Sacred and Kitsch: Textures of Art Fair Philippines 2025
Words Portia Placino
Photos courtesy of Martina Reyes
February 22, 2025
Art Fair Philippines has been the art event of the year for over a decade. Balancing the market and critical perspective is never easy but both resonated in their way into the art fair as they steadily grew. 2025 saw the art fair in Ayala Triangle Gardens, a venue they used in 2022 to transition from the pandemic back into onsite events. The collector’s preview has people return to the gardens, and though the rain dampened the movement a bit–the excitement was palpable. As part of the commuting public, enjoying a VIP invite regardless, I used the Ayala Avenue entrance and the registration and exploration of the air-conditioned tent was smooth. The tent area was laid out well and was fairly easy to navigate through the numbered booths.
Transitioning from the tents to Tower 2 is a little tricky. There are plenty of staff to assist and point the way, but clearer signages could help traversing the spaces easier. There is the option to take the bamboo tricycle, but I opted to take the stairs and got slightly lost when I saw the concessionaires. I already have a wristband so I can just walk through straight to the Projects area. Otherwise, passing through the ground floor lobby is necessary for the tickets and wristband. A new venue means new confusion, but nothing too dramatic or unmanageable. Overall, it is a celebration, a party, a reunion of sorts for art world personalities–the public days are expected to be just as hectic and energetic.
Seeing art in the AFP is overwhelming–well-curated booths stand out, especially when they focus on a particular artistic perspective. The Metro Gallery presented Junyee’s latest works with The Luminous Void. Admittedly, it feels strange seeing Junyee’s works framed on the wall–his site-specific installations are still the most memorable. But his use of crochet, as well as soot, to create layers in the works feels provocative, especially set in the hustle and bustle of the art fair. Quiet contemplation may be stolen in the booth while looking into the interplay of light and dark, the interference of soot, and the fragility of crocheted works. Despite the framed works, there is an attempt at an installation, demanding the viewer to pause as the colors of the fair fade away in the background for a short while.
In the same area is Orange Project’s presentation of Charlie Co’s On Our Watch, part of the 20th anniversary of the famed space in Bacolod City. Co’s large-scale paintings never fail to captivate. But his more recent touches on abstraction hits differently, especially in contrast to his louder works. The Fallen Angel (2024), a massive canvas, has an abstracted figure of an angel with torn wings on the lower half of the canvas. Compared to his more figurative works, this one is distorted and wounded, as if barely there. Yet the bright, almost luminous orange makes the image inescapable. The rest of the canvas is dark, perhaps the void the angel has fallen into–yet the deep textures tell a different story. As if there is always something waiting, ominous, and churning in the background. The collection, following his System Corrupted at Finale Art File back in 2022, is a commentary on the social unrest and struggle–something Co has commented on and critiqued throughout decades of his career–and is now a sobering moment amidst the celebratory nature of the art fair.
There are also moments of levity–notably J Studio’s presentation of Carlo Tanseco’s Sari-Sari Sabi-Sabi. The humorous, lighthearted take on childhood snacks commonly found in the country drew the viewers in. Nostalgia is in effect as we look at the popular brands and how it was transformed through large-scale works. On the corner are actual candies and snacks, inviting the viewers to a taste of childhood they probably haven’t thought of in years. The sari-sari store, beyond nostalgia, is a cultural fixture in less affluent neighborhoods. They know who lives where and the lives and goings on in the community. Though oftentimes framed as tsismis or gossip, it is also a shared space where parcels of lives are exchanged, beyond the small-scale sales–a piece of candy, a packet of pancit canton, and repacked condiments. As lighthearted as the presentation is, beyond the kitsch is a confrontation of the continuing social realities of many Filipinos.
Another space for nostalgia is Kakakompyuter Mo Yan! curated by Chia Amisola. Beyond the obvious nostalgia and the playful presentation is a story of frustration and exploitation of internet access in a developing country. The Pisonet–where many struggling Filipinos access the internet through affordable increments, looks cheerful but reflects the inaccessibility of technology to many. It is easy to be in middle and upper-class bubbles where it feels like everyone and anyone is online. Reality is different–where social media and the internet connect us to people of the same social, cultural, and economic access–where algorithm lets us see what we want to see. The home-like environment, references to The Matrix, posters, CRT TVs, and many ephemera let us glance through the cracks of what we miss in our bubbles. The darkness in between the noise–the videoke performance is now charming whereas it is a constant noise in modest neighborhoods.
Art Fair Philippines has always had something for everyone. Some would say it is the market, and there is no denying that it is. The reality is that finance is a factor in the arts as artists and galleries try to keep up to keep on going. Yet, beyond the noise, the party, the constant talk–and who can blame the artists, writers, gallerists, gallerinas, interns, curators, cultural workers, collectors even, excitedly blowing off steam and catching up with each other–is something meaningful, the core of why we are all there in the first place. So yes, let us party and bond. Let us also see, feel, and think about art; watch videos, films, and projections; and listen, ask questions, and debate in the talks (this gets colorful, at times). The gardens help to give people breathing space. If things get too much, the trees and somewhat fresh air can refresh. The 2025 edition is a fun one and something to remember as we go back to the gardens and see contemporary art–its beauty and nuance–come into play.
