Between Souss-Massa and ‘Zzyzx’ in Manila
By Bree Jonson

'My Own Words' is a monthly series which features personal essays by practitioners in the Southeast Asian art community. They deliberate on their locality's present circumstances, articulating observations and challenges in their respective roles.

A stray feather caught on the spindly branches rustling by the cold North Atlantic sea. At this moment, I am in limbo, not wanted here nor there, yet persisting. A week ago, it was announced that returning citizens to the Philippines would be banned, effective on the day I would have arrived. Trembling, I cancelled everything, and later, shaking livid at the ban being retracted hours before my flight, I felt like a joke, but to whom could I direct this anger? It is odd to be 7 hours late from Manila: it ensures my mornings are reserved for mournings, as I read news headlines and hear of who has been exposed, or who is in the hospital. I ventured here in search of reprieve, yet my country, unsettled, shadows my every move.

Souss-Massa National Park in Morocco. Image courtesy of the artist.

How does one map an alien territory? Would acknowledging its contours help fill the gap? The difference between me and not me is the landscape, and in an attempt to grasp at the roots, I familiarise myself with its red brick-hued wilderness. I took photos whilst at a nature reserve in Morocco, one which spearheaded the (successful) conservation of the Northern Bald Ibis, a bird revered historically, depicted in Egyptian hieroglyphs and buried amongst their mummies, and like all other species endowed (or cursed) with holiness, is close to extinction. I saw two flocks of ibises from afar, like arrows with their long beaks and fletchings of black tail feathers. It is this place that made it possible for the almost nonexistent to survive.

I painted the landscapes of Souss-Massa. How simple and straight, unlike the precarious situation I am in. It is my own wishful thinking that life must imitate art. I humorously imagine myself a retired painter expatriated in a foreign country, just painting landscapes, an escapee from the truth that my life and future, along with many others, depends on the flimsy whims of a madman seated in a large house overlooking a dirty river in the heart of Manila. Unlike me, the wild rugged landscapes of the reserve had laid witness to countless histories and have outlived each of them. It knows within itself the resilience of centuries, which I recognise but cannot partake. I revere it and its vastness. Here, even giants feel small.

A lone bridge at Souss-Massa. Image courtesy of the artist.

The past year has been one long lamentation of sorts as it was for most, yet I survived in order to produce works for a solo exhibition which was held in January at Artinformal (no gathering, of course). At some point I realised the difference between point A and point B is how much I am willing to sacrifice along the way. I gave it more than what I knew I had and there is a certain pride in knowing that. The studio is a portal of possibility, where rules, bodies and words are mangled, spliced and restructured in order to come up with objects that are regenerative in nature. It is a Sisyphean struggle akin to an image I saw once, of an artist digging a hole in order to pile a mound of soil beside it.

A flock of white ibis on my notebook 3 days after the news that returning citizens to the Philippines are banned. Image courtesy of the artist.

I spent last year quietly working on restructuring the lives of obscure and endangered animals whose presence is only felt in their absence. The movers delivered the works to the gallery and positioned them against the wall upside down, so that the birds, instead of falling, were flying. There was a significant difference in effect. Perhaps it is in our innate wish to see these birds claim the sky, or that it confounds us to know they are falling down. The scope of ecology and its consequences on our lives is often too big to understand that it escapes us completely. I included a note to the gallery saying the collector may choose in which direction to hang it; their decision shall complete the work.

I have also made the cliff dive into videos and performance in an effort to edify the connection between animals and the environment (non-human beings) to underrepresented minorities of the human population (non-persons). It was at this point I asked myself how much am I willing to give birth to an idea.

Hesitance is the enemy of movement and so within a night, friends became collaborators and a week later we held the shoot, where I learned how to dance on the spot. Another friend helped with editing whilst I moved on to working on making the televisions work. I was my own technician and through the labyrinthian hurdles of cheap Chinese wires and wonky media players, I found my way. Tackling new directions in art practice requires blind faith.

“I find that words rather than drawings help me more in translating an idea onto a surface. It leaves more openness and is less authoritative, and more permeable to reconfiguration as ideas leap from text to symbol.”

The video is the first in a series of wearing a green suit, performing a circumstance, and deleting the performer afterwards. The first one is an awkward striptease. It is a script I wrote in 2018, about an amateur strip dance where the act of undressing reveals nothing.

I have just received news that the building where I live and where my studio is, will be locked down due to Covid-19 cases. Considering the progress of events, I do not think I will be able to go back to my routine for at least a month once back. I am looking for alternative living spaces, and alternative ways to produce work, to be more mobile and agile.

I flew the day after the show opened. Like a bird, I migrated and flew back in time to 7 hours behind the Philippine sun, and have been here for almost 3 months now. This entire time, I have been sketching scripts in my notebook, for the green man series, future video work and paintings. I find that words rather than drawings help me more in translating an idea onto a surface. It leaves more openness and is less authoritative, and more permeable to reconfiguration as ideas leap from text to symbol.

I am aiming for an art residency outside of Manila in May, where I will be packing light this time, and will spend most of the time conducting material and methodology research. This is of course subject to change due to the circumstances that the Philippines is in now. Everything is up in the air for me, and many others. The world seems to be moving on albeit slowly, while my country, still in lockdown, goes into another lockdown. For once, I feel like one of the falling birds in my painting. I fly back in a few weeks to land on shaky ground.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect those of A&M.
This essay was first published in CHECK-IN 2023, A&M’s first annual publication. Click here to read the digital copy in full, or to purchase a copy of the limited print edition.

Read all My Own Words essays here.