The visual culture of today is at crossfire among reductive and obtuse harbingers claiming to pave a new world led by generations of patrons of kitsch and probable mental retardation. Our brothers and sisters at the other side of the rainbow colored fence suffer more. At the mercy of a relentless torrent of influences from various origins, rainbow children of the early 21^st century are being conditioned to experience reality with a different take on space and time: one that is marked with ephemeral traits, mutations, and disconnections. The entertainment industry, at the helm of this mess, utilize newly acquired armaments to make warfare in new battlefields, causing the rainbow rebels to fall back and left with no choice but to conceive new images for their consumption. The movement points to using non conformist of non conformist visuals that are continually appropriated and exploited by mass media regardless of its inklings to extreme camp and extreme kitsch. Displaced and pilfered, the rainbow rebels are in desperation to look for a diva, an icon, someone who is relevant and symbolic that would guide them, champion and continue generations worth of battle. But in this kind of system where anybody has the license to usurp, recycle, and combine images, how do you make an icon? Specifically, for the chaotic enterprise of showbiz where people come and go at a faster rate than ever before, how do you stabilize an image of an artist? Maintain its consistency? And leave an identifying and lasting mark?

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Transcending history and the world, eternally retold, this is not your usual tale of swords, magic, and dragons. Destined to unite, 12 souls hailing from different backgrounds were summoned by the universe to conspire and embark on a task that would question, shatter and change the course of the Humanities. Half-man half-god, these demigods were presented upon by an oracle their fate: to set forth in a once in a lifetime adventure emblazoned with eminence, sagacity, and treasures beyond their wildest imaginings. Furthermore, the oracle foretold of a quest surrounded by secrecy, enigma, concealment and most of all a marriage of contradictions: lightness and darkness; hope and despair; enlightenment and obliviousness.

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 “The house is sinking! Group yourselves into things that can float!” – aside from being a rewording of what the game master commands in the classic parlor game “The Boat is Sinking,” this is also what I heard and felt when I saw Mark Salvatus’ c_rafts exhibition at the Vargas Museum. Inspired by the ravage brought by the typhoon Ondoy in 2009 and through his own experiences with Manila floods, this exhibition is all about rafts. Rafts crafted from things that can be seen in any household from floaters, styrofoam, wooden planks, and etc. are made to “float” on the West Wing floor of the museum. It is an example of “installation art,” which makes use and “makes do” with easily accessible everyday objects given new meanings and purposes, such as inflatable beds topped with beer cases, chairs, sticks, and vats. Unlike the traditional forms of art like painting and sculpture, it will be later on dismantled, relocated and reassembled somewhere else if not thrown back to the warehouse and are therefore ephemeral. The placement and mounting of installation art depends on the space and will therefore be different and differently composed when exhibited elsewhere. In addition, and probably the one that will make this kind of art distinct from the traditional ones, is its non-saleable nature. This kind of art draws out that sense of familiarity, memory and nostalgia through images and encounters of the everyday experience. Interaction with space and audience is important in installation art and as with any other art form it encourages audiences to have their own understanding, interpretation, and meaning of the artwork. In addition, like the process of creativity in exploring sources of happiness despite periods of unhappiness, process rather than object is highly emphasized in installation arts.

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I will always brag to everyone that I was raised by amazons. Being surrounded by great and powerful women, having to deal with their capricious mood swings, compendium of eccentricities, and bizarre perspectives in life and ways of living makes growing up in such a place not an easy act and yet something that will always be interesting. I have a mother who prefers to wear the ring of the saint and understand the world through surrender wherein fact she knew that ever since it was through pleasure that she understands the world the best, aunts who taught me to sing and dance with the unique rhythm and beat of my equally unique heart, and helpers sharing their enigmatic and fascinating stories on love, life, death, the old ways, or anything that they want to share to me while I apprentice under them doing household chores. I also have a grandmother who chose to pursue the path of the martyr and showed me the beauty of sacrifice, her sisters who trained me to be as strong, grand and still be meek, and most of all her mother, who in solitude and silence, seems to educate me with the secrets and mysteries of the world.

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