Thoughts on Fashion Photography and Real Life (A Reaction to Yolanda Dominguez's "Poses")

Images found here.

Yolanda Dominguez is a visual artist and performer from Madrid.  I ran across her work, Poses, from an interview of Yolanda Dominguez by a blogger here, and I thought it was one of the most interesting performance art pieces I have seen in a while.

Now, like I have already detailed in a blog post before, I am not a big fan of performance art, or at least the type which feels hokey or fake, or which intellectualize a concept too much, but upon execution showcases too little talent (*cough stupid abortion project cough*). However, I feel that Dominguez's work in Poses is an inspired exception to the rule, since it effectively managed to both shock and entertain people, while forcing them to think.

Basically, Poses is a series of performance art pieces set in several places in Madrid, where "ordinary" folk strike haute couture poses in the middle of an otherwise perfectly ordinary scene.  Some people consider it a depiction of the "indestructible superciliousness that is haute pose".  Initially, I just thought it was intelligent and hilarious.

I suggest you watch this video so you have a better idea of what I'm talking about.

My two cents:  Fashion photography has its place in the art world, notwithstanding the fact that a lot of "serious" artists tend to place it on a lower level of importance compared to other art forms.  This, however, is fashion photography's point: people shouldn't take it seriously.  It's made-up and imaginary.

Except people do take it seriously. Empirical evidence shows us that a lot of people (especially teenage girls) actually use these depictions, among others, to create a standard of beauty for women that, as has been shown time and time again, is neither realistic nor healthy. What Poses does, and does so effectively and brilliantly by pushing the idea to its extreme, is to show us how absurd this notion or perspective is. Fashion photography is essentially rooted in fantasy, and rarely has any point in real life situations. This art project shows us that it would be best to remember that.    

From Yolanda Domiguez's website:

“Poses” is a direct criticism of the absurd and artificial world of glamour and of fashion that magazines present. Specifically, the highly-distorted image of women that they transmit through models that do not represent real women and that avoid all those who are not within their restricted parameters.

These images are virtually the only feminine reference in the mass media and they have a great influence in both men and women when building our roles in terms of behavior and ways of thinking. 

Read more here.

A Little Vanity

When I was much younger, I never cared about how I looked. I chose clothes based on their level of comfort, with hardly a consideration for color combination or fit. I had no control over my hair; my dad was strict in that regard, and mostly he required us to wear our hair like a soldier’s crew cut: no mussing about, no fuss.

I think it was in college when I started treating clothes as something more than fabric to cover my body with. You could say that it was in college when I realized that life is easier when you look a certain part: people are nicer to you, and you become more confident. Maybe the second is a consequence of the first, which doesn’t really matter; bottom line, life is easier.

So I started developing a certain look that reflected who I was as a person, and which made me look more attractive than, well, how I’d look if I didn’t do anything at all. It took a while before I developed the confidence to start experimenting with fashion, and lately, I’ve become much more “progressive” with my sartorial choices.

I’ve also experimented with my hair, although I’ve developed a preference for jagged, uneven and spiky edges. I usually put Clay-Doh (Bench) or Goth Juice (Lush) to keep the style in place; the former, when I want a dry, matte, casual look, and the latter when I want it to look more shiny and businesslike.

I tend to be much more conservative in the office though, since I work in the law industry, which is an industry known for its less than liberal point of view. I don’t mind though, since in that context I usually just experiment with color (not too loud) and fit. My hair is still spiky and jagged, but I’m not budging on that one.

I enjoy dressing up. Some people prefer to wear casual stuff all the time, even when going out to dinner. I find that frustrating, because I prefer that when I’m going out to dinner with friends, we all look like, well, we are going out to dinner. I dislike seeing people who look like slobs when they are in another person’s company. For me, dressing up is a way of showing another person that you respect him or her enough to actually make some effort.

I’m one of those people who consider what I wear an extension of who I am, which, at first, seems superficial, although under closer analysis isn’t really. It is part of me, in the same way that what I write in this blog is a facet of my personality. It does not wholly define who I am fundamentally, but it is one piece in this large puzzle I call my life.

And to my dying breath I will argue that fashion is art, and though ephemeral, when executed masterfully, serves to deliver the same breathtaking magnificence embodied by the best examples of prose and poetry. I am not its most talented proponent definitely, but I don’t think it’s that hard to learn to appreciate its beauty.

Photo taken here.

Philippine Blog Awards

Cool. I'm a finalist in the Philippine Blog Awards (PBA). It's for Special Category: Top Three Posts of the Year. The entry is my second favorite post in this blog called "Sometimes We are Lost". (For those interested, my favorite post is "Dark Sky"). 

Thank you PBA for the honor. It is much appreciated. 

Check out the other finalists here.

Blogging as Art

I’ve been a little frustrated with blogging lately. Ideas (at least recently) is difficult to come by, and sometimes putting my thoughts into words just seem so difficult. But I wanted to start writing creatively again, so I guess I need to stop making excuses and just write. I need to fight the predisposition to just lie in bed and not exert any effort, which gets worse the longer I don’t do anything, which makes writing an even more difficult exercise than before. But I also realize that sometimes I just really need to do it, regardless of the quality of the output; otherwise, I might as well pack up and stop blogging.

Which I have no intention of doing really. I love this blog. I’ve just been lazy.

The problem with blogging in general is that it is usually a one-person affair, and if you are incapable of sustaining a certain number and frequency of posts, then the online space just dies a natural death. Not death in the sense that you’d stop writing, that’s really up to you, but more of a lack of readers interested in your work. And to people who say that they don’t care about having readers, they just want to put their thoughts on paper, I say that’s BS: of course you want readers. Maybe not a lot, maybe just your friends, maybe even just one stranger or two, but you still want readers. Otherwise, having a blog is pointless. Why not just write in a journal? A blog is necessarily a public space, which means you aim to share it with the public (even if public meant a select group of friends). It’s similar to that philosophical question regarding trees and forests: If a blog doesn’t have readers, does it have a point?

And because a blog is necessarily a medium that requires readers, then perhaps some standards need to be put in place. Why do anything if you’re only going to be half-assed about it? Might as well give it your all. That applies to blogging, as with anything else.

Which brings me to my real point: that blogging can, and should be, elevated to an art form, in the same way that fiction, or poetry, or non-fiction narratives are considered legitimate art work. Some people have a tendency to look at blogs as hobbies, which isn’t a bad thing, but I feel that bloggers tend to limit themselves by thinking that a blog is only just a means to create something else, rather than the end result itself. I get that, and one of the primary reasons I blog is to practice my writing skills so I can get better. But it doesn’t mean that we should instantly assume that a blog as a medium is less than a poem, or a story, or a book, or a magazine. Some of the best blogs out there connect with me on a fundamental level, whether psychological, or emotional, or spiritual, and who is to say that that connection is less than valid simply because it’s made in a blog? When the aim of your work is to connect with strangers on an essentially human level, where does the hobby stop, and art begins?

It’s interesting how similar the aims of artists and bloggers can be. And those aims are, at their core, based on a love for the act of creation.

So this is my proposal. I suggest that bloggers stop thinking of blogging as less than any of the other more mainstream art forms out there. We are all artists, whether we accept the title or not. We create and we destroy as well as any other. Blogging can be the future of art, and we, the bloggers, will determine its success or failure.

Featured photo taken here.

My Writing Philosophy

One of the first lessons I learned when I studied Creative Writing (and something which my professors never taught me, at least not in the traditional sense) was honesty. Or the ability to write unflinchingly about what I observed. One of the biggest disappointments of my life was almost failing a writing class because I refused to be honest, and wrote what I thought the professor wanted to hear.

It took a while, but I learned, and the lesson stayed with me longer than my knowledge of grammar and technical writing.

Anyone can become a good writer, I believe. Just take a course in English and study hard, study patterns of speech and styles of writing and you'll do more than fine. But a clear, sincere and honest rendering of your beliefs and feelings is stronger than the most powerful metaphor in the world. It is better than faith at moving mountains.

Honesty gets to people, and they empathize with it. It strikes directly to the heart, and you'll get a reaction, whether good or bad, creating a connection between you and your reader. I've always believed that good, imaginative writing establishes style, but honesty creates substance.

Maybe that is why I like reading blogs so much. There's a lot of bad writing out there, sure, but there is always a wealth of honesty. I enjoy reading honest posts. It never fails to teach me something.

So I guess my point is this. Fundamentally, writing, for me, is about making a connection. It's about finding a common ground between my reality and yours; that, notwithstanding our superficial differences, we are the same, at least in the important things. Everything else is a footnote.

Photo taken here.

Performance Art

I'm not good with children. If you leave me with one for more than 30 minutes, that will prove your negligence as a parent. If you leave me with two, then you hate your kids.

I do love them, I really do, but I'm not good with them. I'll make a sucky parent; I don't have the balls to do what needs to be done. And teenagers? Lordy, don't even go there. "Dad, I'm pregnant." "Ok, uhm, inom na lang natin yan?"

But I love kids when they are with their parents or with a yaya. In that context, they are incredibly entertaining. Put a kid in a public place with tons of strangers and you've got double the entertainment value. That's your show for the night.

Marina Abramovic, the grandmother of performance art, once said that "performance art is all about context. If you bake some bread in a museum space it becomes art, but if you do it at home you're a baker." If that's true, then at least half the population of the world are performance artists. Children have no sense of context at all.

