the only one who knew his pain, swearing to never ever play the song which caused all the trouble in the first place.
From afar, she was visible in the crowd. As if a spotlight was aimed at her table, in an already bright room. His eyes strayed towards the bright. And then, in an instant, he knew that he had been found. She, with her bright glowing eye makeup which made you move your gaze toward her captivating eyes, was like a magnet; drawing his stare. He, never intending to be drawn again, was. And he blamed the eye make-up. And she swears she never had any on that day. Regardless, the situation was cast.
They only had 7 days before all hell would break loose. She had everything with her, and she had to get out in the next seven days. He intended to stay put; not intending to see the end of the year. They spend the first night together. She, inebriated but capable, pretending to be worse than she was. He, not too sober, but pretending to be. They spend the night, together, drinking Cardamon infused Turkish tea. Each one not too sure about each other. The sunrise was too far away. She only asked for one thing, that they both live in the moment. Nothing more. Sam was on vacation that day, and would make an appearance four days later.
He needed to check their way out of Cassablanca and a newly fitted vessel capable of holding up to a hundred passengers was the chosen ride. She needed to spend time away from her situation, not quite knowing what tomorrow would bring. She decides to spend time with her situation, regardless. Her time was moving fast. 5 days away.
She needed her two exit passes from him, not really telling him about who she intended to bring for the second pass. With each day, her decision would start to blur. He did not tell her that he had already decided to give her the two passes, intending to give her her second chance at happiness. He would stay behind and grapple with the german situation, but happy in the thought that she would be happy with the person she was with. They share a drink. Peach Schnappes. Sam walks by, not knowing she was there. She catches up to him and asks, “PLAY IT, SAM”. He hesitates, wide eyed, knowing how much pain that song meant to his boss. “PLAY THE GO**AMN SONG, SAM!” he shouts. Play it just once. It brings tears to their eyes. They spend the night together again, both asleep, holding hands. By now, they have spent four of the last five nights together, leaving only the last night left. He has the exit passes kept somewhere secure. She has no idea what she has to do to get them. She, who had asked that they live in the moment, was now not too sure about the moment. He, the hopeless romantic that never wanted the moment, was now sure about the moment. He was also sure that he would regret just being in the moment, but knew that going beyond that was way beyond what she had planned. He wanted, but knew she didn’t. She didn’t, but now wasn’t too sure. Especially after hearing Sam again, after all those years.
Her company arrives, chased by the german hounds. He provides a hidden passage where they make haste towards the last chance of safe departure. She promises to be with him, making up for lost time. He knows that the cause would be lost if she and her company would part ways because of him. The cause is too big to be overshadowed by petty relationships, he thinks; as he shoves the last two exit passes into her hands. “you know I love you, rick” she says, fully meaning all five syllables of it. He whispers “he needs you” as they move into their last rushed hug. The german comes in, threatening to arrest them all for treason. He pulls out a small revolver from his coat pocket and makes sure that never happens. He whispers one last time; “we’ll always have Paris.” and turns his back on them, as they board.
He never intended to see the end of the year. And now he wasn’t too sure anymore.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
Ps2, ana, I don’t know if it measures up to “death by heatstroke” ha…. I hope it did.
ps3, jerry, thank you for making this story possible.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Stranded in Galera. Lovin' Every Minute!
Having been hit by a freak storm which nobody knew about (not even the bright boys of pagasa it seems) just as we were getting ready to come back home to Manila was certainly like a monkey wrench thrown into everyone's well-oiled Obsessive-Compulsive dictated schedule.
Each one having at least one meeting or situation scheduled on the day after coming back from Galera, we all were kinda jittery about not being able to make it to Manila on the original schedule. However, having also seen the road conditions (what road? oh, the cemented portion over the 50-foot hole after the two landslide areas?")the day before, everyone thought that the road trip towards the ro-ro port was more dangerous especially right after a direct hit by a storm. So we all counted the loose change we had left in our pockets, and dug in deep for an extra night. And what a night it was.
Galera, which is how people fondly refer to Puerto Galera, is populated by resort owners who seem to understand the plight of the stranded traveller. Something Galera has been known to do for the past 200 maybe 300 years, especially to boats and ships caught offguard by the occasional freak storm. They were very accomodating to guests who had to extend an extra night and even offered special discounts as if they wanted to let each one know that they were comiserating in their plight. Here is a short list of things, in no particular order, that a lonely stranded traveller may find entertaining or helpful, depending on their state of mind.
worst 3 things to run out of?
1) money
2) toothpaste
3) underwear
4) lighter / smokes
5) bottlecap opener
6) balut
worst 3 things to have in excess?
1) warm beer
2) fat-rich food
3) holes in the roof
4) sexy ladies you cannot / should not make friends with
5) cougars who want to make friends with you
3 highly recommended activities during a Galera storm
1) photograph the waves with a non-waterproof camera while holding an umbrella
2) challenge a German or Russian to a beer or a vodka session
3) challenge a Candelarian to a three-hour game of Dama
4) engage in a serious binge drinking wine sniffing session at the Aninuan Sunset resort
5) bet on the ultimate billiards game between contenders Uly & Jeff
6) binge on Seafood Pizza, pancit canton, and margaritas
worst place to give your camera a dunking
1) Tamaraw falls
2) the rocks between white beach and aninuan
3) the pool at aninuan. bad for cellphones also.
best place to dive after dunking your camera
1) Tamaraw falls. you get a sympathy hug from the models while everyone records the moment.
best things on the menu in Tamaraw restaurant
1) Tamaraw rice.
2) Poached eggs.
3) Chicken curry.
in Aninuan restaurant
1) Tinolang Manok
2) Crepes and Ice Cream
3) 2003 Listel Merlot
most appreciated non-photographic device
1) music player
2) roxy & Jeff's portable wifi broadband
3) Camara Estates cigars & Marlboro black menthols
4) hot-water showers
(to be continued from lucban, quezon)
Each one having at least one meeting or situation scheduled on the day after coming back from Galera, we all were kinda jittery about not being able to make it to Manila on the original schedule. However, having also seen the road conditions (what road? oh, the cemented portion over the 50-foot hole after the two landslide areas?")the day before, everyone thought that the road trip towards the ro-ro port was more dangerous especially right after a direct hit by a storm. So we all counted the loose change we had left in our pockets, and dug in deep for an extra night. And what a night it was.
Galera, which is how people fondly refer to Puerto Galera, is populated by resort owners who seem to understand the plight of the stranded traveller. Something Galera has been known to do for the past 200 maybe 300 years, especially to boats and ships caught offguard by the occasional freak storm. They were very accomodating to guests who had to extend an extra night and even offered special discounts as if they wanted to let each one know that they were comiserating in their plight. Here is a short list of things, in no particular order, that a lonely stranded traveller may find entertaining or helpful, depending on their state of mind.
worst 3 things to run out of?
1) money
2) toothpaste
3) underwear
4) lighter / smokes
5) bottlecap opener
6) balut
worst 3 things to have in excess?
