Netsuke, pockets, pretty little things and things I don't mind losing

Packing is always a test of what you can live without. And I'm not talking about distant, prolonged travels; I'm thinking mundane trips to the grocery.

If I had it my way, I'd like to be like men: have both hands free, and the torso unencumbered by straps and excess weight when outside. All they need are keys, cash, phone. All of which could fit in their trouser pockets. There'd still be probably room for a hanky and cigarettes. See, I could manage with only those items as well! Except there's a huge difference between men's and women's bottom wear, eloquently put in this tweet:

Dear makers of women's clothing, Pants pockets should be like poetry: DEEP ENOUGH TO BE MEANINGFUL.

— Linda Sue Park (@LindaSuePark) June 11, 2019

There're the rub. So until women's clothing is designed with "meaningful pockets", I would have to resort to wristlets, sling bags and the like.

*

Back in the Edo period, the pocketless kimono is accessorized with a netsuke, described by Tadashi Tanada as "a non-slip toggle used with sagemono — small personal items such as a money pouch or tobacco container". The sagemono and netsuke are on opposite ends of a cord that is secured onto the obi (sash worn with the kimono).

Of course you're curious about etymology, and Tadashi offers two possible origins: ne (root) + tsuketa (attached) and tsuketa (attached) + nemoto (to the bottom).

Fast-forward to the present, the netsuke has become a novelty to foreigners and even among the Japanese themselves (I asked a couple of my Japanese trainees about it and was met with silence). But japonisme along with netsuke carvers and enthusiasts have kept it alive as an art form.

Zanmai Onosato, A Tengu's Nose. Tengus are long-nosed goblins said to lead human beings astray.

At first sight, you'll take them as miniature sculptures. Masanori Watanabe breaks down the netsuke's distinctive features:

1. Each netsuke must have two holes where a cord can pass, moreover, it must be designed to face the right direction when attached beneath the obi. Now that netsuke are almost never put to practical use, the holes may be nominal in size, but unless a cord can be passed through them, the sculpture is not a netsuke.
2. It must not damage and get caught on the kimono or obi. A functional netsuke will have few projecting parts and an overall rounded form.
3. Unlike ornamental sculptures meant for display, every surface of the netsuke is visible and appreciated while it is slowly rotated in the palm of the hand.

In celebration of the Philippine-Japan friendship month, The Japan Foundation brings its Contemporary Wood-Carved Netsuke traveling exhibition to Makati. Sixty-five pieces by netsuke artists are available for viewing — and touching — at Greenbelt 5 until the 21st of July.

My imagination was sparked, so during my visit I asked the maximum weight an average netsuke could handle, to which the answer is 50 grams. To be honest I may have misheard and I don't exactly know what 50 grams means. Half a mobile phone? Anyway, I saw a couple of keys tied to a netsuke in the exhibit, and in another, a rather wide but slim pouch.

How netsukes are traditionally used.

*

Can I navigate the concrete jungle with the merest 50 grams suspended from my clothes? (Aside, images of old ladies hiding cash in their bras now flash in my mind.)

When I was in college, on the way to the mall to meet high school friends, my wallet was stolen. Definitely, I couldn't go to the meet-up anymore, worse, I had no clue how I'd return home. After composing myself, I approached a policeman and explained my situation. Someone gave me transportation money in the end.

As for losing keys and gadgets, those happened to me, too, and somehow — as with the other small losses — I found a way to survive.

I'm not trying to force out a lesson on divestment from the netsuke (though I really wanted to). Rather, I'm urging you to go view the ongoing exhibit, and if anyone in the clothing industry is reading this, please: Women's clothes with functional pockets!

*

Source of quotes and netsuke information: Contemporary Wood-Carved Netsuke. Edited by Daisuke Harada and Keiko Okawa, The Japan Foundation, 2017.

Not for nostalgia but knowledge

One thing that undersecretary Manolo Quezon III reiterated during his lecture on the opening day of “Defining Quirino,” a commemorative exhibit at the Ayala Museum, was: “Today began yesterday.” These words he borrowed from writer Leon Maria Guerrero.

