Helvetica and the Seduction of Art

In his faculty seminar talk entitled "Four Sketches", Dr. Jose Maria Arsenio G. Mariano posed the question: "At what point does the appreciation of beauty become seduction? How closely should the appreciation of beauty hew to sentimentality?"

Answering these questions, in themselves, seem to merit at least a three unit course on the Philosophy of Beauty: Exploring the Limits of a Study of Aesthetics in a Liberal Education Curriculum. Certainly they seem to validate America's current critical infatuation with the font type Helvetica, which has spawned an arthouse darling of a documentary entitled, confusingly enough (at least for the dozens or so people who regularly visit my blog entries or the several who actually click on the links I painstakingly provide for individual entries) Helvetica.

Slate explores the cult of Helvetica in a slideshow essay which you can get here, while also providing a review of authors and their favorite font types.


Photo Credits:

Picture of Helvetica comes courtesy of Wikipedia.

Umagang Kay Ganda

I'm suffering from both jet lag and LSS (Last Song Syndrome), and oddly enough, neither the prospect of ambling through the next day like I was walking through a sea of molasses nor the constant reminder of the addictive qualities of well-constructed pop music herald an occasion for despair. I suppose, in my roundabout, overly verbose way, I'm simply saying this: I lack sleep and some silly pop ditty is running through my brain and I honestly don't mind any of that, at all.

I must say though that cramming my iPod with Rey Valera, Odette Quesada, Joey Albert, Basil Valdez, and Tillie Moreno was an inspired decision, albeit one that was made almost preconsciously, as sometimes the best of philosophical ruminations are, in an a priori sort of way. I babble. But does it really get any better than following Malayo Pa Ang Umaga with Umagang Kay Ganda? After having done so on the sometimes lonely trek from Holy Trinity Brompton to Gunnersbury, I would have to say no. I love OPM, though I had to go to London to realize that.

Check out the pictures that accompanied the soundtrack I hint at above here. Enjoy!

Photo Credits:

Picture of Pinoy Jukebox Kings and Queens comes courtesy of Starry Starry Store.

Snapshots

Things have been so wonderfully busy lately, that there simply hasn't been any time to update this blog. The conference has been fantastic, and the people have been so welcoming and honest that it feels very much like home. That being said, I suppose you'll have to content yourself with this quite possibly alcohol-induced random bit of beauty that I snapped a shot of outside the National Gallery.

You just have to love London. Despite the six cans of Strongbow that border the artist's workplace, evidence of a drinking spree that I refuse to admit to as a certainty, a sobering message that bubbles over with true sentiment emerges. "And please, trust me. It will be beautiful but it takes time."

London Bridged: People and Food!

Despite the copy of Time Out London that was so graciously lent me, I decided, perhaps due to the lack of friendly banter and food that hadn't been pasteurized to within an inch of its life on my long sixteen hour flight to London, that the best way to encounter the city would be through its people and its cuisine, period.

In this sense, I have been blessed in the person of Dianne Fairman, our gracious host and proprietor of the B&B (Bed & Breakfast) my friend Hanniel and I are staying in, and Chris' Fish and Chips, a delightful old-fashioned fish and chips joint along Turnham Green Terrace, a little off Chiswick High Road.

Dianne Fairman is the proud mother of three grown children (a boy and two girls; her son directs shows for the BBC on an intermittent basis, while her two daughters are actresses who've met with some success in television) of Polish descent who operates the B&B at 34 Riverside Grove, Strand on the Green, London. In addition to ensuring that the rooms she lets out are immaculate, she maintains a beautiful garden at the back, and tells the most delightful stories about her adoptive city. A loyal football fan, she was quite disappointed with the FA Cup Final which Chelsea won, 1-0, over Manchester United. Other than the dreadfully dull pace at which majority of the match was played, she was outraged that the five sublime seconds of inspired football which allowed Chelsea striker Drogba to nudge a floater past United keeper van der Saar happened when she was walking her friend's dog, Misty. Her outrage typifies the best of British "unflappability": humorous and adroitly self-remonstrative.

It was Dianne who recommended, before the various pubs had permanently altered my perception of what a "proper fish and chips meal is", that I head on down Chris' Fish and Chips. Her recommendation was spot on: the fish was hot and flavorful, as were the chips. It was, without a doubt, the finest fish and chips meal that I've ever had, which isn't saying much, but I really don't care at this point.

People and food: that's how you introduce yourself to the joys of a city. The next item on my list? Ale!

