Tacky, Kitschy, Campy: Variance in Architectural Aesthetic Confusion In and Around Intramuros By There are treatise and treatises that tells us what is beautiful but not what is ugly. We only generally recognize what is ugly when the object of our perception fails to square with what we know and think as beautiful. But beauty, inspite of a wide range of theoretical sources on the subject can remain ambiguous. A wooden sculpture of an Ifugao rice god, Bulul, may not come as a benevolent divinity to Vigan town folk who grew up worshipping religious icons garbed in flowing robes or gold-embroidered accoutrements. And even among Christians, the rule in judging that a certain degree of beauty is divine enough for the Madonna can be confused between and among differing taste for plaster, wood, or marble; for damask, Dacron, or felt paper; for a face accented by a Mona Lisa smile, masked by a stoic expression, or a countenance in a state of ardent lamentation. Ugliness is thus even more perplexing to explicate in reference to the complex question of the beautiful. Though such explication might adhere to the tenet that art, whether good or bad, is objectively a matter of taste and culture, I would categorically say that art, in fact, can be subjectively thought of as good or bad the moment taste and culture become matters of deliberation. The right, or wrong, blend of taste and culture in any given medium produces an artform that may or may not comply with a generally accepted idea of what is beautiful and can thus be deemed ugly. This mixture can be categorized according to three modalities of mediocrity in art: art in such modalities may be characterized as falling into tacky, kitschy, campy; exaggerates or so emotional as to be too narrow to the point of sacrificing art’s elemental balance; it is neither noveau nor classic; is intended for a specific audience, and thus, victimized by economy and political motive; pretentious, flamboyant, amateur, even as it can also be excellent, ground-breaking and remarkable either by intent or accident. A case in point would be urban structures; in particular, those found in Intramuros and its vicinity (Luneta, Chinatown, Sta. Cruz). Camp urban structures can be a tourist’s interest as one travels from Luneta to Sta. Cruz, with a mandatory stopover at San Agustin/Casa Manila/Manila Cathedral area. Kitsch punctuates this city tour courtesy of Filipino politics, piety, and economics. And since a third-world cityscape is in focus, tackiness is just everywhere. TACKY ECONOMY The etymology of “tacky” is unclear. Origin is early nineteenth century. Originally used as a noun to denote a horse of little value, it was applied mid-century to a poor white in some Southern American states, somebody stereotyped as shabby, cheap, in bad taste (Oxford-Cambridge Dictionary). Without a doubt, the term tacky can be readily said to mean ugly. Tacky, as a representation of abject ugliness, is not necessarily genetic. In the first place, it is arguable whether a building or a lamppost was intended to be tacky. It may be that tackiness is a matter of accident or consequence. In saying that a flat square-shaped unadorned condominium in Chinatown was not intended to be simply flat, square-shaped and unadorned, can it be assumed that the owner and his architect were influenced by factors strong enough to frustrate urban aesthetic consideration given that what might be their multi-million pesos real-estate investment in it? There must be a compelling reason as to its developers’ decision to demolish an art-deco theatre for their building despite public or the conservationists’ outrage. It’s a landmark, it’s historical, it’s classic, and they want it replaced by an edifice made of prefabricated materials, mostly concrete concealed by a layer of cheap paint with maximized space and minimized decor, in other words, profit oriented. Thanks to some governmental intervention, laws have been enacted to save some structures from becoming tackiness. French Renaissance Luneta Hotel in T.M. Kalaw, and Art Deco Manila Metropolitan Theatre at Liwasang Bonifacio are two of the structures that have been spared from becoming tacky as an crawling urban commercialization threatens some of Manila’s landmark urban structures. Even so, both structures have been overpowered by spreading consumerism. One can only conclude that tacky urban structures are brought about by capitalism. For example, lampposts in Binondo, while designed to simulate Chinese lanterns that, are prominently emblazoned with brand logos such as BDO and Tanduay (Fig.1) for them to be erected at all. That urban tackiness is the result of unabashed consumerism is quite easy to surmise. In Binondo, Mang Inasal Restaurant is an eyesore with its shocking green façade, humongous sign boards (graffiti would look better), and serialized Mang Inasal logo appearing side by side across the walls (Fig. 2). And as one stands in Agrifina Circle facing the Philippine map, one can see behind the LRT seedy Manila Prince Hotel towering with its uninviting sign painted over