Part of the Philippines’ yesterday included Quirino, whose legacy the nation enjoys today — minimum wage, eight-hour work laws, the social security system, and standardization of teachers’ salaries. The unfortunate fact is not many are aware of who Quirino is beyond being a former president of the republic, a reason that the President Elpidio Quirino Foundation, Inc. came up with the exhibit.

Quezon presented to the audience a Quirino who is at his core a broken human being just like you and me. We heard his voice and saw him in his trunks, about to dive into a pool. We saw photos of him soon after he was informed of then president Manuel Roxas’ death. Quirino was a vision of a leader in control of the situation. Not until the next photo, which shows Quirino crying by the casket. Those photographs portrayed a man who is both prepared and not, a man who is both tough and fragile. Personally, the images evoked some of my deepest fears: losing someone important and taking on responsibilities I didn’t ask for, at least not for the time being. Quirino weathered all these and more. His family was taken from him during the war. How does one recover from that?

We were also reminded of the difference between a politician and a statesman, and that Quirinio exemplified the latter. Trivia: he became notorious for sleeping in a P5,000 bed (then an extravagant amount). “But he bought it,” Quezon noted, “and he left it at the palace.” Quezon also pointed out that, thinking of the next generation, Quirino was among the first, if not the first to assert the importance of claiming the Spratly archipelago. And when he lost to Ramon Magsaysay in the next elections, he welcomed him to the office — an act of goodwill we barely witness in the political arena.

Quezon said something amusing before the start of his talk: “Usually there would only be around 15 people in a lecture like this,” and he referred to men and women who already knew the subject. That time, the ground was filled with students (granted, they were required to attend by their teachers). He confessed it would be a challenge to introduce someone who lived half a century ago to those born in the ’90s. But should it not be the point of exhibits — (re)discovery? Hopefully the afternoon at the museum served as an opportunity for both young and old, strangers to and friends and relatives of Quirino to look at a historical figure and what he means to them with a clearer head, without a nostalgic filter. It was, after all, an invitation to define Quirino.

—Originally published on GIST

Elegance

Happy new year from the comfort of my apartment.

Last night I was saying that New Year is very much over-rated because we're merely talking about the passage of time. Ten o'clock becoming eleven, Wednesday overtaking Tuesday, and so on.

But I feel like conversing and that first sentence was this occasion's version of Good afternoon how are you?

Me? I'm doing fine. Going back to the first sentence again, I'm living in an apartment now. In my own space since November last year.

It was about the same time I took on a new job in the same company. And that was right after I got my driving license.

And before the year ended, December 30 to be exact, I bought a new phone, which I'm using now to blog this (and which I used to shoot the attached photo).

All these activities, acquired possessions, and changes make me feel, well, good. Not because something's happening in my life but because I am making things happen.

2014's theme is open doors. And because Mel gave me 'The elegance of the hedgehog' as a Christmas gift, am making 2015 all about elegance.

But for now it's just a nice-sounding idea. No concrete plans yet. I think, unlike what many nice, well-meaning people say, I aim to create beauty on the outside so that it will affect me positively on the inside.

I do take care of myself but this time I have to purposefully create who I am. Don't worry, I know that true art conceals itself.

Bag brag

My Hedgren Eveline tote

Excuse me but I just had another fashion breakthrough.

So usually the case is, at least for me I think, you watch runway shows then covet what's being modelled.

Tonight, I saw the Hedgren Eveline tote I bought last August launched in the Hegren Style Fair. They even showcased the same print!

Rawr.

The bag featured in the Hedgren Style Fair

Dressing problems

Wednesday 11am, managed to drag myself out of bed, showered brushed teeth put on whatever clothes. A glance at the mirror—out of habit—didn't like what I saw, changed outfits three or four times.

Walang gana, we say in Tagalog. That's how I felt. Despite this lack of enthusiasm or better yet a mental readiness to face the day, I couldn't go out looking pangit.

