Macvinced

During my final year as a chemical engineering student, I took up Humanities 1. Yes, it's that subject where you have to pretend you do not know anything about the humanities because you do not want to spoil your teacher's enthusiasm to actually teach you something you already know.  It was nothing new, nothing that I haven't read somewhere or heard about countless times. But it made me ask a simple question: 

What do you do with Iligan City?

Hah. After some time, I figured out an answer: Photograph it.

But first I had to complete a checklist. I needed interesting subjects and a good camera. There was no problem with thinking about good spots to photograph. (Oh please it's not because Iligan City overflows with those, but because of simple narcissism: everything I think interesting is, to me, really interesting.) The minor dilemma was obtaining a good camera. With that I mean a dSLR. I have a friend who owns one but it spawned a new problem. I do not know how such a camera works. Poor me. By some unexplained force of inexplicable origin, (thru the efforts of my friend, the Renaissance painter) I actually got not just a camera but  a photographer as well. Think about it. For my humanities project, I get to tag along a photographer.

So with everything all up, we toured the city proper taking pictures when I feel like telling him to. I felt like a director, pointing here and there, explaining where the best angles would be and what subjects display the drama of the life of an Iliganon. Except that most of his shots were his ideas. ( Manaka-naka lang ang sa akin, anoobaa!)

In reality, I looked like his personal assistant. I, dressed like a troglodyte, tagged along by the photographer looking so preppy with walkshorts, fitting shirt and Sanuks, with the dSLR hanging on his neck as if not to burden him of his task but to accentuate the look of a "journalist" from the metro. And when he's not futzing with the camera, the Ray Ban gave him a look of a tourist prowling the streets of a strange land. That's probably why people keep asking if we are reporters. I mean, they asked that to me. What they asked him was when his next teleserye would be airing.

I tried hanging the camera on my neck, hoping that I would exude the same look. But it just won't. How frustrating.

Rarely do I accept dissolving in the background, much more as a P.A., but the evidence was unarguable. Plus, I cannot spoil his look (in addition to being a camera no-brainer) so I dare not took it from him. We went to the bustling streets of Iligan City, to the Pala-o public market and to St. Michael's Cathedral. The streets were teeming with interesting subjects. Equally of interest was the everyday life of people in the public market and well, the cathedral was perfect for pictures in time of the feast of the Black Nazarene.

Since I was ironically just tagged along, I spent the time observing what he'd do. At the market, he pointed the camera to a Moslem woman brewing coffee, adjusted the focus, zoomed in and out as much as he desired, and with a click, the woman brewing what seemed like delicious, native coffee, was macvinced. 

These kids who are in the talipapa most of their lives, with that camera-shy giggle, turning to each other for cover, afraid that their realness would be captured by the camera, something they haven't had the luxury of thanks to their meager life,  were macvinced.

Outside the church, he sat on the bench, casually talked to the woman selling Black Nazarene necklaces, asked her why they were around, arched a little and did the same: point, adjust, shoot. There was something very human about this photo. It was as if the essence of what she does not just for a living but also for her faith, was permanently captured on the picture. The woman, too, was macvinced.

Next, he went to the business of getting all these red candles macvinced. By that, I mean capturing on photograph an emotional response to a seemingly ordinary thing. The flame is awe-inspiring and the dripping candle is haunting, like blood from your own bleeding conscience.  

But I digress. 

I told you he was good, didn't I? For someone who always shirks compliments and says he is still learning, the pictures suggest how fast that learning proceeds. We now advise him: When you're this good, humility is an annoyance. 

Seeing apparently that you want more, these are but a few of the pictures he took during that photo walk. This blog will be featuring more of these as photo essays in later posts.

By the way, because he is my friend, and most of all because he's good, I told him I will let him photograph me for my first book. To be able to photograph me successfully, (that is, adding aesthetic value to the photo) is quite a feat. Actually,  I just like to get myself macvinced too and see if it works.

Hey, did I just coin a new adjective?  Get yourself macvinced, everyone.

All photos by Michael Vincent Mosquera. 

Major major achievement. Bongga Itech!!

I have always thought that ever since I left Dipolog City to study in Iligan, I have never acquired something newsworthy. It was the opposite for my high school classmates. News always reaches me that one of my high school peers was either given a big singing break or won the lottery. Ha ha.

Recently, a headline in the Philippine Daily Inquirer caught my attention.  It said something about Dipolog women. Interested with having to do with Dipolog, I read the full article and wapak!! My friend Talong's (who graduated from UP College of Fine Arts) artworks will be featured in Europe. For the full story, click here.

That's Europe, everyone.

Talong is already a brilliant painter back in high school, winning National Competitions with her unique way of mixing colors. Her artworks are always colorful and back then she always has the knack for portraying lives of the natives. Since we entered college, her pieces had become a favorite among local art displays in DIpolog City and everytime I go to one in the rare moments that I am able to come home, I always look for Talong's work.

This is one of Talong's paintings in an exhibit in Dipolog City. Unfortunately, I forgot the title. Calling Talong, maybe you can help me with this.

By the way, the other Prima is her mom. This is a situation where mother and daughter are both proud of each other.

Kudos to all of you. You make us Dipolognons proud.

Lea's profile is here.

'Congrats and goodluck to you'- Regine

It occurred to me that everywhere I go, the fact that I am a fan of Regine Velasquez always shows. One example was during my Nestle M.I.L.E. experience where I dined with Bear Brand's brand manager, Ms. Jasmin Estacio. Because the topics usually revolve around business and management ideas, our conversation shifted towards Bear brand's endorsements and commercials. I asked her if she had met Regine-- a stupid question since she sure had met Regine, being the brand manager. She said yes. Before she could even ask me why, I told her that I am a huge fan of the diva in an exaggerated manner (probably forgetting that I am dining in a five star hotel's international buffet with no less than accomplished and high-ranking professionals around me). That sent her the message that my newfound 'close' connection with Regine (Me to Nestle MILE to Nestle to Bear Brand to Ma'am Jazz to Regine) meant the world to me so she offered to bring me along during Regine's new Bear Brand commercial taping. To my extreme disappointment, the MILE program would be over by that time and while Regine was taping her new commercial, Ma'am Jazz would have to bring something else instead.

A piece of paper, I suggested. Regine could sign it and Ma'am Jazz would send it to me. The piece of paper I gave was a Bear Brand stationery with blanks for your name and ambition. I wrote my full name and after pondering for a short while I scribbled 'to be successful' as my ambition. Then I left her my address. 

A Facebook message from Ms. Jazz revealed that Regine Velasquez, my idol, rejected to sign that piece of paper. But it was a different kind of rejection. She proposed instead to give me her soon to be released album sometime in November.( The MILE program was from Oct.26-29). To quote Ma'am Jazz, "with dedication pa ha."

She was referring to "Fantasy," her last album as a single woman before tying the knot with Ogie Alcasid. It was October then and I never heard from Ma'am Jazz until recently when she asked for my mailing address once again because aparently she never forgets her promises.

I used MSU-IIT's Chemical Engineering Department as my address because I was worried that if I use my boarding house address I might not be there to receive it. At least my instructors would be willing to secure the package for me. 

Imagine my elation upon receiving this.

 My reaction was, "Omigad, she wrote my name. Look friends, she got the double L right!!"

 When I opened the package I saw the CD enclosure and a beautiful Regine greeted me with her lips parted.

Great.

But this was greater. Regine postcards.

I remembered the time when I browsed through these pictures in Facebook and showed them to my friend the Renaissance Painter. He refused to believe that it is Regine. As usual, it was a heated debate I insist I won.

To Ma'am Jazz, I could never thank you enough. It was very kind of you to do this and this is something deeply engraved in my memory.

To Regine-- if this can be considered my message to you-- finally, after watching all your videos in YouTube for n times, going to one of your concerts, listening to almost all of your songs original or cover, watching all of your movies and TV shows, a dream of mine came true. I keep on wondering what is next-- meeting you in person, perhaps or singing with you? It is not an exaggeration to say that I would be ready to die when that happens. Thank you, Songbird for this tangible gift of my admiration. I believe it transgressed the electromagnetic waves, radio signals, huge concert venues and silver screens between a fan and his idol.  I cannot help but think that your kindness and compassion to those who admire you as a singer and as a person is the reason why you are still reigning beyond compare.

Why he is the G.I.

I knew he would win. Grabbing the title was one of the two things I was certain he would do (the other one is make me swoon). But the pageant night was not for his keeping. My friends told me he looked like a ghost one time, then literally ugly the next. His make-up was so garish I almost thought he was going to stage a theatrical act. And God forbid the barong which would make him complement a casket and make us all attend a burial. To speak plainly, he did not look good on stage. (At least for those who were about 10 meters away from the spectacle. Was it the lighting? Or the make-up?). Ironically, my eyes always see him as an impeccable creature. But even this failed.  I almost agreed with my friends except probably for the belief that I was certain the judges would never base their scrutiny on what they see on the stage alone. They have to see something far more relevant—the simplicity that makes him who he is.

I think Alberto Lucas Belgera neither became the Ginoong Inhinyero 2011 because he sashayed across the stage, displaying his bare torso for everyone to see nor because he proved to us that men could wear that much make-up and actually be men.  Aside from considering that there can be no other winner, Alberto Lucas won because of two things: First, he won because he was not meant to be on that stage.

Being a Ginoong Inhinyero is not a stage presentation. It is actually what is not on the display that matters. Our impression on whoever wins the title is not shaped by the way they walk or project. It is how we know them in their everyday life as an engineering student that we believe in them, or in any case, ascertain that they will actually win.

