By Dexter Osorio

Photography has undergone many metamorphoses since its invention more than 150 years ago.  From being a mere apparatus for documentation, it has gone on to become a potent tool for protest and social commentary, and has become a legitimate medium for contemporary art making.   

The process of capturing images and making them tangible has fascinated man ever since the first daguerreotype made its mark on a silver-coated copper plate.  As the artist Gilberte Brassai once said, “Even the most mediocre photographs contain something unique and irreplaceable, something that no Rembrandt, Leonardo, or Picasso — no masterpiece and no artist, living or dead — can attain or equal or replace.”

Two exhibits at different venues in Makati are currently paying homage to photography in two disparate ways — one as a jump-off point for social commentary, and the other as a personal chronicle of an artist’s memory.

Photography and social commentary

Images and Imageries by Pinggot Vinluan Zulueta pulls no punches in using photography as a tool for criticizing the ills of present society.  The exhibit, which is ongoing only until today at the lobby of the RCBC Plaza (Ayala corner Gil Puyat Ave., Makati), combines the strength of digitally altered photographs and graphic prints in making its statement heard.

Zulueta started his career as an editorial cartoonist and then as a photojournalist.  The exhibit shows 50 framed works that prominently features Zulueta’s two disciplines, portraying two decades of the country’s social and political life.    

Half of the exhibit is devoted to straightforward editorial cartoons in framed colored prints.  All are done with a keen sensitivity for the pulse of the common tao.  “Pamilyang Pinoy ... Salat sa Yaman (1989),” for example, shows three grotesque figures craning their neck upwards toward an unreachable bounty, and manages to convey frustration, hunger and rage at being deprived of life’s basic necessities. “Ama ng Pipol Power (1989),” on the other hand, parodies Cardinal Sin’s role in the first Edsa Revolution by portraying him wearing a jester’s cap and a barbed wire halo even as the Dove of Peace spouts forth from his mouth.  

Zulueta’s digitally altered photographs, however, are more arresting than his drawings due to the sheer visual contrast they present.

“Malacañang, May 1 (2001),” shows a man with outstretched arms trying to pacify an agitated throng of riot police. The ground is stained blood red, in contrast to the cops who are tinted in a swirl of turquoise and emerald.

“Mag-ina sa Demolisyon (1994),” shows a mother holding her bottle-feeding child amid the ruins of their shanty. The photograph has the look of a psychedelic poster from the ’60s — an incongruous comparison in light of the evident rage on the woman’s face.

Zulueta’s digital alterations, however, are not heavy handed — the photos retain their integrity, and are not cut up to be used as just another piece in an incoherent visual composition.  Zulueta remained true to the photojournalist’s craft and used digital manipulation only as a means of adding color to his prints, thus presenting a more glaring, polarized view of reality where streets are red and cops are green, and everything ends up looking like an oil film on a dirty street puddle.

Lomography

What the Hell is Lomo? an exhibit by At Maculangan at the Photography Art Center (Ground Flr., Zen Bldg., 8352 Mayapis corner St. Paul Streets, Makati; ongoing until Nov. 2) poses an entirely different take on photography.  Compared to Zulueta’s scathing social commentary, Maculangan takes a decidedly more lighthearted approach by way of  “lomography.”

Maculangan, a Filipino-based artist based in Italy, uses a Lomo camera, a Russian invention with a rabid cult following around the world.  Originally manufactured for the pre-Cold War Soviet Republic, the Lomo camera has a spy cam feel bolstered by its extremely rugged design, high sensitivity to low light conditions, and extremely simple operation consisting of no more than a shutter and two tiny levers located on both sides of the lens (one for aperture and the other for focus).

The Lomo camera’s cult following has spawned “lomography,” which is actually more of a philosophy than a technique.  Lomography espouses the act of taking pictures as part of your lifestyle, and — thanks to the Lomo camera’s wide margin for error — shooting impulsively and instinctively without worrying about the technical details. 

As such, Maculangan’s exhibit features a “lomowall” — a collage of 450 individual “lomographs” neatly arranged to form a 4 x 12 foot rectangle on one wall of the gallery. 

The lomowall in itself is already a visual delight with its pattern of colors and textures.  But step closer and you will see snapshots of party revelers, street signs, household artifacts, and an assortment of captured moments that give us a peek into the artist’s recent memory.  This is lomography’s principal charm — the ability to take running photos of life as it happens, and thereby giving the person a second memory that can be shared with other minds.