Manila Mon Amour
Manila Mon Amour
#154: Website and Oppenheimer; Manila then and now; Bernardo Pacquing, Hiroshima Mon Amour, Geof Huth, "Bound," Flossie Lewis, Zaria Forman; Ludwig Goransson, Tokyo Groove Jyoshi, and Goobie.
HERE & NOW
Aside from not having a functioning kitchen sink faucet, the most notable thing for me, this week, was that I decided to close my current artist website account. Not only was the site more difficult to edit than I expected, I was not making any art sales online—but then I wasn’t promoting my art there, either.
I do much better selling my art in person—at art fairs and exhibits—than online. Also, I feel that the amount of time and money required for me to get into “productive” mode and promote my artwork online, versus what I get back from it, just doesn’t make it worthwhile. I want to enjoy and sink into the process of making art, not spend hours editing digital images, promoting myself, and sussing out how website dashboards work.1
Anyway, I may try out ye olde Wordpress again, to post a minimal website portfolio with a few links—but I will not sell on the site. If you’re interested in buying something, you can always contact me by email. And yes, this is part of my continuing process of downsizing.
On Thursday, I finally watched Christopher Nolan’s film Oppenheimer. There was that moment when Cillian Murphy, as Oppenheimer, mentioned the wide-ranging “chain reaction” that the testing at Los Alamos would set off. And of course I thought of the hydrogen bomb testing that occurred in the Marshall Islands during the 1950s, which was a focus of “The Land of the Sunrise.” What I’ve learned about the nuclear testing has been difficult to shake off.
THEN & NOW
I’ve found that a good way to learn more about my parents’ lives is to simply open a letter, and then drill down into the world that it evokes, with side-trips to various historical and cultural resources, including maps, to help me understand.
Today, I found one of my parents’ early letters, from August 20, 1945. It was sent by my father, Nick, from aboard the USAHS2 Comfort, a hospital ship. In this letter, he refers to my mother, Trinidad, as a “friend.” A year later, their letters would be sprinkled with endearing pronouns and vows of love.
But this letter celebrates the surrender of Japanese forces after the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Dad recounted his ship’s arrival at one of the smallest cities in the South Pacific, when they received the news.
Every ship, big and small, sounded their horns for about fifteen minutes. It was really a very heartening moment. I could almost cry. Everybody were [sic] excited and happy. And of course before the day. . . ended, the next result of the celebration was that very many people were having a hard time standing or walking straight. And there surely were a lot of headaches the next morning . . .
The Allied Powers’ occupation of Japan would begin on August 28. After noting that he, himself, had imbibed a bit too much alcohol that day, Dad went on to say that he was now “handing this [letter] over to the Censor,” and he was looking forward to seeing Mom in Manila. He had an “important matter to settle with [her]” which I suspect involved a marriage proposal.
I’m beginning, now, to automatically correlate the dates of my parents’ letters with the various addresses of my mother’s family as they moved from one place to another in Manila. At this point in time, they seem to have moved to the district of Cubao, Quezon City. My dad’s letter was addressed to my mother c/o Mr. Glicerio Elayda whose abode was on the corner of New York Avenue and Annapolis.
I checked Google maps. It came up with an image from 2021, which revealed four corners of the intersection, one of which was a vacant lot, and two of which were still “fortified” by dilapidated family compound walls that no longer enclosed houses. Only one set of walls (shown below) still surrounded an equally dilapidated house.
Of course the neighborhood would have changed immensely since 1945. A Google Photos image from several years later shows a bright, shiny gas station occupying what was the vacant lot on the opposite corner.
It’s very likely that the old Spanish colonial street names were removed in the mid-1940s, to be replaced by ones that celebrated the American military forces liberating Manila during World War II.
By 1946, the family was living at 52 Real St., Baclaran, Paranaque Rizal (Manila)—situated between the Zapote river and the Aguinaldo highway, which unfortunately blocks easy access to the sea. “Baclaran” means “fish trap.” This neighborhood, too, looks quite run-down. I doubt this is the same house my mother’s family lived in when Mom received my father’s letter in 1945, but this seems to be the spot:
It must seem strange that I’m publishing images of these locations with their dilapidated walls and rusting gates in neighborhoods that I imagine have grown only poorer over the decades since the War. On the other hand, just a few months before Mom received Dad’s August 1945 letter, Manila was a devastated city:
I can only say that the images help to anchor the events that I read about to a place and a time, even though the neighborhoods, and most of the people who lived in Manila during the War, have long ago disappeared. While the images situate events that were documented in letters, they are also reminders of change and the passing of time.
Perhaps there is no one left in the neighborhood who remembers that, when nearly all of Manila seemed to be in ruins, a certain family lived there for a year or two, and then moved on.
ART
RABBIT HOLE
Bernardo Pacquing’s art reminds me of those photos of Manila right after WWII, and even the neighborhoods that my mother’s family lived in—how they look now. “It’s the correlation and interrelation of my past to present,” he notes; “It’s a cycle. I ask myself, ‘How did I get here?’ That’s the causal loop. It’s a cycle between the past, present.”
Opening Sequence of Hiroshima Mon Amour, the 1959 French new wave film directed by Alain Resnais and written by Marguerite Duras—and a reminder that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were devastated cities, too. Content Warning: opening “skin” sequences suggestive of nudity, and towards the end of the clip, photographs of victims of the atomic bombs:
In 2019, experimental writer and visual poet Geof Huth wrote a painfully honest blog post, “Why I Will Not Submit,” about why submitting his works for publication is about the worst thing he can think of.
The film, Bound, just made its appearance in the Criterion Collection. Below, Daisuke Beppu discusses the importance of the film. See also this NPR article, which discusses local Substacker author Susie Bright’s contributions to the film in “Before Hollywood handled sex with care, this lesbian neo-noir focused on authenticity.”
I saw Flossie Lewis frequently when I was a grad student teacher at UC Berkeley. I’d pass her in the hallway, or she would just be finishing up her class before I came into the same room to start teaching my class. She was a kind, interesting individual. At the time, she was in her seventies, and had finally gotten her B.A. degree, which allowed her to teach undergrads in the English Department. I never got to know her well, though, and now I wish I had. She had an immense influence on her students. I mean, just look at their faces as she speaks to her old Lowell High School students.:
Zaria Forman on “Illustrating the Beauty of a Disappearing World”:
SOUNDINGS
Ludwig Goransson discusses his creation of the score for Oppenheimer:
“Funk No. 1” by Tokyo Groove Jyoshi, with “Princess of Funk“ Juna Serita on bass, Emi Kanazashi keyboard and vocals, Harumo Imai on sax, and MiMi on drums:
“Ebb and Flow of Time,” video by “Goobie.”3 If you get a chance to, check out the video (on the same channel) where he explains why he—an M.I.T. trained neurosurgeon—decided to quit his vocation, after nine years as a working professional, and spend a lot more time in nature with his dog.
Thanks for reading Eulipion Outpost! Special thanks to readers who have donated here on Substack or in my Ko-fi page to support my efforts!
My Links List is now on an old-school Neocities site that I built.
Eulipion Outpost is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
A couple of you of you may be thinking: wait, what about you spending hours coding that tiny website on Neocities? Well, that’s like a game for me—it’s kind of fun—especially because there is no attempt whatsoever by Neocities to manipulate me into making annual payments.
I’m a little confused by the “USAHS,” since all references to the hospital ship “Comfort” that I’ve seen online for 1945 begin with USNS. Also, there have been three hospital ships called the “Comfort.“ Comfort I (AH-3) served during WWI. Comfort II (AH-6) was hit by a Japanese suicide plane in April of 1945, killing 28 on the ship and wounding 48 others. The ship was able to sail to Guam for repairs, and afterward to Los Angeles. The most recent is Comfort III (T-AH20). Was my father on the Comfort II when the plane crashed into it? If so, he never mentioned it to me.
Sound track for the video is “Back to Portland” from Track Tribe.
Wow, this is an amazing thread. How’s the translation coming along? I love old letters, Google earth and family stories.
I love the story that’s developing in the unpacking/sharing of your parents’ letters as you consider their lives and the world they were living in. Also, thanks for sharing the essay by Geoff Huff. I needed that. These words resonate so much ❤️: “Maybe my issue has to do with time. I have only limited time, and I would rather make and show than make and submit and wait and maybe publish and maybe not.”