And that was something to be happy about. That I still cared. That I haven't accepted defeat and instead 'dressed up, fought, [made] amends'.

*

On a related note, I came across this article about Elizabeth Hawes today. I haven't heard of her and, as the author remarked, neither have you. The piece, however, served as a good introduction to the American fashion designer. Let me end this blog with Hawes' words so you can begin reading her:

If you’ve solved your dressing problems satisfactorily for yourself, you are bound to attract the people you want to attract and for the reasons you want to attract them: a better job, a new mate, a competent lover, a fresh friend.

Design

Ticket to Emerging Visions
at the SMX Convention Center

Today I attended the 6th National Architecture Symposium organised by the UST Architecture Network (ARCHINET). This year's theme is 'Emerging Visions: Shifting Perspectives in Architectural Evolution' and lecturers include Inge Goudsmit of OMA Asia and Andreas Schmitzer of Project A01 Architects.

Asked about materials they used in a certain project, Schmitzer gave a generous response that centers on 'hiding the material'. He said something along the lines of, 'The truth is everything is fake. Everything is not what it seems.' I wanted him to talk more about it, but there were time constraints.

Another interesting—and in a way consoling—tidbit is that architects already consider themselves lucky if 10% of their work is realised. Most of the designs they spent sleepless nights on will never be constructed, and therefore will never be utilised and enjoyed by anyone.

The highlight of the event is that I was sitting beside and even shook hands with Architect Bong Recio (Recio+Casas). Though I only found out it was him when he was asked to come up on stage and deliver his keynote address. Silly me, I managed to introduce myself yet didn't ask who he was. I was prepared to chat him up after the lunch break, but unfortunately he left.

The affair took me back to my college days when the classroom and the lecture hall are some of the most exhilarating places to be. You meet people like them, see how they think, and you trust that the world is in good hands. The Taipei Performing Arts Centre is particularly inspired and how I wish to one day watch a show there.

Pet peeve: small circular mug handle
Elegant but a challenge to use

On a more trivial note, I used to make the mistake of associating design with mere patterns, divorced of function. Having written about homes and high-rises in the past couple of years, I've become more thoughtful about the word.

So after the symposium, I had coffee at the Mall of Asia and lo and behold, the perfect example of bad (or at the very least, inconvenient) design: the small circular mug handle. The only way I could raise this heavy mug (which I actually like) to my lips is if I use both hands. Or is it designed that way?

2013 snapshots

From left to right, top to bottom: 1) Joined a world-wide Secret Santa;
2) Chinese New Year with friends; 3) birthday card from DLSU;
4) my coffee's making a weird face; 5) unforgettable bill; 6) whisky yeah;
7) discovered a great series; 8) was introduced to HERO Foundation;
9) celebrated birthdays of good friends, old and new;
10) passed by the memory-filled Aling Nene's restaurant;
11) re-unions; 12) got my student permit

A couple of things to note— All snapshots were taken using my camera-phone. I selected a photo per month then arranged them chronologically. This collage is definitely not a 'best of' list as most of my favorite moments are private and too quick for the shutter.

Happy New Year to all!

And nothing heals like words words words

Fine stationery, coin envelopes, pen and marker,
and Lindt Lindor white chocolate balls

'My theme for this Christmas is Gift of words. I decided to donate all the funds for your Christmas presents to the typhoon victims, so as an alternative, I've written everyone a love note.' It was a tacky joke that I blurted out anyway after I gave the last 'gift' I prepared for my office mates. To make it clear, it was in reference to the marketing and PR people who took advantage of the past tragedies in order to sell and give their respective brands a glowing image.

So the truth is, and this will come at no surprise, I din't make any donations. But neither was I being lazy nor a cheapskate. There was something this season that compelled me to simply sit back, relax, and write everyone that matters to me a letter. 'It's the thought that counts, therefore I'm telling you what I think' was another wisecrack I almost uttered and thankfully did not.