Alpha Conference: A Bridge to London

I would like to apologize to the city of Cagayan de Oro, which, despite the allure of its succulent food and the promise of adventure via white water rafting, nevertheless lost out to London as the next stop on my travels for the summer.

I'm heading to Holy Trinity Brompton, an Anglican church right across the 2nd largest Catholic cathedral in London. the London Oratory, to attend the Alpha Conference. For those who are unaware of this remarkable initiative, here's a brief description:

"Alpha is an opportunity for anyone to explore the Christian faith in a relaxed setting over ten thought-provoking weekly sessions, with a day or weekend away.

It is low-key, friendly and fun – and is supported by all the main Christian denominations."

I'm attending the sessions related to developing Alpha in a Catholic context, which I personally find very exciting, what with my deep admiration for Scott Hahn and layman preacher Bo Sanchez.

Still, the journey of a thousand miles has to begin from the decidedly mundane surroundings of Ninoy Aquino International Airport, an airport which, in itself, constitutes a trial of faith. I remain optimistic though. Hope springs eternal. I feel change whistling in the wind.

Picture of the London Oratory comes courtesy of The Victorian Web.

Election Blog 2007: Random Blessings?

I've always been an optimist, although some of my friends at times append the adjective "insufferable", especially when it comes to the underdogs that I advocate for. However I'm sure that most of my friends will forgive me if I crow a bit about certain developments in this year's elections. (My only regret so far about the electoral coverage thus far is that the Inquirer has yet to approve my using some of their articles for my blog; as such, Newsbreak provides almost all of my links regarding some of the issues I want to comment on. Of course, this is no way is a slight on the Inquirer's editorial policy on linking. On the contrary, they have my utmost respect for promoting the fair use of intellectual properties on the web.)

1. Cheaters never prosper, or at least, don't seem to stand a chance of being lawfully elected. Roque Bello, alleged cheating operator who worked for President Arroyo's victory in the 2004 elections, lost his mayoralty bid in Santa, Ilocos Sur. Former elections commissioner Virgilio Garcillano has conceded defeat in his battle for Bukidnon’s congressional seat. Oh well. Back to coordinating widespread electoral fraud for others, I suppose.

2. Manny Pacquiao mulls return to boxing after being schooled in the political arena by a wee wisp of a lass whose only advantage over the boxer was overwhelming competence over the Pacman in every area salient to public service. As of 1 p.m. today, Manny Pacquiao garnered only 9, 133 votes compared to the 16, 755 votes of his rival, incumbent Gen. Santos City Representative Darlene Antonino-Custodio. My good friend, Ralph Lumo, called this result weeks ago. "Manny, you bet on. Darlene, you make good on. She gives new meaning to the saying 'wisdom from the mouth of babes'. Oh, and if you blog this, I will categorically deny everything that can jeopardize any chances I might have with Darlene." Well said, my friend. I won't even mention that she's married.

3. As of 11 a.m. today, Fr. Eddie Panlilio has so far garnered 167,801 votes over incumbent Gov. Mark Lapid’s 156, 236. President Arroyo’s friend, provincial board member Lilia Pineda, had 147, 397 votes. Hope springs eternal.

Let me repeat: hope springs eternal.


Credits:

News items come courtesy of Newsbreak Online.

Picture of Rep. Darlene Antonino-Custodio comes courtesy of Official Website of General Santos City.

No Voice 2007

I have no voice. No, I don't mean this metaphorically, as in the "electoral process is really just a showcase for the many new advances in cheating". I literally have no voice, which means since I'm staying in today, resting my overworked vocal cords, I'm probably going to be reading and blogging (in that order). And yes, I know that should you read all the way to the end of this post, the picture to the left has almost nothing to do with the post. Still, I'm sick, I'm just a little annoyed, and I reserve the right to post pictures of any one of my boys. Wait a minute. "Boys"? "Voice"? Well, there's your link!

Here's an interesting article from Cracked. "When Bad Comedies Happen to Good Comedians" begins by admitting that:

All of our favorite comedians phone it in for the paycheck once and a while...

But what happens when it's not a "phone it in" comedy? What if it's a labor of love? What if the comedian wrote, directed and starred in the thing? What if, essentially, it looked like everyone involved was trying to make a good movie, and it was stool anyway?

Well, then you get snarky no-talents like us picking apart your crappy movie in this article, apparently. Read on!

Check it out. It's great water cooler conversation fodder. Well, if you can talk, that is. More from me later. Right now, I think I'll both wallow in unreasoning self-pity and read a book.