1) warm beer
2) fat-rich food
3) holes in the roof
4) sexy ladies you cannot / should not make friends with
5) cougars who want to make friends with you
3 highly recommended activities during a Galera storm
1) photograph the waves with a non-waterproof camera while holding an umbrella
2) challenge a German or Russian to a beer or a vodka session
3) challenge a Candelarian to a three-hour game of Dama
4) engage in a serious binge drinking wine sniffing session at the Aninuan Sunset resort
5) bet on the ultimate billiards game between contenders Uly & Jeff
6) binge on Seafood Pizza, pancit canton, and margaritas
worst place to give your camera a dunking
1) Tamaraw falls
2) the rocks between white beach and aninuan
3) the pool at aninuan. bad for cellphones also.
best place to dive after dunking your camera
1) Tamaraw falls. you get a sympathy hug from the models while everyone records the moment.
best things on the menu in Tamaraw restaurant
1) Tamaraw rice.
2) Poached eggs.
3) Chicken curry.
in Aninuan restaurant
1) Tinolang Manok
2) Crepes and Ice Cream
3) 2003 Listel Merlot
most appreciated non-photographic device
1) music player
2) roxy & Jeff's portable wifi broadband
3) Camara Estates cigars & Marlboro black menthols
4) hot-water showers
(to be continued from lucban, quezon)
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Galera Project, update
it is less than 48 hours away.
Three months ago, it was just a plan. a fallback from the Thailand workshop that went bust when nobody took care of it. Today the Galera Project is virtually all set, with all the loose ends taken cared of late this afternoon.
expect the smoothest ride from Greenhills to Batangas City thanks to Jeffrey Yan, who took care of the chartered vans, with brand new vehicles. try to pack light on your diving equipment, so you'll have room leftover for your brand new 70-200 f2.8 lens. Yes, Ian Sayson, it will really be a perfect match for the shoot. John Garcia will also be breaking in his new 85mm f1.8, while Sandy Villagracia will put her new flash unit and gary fong diffuser through its paces. Close friend Aris & Cedric Dungo, also both diving enthusiasts, will be joining the location workshops for the first time. They have been private students since 2007. I hope Aris brings along a good cigar, as my Camara Estates brand might not be ready by tomorrow. The cigar labels have encountered a courier problem which i hope will be resolved by tomorrow morning. TJ Tan, fresh from another international trip, will also be joining the location workshops for the first time. He is from the Astoria Plaza Sessions, organized through the efforts of Ulysses Chua, who has handled all our booking requirements. Up until a few days ago, Roxanne San Agustin was very seriously eyeing the Olympus Pen as a lighter alternative to her backpack-full equipment. I told her if she gets the olympus, her back problems will virtually be gone in an instant. Potpot Pinili will have his sights on the glamour landscapes, while Maja Riveral will have his hands full digesting his first one-on-one location tutorial with me. My student from Xavier, Chris King, will also be joining, along with his dad. Chris is one of the 3 people from xavier who i actually feel are exceptionally talented when it comes to photography. Chris will also be assisting me on the shoot, so he has clearance to come within 1 meter of our models. That is non-transferable, gentlemen.
See you in 40 hours.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for the paul yan chronicles
ps1 my team will have a total of 7 members, including 3 models, a technical assist, and an art director.
ps2 breakfast will not be served. if you wake up early, go and get some for everyone. :)
Three months ago, it was just a plan. a fallback from the Thailand workshop that went bust when nobody took care of it. Today the Galera Project is virtually all set, with all the loose ends taken cared of late this afternoon.
expect the smoothest ride from Greenhills to Batangas City thanks to Jeffrey Yan, who took care of the chartered vans, with brand new vehicles. try to pack light on your diving equipment, so you'll have room leftover for your brand new 70-200 f2.8 lens. Yes, Ian Sayson, it will really be a perfect match for the shoot. John Garcia will also be breaking in his new 85mm f1.8, while Sandy Villagracia will put her new flash unit and gary fong diffuser through its paces. Close friend Aris & Cedric Dungo, also both diving enthusiasts, will be joining the location workshops for the first time. They have been private students since 2007. I hope Aris brings along a good cigar, as my Camara Estates brand might not be ready by tomorrow. The cigar labels have encountered a courier problem which i hope will be resolved by tomorrow morning. TJ Tan, fresh from another international trip, will also be joining the location workshops for the first time. He is from the Astoria Plaza Sessions, organized through the efforts of Ulysses Chua, who has handled all our booking requirements. Up until a few days ago, Roxanne San Agustin was very seriously eyeing the Olympus Pen as a lighter alternative to her backpack-full equipment. I told her if she gets the olympus, her back problems will virtually be gone in an instant. Potpot Pinili will have his sights on the glamour landscapes, while Maja Riveral will have his hands full digesting his first one-on-one location tutorial with me. My student from Xavier, Chris King, will also be joining, along with his dad. Chris is one of the 3 people from xavier who i actually feel are exceptionally talented when it comes to photography. Chris will also be assisting me on the shoot, so he has clearance to come within 1 meter of our models. That is non-transferable, gentlemen.
See you in 40 hours.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for the paul yan chronicles
ps1 my team will have a total of 7 members, including 3 models, a technical assist, and an art director.
ps2 breakfast will not be served. if you wake up early, go and get some for everyone. :)
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Aninuan Sunsets
Aninuan Sunset Beach Resort
It is easy to end up being Jaded about Puerto Galera; especially after what Ron and I went through during our formal ocular inspection yesterday. It really was an adventure based on a series of unfortunate events which we never had any control over. But in our quest to find exotic destinations within popular locations for our workshops, we occasionally end up “in a pickle” most especially during the first visit. Yesterday was one such occasion. But that is neither here nor there.
Aninuan sits on a more secluded section of the shoreline 270 degrees and about 700 meters away from white beach. Officially, the beach where Aninuan is located is called tamaraw beach.
The secret to Aninuan’s seclusion is actually a 200-meter section of boulders separating white beach from tamaraw beach, which to a Manilenyo like myself, is virtually an unpassable fortress. To locals, it is a mere 5 minute bunny hop. It took the better part of 20 minutes for me to negotiate the rocky outcrop, even having to figuratively crawl over certain sections just so I don’t run the risk of slipping; which to weak-kneed people is a very realistic possibility.
Aninuan is run hands-on by Lexi, a very pleasant and intelligent woman with a very good feel for marketing. She had really intended her resort to stand out without being loud about it, which is how Europeans and I like it. Think The Tides Hotel in Boracay, or Badian Island off Cebu.
Aninuan has just completed its new wing, which includes rooms having both sunrise and sunset views; a baby infinity pool; and a wet bar area. The wet bar alone is reason enough for us to hold the workshop there! Hahaha. The rooms are fairly large and equipped much like Tides and Badian; meaning it has a 32inch LCD tv, a split type aircon, a hammock on the porch facing the sea, and European standard bathroom fixtures with glass enclosures. Each room also has its own 48x48 inch artwork. And by special arrangement with Lexi, some of those rooms will be made available to us. Buena Mano daw ang pinoy. Iba talaga ang Paul Yan Experience workshops. Word has gotten around.
In terms of shooting possibilities, the Galera Project will have two. The first venue being the small infinity pool with the sisters in swimsuits, and the second most probably a scenic shoot over at tamaraw falls. There is a third possibility. Lexi faintly mentioned that there was a small waterfall somewhere, and reachable by a 45-minute hike from the resort. Judging by the fact that she said locals only take 5 minutes to negotiate the rocky outcrop that took me close to twenty minutes, her 45-minute estimate might be closer to the distance between hyperventilation and a heart attack for people like me. I guess I’ll just wait for you at the wet bar, with a mojito and a cohiba. Lexi, pass me another pizza margherita please...