I was playing basketball with my 10 year old cousin when he suddenly said, "Kuya, sabi ni Mommy bading ka daw." "Uhm, hmmm..." "Sabi ni Mommy, ok lang daw maging bading. Bading ka ba?" "Uhm, hmmm..."

Here's another theory. A commentator in an art community said that good art is disruptive; that is, the ultimate goal of all art should be to disrupt your idea of reality. I almost asked if she had kids. If that comment was true, then they are the best artists in the world.

An example: It was my birthday and I was celebrating in Felix Greenbelt with my family. My brother brought his two sons, one 6 months old, the other just about to turn two years. They are the embodiment of kinetic energy: frenetic and hyperactive. Behind us was another large table full of socialites and celebrities (I recognized Ben Chan). We didn't pay them any mind focused as we were on our own merrymaking.

Now, my two year old nephew was running all over the place, and my brother, after a half-hour of trying to control the boy, gave up and decided to just let him be. That was bad enough, but my 6 month old nephew decided at the same time that this was the perfect opportunity to practice those bloodcurdling screams he's passing off as conversation. It was excruciating. My brother tried to make him stop but he couldn't. I looked over the other table and saw the disapproving glare of a haughty matrona. I gave her a half-smile and pretended that having a screaming baby at your table is the most normal thing in the world. Disruption indeed.

It's not that I have anything against performance art. There are a ton of great performance artists out there. My favorite spoken word poet Rives is one, and his art never fails to resonate with me. It's just that I feel that the majority of art produced by conceptual artists are hokey or fake: too much concept, too little talent.

Watch the Rives video. It made me a little teary-eyed. Again.

Photo taken here.

Equus (A Comment that became a Review)

This is a reply to Gibbs Cadiz's article on Equus staged by Repertory Philippines.

"Repertory Philippines’ ongoing production of “Equus” at Onstage Greenbelt 1 makes clear that, nearly 40 years later, the play’s poetry remains vital and intact. It’s the intellectual riggings that are shown, upon second look, to have frayed considerably over time.

While Shaffer’s lines, especially as delivered by a technically flawless Miguel Faustmann (playing the psychiatrist Martin Dysart), still transfix with their power and beauty, what they’re talking about is, in the end, rather wearyingly silly."

I disagree, at least in reference to your discussion on the relevance of the play today, but nice review, as always.

I think your argument only works if you look at the lines of Dysart in a vacuum; that is, without considering the environment from where the ideas spring from. I agree that the dichotomy Dysart presents is really a false dilemma; however, I also think that his lines are merely products of the elements of the play as a whole. Furthermore, what he actually says, at least at face value, is the least important of the lessons one can derive from the play.

For me, what the play presents is really the interaction of religion, psychology and society, and how these relationships affect the individual who does not conform to the prevailing norm. Strang is particularly unique because he was brought up by a fervent Christian and a dogmatic atheist (setting aside the plausibility of that relationship, we suspend disbelief). And of all things, he grows up pagan! The idea that he cannot believe what he wants to believe without being humiliated (in two very different ways by the father and the mother) is the starting point from where we can start to understand the psychological and social underpinnings of the story. And we cannot just brush under the carpet his worship as the ramblings of a crazy man; paganism has as much value (or non-value if you're an atheist) as Christianity. He was a closet pagan, and the idea that people will know what he is fundamentally, terrifies him (consider his reluctance to open up to the good doctor, or his inability to explain to the girl that the stable is his temple).

And so the real dilemma isn't what Dysart (also a pagan, as he himself declared) says, but the fact that society has pushed the two into roles that refused to allow them to accept their passion without being humiliated or scorned. And so you have two very pitiful creatures, one driven to insanity because he dared embrace his passion and worship, and Dysart, who will forever be imprisoned by the consequences of his own timidity. I look at the play as a tragedy.

I’m agnostic, and so the play was interesting for me because of one more point. I’m especially amused when people attribute the worship of horses as something only a crazy person will do. In my mind, it’s not that different from believing that the piece of bread you’re about to swallow is a piece of divinity, or that someone was possessed of the spirit and gave a virgin birth. As Christians always say, it all boils down to faith. The boy had it in spades, why then is he considered crazy? Even if the object of his faith isn’t something most people will worship, there’s no reason why it cannot be considered a legitimate religion. I’m not ready to concede that a religion requires a multitude before it can be given legitimacy.

So that’s why I disagree. On the contrary, I consider the play very relevant. There are several lessons to be learned, all debatable, on the nature of religion, the value (or non-value) of religion, the usefulness of social standards, etc., and in a country that is as dogmatically religious as ours, the play opens a discussion that is usually otherwise closed.