I got the idea when I sneaked out and bought my friend a Christmas card while we were having dessert at Press Cafe. The reason I did so was that she gave me one. I felt guilty. Then the whole act made me realize the fun in exchanging Christmas cards.

At first I planned on buying dozens of Christmas cards, but then my practical side kicked in. I have a drawer-full of stationery, so I used what I already have instead (I'm a cheapskate after all?). And because I still want to give them some thing, I enclosed a Lindt Lindor white chocolate ball—there may be Kisses, but these Lindor balls better represent the quality of my kiss. Heh. So a heartfelt letter enclosed with a symbolic smooch, placed inside a coin envelope—my gift-giving idea for the year. Gosh I feel so brilliant.

But I skipped narrating the hard part: writing. The gift of words is the gift of honesty. And honesty means handing your heart out. Not really up my alley. Just as with any blank page—the college term paper, the 800-word article—the bright stationery is scary.

There is also a technical difficulty. I got so used to the word processor wherein you can easily type a comma, change it to an em dash, then change it back to a comma five hours later. The pen and paper doesn't afford this luxury.

Then again, just as with the finals essay and full-page feature story, it will happen when you settle on making it happen. Those who received my little token of regard were very appreciative. My release and their response brought a belated Christmas cheer.

*The title alludes to a previous blog about being badly hurt by a cutting remark.

To do / have done

Another early Christmas gift

You cannot argue with the cute. I have long given up on collecting stickers (meaning shelling out xxxx pesos and consuming xxxx calories) to redeem a Starbucks planner, but this one came with a squee-worthy bookmark and, more importantly, came for free. My sister asked if I wanted one.

There were four colors to choose from, all of which I liked except for black. Yellow was a strong contender but I ended up choosing red (though it's closer to magenta), for the kape vinta icon. The other icons were: coffee cup, coffee bean (ooh, inadvertent subtle advertisement for the competitor), and house blend (which was my second choice).

I'm a sucker for symbolisms, making meaning and connections out of everything. And it all fell into place. A few weeks ago I decided that 2014's theme is explore/open doors, thus my preference for the vinta. Quite a coincidence as well that I received this gift on the same day that I applied for a student permit.

To-do list circa 2007

While I was fixing my stuff, I browsed through my old planners and journals, and was delighted to find a barely used stationery pad that came with the 2007 Starbucks planner. Only two pages were written on. As expected, it's a list of things to do—or as my 2007 un-proofreading self put it: Thing to Do.

For a quick review of my progress (I had to leave out items that are too private to share):

1) SSS (ID) - Got it, lost it, have yet to get a new one.
2) Student permit - Got it a couple of years ago, didn't learn to drive. Just got a new one now and vow to learn to drive before the permit expires.
4) Alumni card - Nope.
5) Dental matters - Must save up and find a good dental surgeon to extract the damned impacted wisdom teeth.

*LASIK surgery - Big check. Woohoo!
*Piano lessons - Been taking piano lessons since. Learning never ends. If anything, I should work on developing my study methods.
*Driving lessons - Like what I said in number two.

Filigree and other things pretty

House of Serafina's (clockwise from left) bangles and filigree cuffs,
tampipi filigree clutch, and bamboo filigree bag

I don't know much about fashion, but I do know a thing or two about beauty. For instance, this collection of statement jewelry and bags by House of Serafina. It resonates with my fondness for what is deceptively simple at first glance. There's nothing like an object that intrigues and draws you in, then blows you away with intricate details as you look closer.

Subtlety is a ruse anyway. It's the best accessory, if not armor, a lady can wear. That is at least how I interpret 'angel with an edge'—what Serafina stands for.

(L) Preview and trunk show;
(R) With Cristina Gomez

So far I've been obsessing about the filigree window pendant with black onyx necklace. It's captivating in itself but it even becomes meaningful when I think of the adage, 'Beautiful windows are always worth looking into' (see, that's a statement I can confidently wear). Unfortunately I don't have a decent photo of it, so better click the link. And while you're at it, add to cart, proceed to checkout, then deliver to my house on Christmas.