Remember, it is May 06-08.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
It is easy to end up being Jaded about Puerto Galera; especially after what Ron and I went through during our formal ocular inspection yesterday. It really was an adventure based on a series of unfortunate events which we never had any control over. But in our quest to find exotic destinations within popular locations for our workshops, we occasionally end up “in a pickle” most especially during the first visit. Yesterday was one such occasion. But that is neither here nor there.
Aninuan sits on a more secluded section of the shoreline 270 degrees and about 700 meters away from white beach. Officially, the beach where Aninuan is located is called tamaraw beach.
The secret to Aninuan’s seclusion is actually a 200-meter section of boulders separating white beach from tamaraw beach, which to a Manilenyo like myself, is virtually an unpassable fortress. To locals, it is a mere 5 minute bunny hop. It took the better part of 20 minutes for me to negotiate the rocky outcrop, even having to figuratively crawl over certain sections just so I don’t run the risk of slipping; which to weak-kneed people is a very realistic possibility.
Aninuan is run hands-on by Lexi, a very pleasant and intelligent woman with a very good feel for marketing. She had really intended her resort to stand out without being loud about it, which is how Europeans and I like it. Think The Tides Hotel in Boracay, or Badian Island off Cebu.
Aninuan has just completed its new wing, which includes rooms having both sunrise and sunset views; a baby infinity pool; and a wet bar area. The wet bar alone is reason enough for us to hold the workshop there! Hahaha. The rooms are fairly large and equipped much like Tides and Badian; meaning it has a 32inch LCD tv, a split type aircon, a hammock on the porch facing the sea, and European standard bathroom fixtures with glass enclosures. Each room also has its own 48x48 inch artwork. And by special arrangement with Lexi, some of those rooms will be made available to us. Buena Mano daw ang pinoy. Iba talaga ang Paul Yan Experience workshops. Word has gotten around.
In terms of shooting possibilities, the Galera Project will have two. The first venue being the small infinity pool with the sisters in swimsuits, and the second most probably a scenic shoot over at tamaraw falls. There is a third possibility. Lexi faintly mentioned that there was a small waterfall somewhere, and reachable by a 45-minute hike from the resort. Judging by the fact that she said locals only take 5 minutes to negotiate the rocky outcrop that took me close to twenty minutes, her 45-minute estimate might be closer to the distance between hyperventilation and a heart attack for people like me. I guess I’ll just wait for you at the wet bar, with a mojito and a cohiba. Lexi, pass me another pizza margherita please...
Remember, it is May 06-08.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Eugenio Jose
The process of simplification
The digital camera, the digital negative, and the digital print.
If you take away the repetitive word 'digital', you would be left with the title of what is undoubtedly the most popular handbook for serious photographers over the past 4 decades. This handbook is actually a compendium of 3 books of inter-related topics, but treated as 3 separate processes with the core idea that photography requires emphasis on all three, not just the camera. Taking away the word digital from the equation leaves you with an artist named Ansel Adams.
Ever since first becoming serious about photography in the early 70's, Eugenio Jose has understood that it was a craft, and that like all other crafts, it needed to be worked on, studied further, and then constantly practiced. He has, to his credit, perfected his own shooting, developing, and printing workflow by learning from those who developed the process, or from those who have studied and mastered it.
With the advent of digital technology, it was my own personal fear that traditional specialists & masters like Mr. Jose would be overwhelmed by it and just stick to the confines of their analog world, while we, the young upstarts, would embrace the digital camera like it was our twin brother. Instead, he has done us one better. Although it took him a while, he has now embraced the full spectrum of digital photographic technology; the digital camera & optics, digital post production & manipulation, and the digital print. His initial intention was merely exploratory; to see what it can do, versus what he used to do. But over the course of several years, he has come to the conclusion that technology can now overcome the previous limitations of analog. Images whose details were impossible to reproduce on print three decades ago can now be printed successfully using processes and technologies invented in this decade.
His monochrome images have always been known for having full tonal values and intensely rich detail. He remains true to form. Actually, his monochromes seem to have even more tonal values now, and the details are even richer. It is in his monochromes that you see his technical proficiency.
It is in his colored images where he allows himself more artistic interpretation.
The works he exhibits now escape any single definition or genre. In fact, it does not even capture a single time frame from his broad creative realm. What he exhibits now are smatterings of images that are personal favorites; preferring instead to share the personal on a scale he has not done before.
He is not an advocate of large prints, believing that “a good photograph, no matter how small, will still look good; while a bad photograph, when printed at huge magnifications, will only intensify its' mediocrity.” Quality does not improve with size.
If we go back to the title and take away 'digital', you will have Ansel Adams and the basics of the zone system. Put 'digital' back into the equation, and you now have Mr. Eugenio Jose, in his 21st century incarnation. Uncluttered, Interpretative, and In Full Living Color.
To master the craft, you also have to master the process. Which is exactly what Mr. Jose did, again.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
A selection of Mr. Jose's works are currently on public exhibit at the gallery of the Camera Club of the Philippines, Waltermart Makati.
The digital camera, the digital negative, and the digital print.
If you take away the repetitive word 'digital', you would be left with the title of what is undoubtedly the most popular handbook for serious photographers over the past 4 decades. This handbook is actually a compendium of 3 books of inter-related topics, but treated as 3 separate processes with the core idea that photography requires emphasis on all three, not just the camera. Taking away the word digital from the equation leaves you with an artist named Ansel Adams.
Ever since first becoming serious about photography in the early 70's, Eugenio Jose has understood that it was a craft, and that like all other crafts, it needed to be worked on, studied further, and then constantly practiced. He has, to his credit, perfected his own shooting, developing, and printing workflow by learning from those who developed the process, or from those who have studied and mastered it.
With the advent of digital technology, it was my own personal fear that traditional specialists & masters like Mr. Jose would be overwhelmed by it and just stick to the confines of their analog world, while we, the young upstarts, would embrace the digital camera like it was our twin brother. Instead, he has done us one better. Although it took him a while, he has now embraced the full spectrum of digital photographic technology; the digital camera & optics, digital post production & manipulation, and the digital print. His initial intention was merely exploratory; to see what it can do, versus what he used to do. But over the course of several years, he has come to the conclusion that technology can now overcome the previous limitations of analog. Images whose details were impossible to reproduce on print three decades ago can now be printed successfully using processes and technologies invented in this decade.
His monochrome images have always been known for having full tonal values and intensely rich detail. He remains true to form. Actually, his monochromes seem to have even more tonal values now, and the details are even richer. It is in his monochromes that you see his technical proficiency.
It is in his colored images where he allows himself more artistic interpretation.
The works he exhibits now escape any single definition or genre. In fact, it does not even capture a single time frame from his broad creative realm. What he exhibits now are smatterings of images that are personal favorites; preferring instead to share the personal on a scale he has not done before.
He is not an advocate of large prints, believing that “a good photograph, no matter how small, will still look good; while a bad photograph, when printed at huge magnifications, will only intensify its' mediocrity.” Quality does not improve with size.
If we go back to the title and take away 'digital', you will have Ansel Adams and the basics of the zone system. Put 'digital' back into the equation, and you now have Mr. Eugenio Jose, in his 21st century incarnation. Uncluttered, Interpretative, and In Full Living Color.