a shabby façade (Fig. 3). In Intramuros, a kiosk shamelessly announces the unlikely partnership between Intramuros Administration and Coca Cola (Fig. 4). Beside the Manila Cathedral stands an arch made of plywood. It was crudely painted to give an impression of a centuries-old adobe (Fig. 5). This impression, though, was successful with only one thing – that of being crude. It all looks like some B-movie set from a meager budget unable to afford a fabricator skilled in trompe-l’œil. Sadly, an Art-Deco theatre in Chinatown is being demolished for, presumably, more utilitarian building space (Fig. 6). Where business is a culture and culture itself is business, the proliferation of tacky architecture in Chinatown is unsurprisingly typified by the boring façade of China Town Plaza, so aptly named (Fig. 7) and, in contrast, a neighboring specialty toy store attempts imperial magnificence by featuring cheaply rendered dragons and foo dogs (lions?) on its façade (Fig. 8 & 9). An Intramuros Administration ordinance states that exteriors of buildings inside Intramuros should be rendered in the Spanish colonial style. Due to lack of resources or other factors not necessarily linked to economics, what started out as noble intentions ended up in bad execution. The Arzobispado, in keeping with the ordinance, highlighted its façade with overly sized capiz windows which were not a feature of original colonial edifices (Fig. 10). Many of the buildings covered by the ordinance could only show a hint of the prescribed colonial style. One building, Manila Bulletin’s, seems grandiose in mobilizing classic building elements only to be washed in tasteless maroon paint (Fig. 11). Whether by lack of funding or having too much of it, a single act of carelessness may render a building tacky. Whatever the cause, we must count the possibility of over-zealousness, emotional exaggeration, or plain sentimentality. These now lead us to looking at kitsch. KITSCH ALIBI "Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see children running on the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running on the grass! It is the second tear that makes kitsch kitsch." Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being If the above metaphor on kitsch is to be believed, then the Manila landscape is replete with kitschy urban structures. Kitsch is not necessarily ugly, or tacky if the previous discussion is considered. Kitsch is simply art made bad by sentimental exaggeration, an element placed above the essentials of art in order to make an object d’art seem impressive. Sacred Heart (also Immaculate Conception, St. Martin de Porres, St. James revealing his leg wound) pamphlets are quite artistic but cheapened by its overly religious imagery showing as sweet and humble of heart: brooding eyes and matted rays of light emanating from the edges the Christ’s gaze or head. One can have diabetes by simply looking at such sappy representations. Some objects can be poorly rendered in terms of medium and execution, yet the sentimental value that brought them into creation is used as its eminent characteristic. I have yet to see a well-crafted garden gnome, but garden gnomes qualify as all-time kitsch given their purpose in gardens which to evoke fantastic sentiments. Urban landscapes are arenas for political and religious zealousness. As such, they serve as primary venues for structures that call for patriotism and devotion more than inspiration subdued by good taste and aesthetics. Unlike Legazpi and Urdaneta’s elegant monuments that follow the classic elements of European monuments, Andres Bonifacio’s monument beside the Manila City Hall falls short of elegance and augustness as the hero’s gigantic relief in typically mannerist countenance is disproportionately smacked in the middle of tableaus depicting scenes from Spanish colonial society that are altogether used as literal devices primarily meant to elicit patriotism rather than simply a profound memorial to one of the country’s noble milestones (Fig. 12). In a political bid to win approval among their constituents typical of local officials, tacky lampposts become kitschy urban structures in pontificating modernity and progress amidst poverty and want. Held up high for both commuters and pedestrians to behold, two lampposts strategically placed on each side of the Andres Bonifacio monument were executed in the likeness of alien space ships (Fig. 13). Speaking of lampposts in relation to politics, it is worth noting the brazen display of kitschy, or tacky, and gaudy lampposts across the megapolis, not only in old Manila, for the past five years (Fig. 14 & 15). Philosophically, they exemplify what Theodor Adorno says about kitsch in the context of the “culture industry,” where art is controlled and formulated by the needs of the market and given to a population of consumers who then passivley accepts it. What is marketed is art that is non-challenging and formally incoherent, but which serves its purpose by giving the audience leisure and something to watch. As Adorno would have it such