Between December 16, 2012 and January 3, 2013, I traveled
back to the Philippines with my family. My wife arranged this time so we can
have reunion with relatives and old acquaintances, trace our roots, and see the
sights in various places within the country. Having lost contact with relatives
on my side of the family, I did not care much about tracing my roots or meeting
relatives. However, I was definitely interested in touring the country, to see
both its rural and urban landscapes. Was this interest driven mainly by
nostalgia for what used to be familiar, some sort of a pilgrimage to one's
native land, or was it simply my passion for street photography? I don't really
know but for whatever reason, I was drawn to the idea of traveling to take
pictures of places with people in various settings and lifestyles. This photo
excursion covered half the length of the Philippine archipelago, starting from
Panay island in the mid-section of the archipelago to as far north as the town
of Sagada in the Mountain Province. Photos taken were varied, consisting of
people in market places of local towns, in rice fields, beaches, mountains,
urban malls, slums, city sidewalks, etc.; all showing common people in various
walks of life.
Throughout this photo-op I was surprised by the reception
from the local folks. Perhaps it was my graying hair or my Westernized bearing,
but most local grown-ups looked at me with leery eyes, suspicious of what I was
up to. Twenty-five years of absence from this place has made me an outsider. That
must explain why the natives gave me those dirty looks, or turned their backs
away from the camera, or maintained such phlegmatic faces. I shot their
pictures just the same. But the children were different. They looked at me
directly, with that candid curiosity wondering who this stranger could be that
visited their village. Some were more daring and called me out as "Cano!
Cano!", short for "Americano" even though my gray hairs were no
closer to the typical blonde hair expected of a foreigner. Others interviewed
me, asking my name and where I was staying. They seemed to be open to know and
befriend me. They were drawn to me as I was to them, for they were eager to
show what they do and where they live. More so, I was captivated by this quiet
contentment that they exude. They all seem to be satisfied with what they have
and confident with what they can take on whatever the circumstance may be.
I wanted to highlight my encounters with these children.
Hence, although I did take pictures of people of all ages I decided to come up
with a short series limited only to photos of children. For this series, I shot
mostly at a close range. Most of the images here were shot with myVoigtlander
20mm lens on a full frame Canon 5d Mark ii. The 20mm I have can only be
operated on manual focus so it was a bit of a challenge although I was not so
much concerned about the sharpness of the image as I was focused more on the
feelings associated with the moments of capture. Also with the wide angle lens,
I was forced to shoot real close to the subject, which I really loved because
the results usually provided more intimate views. Plus it allows for
interesting dynamics with the subject. If I'm smiling and happy, usually the
subject will reciprocate the same sentiment.
The series documents their stories. Although the images were
captured in different places, there is a commonality to all. There is intrinsic
beauty in the simplistic lives of these children. In the end, it's about them
-- in a time when God placed them. I chose the title "Bukas Na Kami,"
which is a play on words in the Pilipino language. It could either mean
"We are open" or "Tomorrow it's us." I'll let the viewers
decide which translation they like.
© 2016 Rob Castro
Original essay appeared at Jpg.com. January 25, 2013