Living Memories

My Mamang, Carmen Vargas Borra, was cremated earlier today. My father summed the sentiments of the family best by thanking the well-wishers not for merely sharing our family's loss, but for coming to celebrate Mamang's life.

In totally unrelated news, I've just given my sisters (oh right, my favorite sisters) new snazzy nicknames. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet, in chronological order, my sisters P. Foozle, J. Bizzle, and Tamika Foxy. And yes, grief affects people in different ways. I'm happy that Mamang is finally reunited with my Papang in heaven, but as that old soul, Pablo Neruda, so beautifully put it (albeit in a totally different context):

Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
(Love is short, forgetting is so long.)

Mamang, we remember. You live on in us.

Excerpt comes courtesy of "Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche" ("Tonight I can write the saddest lines") by Pablo Neruda, from Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada (Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair).

Election Blog 2007: Random Thoughts

The flotsam and jetsam that intruded upon my otherwise curiously sane voting experience:

1. I couldn't do it. For the first time since I started voting, I couldn't vote for a complete senatorial slate. Despite all the well-articulated arguments for at least writing down 12 names, I just couldn't do it. Only 9 people were, in my humble analysis, worthy of being given the opportunity to represent the common good of the Filipino people in the Senate. I simply could not compromise on this particular issue. In a way, particularly in light of my belief that one's right to vote is comparable to one's desire to pray, it is only when we are led to refuse compromise on this point when we can properly entertain the promise of a brighter future. And yes, I'm very angry that Philippine politics has sunk to this level. Couldn't you at least provide me with 12 people to vote for? I'm incensed.

2. As Ralph, Judel, Gene and I trooped to the voting center of Barangay San Antonio in Pasig, we speculated as to whether our Filipino-Chinese college roommate Kimberly Chong is registered in Greenhills or in Xiamen, conveniently glossing over the fact that our barkada's relative ages can be determined by the fact that "Kimberly" was considered a non-gender specific name when Kim was born, or that we have actual batchmates running for elective office.

3. My dad called me earlier to report that I was still registered in Las Pinas, despite the fact that I had just voted, 30 minutes earlier, in Pasig. Theoretically, this meant that I could vote again. I just had to be willing to lose a fingernail to do so. I don't know what's worse, that the Comelec had inadvertently turned me into a flying voter, or that I was seriously considering ways to hide my ink-stained fingernail in order to do so. I decide, in the end, that the Filipino people need me more with all my fingernails intact. Lame!

4. Despite the fact that I had dressed in the manner appropriate to one who is willing to make financial arrangements for genuine political change, no one bothered to buy my vote in my voting precinct. Part of me is insulted. Am I not important enough to buy off? Apparently not.

5. Despite everything, my mood remains oddly optimistic. Hope springs eternal. In the end, we will have our Victory.

Picture of Victory comes courtesy of IMDB.

Acquired Tastes: A Public Trust

For reasons I cannot as of now enumerate, both personal and professional, I've been (belatedly) trying to hasten my own education in citizenship by scouring the web for intelligent political analysis. Despite my relative naivety regarding politics, I was confident that my finely tuned crap detector would be able to separate the chaff from the grain, so to speak.

One recent discovery is Newsbreak Online. While I may not always agree with their insights into Philippine politics, their writing is brave, intelligent, and, this may come as a surprise for many who have preconceived notions regarding the editorial slant of Newsbreak, at times rooted in a spirituality which speaks of the finest qualities of the Filipino. From the touching story of how three term San Fernando town mayor 47-year-old Sabas “Abang” Mabulo, is attempting to perform a miracle by running against my old friend Diosdado "Dato" Arroyo in the 1st congressional district of Camarines Sur ("I am pitted against money and a powerful political machinery. But God's wonder never ceases," Mabulo says) to their coverage of the longterm implications of Fr. Ed Panlilio's candidacy for Governor of Pampanga, Newsbreak has featured quite a lot of inspiring political stories rooted in either our Catholic or Christian heritage.

It's about time that we acknowledge the profound role that our faith plays in our politics. As was previously blogged about by my good friend (and former student) Jan Vincent Ong in his blog entry on the public nature of Francisco "Soc" Rodrigo's faith, which I reproduce here in part:

"We are all Catholics, and we are all citizens. So far, we have not experienced the slightest difficulty in being both. In fact, knowing our Catholic faith as we do, it seems obvious to us that the better Catholics we are, the better citizens we shall be"

We should not be afraid to raise the specter of argument regarding the separation of church and state. Rather, we should embrace it. Otherwise, however will we determine how one could both serve and believe? It is ridiculous to assume that one cannot do both, in the same way that it is ridiculous to assume that all decisions conducted largely out of one's beliefs are either completely wrong or completely right.