To master the craft, you also have to master the process. Which is exactly what Mr. Jose did, again.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
A selection of Mr. Jose's works are currently on public exhibit at the gallery of the Camera Club of the Philippines, Waltermart Makati.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
MiniCooper
MiniCooper
Saturdays have been my social interaction day for about 2 years running. I have met a lot of people, of all shades, sizes, and eccentricities. About seven months ago MiniCooper walked in. He was a calm and composed young man; thin by my standards (I was massively thin that time, minus at least 20 pounds from my usual). He introduced himself as a single father of four, and a builder by education. He was calm and at peace, at least at that point. By the following week, things had changed massively, as he became a bundle of nerves, unsure of what would come next. Seven days after our introduction, his four children were forcibly taken, by the other single parent, with the aid of firearms, with the intention of spiriting them out of the country. This is his story.
His romance started in school, just like most of us. Not needing to go into detail, he tells me that his girlfriend became pregnant just as he was about to graduate, and then they decided to marry. I interpret this decision to marry as coming after the fact, which is what most guys his age would do. I do not know if this interpretation would hold true for girls, who I also understand may intend to get pregnant so that marriage becomes an inevitable option; an option that will be reached regardless of discussion with the boyfriend, with the in-laws, with the parents. Getting pregnant is the first step to a way out of whatever situation they could not resolve. Regardless, they both intend to get married before the baby comes into this world.
MiniCooper knows his family will support his decision. He is unaware though that it will break his father’s heart. They fly to the girl’s family to settle in while he reviews for his board exam. In a week, his father is dead; broken by the suddenness of it all. Everyone attempts to move on.
He takes a teaching job. The baby arrives. He passes the board. The wife decides to take further education, intending to work outside the country. Baby number two comes. They move on.
In another two years, he had established himself in his chosen field, which was outside of what he was educated for. He had chosen to specialize in 3D rendering, instead of building, and had started to make a name for himself outside the country. Around that time, he moves back to Manila to take care of business, then flies to his family at least once every thirty days. He had found his road, and he was content. The wife had finished her further education and also wanted to find her road. For her, her road lay twelve time zones away. Or at least one time zone further from where she was at that point. Of course having a husband who had found his road in a place you didn’t think yours would be would be a source of conflict. But there was hardly any conflict, as she probably knew that outright resistance was futile. Baby number three comes.
He decides to bring his family to Manila. She learns all that she can about how to go seek her place in the sun. She applies for whatever needed to be applied for. Baby number four comes. Six weeks after, she gets approval from the host country and leaves immediately. This is the first time she is enthusiastic about anything. MiniCooper is left in Manila with four children, the youngest, six weeks old. He isn’t burdened at all; he has virtually taken care of all the children since day one, and this was a continuance of it all. He is bothered at the insistence of his wife to leave for work, especially since they already have a growing family. I think she feels that the Philippines was not where her future lay anymore. I think she had come to that realization a long time ago, but that she was overtaken by events. I think that when she got pregnant, she was not yet ready to settle down and become a mother. Life moves on.
In a year, the children had grown by a year. MiniCooper had taken care of them virtually singlehandedly (thank the Filipino extended family as well as the affordable labor force) and life was moving at a seemingly normal pace. She had also adjusted to her new environment well. The first of several returns was eagerly awaited by everyone.
Physical separation has its own share of problems that can only be understood by people who have had reasons to be physically separated. They were like everyone else in this regard as well. They grew apart, but in a way that was not pleasant to either one. MiniCooper opted for a separation, intending to raise the children on his own, as he had done so, virtually from the day they were born.
Physical separation also has its own share of peculiarities, some of which create urges only understood by people who have had reasons to be physically separated. A woman not yet prepared to settle down and be a mother in spite of the fact of four children may suddenly start to have her motherly instincts kick in. Perhaps realizing that her actions may have imperiled her access to the children, she acts in a way that only mothers who have had to recover their children may understand. She prepares the legal documentation in the fastest way she can, and at the most discrete manner so nobody would even notice something was already being done. All that remained was for her to get the children, which she did on the dawn of the second Saturday after I was introduced to MiniCooper. For the record, the firearms were used to dissuade any possible opposition from the people taking care of the children, but were never intended to cause any harm to anyone. Before the sun rose, MiniCooper was a single parent to children on their way to a land twelve timezones away from him, and without any means of contact.
By noon, during our second meeting, I had found out some bits and pieces of what happened. All I knew was that there was urgency to the situation, with a window of just a few hours more. Although I had the capacity to help immediately, with help that was appropriate to the situation, I decided to give the benefit of the doubt to the other person.
Apparently, by her actions, she is finally prepared to become a mother. I hope time proves her right.
Two weeks ago, I read something on a shirt worn by Manilyn and I think the words are appropriate here. “In the end, everything will be ok. If it’s not ok, then it’s not yet the end.”
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
April 6, 2011 7:49am
Saturdays have been my social interaction day for about 2 years running. I have met a lot of people, of all shades, sizes, and eccentricities. About seven months ago MiniCooper walked in. He was a calm and composed young man; thin by my standards (I was massively thin that time, minus at least 20 pounds from my usual). He introduced himself as a single father of four, and a builder by education. He was calm and at peace, at least at that point. By the following week, things had changed massively, as he became a bundle of nerves, unsure of what would come next. Seven days after our introduction, his four children were forcibly taken, by the other single parent, with the aid of firearms, with the intention of spiriting them out of the country. This is his story.
His romance started in school, just like most of us. Not needing to go into detail, he tells me that his girlfriend became pregnant just as he was about to graduate, and then they decided to marry. I interpret this decision to marry as coming after the fact, which is what most guys his age would do. I do not know if this interpretation would hold true for girls, who I also understand may intend to get pregnant so that marriage becomes an inevitable option; an option that will be reached regardless of discussion with the boyfriend, with the in-laws, with the parents. Getting pregnant is the first step to a way out of whatever situation they could not resolve. Regardless, they both intend to get married before the baby comes into this world.
MiniCooper knows his family will support his decision. He is unaware though that it will break his father’s heart. They fly to the girl’s family to settle in while he reviews for his board exam. In a week, his father is dead; broken by the suddenness of it all. Everyone attempts to move on.
He takes a teaching job. The baby arrives. He passes the board. The wife decides to take further education, intending to work outside the country. Baby number two comes. They move on.
In another two years, he had established himself in his chosen field, which was outside of what he was educated for. He had chosen to specialize in 3D rendering, instead of building, and had started to make a name for himself outside the country. Around that time, he moves back to Manila to take care of business, then flies to his family at least once every thirty days. He had found his road, and he was content. The wife had finished her further education and also wanted to find her road. For her, her road lay twelve time zones away. Or at least one time zone further from where she was at that point. Of course having a husband who had found his road in a place you didn’t think yours would be would be a source of conflict. But there was hardly any conflict, as she probably knew that outright resistance was futile. Baby number three comes.
He decides to bring his family to Manila. She learns all that she can about how to go seek her place in the sun. She applies for whatever needed to be applied for. Baby number four comes. Six weeks after, she gets approval from the host country and leaves immediately. This is the first time she is enthusiastic about anything. MiniCooper is left in Manila with four children, the youngest, six weeks old. He isn’t burdened at all; he has virtually taken care of all the children since day one, and this was a continuance of it all. He is bothered at the insistence of his wife to leave for work, especially since they already have a growing family. I think she feels that the Philippines was not where her future lay anymore. I think she had come to that realization a long time ago, but that she was overtaken by events. I think that when she got pregnant, she was not yet ready to settle down and become a mother. Life moves on.
In a year, the children had grown by a year. MiniCooper had taken care of them virtually singlehandedly (thank the Filipino extended family as well as the affordable labor force) and life was moving at a seemingly normal pace. She had also adjusted to her new environment well. The first of several returns was eagerly awaited by everyone.