I feel so privileged and humbled to be part of the House of Serafina launch last Thursday. The creations are lovely, but more so are the founders. They deserve a shout-out, so thank you and a big congratulations to Cristina and Arlu Gomez and Anthony Cospito. I wish them an overflow of inspiration and support to continue doing what they do.

*Photos by my sister
**Update: I wrote thoroughly about House of Serafina on The Philippine STAR's Prestige section last December 22. Pardon the error, though — It's of course 'follow' @serafinagirl on Twitter and Instagram.

November so far

My new pocket notebook

What do you call that feeling when you're taking pleasure in the moment, and, aware of your pleasure, you begin to miss the very moment you are in? —The first note I wrote in my new notebook as I end the day at Press Cafe, the coffee shop inside Fully Booked in Alabang.

Something heavy for me

I received an early Christmas gift. The dedication says, 'Something heavy for Razel'. What's sweet about it is that I later on learned that the gift was meant to lighten up my mood.

Two people I admire and have not been in touch with for a long time sent me a message. One is a professor telling me that he misses me and the other an acquaintance I struck up this year inviting me to her special party. At least there's proof that, with the former, I made a mark in someone's life and, with the latter, that I made an impression. I'm very happy and proud of myself. But most of all, I am extremely excited to meet these human beings once again that I couldn't sleep the other night—I was singing songs that everyone's probably forgotten about in my head.

Nothing complicated

Top: Playing the mooncake dice game;
Bottom: My (consolation) prize

It's Friday and I didn't know my office mates planned on playing the mooncake dice game. The rule (as how I'm sure I imperfectly understand it) is: A player will roll six dice and a pattern must be apparent—say, 1-2-3-4-5-6 or 1-1-1-1-1-1, etc. No pattern, no prize.

Thing is, my brilliant co-workers only brought a die, so we each had to cast it six times. And arriving at a numeric theme by chance is di-ffi-cult (what I get for initially calling the game 'not challenging enough'). I swear we had more fun than how it looked in the photo.

In the end, I got a Leona Lewis CD, a humongous heart cake ring, and a charm necklace—all from our editor's treasure trove of PR giveaways.

There were tasks to finish and objects of dismay, but it was basically a laid-back night. TGIF— the wind's howling, we might be in for another stormy weekend.

Efforts to look good

Midnight at Bonifacio High Street, after a heavy downpour

The still water in the man-made pond reflected the image of the strip of boutique shops and the clarity was so captivating my friend and I had to pause from our walk.

I see that friend quarterly, roughly. Last night something was different about her. She was all dressed up. Normally she would just be in her jeans and t-shirt. But this time she donned a nice black-and-white printed blouse and white pants, and carried a black leather shoulder bag. It wasn't exactly a happy expression she was wearing, but she exuded a lighter air.

And neither was I happy. But it would be bad news to report that I didn't change for the better myself. I, too, have been dressing well, trying on new things.

You have to appreciate people for taking good care of themselves—which is the least selfish act, because that says they're hopeful about the world, and that they care about you. They want to be healthy for you, be able to brave the rain to meet you, treat you to a fancy dinner, listen to your worries attentively, make sense of your incoherences, give advice, share a laugh, engage in a midnight walk.

Birthday month thoughts

1.

'It takes a long time to grow young.' —Pablo Picasso

The quote is written in one of the birthday cards I received. A consolation, a challenge now that I'm 30?

2.

'We were never being boring.
We had too much time to find for ourselves...
We dressed up and fought then thought: Make amends.
We were never holding back, worried that time would come to an end.'

—Pet Shop Boys, Being boring

Glad to hear this song, which is a reminiscence, at this time when I still have a lot of chance to build things that will make for good memories, stories.

Why keep a diary

My 2012 diary

Maybe writing in a daybook is my praying. Talking to someone I don't know but believe in.

'Never abandon the wholesome practice of saying your own private prayers, night and morning. I have never abandoned it myself, and I know the comfort of it,' wrote Charles Dickens to his son.

