DEC13_SUPERDUPERFINAL

At one time in the many fora of VIVA I had warned how VIVA
and NCCA were also political arenas for artists. But this was an
arena without ground rules. Any sense of order herein was mainly
accidental and intuitive. I suggested there ought be ground rules for
these engagements otherwise it would always be hard to consolidate
any achievements. It was unable to do this, but perhaps not for
the lack of trying. Internal struggle became inevitable and obvious.
Without ground rules, the center would always be contested ground
that favored those who were already positioned there. I decided for
myself that the only way I can personally deal with it was to operate
at the margins.
I stayed with the CVA for only a full term and then Estela Ocampo-
Fernandez would replace me. She served her full term of three years.
Knowing the political nature of that position we felt we should set
a good example of not staying too long in that position. It was good
training ground best reserved for young people. You would have to
judge for yourself if this example was even noticed by those who
followed.
But before all that, 1998 and the Cebu VIVA ExCon held at the Boys
Scout Camp in Beverley Hills. This was camping ground lacking
hotel amenities. Those requiring this were billeted in hotels nearby.
It was a young-person’s VIVA held in camping grounds with a small
pool and a large covered court for assemblies and lectures. There
were camp-fire meetings every night. Workshops and exhibits in the
day time. Students and alumni of the various art schools joined and
pitched-in with the work; all these working towards a culmination
- the last evening of celebration after all the assessments had been
done, the paperwork signed, the final official words of goodbye. The
ritual length of rope was passed around until everyone present held
a part of it. And then the promise to keep it going and see you again
in two years, more or less.
And then it began. First the drums, then any sound-making device
that could join and bring us into the edge of cacophony, including
the late Rudy Manero’s motorcycle screaming close by. All these
noise bringing us to the edge of something as ill-defined as VIVA
itself. Before the darkness took me, I remember Nune Alvarado and
his kids and the crash of something sounding like cymbals. Only the
next morning would we find out we would have to replace most the
silver serving trays. But no one died nor ended in the hospital. We
all returned home feeling quite fulfilled and pleased. We thought we
did a good job.
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References:
VIVA ExCon Community Artchives,
Conversations with Estela Ocampo-Fernandez
Personal Recollection
Roylu’s corrections to the original article: