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Homage to Maningning Miclat

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Apr. 10th, 2012 | 01:18 pm
location: manila


a homage....




Maningning Miclat, a published author, multilingual poet, prize-winning artist, an interpreter and art teacher at Far Eastern University passed away at the tender age of 28.

Born and raised in Beijing, China for the first half of her life, she grew up to become an accomplished painter in both Chinese and Western genre and a multilingual poet, fictionist and essayist publishing her works in English, Filipino and Chinese.

Maningning had her first solo exhibit of Chinese traditional paintings at the age of 15 at the Cultural Center of the Philippines in 1987. "Maningning: An Exhibit of Chinese Brush Works" would only be the first of five solo exhibitions, and the first of about 32 total exhibitions for her. That same year, she launched her first book of poetry in Chinese "Wo De Shi", My Poems.

The sensitive artist / poet won the 1992 Art Association of the Philippines (AAP) Grand Prize in Non-Representational painting for her abstract, " Trouble in Paradise" while still a student at the University of the Philippines, College of Fine Arts. She would graduate with a Bachelor of Fine Arts, Major in Painting, Cum Laude standing, in 1994.

While excelling in the visual arts, she also followed her heart in the literary world. She became a fellow of the U.P. National Writer's Workshop in 1990 where she won an award and a Jullie Lluch trophy for her one-act play in Filipino. In 1991, she became a fellow of the Silliman Writer's Workshop for her poems in English. Her poems in Chinese would earn for her a niche in the Chinese poetry, counting her as one of the 39 Top-Rated Women Poets in Chinese anthologized in a book published in Beijing.

Multi-faceted Maningning "sold paintings, wrote for newspapers, designed book covers, taught Mandarin at the Ateneo University, and even had her second book, Voice from the Underworld published by Anvil Publishing." She would later teach art at the FEU while taking up masters in Fine Arts at U.P.

" Maningning as a child growing up in Beijing, was taught the Marxist definition of literature and the arts as concentrated representations of life and nature on a higher plane. Precociously maturing in Manila, she started creating her representations of beauty through painting and poetry. The ashes she left behind are now kept in a quiet sepulcher surrounded by nature's verdure at the foot of Subic's hills."

Maningning Miclat's poems:
http://www.facebook.com/note.php?saved&¬e_id=438958840686
http://emilyap.blog.friendster.com/tag/maningning-miclat/

Ang Naliligaw
Naliligaw ako sa paglalakbay,
Naliligaw sa kahahanap,
Naliligaw at hindi malaman
kung paano ba makabalik sa Oxford Street.

Naliligaw sa pamamasyal,
Hindi maintindihan ang mapa,
Hindi malaman kung bakit
Nandirito na naman sa Charing Cross.

Kaya umupo na lang sa Trafalgar Square,
Namulot ng balahibo ng kalapati,
Pero tinapon rin dahil mukhang marumi,
Mukhang maalikabok ang pakpak na nahuli.

Umikot na lang sa paligid,
Pinanood ang gusali,
Pinag-aralan ang kilos ng ibang turista,
Umikot at nag-isip, at naisip kita.

Naisip kita at inisip kita,
At bumalik ako sa National Gallery
Pumunta sa West Wing,
At doon, tumulala ako.

Naliligaw sa kalalakad,
na parang isang feather ng pakpak,
na hindi na makabalik sa ulap,
at hindi na makasama sa paglipad.

Buti na lang naisip ka
sa aking pagkaligaw,
Iniisip na mapapansin mo
ang ulap sa ‘yong paglalakbay.

At ninais na isipin ka
habang nakatulala kay Titian,
kay Bronzino at kay Michaelangelo,
at pinili kong isipin ka.

Pinili kong isipin ka,
sa paglalakbay at sa pagkaligaw.
Sa paghahanap ay nadarama ko:
Mahal, mahal na mahal kita.

----------------------------

Berso # 2

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay mahulog
Parang ang puso ko itong nadudurog.

Kung mag-isa ako huwag nang isipin
Sa dilim ay dapat pa akong hanapin
Habang may luha ay huwag pang ibigin
Sa pangarap ko ay huwag nang gisingin.

Kaya kong maghintay sa mga tula mo
Marinig sa awit ng kabilang dako
At tuklasin sa paglalakad na ito
Hamog at luha ng bulaklak at damo.

Mapapanood ang sayaw ng tutubi
Mapapakinggan ang ibong humuhun
iHihinahon ang pusong di mapakali
At hihimlay na sa mapayapang gabi.

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay nahulog
Parang ang puso ko nga itong nadudurog.

_______

Testimony
The territory of shadows is a petal,
An organic wish, a solidified thought,
An awareness of wind catching fishes,
A gratitude for getting rid of clothes.

With the kind gesture of an evening: low tide and safe,
I am sharing the water with the Hundred Islands.
Floating on the galaxies’ reflection,
I float as night sky carves down an embrace,
an elusive feeling of eternity and floating,
a gesture of wind and a bath of moonlight
from the sea bottom. I am the salt in the evening.
I am the celebration of beginnings.
I, finally getting rid of my clothes.
I, weightless, without knowing what.
Between the sky and me is the wind.

There is an ageless consciousness of being a woman.
There is a shapeless idea of being in the water.
There is a testimony of the sky and the earth.
There is no longer the terrestrial truth,
I am no longer a victim of war.


__________-

Ginugunita Kita #2

Marikit na tala ang tanglaw sa dilim,
Sa halimuyak ng matamis na hangin,
Sa gubat ng gabi ay hinihintay ko,
Mga kislap ng nilimot na pangako.

Habang may hapdi ang sugat ng kahapon,
Di maalpasan ang diwang nakakahon,
Inaawit ang kundiman ng pagsinta
Sa dalamhati ng pusong umaasa.

Ginuguni-gunita kita,
Binubuo sa alaala.
Pinapanga-pangarap ka,
Inuukit sa haraya.

____

Panibugho

Naunawaan ang hiwaga
sa titig mong umiiwas
kaninang umaga.
Nabasa ang talinghagang
tinago ng sansinukob.
Luminaw ang dahilan
sa nagmamadali mong pamamaalam.
Parang hindi na sasapit ang umaga
sa paninibugho sa dilim.

Buti na lang
hindi naririnig,
ang isip at kalooban
nitong himpapawid.
Hindi rin nakikiramdam
ang butiki sa dinding
sa mga dasal ng aking ligalig.

_______

Why A Mural ?
I want space - a two dimensional space.

To form form and forms
that change , while my arms
ways, my hand holds the brushto play
with the glacial acrylic paints.

Forms that bring back
the balance and rhythm
of xieyi painting
where yin is left in the whiteness
of rice paper, and yang is limned
by the shades of gray and black ink.

A space for the music of painting
where white is not blank but tone
and black is the silent interval
cantata tat springs forth from the air
vanishes backand remains as brushstrokes.

To absorb a process of change
in the gesture of a fearless arm
emotion that moves and grows:
forms being formed to forget
the finiteness of beginnings.

Beside this poem
is a prayer
frozen in the acrylic paints.

Beside this poem
is a mural
- a desire for space.

--------

Laughter

He left me
when he could
no longer stand the laughter

that I gave him
while he begged me not
to keep memories

alive in poems
to hurt myself
and make those
who read

sad. I laughed
when he shared
his life with me
while holding him

to make it easier
and maybe
less painful
to live on.

Laugh! I told
him, but
could not get
his attention.

Laugh! I asked
him, but
he left in
anger.

And left
before he understood
the courage
that held my laughter.
______

Father and I

The leaves are shaking,
"Look. It's the wind!"
You said, " No, those are leaves.
Wind cannot be seen."

Snowflakes whirl down
- An emblem of purity.
You said, " No, it is deception.
It is here to cloak the filth."

A lovely object
Took my fancy.
You said, "It's Useless."

I haven't walked too far,
But I am feeling tired.
Let me rest by the path for a while.

When the wind blows, I feel it.
When snow swirls down, I see it.
The lovely object I hold in my hand.

_____




compiled by emil yap
2008 nov 07

http://emilyap08.multiply.com/journal/item/45/homage_to_Maningning_Miclat
http://www.facebook.com/note.php?saved&¬e_id=438958840686






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