This is why I would like to insist that in order for political discussion to be relevant, it has to be inherently spiritual. Simply put, we reserve the right to aspire for more. We owe it to our children.

Gibb 'Em a Chance!

When my wife and I visited her cousin Joana, who had just undergone surgery to repair her torn ACL, we managed to catch the episode of American Idol where we witnessed Idol contestant LaKisha Jones get eliminated from the competition. Despite her enormous talent, LaKisha was voted off the competition, largely because of her inability to properly interpret songs from the musical phenomenon that is the Bee Gees. As any videoke veteran will tell you, Bee Gees songs are notoriously hard, and not only because of the key it is sung in. It's just darned difficult. Slate writer Jody Rosen makes the case regarding The hidden complexity of the Bee Gees, observing that:

The truth is, nobody did very well this week, in part because Bee Gees songs are deceptively hard to sing. Blake called Gibb, "one of the pioneers of dance music," which gets it exactly wrong. Gibb is an old-fashioned song craftsman—a composer of beautiful, harmonically sophisticated pop songs who would have held his own back in the 1930s with Gershwin and Kern and company. This is the funny thing about the Bee Gees disco-era apogee: They were playing dress-up, shamelessly bandwagon-hopping, writing the same great songs that they always did, and tacking on a dance beat. They were disco manqué. LaKisha found that out the hard way, when she tried to navigate the tumbling octave drops in the chorus of "Stayin' Alive." No amount of gospel bluster was going help her pull that off —"Stayin' Alive" is a song, and it requires a singer.

While fans might argue whether or not LaKisha deserved to continue on (and my wife and I are inclined to believe so), one thing is sure: I'm listening to some Bee Gees.


Photo Credits:
Picture of the American Idol Final Four contestants comes courtesy of New York Magazine

Requiescat in Pace

Please pray for the repose of the soul of my grandmother, Carmen Vargas Borra, who passed away peacefully earlier this morning. A beautiful, elegant woman, she willfully chose to be a wife and mother above else. One could perhaps gently chide her for harboring no ambitions in life, or for never seriously entertaining any pursuits outside of her family. But in retrospect, my Mamang probably had a keener appreciation than most for the finest things in life. Her sole ambition was to raise a happy, loving family. For the most part, and I have only the singular pleasure of having grown up in a family which she had infused with warmth and joy simply by loving my father, one could say that she succeeded. Rest in peace, Mamang.

Food for Thought on Food

I came across this interesting article on MSN Money entitled 10 things your restaurant won't tell you. The list runs as follows:

1. "It's more about the sizzle than the steak."
2. "Eating here could make you sick."
3. "Our markups are ridiculous."
4. "Big Brother is watching you . . . eat."
5. "There's something fishy about our seafood."
6. "Reservation? What reservation?"
7. "Our specials are anything but."
8. "There's no such thing as too much butter."
9. "Nice tip -- too bad your waiter won't get it."
10. "Never go out to eat on a Monday."

None of the aforementioned tips really piqued my interest save for the last two. Let me rant therefore in that order.

Normally, when I leave a tip, the last thing I think of is "Wow, that was a remarkably well-orchestrated effort from the entire team! Kudos to the entire restaurant staff and associated personnel!" If I wanted to leave a tip for the entire restaurant, I'll leave a tip for the entire restaurant, which I've done on occasion. But for the most part, I prefer to express my sincere appreciation for a person's service by extending gratuity to a person, not an institution. I'm not against the idea of everyone sharing in the largesse; I'm just saying that the customer should have the option to direct tips to a particular waiter without having to resort to Cold War level espionage dead letter box techniques to thank someone for a job well done.

The last point, "Never eat out on a Monday", should be read in its entirety:

"If you think that Monday, when restaurants tend not to be crowded, is a great time to eat out, think again. "You're being served all of the weekend's leftovers," says Francis, the exposé co-author. Kitchens prepare food on a first-in, first-out basis, meaning whatever is oldest gets served first. It's a way to ensure that everything on the menu is as fresh as possible.

The system works great most days, but it can run into a little glitch over the weekend. Distributors typically take Sunday off and make their last deliveries Saturday morning, which means that by Monday any food not used over the weekend is at least three to four days old. And it will be served before the same ingredients arriving in Monday's delivery.