Alberto Lucas is that ginoo. I don’t know him personally but I would base my conclusion on what I observe from afar. He looked ugly with make-up because he is infinitely better-looking without it. He was diffident and ungraceful with extremely embellished costumes because he is not a celebrity who is comfortable with what others insist as fashion but an athlete who is content with a loose T-shirt and a pair of pants and pull the look that could make girls and pa-girls die with longing. (The bag pack is a perfect complement, by the way). He was unsure with choreographed movements because it was his nature to move unpredictably when he plays. I noticed that he doesn’t care what the hell happens to him as long as he could steal that ball or deliver that spike. Moreover, his was not the best projection on stage because he suppressed his wide grin—the very thing that made him a chick magnet. (Sorry to descend to cliché. Not that I am a chick. Ha ha). In fact, the rare shining moments he had were on occasions when he showed his true self by smiling at his ECE fans with that distinctive smile. (I swore I saw the Cheshire cat).  It was probably on these instances where the judges were enlightened with their choice. Here is a man who presents himself with all the flamboyant effects, yet here is also a man who could epitomize the Ginoong Inhinyero without the same.

                

I repeat: He won the title because he lost the pageant. The judges, if ever they had the same notion, have had to be very observant. I guess they had seen beyond the costumes, glitters and spectacle. After the event, in an ordinary day, they saw the simple Alberto Lucas sharply contrasted to men with overdone hair, body-fit clothing, ubiquitous shades and condescending air. This is of course based on my own observations, and the truth might be otherwise. However, other people testify of the same and I can assure you there are a lot of them. This alone is proof of his charm.

                

Probably you could attribute it to the eyes but his expression is one of humility, something not hard to see in him. I just hope that this achievement would not take that away. After all, it was this expression of humility that was his ticket to becoming known. After his win, it is his job to prove and keep it. 

               

This brings me to the second reason why he won: A lot of people believed in him. Sure, other departments cheered for their bet by bringing in streamers with their departments’ names. But it was only his ECE family who brought in streamers with his name blatantly spelled out. They did not just cheered for their department, they cheered for him. I have not seen any previous contestant who had this kind of support from their course mates. They seem to have this consensus among them and their concerted efforts showed in the results.

Gratzness, Alberto Lucas. I have always believed that competitions such as these are of no importance. Nada. The reason is because the title doesn’t impose any responsibility or if there is one, it is not so defined. Glory would not be worthwhile without the attached burden. Yet now it occurred to me that somehow this is a test of your character. You don’t have to save the world by being the G.I. or do anything for that matter except for one thing—improve for the better and stay humble. Do not even attempt to become a model student. Sure, COE students admire people but they are never constrained by emulating role models because they go beyond. The Ginoong Inhinyero was not meant to produce an ideal COE student. Originally, it was meant for the thrill of seeing good-looking boys on stage. But here you come letting people see that you could actually win by looking better without the stage. That of course is desirable, since the glamour of the stage is only fleeting. What matters is everything else.  

                

I have bothered to write this all up for no reason at all. Or shall I say for a reason completely irrelevant to you. I do not mean that you live by other people’s expectations. That is just unfortunate. No other person knows what you ought to do except yourself.  Nonetheless, all this stranger wants is for you to heed his unsolicited advice.            

[01.29.11]

No, I am not a fan.

I did not volunteer to be his campaigner. That's not my campaign vest. That's my high visibility clothing with reflectorized stripes, which shouts "Hey I work in a cement plant, y'know!"

I saw him on TV during Iligan City's cataclysmic flood. I saw him again at the 1st Commencement Exercises of the College of Nursing. The third time I saw him, was the only chance I had in getting this picture. He was campaigning for reelection (his last term as mayor) and one of his stop is the very populated ICC canteen, which probably accounts for half of Iligan City's voting population, amounting to 25 registered voters during lunchtime. (Hookay. I just can't see the point of going there, so, I made it up. Ha ha)

Never mind the white hairs about to expand territory. They're supposed to be benchmarks of how emaciated he got after all the blows to his city and his people. I guess it worked. Iliganon's gave him his last term.

No, I am not a fan, because he's not a celebrity. But I rooted for this picture since I happen to live in a city where he is the mayor.

Lucio Fan

Lucio Tan, that freakinly rich business tycoon, who influences our life from toilet papers to booze, is ahemm.. a Chemical Engineer. (You think that's outrageous? You think so??!) It's a great inspiration. I can still fulfill my dream of becoming filthy rich and be a Chemical Engineer! So what about him? He was invited only, as the guest speaker during the 71st Philippine Institute of Chemical Engineers' National Convention in Tagaytay this year, during which he stood behind the lectern and mumbled something short of an incantation. I never understood a word. Yeah, he's Chinese, and the diction is, forgive me, intolerable. But who cares?? It's "tito" Lucio and as much as I wanna say, I AM STARSTRUCK! So I dragged several of my fellow attendees and commanded them to scatter in reconnaissance of the auditorium looking for possible secret doors where "tito" Lucio might exit. We set our radio frequencies and vowed to alert everyone, only to find out he's going out exactly where he got in. No bodyguard obstructions, no paranoid actions, just a slow walk down the center carpet with PIChE officials. When asked to pose for a picture, tito Lucio politely obliged. My friend, upon seeing him, realized something. He's old.


I can't see me...But at least I'm closer. Wait was that cheap perfume?


I am gasping for visibility in this photo, which no one in our delegation would take(because that means they'll not be in the picture,duh). We have to run after tito Lucio's secretary (we thought she's his secretary) and her camera, and gave her our email then beg to upload the pic on Facebook and tag us. Obviously, I am not the only one who thinks he's a STAR!