Physical separation has its own share of problems that can only be understood by people who have had reasons to be physically separated. They were like everyone else in this regard as well. They grew apart, but in a way that was not pleasant to either one. MiniCooper opted for a separation, intending to raise the children on his own, as he had done so, virtually from the day they were born.
Physical separation also has its own share of peculiarities, some of which create urges only understood by people who have had reasons to be physically separated. A woman not yet prepared to settle down and be a mother in spite of the fact of four children may suddenly start to have her motherly instincts kick in. Perhaps realizing that her actions may have imperiled her access to the children, she acts in a way that only mothers who have had to recover their children may understand. She prepares the legal documentation in the fastest way she can, and at the most discrete manner so nobody would even notice something was already being done. All that remained was for her to get the children, which she did on the dawn of the second Saturday after I was introduced to MiniCooper. For the record, the firearms were used to dissuade any possible opposition from the people taking care of the children, but were never intended to cause any harm to anyone. Before the sun rose, MiniCooper was a single parent to children on their way to a land twelve timezones away from him, and without any means of contact.
By noon, during our second meeting, I had found out some bits and pieces of what happened. All I knew was that there was urgency to the situation, with a window of just a few hours more. Although I had the capacity to help immediately, with help that was appropriate to the situation, I decided to give the benefit of the doubt to the other person.
Apparently, by her actions, she is finally prepared to become a mother. I hope time proves her right.
Two weeks ago, I read something on a shirt worn by Manilyn and I think the words are appropriate here. “In the end, everything will be ok. If it’s not ok, then it’s not yet the end.”
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
April 6, 2011 7:49am
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Julia's Child
Julia’s Child
Around a week ago, I came home and caught a movie on HBO titled Julie/Julia. And although I have heard about it, it was actually the first time that I saw the movie. Julie/Julia was the story of a private writer named Julie during the early days of blogging, who intended to go through a year of following the recipes of Julia Child, an icon and pioneer in introducing proper French cuisine into American households through cookbooks and eventually through television. As I caught the show around the 15th or 20th minute, I could not quite follow the “whys” of the story, or why Julie would choose to do this particular project, for an entire year, while virtually doing an “open diary” of her experience on a blog. Blog writers write without any clear reassurance as to the makeup of their audience, and are basically just airing out their mind, hoping that the waft reaches people who are similarly situated, sympathetic, or able to empathize with the writer’s flow of thought. Julie’s writing apparently touched a chord with a lot of people, and so the project became much bigger than her. I have also had a similar experience when I wrote about the passing of my beloved Chubby, receiving comments, posts, email, and text messages from people who had experienced pain in a similar way. And although everyone (and I mean everyone) who went through that blog post shed a tear (most spent the better part of an hour in that state) in the end we all felt collectively stronger from the shared experience. Incidentally, up to now, that blog post is still consistently registering the highest hit, with an audience base spanning three continents.
About two months after that, I received a series of “urgent” text messages from my team regarding a photo project they knew I absolutely had to know about. They chanced upon a message from a pet lover who wanted to have her baby’s 1st birthday party documented. And this is her story.
If it is alright with everyone, I shall hide her by the name of Julia, which is actually just one vowel away from her true name. Julia goes by with a two-name first name, and her second first name is an abbreviation of my mother’s name. Her baby’s name is Ashley, which I shall not hide anymore, because it is such a beautiful name for a baby. Ashley celebrated her 1st birthday sometime in October last year, and like most Filipino families now, got a party to celebrate it. (not that one-year-olds would actually be concerned with a birthday party….) Now, in anticipation of Ashley’s birthday, Julia wanted to get the best portrait photographer that money can buy so that she can gift Ashley with the most beautiful image possible. And so, through my diligent team, it came to my attention towards the end of the day. They showed me Julia’s private email message (to an email account in my name, but managed by my team) and they braced for what they knew was coming.
Julia, relatively newly married (perhaps two, maybe three years) to a guy she adored (and perhaps the only person she had loved) was learning that marriage reveals more about the character of your chosen one other than what you thought you already knew. She tells me how the word possessive took on another meaning when she would be left inside their lovenest, locked inside until her husband would come back. Actually, the word possessive came from me, from my inference of the action done. Julia was locked in and virtually alone until they had Ashley; but more on that in a while. A person in love will not usually see the strangeness of things, or events, that others normally would. In fact, people in relationships will not usually see the red flags until the ship has capsized. None of us would, if we were in Julia’s shoes. Eventually things came to a head and then one day Julia was told by her husband that “it was over.” She woke up to a letter with her name on it. He had sold everything they owned, and that she had to leave the following day. He had sold everything, including Ashley, their chow chow puppy. In the blink of an eye, the world had ended for Julia; ended by the man she had entrusted the rest of her life to. In the blink of an eye, Ashley, whom she had known as a daughter who entrusted her life to Julia, was suddenly also taken away; sold by her husband for reasons I do not know. In the blink of an eye, I felt all her pain. But more than the pain, I felt the sense of betrayal bit more strongly than any other feeling she, and now I, felt. The worst thing that can happen is not just to “lose everything”, but to have to “lose everything, alone”. Ashley was her emotional companion; the thing which made everything a little easier to bear. Losing everything was definitely made more terrible with losing Ashley as well.
Ashley was acquired by her husband fairly recently, from a family of show winners. Ashley, being the runt of the litter and possessing a disqualification or two, was always passed over by potential buyers. Her husband, on the lookout for something of value to possess, but not intending to pay the appropriate value, saw an opportunity in Ashley, at a bargain basement price. Julia only saw the child she longed for in Ashley, and to her nothing else mattered. For people who have had the opportunity to raise a chow chow from infancy, it is not uncommon to treat them as if they were their child; maybe the analogy would be made clearer if I said “as if they were raising an only child”. Ashley was Julia’s only child. With Ashley, life as Julia knew it then became more bearable each time she came home. Until that fateful moment when she woke to a letter bearing her name and crushing her world. In an instant she was crushed in exactly the way you would have been, had it been your name on the letter. Distraught at losing everything, but more distraught at the thought of permanently losing her child, Julia, through actions only a mother could muster, mobilized a network of friends who must have been the most resourceful bunch of people to help find to whom Ashley was sold. I understand it took three days to find her. Julia tells me of their reunion, and how Ashley gave her the longest three minutes of her life, barking, as if asking her how she could have let this happen the way it did. Ashley, her child, made Julia, the mother, feel the sense of betrayal she felt when she was taken away so suddenly. And after the longest three minutes of their lives, both mother and daughter reconnected with the promise to never let anything separate them again. Never.
In our private messages, Julia has told me that she had stood at the edge of her world several times already. I replied that at least when she was at the edge, she had Ashley there beside her. I said she was still lucky. Other people who also had stood at the edge, have had their Ashleys taken away right when they were staring at the abyss. I think Julia understood me when I said “I perfectly understood” how she felt.
Ashley’s birthday came and went, and things settled down. I desperately tried to recover her second email, which entailed hacking the email account set up by my team for me. I was so affected by her story (exactly like my team predicted I would be) because I knew that the grief I felt with Chubby’s passing would somehow be reduced if I knew that this other baby named Ashley would be able to nurture her mother back. And she has.
Julia had told me last week that “maybe it is time for you to get another chow”. She has been the only one to tell me that. I reply that I cannot afford another chow chow. I meant I do not think I can ever take the emotional grief of losing, once more. It would be too expensive emotionally, and I cannot, absolutely cannot handle that again.