What to do if you wish to dine out on a Monday? Ignore your instincts and go to a place that's perpetually crowded. "If you are open 24/7 and busy all the time," says New York chef Lucia Calvete, "all your ingredients are fresh all the time."

Which really means that on Mondays, my default restaurant of choice just became Goodah.

Photo Credits:

Picture of the Waiter comes courtesy of Jeff Shelly Illustration.

Vote!

After reading my good friend Jason de Villa's latest post, Thoughts on the coming elections, I almost followed suit by coming up with a list of recommendations myself. After all, even Ate Cecile van Straten came up with one. Still, I'm sticking to my previously undeclared blogging principles (and no, it's not the "either this guy's so totally Western that practically 90% of his posts concern the degenerate West, or he's really, really into ivory towers and refuses to concern himself with real-life problems and issues"; that's a valid observation, and nothing that I purposely set out to do) regarding Philippine politics: that my opinion holds weight only as a registered voter who has consistently voted for people who consistently lose. I haven't voted for a winning Presidential candidate, for example, since...well, ever. Only 1 out of every 3 senators I vote for have won. I'm like the kiss of death for electoral success; a vote from John-D assures noble defeat.

Despite my dismal track record when it comes to helping put capable men and women into office, here are some guidelines on voting that I have more or less developed after years of never even smelling the vicarious validation of victory:

1. Don't buy into the myth that one must only vote for the "winnable". My attitude towards the vote is much like my attitude towards prayer. When we pray, we may not always get something better out of it, but the very act of prayer always makes the person who prays a better person for having done so. In a very real way, our vote is a reflection of who we are and who we aspire to be. Tangentially, cantankerous NBA pundit Charley Rosen observed that one major reason for the ignominious first round exit of the Dallas Mavericks stems from Avery Johnson's decision to rest "his starters in a 'meaningless' game in Golden State the day before the regular season ended — a game easily won by the desperate Warriors. It was a cowardly move by Johnson that went counter to his play-all-out-all-the-time game plan."

2. Don't buy into the cult of personality, or personal relations that informs much of our political views. Filipinos are very keen on interpersonal relationships, and this is normally a very good trait. However, this is lamentable in politics. So many of our political decisions are influenced by our real or perceived personal relationship with our politicians. And so, many educated voters are likely to say "I'm voting for so-and-so-politician because he dropped by once, and he seemed like a genuinely nice person," or "I'm voting for so-and-so-politician because my mom's 2nd cousin on her father's side knows him," when in fact we should...

3. Try to make an informed vote. Let's concentrate on issues, platforms, political track records, and last but not least, the personal competency of the politician to not only hold office but ennoble the office by being voted to it. It is important to realize that originally, the word Solon referred to both an actual Athenian lawgiver significant for his contributions to classical law and to a member of a legislative body that is both wise and skillful. Let's vote for persons who are both professionally and personally excellent. As I said above, our vote is a reflection of who we are and who we aspire to be. Let's vote people who we would not be ashamed of being more like. Let's aspire, for the lack of a better term, for more.

We owe it to the kids.

Acquired Tastes: Moutai!

On our last trip to Hongkong, we were lucky enough to be invited to the palatial Hongkong mansion of Hui Wing Mau, a gracious and elegant gentleman who, to more financially astute personages, also happens to be the Billionaire Builder of China, and chairman of the Shimao Group.

I know it seems odd, but I always feel sorry for the fantastically rich, especially when they seem like genuinely nice fellows. Chairman Mau's mansion, while tastefully appointed, hardly seemed livable. The insurance alone on his many beautiful acquisitions must be sobering reminders of the high cost of wealth.


Anyway, the highlight of the evening spent in his house was neither the many truly remarkable features of his mountaintop hideaway (which boasted a view of Hongkong that was just as good as Victoria Peak), nor the splendid meal that was served (portions of which are lovingly immortalized in my Multiply).

The highlight of the evening came when Mrs. Mau unveiled what I, in all ignorance of the long, ancient traditions involved in the crafting of fine Chinese liquor, the best, and the only, baijiu I have ever tasted: Moutai. We were served Fifty-year Old Moutai, and the experience was singular. Subtle, mellow, and fragrant, it was the real life equivalent of what the culinary ecstasy the anime series Cooking Master Boy tries to depict on a regular basis, and yes, I am insisting that this is one of those times when life should imitate art.


Picture of Cooking Master Boy comes courtesy of Lamont's Cel Gallery.