IT is night, which is really early morning, and Kristian Sendon Cordero and I are talking about poetics and what poems to assign to readers. In this age of death, it is business as usual between the two of us.
It is as if Savage Mind remains in operation. This is the bookstore and cultural hub established by Kristian, a nationally recognized writer, in Naga City. The place has developed a reputation for inviting to town and hosting established writers and artists. It has lived to the meaning of its name, with “savage” no more a derogatory term implying the primitive, but recovering the beauty of the “untamed” mind, as Claude Levi-Strauss has said, a mind that freely gathers things and bundles them into new, brave ideas.
But if the Catholic Masses could be reimagined with only the priest present and the Olympics canceled, what can a bookstore do?
It was in that state of isolation and anxiety that a small but insanely daring project was born—a poetry reading online.
Could we ask celebrities to read? Kristian was raising this point because the main goal of Savage Mind is to develop reading and generate a love of literature and books.
As the discussion went on, we started to zero in on actors as readers. We were aware of online postings from actors showing that they—like other ordinary people—were struggling and coping with being cooped up in homes and condos. They have time.
Can you call Jimmy? “Jimmy” is Jaime Fabregas, the actor. I did and explained to him what we were planning. Jimmy said yes. We talked via Messenger.
Before Jimmy, Kristian and I already settled on the first three poems to be read. Just three, we told ourselves. The reading was not meant to be an academic display but an attempt to interest anyone about poetry. There would be no discussion. The poems as read would be the gift of Savage Mind to a nervous world that has retreated into itself.
Jimmy would read an English poem from Luis G. Dato. The poet is a legend among Bikolano readers and artists. He was celebrated among the prewar greats, which included Jose Garcia-Villa and Angela Manalang-Gloria. After that—a week or so—Jimmy would recite the poetry of two major writers: Luis Cabalquinto and Marne Kilates. They just happen to be Bikolanos.
Luis is based in New York while Marne is in Manila. Between the two are hundreds of verses and numerous awards. Luis and Marne are heralded for their gift in crafting poems in English. In the Bikol language, both writers sing of the sad and the fleeting, the sensation of remembering always an open season.
Jimmy was free to do anything with the three poems. If there was an imposition, it was that Kristian mainly selected the poems and I commented here and there. Kristian reviewed the finished product and engaged an editor to refine the video. Then the video was released online. No fuss, no frills.
From Jimmy, we learned a different way of reading a poem—by not reading it. Jimmy showed us the pauses, giving us the open spaces of those tiny silences. And when the quick reviews from readers came, we knew we had a good event.
Whoever said art should stop when there are threats of annihilation? More than ever, art stands for life, the negation of negation and poetry is one solution for the lockdown, the death promising to come anytime.
Who do we invite next? I volunteered to do the calling. Focused as we were on Bikol writing, we sort of limited ourselves to Bikolano actors.
Lui Quiambao Manansala was next. She agreed to read even as she was candid about the lack of idea of what to do. The fault was ours. We never had any formal letter of invite. For some reason, we avoided that. The world was in desolation. We might as well open up ourselves to those reaching out. We also did not have step-by-step instruction. I have a feeling Lui did not have any idea she would take the video of herself reading. But, like Jimmy, she never asked.
Even before Lui had sent in her videotaped reading (using a phone), Kristian and I were already talking about who to invite next.
By the time Lui’s readings hit us with such a thud, Christian Bables had already signified his interest. What happened was I saw Christian online. I greeted him. What are you doing? Are you okay? Would you want to read a poem?
Sandino Martin was also online when we met for the project that by this time had already a title—“Himati.” It is a Bikol word for sensing and deep feeling to the point of empathy. Would you have time to read a poem?
“I have ideas” was the response of Sandino. “I like to experiment,” he told us.
Last Sunday, Sandino surprised us with a question: “Can I e-mail now my video?”
The video arrived. Sandino was reading as he seemed to rock back and forth. He read a line about the moon appearing and a moon did appear. I will stop there lest I spoil your viewing of the video. Suffice it to say that Christian and Sandino performed, and not read, the poems given to them.
As of this writing, the following have said yes to this small project: Angeli Bayani, Sue Prado, Dexter Doria, Rocco Nacino and Max Eigenmann. The last three actors are “courtesy” of Will Fredo.
We are yet to finalize talks with Shamaine Centenera-Buencamino, another Bikolana artist (Max is Bikolana on her mother side). Jimmy Fabregas contacted the actress for us. I speak of “talks” as if there are contact signing and other protocols. There is none and credit for the success of our initiative is greatly due to these actors. Every night is a lesson in reading and interpretation, with Kristian and me the avid listeners to these great teachers.
With our listeners or viewers having reached more than 100,000, we are inspired to craft a syllabus so we could use these videos for classroom instruction. We hope the actors would agree because they are as much a part of this phenomenon with the Ateneo de Naga University Press and Savage Mind.
We are moving away from our original focus on “Bikol” and “Bikolano artist.” We feel the labels, at best, provide heuristic devices good for teaching but are not useful anymore in understanding human societies and the Humanities. Like our poetry readings which are not grounded on physical geographies, teaching about good poetry and art is limited by the concept of regional identities and authenticities, both problematic constructs.
Contactless, the teaching of poetry and literature will never be the same again. This is good reality.
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