It will not be accurate to simply say that Julia is a strong person, in the way that mass media portrays strong persons to always remain that way; strong, through all sorts of adversities. I will say instead that Julia has shown a massive amount of strength, in spite of all the adversities that life has thrown her way. She says that you have to go through life in anticipation that tomorrow will already bring an ounce of improvement, while preparing for that improvement right now. I do not adequately capture the words she used, but she had said it to me, in a way that made it mean a whole lot to me when she said it three days ago.
Julia is a kindred spirit; someone I understood right away because of commonalities I saw. In fact, one of the very first things I said to Julia was that “we had more things in common that what she thinks”.
Perhaps I should in turn understand that “Julia perfectly understands” me as well. Thank you for each day of strength you display. I just hope you are the first person to read this. Some day, I hope to eventually meet Ashley, so I can take the greatest portrait I have ever taken.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
01:25 am, March 6, 2011
Ps1 thank you to my PYE team, Sini & Manilyn, for spotting her advert and
starting this chain of events.
Ps2 Ashley, stop chewing the new curtains.
Ps3 chow chows are excellent companion dogs. Please do not buy them simply for
show; but because you are genuinely committed to taking care of them,
throughout their lives.
Ps4 If you are a chow owner, please post a small picture, or a link where we can
see your chow.
the following pictures of Ashley have been posted on behalf of Julia.
Around a week ago, I came home and caught a movie on HBO titled Julie/Julia. And although I have heard about it, it was actually the first time that I saw the movie. Julie/Julia was the story of a private writer named Julie during the early days of blogging, who intended to go through a year of following the recipes of Julia Child, an icon and pioneer in introducing proper French cuisine into American households through cookbooks and eventually through television. As I caught the show around the 15th or 20th minute, I could not quite follow the “whys” of the story, or why Julie would choose to do this particular project, for an entire year, while virtually doing an “open diary” of her experience on a blog. Blog writers write without any clear reassurance as to the makeup of their audience, and are basically just airing out their mind, hoping that the waft reaches people who are similarly situated, sympathetic, or able to empathize with the writer’s flow of thought. Julie’s writing apparently touched a chord with a lot of people, and so the project became much bigger than her. I have also had a similar experience when I wrote about the passing of my beloved Chubby, receiving comments, posts, email, and text messages from people who had experienced pain in a similar way. And although everyone (and I mean everyone) who went through that blog post shed a tear (most spent the better part of an hour in that state) in the end we all felt collectively stronger from the shared experience. Incidentally, up to now, that blog post is still consistently registering the highest hit, with an audience base spanning three continents.
About two months after that, I received a series of “urgent” text messages from my team regarding a photo project they knew I absolutely had to know about. They chanced upon a message from a pet lover who wanted to have her baby’s 1st birthday party documented. And this is her story.
If it is alright with everyone, I shall hide her by the name of Julia, which is actually just one vowel away from her true name. Julia goes by with a two-name first name, and her second first name is an abbreviation of my mother’s name. Her baby’s name is Ashley, which I shall not hide anymore, because it is such a beautiful name for a baby. Ashley celebrated her 1st birthday sometime in October last year, and like most Filipino families now, got a party to celebrate it. (not that one-year-olds would actually be concerned with a birthday party….) Now, in anticipation of Ashley’s birthday, Julia wanted to get the best portrait photographer that money can buy so that she can gift Ashley with the most beautiful image possible. And so, through my diligent team, it came to my attention towards the end of the day. They showed me Julia’s private email message (to an email account in my name, but managed by my team) and they braced for what they knew was coming.
Julia, relatively newly married (perhaps two, maybe three years) to a guy she adored (and perhaps the only person she had loved) was learning that marriage reveals more about the character of your chosen one other than what you thought you already knew. She tells me how the word possessive took on another meaning when she would be left inside their lovenest, locked inside until her husband would come back. Actually, the word possessive came from me, from my inference of the action done. Julia was locked in and virtually alone until they had Ashley; but more on that in a while. A person in love will not usually see the strangeness of things, or events, that others normally would. In fact, people in relationships will not usually see the red flags until the ship has capsized. None of us would, if we were in Julia’s shoes. Eventually things came to a head and then one day Julia was told by her husband that “it was over.” She woke up to a letter with her name on it. He had sold everything they owned, and that she had to leave the following day. He had sold everything, including Ashley, their chow chow puppy. In the blink of an eye, the world had ended for Julia; ended by the man she had entrusted the rest of her life to. In the blink of an eye, Ashley, whom she had known as a daughter who entrusted her life to Julia, was suddenly also taken away; sold by her husband for reasons I do not know. In the blink of an eye, I felt all her pain. But more than the pain, I felt the sense of betrayal bit more strongly than any other feeling she, and now I, felt. The worst thing that can happen is not just to “lose everything”, but to have to “lose everything, alone”. Ashley was her emotional companion; the thing which made everything a little easier to bear. Losing everything was definitely made more terrible with losing Ashley as well.
Ashley was acquired by her husband fairly recently, from a family of show winners. Ashley, being the runt of the litter and possessing a disqualification or two, was always passed over by potential buyers. Her husband, on the lookout for something of value to possess, but not intending to pay the appropriate value, saw an opportunity in Ashley, at a bargain basement price. Julia only saw the child she longed for in Ashley, and to her nothing else mattered. For people who have had the opportunity to raise a chow chow from infancy, it is not uncommon to treat them as if they were their child; maybe the analogy would be made clearer if I said “as if they were raising an only child”. Ashley was Julia’s only child. With Ashley, life as Julia knew it then became more bearable each time she came home. Until that fateful moment when she woke to a letter bearing her name and crushing her world. In an instant she was crushed in exactly the way you would have been, had it been your name on the letter. Distraught at losing everything, but more distraught at the thought of permanently losing her child, Julia, through actions only a mother could muster, mobilized a network of friends who must have been the most resourceful bunch of people to help find to whom Ashley was sold. I understand it took three days to find her. Julia tells me of their reunion, and how Ashley gave her the longest three minutes of her life, barking, as if asking her how she could have let this happen the way it did. Ashley, her child, made Julia, the mother, feel the sense of betrayal she felt when she was taken away so suddenly. And after the longest three minutes of their lives, both mother and daughter reconnected with the promise to never let anything separate them again. Never.
In our private messages, Julia has told me that she had stood at the edge of her world several times already. I replied that at least when she was at the edge, she had Ashley there beside her. I said she was still lucky. Other people who also had stood at the edge, have had their Ashleys taken away right when they were staring at the abyss. I think Julia understood me when I said “I perfectly understood” how she felt.
Ashley’s birthday came and went, and things settled down. I desperately tried to recover her second email, which entailed hacking the email account set up by my team for me. I was so affected by her story (exactly like my team predicted I would be) because I knew that the grief I felt with Chubby’s passing would somehow be reduced if I knew that this other baby named Ashley would be able to nurture her mother back. And she has.
Julia had told me last week that “maybe it is time for you to get another chow”. She has been the only one to tell me that. I reply that I cannot afford another chow chow. I meant I do not think I can ever take the emotional grief of losing, once more. It would be too expensive emotionally, and I cannot, absolutely cannot handle that again.