Wholesome: promoting health or well-being of mind or spirit. A telling of the last twenty-four hours' events and thoughts soothes me.

It's more than putting memories, feelings and ideas in a vault for safe-keeping and posterity (I seldom re-read my journals anyway). It is a way of affirming the day. Today can only be complete if I re-call, re-assess, and re-construct it in words.

Wholesome: based on well-grounded fear. What is the consequence of missing a log? That what happened is not captured and made sense of, and is therefore meaningless and untrue.

Secret Santa

Got a package

All right, coming clean, coming out. Deep inside my steely exterior is a screaming fangirl.

See, there's this little thing called Cabin Pressure. It's as little as an airdot (as compared to an airline). And this little thing makes me happy — not just cheery, but truly happy. Apparently, a lot of others are being made truly happy by it, too.

Long story short, I joined in the fandom's Secret Santa thingy last Christmas. Now, as you all know, the holidays just passed and it's almost February. So I thought that's it, my Secret Santa either was sick, got the wrong address, or left me for another girl.

But then the universe was only testing my patience (because it likes to do that to people). Last night I received a notice from the post office. It required going to the customs.

To cut to the highlight of the story, my Secret Santa hasn't forsaken me.

Inside the package

"...I think it's an utterly stupid idea for two reasons: one of which is obvious and the other of which is that Arthur is 29 years old." Yeah, this might be something only 15-year-olds engage in, but deep inside me is a 15-year-old beaming girl.

Money

De La Salle centennial
commemorative banknotes

A few things I learned:

1. An easy way to look good is to wear clothes that fit. It's difficult to find pants for my body type. But that's because I look in the wrong places, searching for what suits my budget and not my frame. See, my hips and thighs don't like to wear cheap garments.

2. A consolation for buying a really expensive pair of jeans is receiving three commemorative De La Salle centennial 100-peso bills for my change.

3. The downside to doing work I care about is earning less than I used to. Yet by some strange mathematics miracle, my luxuries remain. I don't value money as much as I value time and energy.

4. To be clear: Money is, has been, and will always be very important to me.

Dressed in light

I just received my 13th month pay yesterday. I love money, because it is so concrete, so useful and manageable. I know exactly what to do with it.

I bought the gifts for people whom I feel like giving something to. (I like the bows, nightglitters and untying. I like opening, ripping, finding. And despite dedication and signature, a trace of anonymity. That piece of self ungiven—because unresolved—in the present, beyond touch and thought.)

Since late October, when I come home from work, I pass by the line of trees dressed in light along Ayala Avenue. And every time, I keep hearing Yourcenar's words about stars whose brilliance dazzle but keep you cold. Like knowledge, like gold.

And so my wish for everyone is the same wish I've constantly been wishing for people I care about. That we may be blessed with light that both clarifies and warms.

Sexing the Jersey

It was a Saturday morning. I was walking with my friend, Teta, in the campus. We just came from lunch and we're heading to our Saturday class. We passed by the school's basketball court and in it, some guys were playing.

If it was a question between did they make the jersey look good, or the other way around, it would be the other way around.

I watched them strut their stuff and saw no face. I just saw two teams moving.

The jersey is its own aesthetic and glory. It is its own self. It is its own sex.

I told Teta, Ang ganda nila tingnan, ang ganda nung jersey, bagay sa kahit sinong lalaki. From that moment up to now, I have fallen in love with the jersey: the uniform one earns and others contend with.

And so there goes my fantasy. How I'd love to be with a man who is a part of, and serves for, an institute and a cause. It is the turn-on, really. Someone who would let himself dissolve in order to blend with others to be able to operate in unison. Someone with a killer instinct.

And so there goes my fantasy, do I want to do it with 5, better yet 10 players (talk about being a ball coveted by 2 troupes)? Do I want to do it in the middle of the big dome? In the field while it’s raining, or early before dawn? How about in a stadium filled with spectators (add to that a commentor?) In the instance where I’d be with that one valuable player--once he gets undressed, do I want to fuck him, or the jersey?

There goes my fantasy.