individualized culture and art intensify and totalize the oppression of the population through capitalism by distracting them from their alienation. Standing alongside churches at the center of every town or municipality, we expect government edifices such as town halls and other town official structures to be simpler and smaller, though maintaining official dignity, in respect to the eminence of the church standing next to them; the spiritual above the temporal. However, right beside Manila Cathedral is the enormous Palacio del Gobernador (Fig. 16) with size and width that defies colonial sensibility, all because its builder apparently wants to over-emphasize the power and glory of the incumbent. See the edifice and hear May Bagong Buhay, May Bagong Silang playing. The Palacio is a perfect example of what Milan Kundera describes in saying, "Whenever a single political movement corners power we find ourselves in the realm of totalitarian kitsch." Kitsch also denotes the types of art that are likewise aesthetically deficient – regardless of whether or not it is sentimental, glamorous, theatrical, or creative – making it a creative gesture that merely imitates the superficial appearances of art (via repeated conventions and formulae), thus uncreative and unoriginal. This is exemplified by some of the buildings inside Intramuros which, in order to have a semblance of something colonial, feature pretentious period façade. Upon entering Intramuros from Luneta, one will find the Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila complex resembling anything but colonial. But then, due perhaps to some administrative memorandum from the Intramuros Administration, the school authorities have wings (Fig. 17 & 18) built at each side of the main entrance that suggest an odd mix of classical styles: it has little of quite Greek, perhaps Roman, Romanesque maybe, some of the derivatives of the aforementioned classics, but definitely not Spanish colonial. It can be said then that kitsch in a form such as this is ersatz. Not to be outdone on such garishness, the home of National Commission for the Culture and the Arts (Fig. 19), the yellow building next to it (Fig. 20), and the Knights of Columbus headquarters (Fig. 21) could display design that are clearly modification of the original colonial motifs. But the Mercantile Insurance Building (Fig. 22) behind Manila Cathedral is far from describable as colonial. It almost takes the prize in the inner city’s inadvertent pageantry of kitsch with the two horses framing its entrance on each side. These are anatomically complete sculptures with equine penises that visualize the word hung made correct with stretched prepuce (Fig. 22). I, however, retain some reservations against quickly thrashing these two horses. Being so playfully kitsch, these monuments to sculptural anatomy may be a thing of wit and fun in the coming ages and for future generations. Who knows? With the changing times, they can even become objects of seriousness. What counts as mediocre in our age might become objects of high regard in the urban landscapes of the future. Today’s kitsch may get promoted as tomorrow’s camp. CAMP PHENOMENON Susan Sontag, in a pioneering essay, On Camp, opened her discussion on the subject by positing that so much in this is unnameable; camp is one of them. To illustrate her point about camp, she offers fifty-eight theses and several illustrative examples of campy art or personages. For the Oxford-Cambridge Dictionary, camp is synonymous with the theatrical, ostentatious, deliberate exaggeration, heavily made-up, extravagant, frivolous. Although camp is not necessarily homosexual in nature, homosexuals can be its major patrons and proponents in as much as most camp is flamboyant. In Pilipino gay lingo, anything flamboyant, extravagant, colorful, or heavily made-up is described as baklang-bakla. Gay or simply ostentatious, camp is what I love about Manila urban landscapes. Such might explain why, having been to the best cities around the world, I still long for and prefer my Manila. Watching a scene in Manila sa Kuko ng Liwanag, where a vagabond in Rizal Park recites a poem about the city and a group of reveling gays dance atop Manila Bay’s sea walls makes one want to rush off to any of these places just simply to breathe in and celebrate such life. This leads me to believe that despite its tackiness and kitsch, Manila has more than drama and ostentation to lend city life with much excitement and pleasurable camp. This is not the kind of excitement that could be had in sanitized Singapore, or picture perfect modern lifestyles visualized in upscale condominium brochures. Think of Bebeh Gandanghari swooning at the muscled porter at the other side of a busy road – binatog vendors darting, jeepney snarling, trisikad running – as he sits in front of his beauty parlor, in a state of bliss while remaining stoic at the same time; Vilma Santos, the burlesque queen, coming home to a Quiapo ghetto-like apartment still clad in glitters, her make-up running down her neck; or Daniel Fernando hurrying to work at an Ermita gay bar amidst cheap neon lights, wending his way through balut/cigarette/kwekwek/siomai/siopao/peanut vendors, grotesque beggars, flustered drunkards, scheming lawmen, and a gamut of other night-crawlers. Camp, unlike kitsch, can be an odd mixture of everything tacky and kitschy. But of course, Manila has one of the finest examples of celebrated camp architecture: there is Miramar Hotel (Fig. 24) in front of the US Embassy, the Manila Metropolitan Theatre (Fig. 25), the old Monte de Piedad Building (Fig. 26) in front of Sta. Cruz Church, and – more kitschy than camp – Atienza’s lampposts (Fig. 27) which, having elicited disgust for quite some time, have now become objects of fun and ridicule for having enough extravagance, flamboyance, and frivolity. But more than these single pieces of camp, camp in Manila, from Rizal Park to Chinatown, is actually more of an amalgam of the classic, kitsch and tacky. And coincidentally, they all seem to fall in their proper places. For instance, peering through my camera viewer for a good shot of the National Museum, I accidentally included a freestanding bahay-kubo sari-sari store at its foreground (Fig. 28). What came out was a theatrical juxtaposition between rustic and urban, rough and ornate, homely and fancy – Wow, Philippines! In front of Sta. Cruz Church, camp is an androgynous old man in tacky multi-colored floral vestment sitting by a kitschy baroque fountain against a backdrop of frayed edifices (Fig. 29). Casa Manila in Intramuros is one best example of camp. Contrary to its projection as an example of turn-of-the-century Spanish colonial aristocratic residence, the museum features a mixture of things that exemplify turn-of-the-century Euro-flamboyance: from baroque to romantic, whether French, English, Italian, but not necessarily Spanish (Fig. 30). There is religious excess in the family chapel, and wall-to-wall extravagance in one bedroom (Fig. 31) in the form of trompe-l’œil. Looking at the said wall feature, one can only imagine a cheap rendition of a Raphael gallery instead of Spanish colonial austerity. If kitsch is ersatz, is camp pastiche? In Chinatown, camp is a conglomeration of kitsch in the form of traditional Chinese medicine stockpiled on dusty shelves or merchandise spilling out into the streets (Fig. 32): faux jade Buddha, plaster and resin figurines, chromed plastic charms, antique contrabands, feng sui charts, etc. Come Christmas season, camp is virtually rife as kitschy or tacky lanterns when the city government, tired of the usual parol, has found an alternative festive ornament in illuminated flower-shaped lanterns to camp up (pun intended) the holiday spirit. Every Christmas décor is hammed up to excess: gigantic Christmas trees in every fakery, shape and trashy materials, including eco-friendly parol and belen made of plastic litro soda bottles, Styrofoam cups, tanzan, or straw in every inconceivable interpretation. This brings me to assume that urban Manila camp is predictably seasonal. As elections draw near, tarpaulin banners featuring public officials in every abomination (faces inside a heart-shaped frame, fireman’s hat on a fully made-up congresswoman, green Superman logo) spread across the city. But that’s another story. Having been concretized by urban structures in and around Intramuros, the tacky, kitschy, and camp diverge but only to converge at the end of a long road of dichotomy. Seeing them apart and looking at them together, one is confused as to whether they partly picture ugliness or whether their total combination brings out an unusual kind of beauty, one that appeals only to the romantic and optimist, elusively to the uninitiated. Or does it matter at all if a building is tacky, the fountain in front of it is kitschy, and the lamppost next to the fountain is campy when Manileños find a dear home amidst these almost chaotic arrangements? As I contemplate this question, I recall a friend’s suggestion for this essay’s epigram, “Did you know that a peanut is not a nut? It’s a legume.” The point is that there are new standards… of beauty and style and taste. The new sensibility is defiantly pluralistic; it is dedicated both to an excruciating seriousness and to fun and wit and nostalgia… Susan Sontag, Against Interpretation Fig. 1 Fig. 2 Fig. 3 Fig. 4 Fig. 5 Fig. 6 Fig. 7 Fig. 8 Fig. 9 Fig. 10 Fig. 11 Fig. 12 Fig. 13 Fig. 14 Fig. 15 Fig. 16 Fig. 17 Fig. 18 Fig. 19 Fig. 20 Fig. 21 Fig. 22 Fig. 23 Fig. 24 Fig. 25 Fig. 26 Fig. 27 Fig. 28 Fig. 29 Fig. 30 Fig. 31 Fig. 32 Bibliography Adorno, T.W., “On the Categories of Ugly, the Beautiful and Technique” in Aesthetic Theory. London, 1986 Eco, U., How to Travel with a Salmon and Other Essays. New York, 1994 Eco, U., On Ugliness. Milan, 2007 Kundera, M., The Unbearable Lightness of Being. France, 1984 Murray, Peter and Linda, A Dictionary of Arts and Artists. Baltimore, 1959 Sontag, S., “Notes On Camp,” in Against Interpretation. London, 1994 Sontag, S., “One Culture and the New Sensibility,” in Against Interpretation. London, 1994 www.wikipedia.com/kitsch 12