It will not be accurate to simply say that Julia is a strong person, in the way that mass media portrays strong persons to always remain that way; strong, through all sorts of adversities. I will say instead that Julia has shown a massive amount of strength, in spite of all the adversities that life has thrown her way. She says that you have to go through life in anticipation that tomorrow will already bring an ounce of improvement, while preparing for that improvement right now. I do not adequately capture the words she used, but she had said it to me, in a way that made it mean a whole lot to me when she said it three days ago.
Julia is a kindred spirit; someone I understood right away because of commonalities I saw. In fact, one of the very first things I said to Julia was that “we had more things in common that what she thinks”.
Perhaps I should in turn understand that “Julia perfectly understands” me as well. Thank you for each day of strength you display. I just hope you are the first person to read this. Some day, I hope to eventually meet Ashley, so I can take the greatest portrait I have ever taken.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles
01:25 am, March 6, 2011
Ps1 thank you to my PYE team, Sini & Manilyn, for spotting her advert and
starting this chain of events.
Ps2 Ashley, stop chewing the new curtains.
Ps3 chow chows are excellent companion dogs. Please do not buy them simply for
show; but because you are genuinely committed to taking care of them,
throughout their lives.
Ps4 If you are a chow owner, please post a small picture, or a link where we can
see your chow.
the following pictures of Ashley have been posted on behalf of Julia.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
remembering Melchor Ong
MELCHOR ONG
It was a Tuesday when I first met him. He came through the behest of my photographic mentor, Emil Davocol, to clean and recondition my second camera, a Rollei Twin Lens Reflex manufactured in the decade of my birth. He sat, in his white sports shirt, across from me, as he put on his large eyeglasses. Without saying a word, he took the Rollei with his right hand, and examined it up close. He turned it round and round, as if trying to figure out how to get the camera open. For the better part of the next two minutes, I stared at him pondering whether I should tell him how to get it done, or just wait until he figures it out on his own. After another thirty seconds, the suspense was getting to be unbearable for me. Is this the man so many people have vouched to be the best repair man in Asia? I was seriously beginning to have my doubts. By this time he was looking at the cover of the Franke & Heideck ground glass focusing screen. Not being able to contain myself anymore, I said, in the vernacular, “this is where you pull, to get it open” and proceeded to point out the focusing screen cover. I felt I had done him a service. I had owned that Rollei for over half a decade already and I knew how to get it open. Or at least I thought I did. Feeling as if a great insult was hurled upon him by this impertinent owner of a Rollei, Melchor glared at me as he brought the camera behind his head, and proceeded to dismantle it without even looking! Certainly not the best start to have with the man considered by many as the only remaining technical expert of Rollei, as well as the other top marquee brands Leica and Hasselblad. Humbled (and perhaps, shamed) by the turn of events, I forged a friendship with the man that has lasted a decade already.
In the days when Escolta, Avenida, and Rizal avenue was the heart of the city, Leica already had a significant presence in the Philippines, with a distribution chain as well as a service facility in the area. Melchor was the young (handsome, he claims) upstart blessed with a phenomenal understanding of optics and mechanical engineering. Aside from simply learning the process behind how a camera works and fails, he modified and eventually developed a better, less invasive repair and rehab approach.
Some of his rehab exploits I have seen for myself. On one sunny Sunday afternoon, he was working on a forty year old Hasselblad that had just received a death certificate from the official Hasselblad service center either in Hong Kong or Singapore. Parts for that specific model had already been discontinued and there was no way for it to be resuscitated anymore, according to the ‘Blad’ people; thus it made its way towards Melchor, the life-giving wizard. Taking it apart, he found the cause to be a broken gear, which was in the middle of the mechanical turning system. If he could get another gear as a replacement, the whole thing would come back to life. So, over the next three days, using proprietary tools made by himself, he fashioned a replacement gear out of a demonetized 10 centavo philippine coin and brought back the Hasselblad to life. Necessity really has been the moving reason behind invention. His exploits are in fact, legendary, according to the owners of the priceless cameras he has revived or resuscitated; the latter seems to be more apppropriate in the context of collectors and their significant mechanical other.
Now, having such talent in a single person will also spawn a certain degree of arrogance, as the owners of those priceless cameras who have found themselves fallen from his favor, know only too well. But such is the impertinence of genius.
Early in January, I paid him a visit, bringing three lenses, and a choice of five hand rolled cigars from Holland, the Dominican Republic, and the Philippines, for us to smoke while cleaning the optical glass of the lenses. He had been a cigarette smoker for about four decades already, and I wanted him to try cigars, which you didn’t have to inhale, just puff. He took the cigar, to keep as a souvenir. As he had just come out of another stroke six months prior, it became obvious that he wasn’t also in shape to clean the lenses I brought, and so we settled on our usual three-hour storytelling session. He brought out a wood laminated photograph of him, in his twenties, at the Leica headquarters, wearing a jacket emblazoned with a patch of the 100mph club. It was his riding jacket, he tells me, as he was recently inducted into the bike club. “To get in, you have to drive to a speed of 100 miles per hour, with a member backriding, just to look at your speedometer”. “And you had to hold your speed for a certain number of minutes!” says Melchor, as his face seemingly shows him reliving the moment. At this point, I whip up my cellphone camera, a decent 1.3megapixel fixed focus Motorola Razor V3i, and shoot an image. Not really knowing why, I simply knew that I had to preserve the moment. That was my role. Digressing for a moment, I feel compelled to answer the question popping in your head right now. Why didn’t I, a professional photographer, have a professional camera with me at that time, but I had three lenses? Well, it is because professional photographers like me do not carry cameras anymore unless we are on assignment. We leave that to the amateurs, who carry cameras everywhere. And besides, the Motorola Razor, in the hands of a pro, is more than sufficient. I had just actually finished a series for an exhibit with it, titled “Malaysia on my Motorola”, but that is another story altogether. Now back to our 100mph story. Taking a closer look at the photo, I notice he really was handsome in his youth! He says he actually was in the movies for a time, playing the young chinese mestizo roles, but that he was more intrigued with cinematography, than acting in front of the camera. Besides, he had just met the woman whom we would eventually marry and spend the rest of his life with. And she was also a looker!
After finishing my cigar, a half-corona Tabaqueria red label made from Isabela Burley Tobacco leaf, and after I began packing my three lenses into the camera bag, I asked if he would finally lend me his proprietary tools so I can do the cleaning myself. In the decade or so since our first meeting, all I have ever done was watch him do it himself; and I was quite familiar with the process already. But since I was never allowed to touch anything, much less borrow a tool, I pretty much knew the answer. But he stood up, walked with the gait of a person in rehab, and came back with four newly crafted opening tools. With a wide smile, the only thing he asked was when I was coming back. “Before Valentine’s”, I replied, as I hurriedly packed the tools, in case he would change his mind. He waved us off, as Ron Taccad and I drove away.
It would be two and a half months before I paid him a visit again; but this time without the lenses. All I brought with me was his new 8x10 portrait, holding up his 100mph club photograph. His youngest son came up to me and said that his “dad was sick, but was recovering”. For a week after my January visit, he would constantly wait for the days to pass until Valentine’s day, which was three weeks away then. Sometime thereabouts, he fell ill, with a three-pronged attack of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and Dementia. I was brought to his room, where he was a shadow of his former self. On seeing me and the portrait I brought, his eyes brightened as he struggled to sit up. Knowing how physically tiring it was for him, and how emotionally difficult it was for me, I decided to leave barely two minutes after. “He is responding quite well to medication and therapy” said his wife. “Strong-willed persons usually do so” I replied. I added, “It’s a good thing that I took his photo then”, as I walked towards the door to leave, intending to return when I sense he has physically gotten better. I hope it does not take too long.
Finally it dawned on me. Photography, with its ability to freeze the priceless moment, should freeze the priceless moment. And this is the moment that I have frozen.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
For The Paul Yan Chronicles, 2007
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
This One's For You, Diana!
I have been trying to upload the photo and there seems to be a browser conflict somewhere. The text has also not been fully thought out yet...
so please just be on standby while i try to resolve the computer issues first...)
Prestige Cruises is back with a bigger and better cruising boat for us. The new boat has three decks, versus two decks on the previous boat. the top deck is completely al fresco, which is perfect for stargazing, and has significantly more elbow room. Should a sudden downpour happen, there is the covered second deck which is also where refreshments are served. Photographers avoid getting their hands greasy though, so as not to mess with their new cameras...
All in all, 15 people made it to the first PYE cruise with Prestige for 2011. Notably present in the photo is John & Miriam Sy; John is from my xavier batch. our weight ratio from grade school is still the same now. hehehe. Guesting are members of this year's first Intro class which includes Miriam, Roxanne, Tony, and Anoy. They are joined by the members of Project f/8.0, represented by Geeboy, Chiqui, Potpot, Abby, John, & Sandy. not available that day were Xenon, Joy, & Malou. Not in photo but also joining us on the cruise was Peterson Tan who prefers to be called by his GenSan nickname of BabyTuna, and his daughter Kia, future top chef and current student at Enderun. Peterson is a very good friend who really loves the sea. so when he heard about this maiden cruise, quickly jumped into his Patrol and drove to the Harbor!
We did miss the presence of Diana, from Nueva Ecija who I understand, wanted to join this cruise, but was unable to. So, Diana, like I told Shanon, "This One's For You!". we really wished you could have joined us.
by the way, go ask shanon if she's already done her short piece on Boracay's famous "Real Coffee" joint. we would love to read it...
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Taming Light
Taming Light
4-day session, 2nd session on location at breakwater, ccp complex, weather-allowing.
Course Description: Taming Light is the 3rd installment of The Paul Yan Experience photography workshops, which follows “Introduction to photography as a serious hobby”, and, “The creative side of photography for the serious hobbyist”, and precedes the 4th installment, “The artistic side of photography for the serious hobbyist”. Taming Light exerts emphasis on grasping the basic nuances of light which for the most part goes unnoticed except to the keenest observer. Light, regardless of source, will have color attributes, direction, brightness and intensity. Its color attributes will affect the photographic subject; its direction creating the shadows; and its intensity providing the overall mood. Photography is all about light. The hobbyist who can tame the light will definitely be one step closer to mastering the photographic medium.
What to expect? Participants will learn about exposure values, and how this knowledge will guide them to choose exposures other than what has been recommended by the camera. Participants will also be exposed to ambient light metering which is significantly different from the reflective light metering method they have been accustomed to. Controlling on-board and dedicated external flash units, as well as studio strobes will take up the balance of the final session.
Participants are expected to bring a spot-metering capable DSLR, a handheld light or flash meter, infrared or radio triggers, and possibly a flash slave unit. Participants will have preferably taken one or both of the previous Paul Yan Experience modules, but this is not mandatory. However, they should have a substantial understanding of the photographic process.
All lighting equipment provided by D'24K Foto, as part of its sponsorship program exclusively for The Paul Yan Experience workshop series.
Designed and prepared by Paul Yan
for exclusive use of The Paul Yan Experience Team
all rights reserved, 2010.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
perceptions and images
Philippine photography's Anthony Bourdain
I feel very strongly about being unique, one of a kind. I believe that what I do, I do it in my unique way, and unlike any other. However, more and more people have told me that the way I write reminds them about Tony Bourdain. This comparison I truly find flattering.
Tony, for those who are not familiar with him, will associate him with food alone. In much the same way that those who have only heard of me will associate me strictly with photography. Those who follow Tony will easily realise that food is only the handle, but the entire package has more to do with his insights into the extraordinary life of seemingly ordinary mortals. Those who have had the opportunity to interact with me, both in the virtual world and in the real world, will also realise that photography is also only my handle, but the complete package has more to do with living, in the quality we want, with the resources that we have been afforded. It is never about how expensive something is, but rather it is about how much enjoyment and fulfillment we derive from what is in front of us.
Lilybeth, who sees my poster virtually everyday, has been bugging me to change my very formal “coat and tie” portrait to something she thinks resembles my persona more closely. So, just yesterday, we finally had a photo session and this is what came out of it.
I think it is a look that Tony might approve of.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
photo credits:
Photography LilyBeth T. Orencia
Styling Lesley Tiu of Shuji Kida Salon
Lighting Design Paul Yan
Cigar Cohiba Edicion Limitada, 2003, Torpedo
Jacket Banana Republic, Aviator, Distressed;
from the private collection of Dr. Aris Dungo
Eyewear Photocromic lenses provided by Spider
Lights Provided by D' 24K Foto
Monday, January 3, 2011
prestige cruises, and the united arab emirates
I just got a call from Prestige Cruises, that our long-awaited charter ship is finally ready. That is perhaps the most anticipated news which everyone, especially Peter & Tess, has been waiting for!
I haven't seen the new boat yet, but I heard it is virtually double the size of the old one! this is both good and bad. good, as we have more room to move around, but bad, as we cannot afford to charter the whole vessel anymore. hahaha. How big? the seating capacity is now 250 persons. I cannot see myself booking and coaching that many in a single cruise...
As for the United Arab Emirates, they are now in fourth place, as browsers of this page, by country. I guess this is due in large part to the huge Filipino community there. Anyways, to whoever reads this from that part of the Middle East, "Padala Naman Kayo ng Cuban Cigar!" hahaha. The UAE has one of the widest selections of good cigars anywhere in the world, which is why I cannot fathom why I still haven't received any for this christmas! my mailing address is.... :)
And speaking of cigars, my cigar mule who works in Dubai and is supposed to be carrying another set of Robustos for me, has brought cigarillos instead; wala raw mabiling malaking size sa Dubai. hahaha. last year, my stash of cubans were supposedly intercepted at Changi Airport, along with a bag of vitamins, medicines, & health supplements. what do you guys in Dubai think??
now, go dislodge the USA from 3rd place...
written by a "smokeless" Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
I haven't seen the new boat yet, but I heard it is virtually double the size of the old one! this is both good and bad. good, as we have more room to move around, but bad, as we cannot afford to charter the whole vessel anymore. hahaha. How big? the seating capacity is now 250 persons. I cannot see myself booking and coaching that many in a single cruise...
As for the United Arab Emirates, they are now in fourth place, as browsers of this page, by country. I guess this is due in large part to the huge Filipino community there. Anyways, to whoever reads this from that part of the Middle East, "Padala Naman Kayo ng Cuban Cigar!" hahaha. The UAE has one of the widest selections of good cigars anywhere in the world, which is why I cannot fathom why I still haven't received any for this christmas! my mailing address is.... :)
And speaking of cigars, my cigar mule who works in Dubai and is supposed to be carrying another set of Robustos for me, has brought cigarillos instead; wala raw mabiling malaking size sa Dubai. hahaha. last year, my stash of cubans were supposedly intercepted at Changi Airport, along with a bag of vitamins, medicines, & health supplements. what do you guys in Dubai think??
now, go dislodge the USA from 3rd place...
written by a "smokeless" Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
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