Feb. 17 — Sojourner House, Siem Reap

I woke up exhausted. I already slept for 4 hours that afternoon and 9 hours that evening. I don’t know what happened. Was it something I ate? The beef strips didn’t cooperate, or perhaps the pearls from the milk tea were to blame? Maybe I overworked again? I was full throttle since Bangkok, trying to walk, see things, and experience everything. I didn’t give myself a rest day. I looked for things to do, or was writing and looking up things. Perhaps I got literally homesick. I’ve been away for 14 days, at this point. All I’ve been thinking about is photography, writing, the festival, and how badly I want to show all of this to my wife. I glanced at my watch: 6:45 pm. “Well, the slideshows start at 7:30. I still have time.”

This house (Sojourner House, the site of two exhibits and housing for the volunteers) has been awfully quiet. I figured that everyone is at the final workshop projection evening. After all, Angkor Photo Festival and workshops are about THE workshops. Of course, everyone will be there. I took the opportunity to explore the house. The work of the Confluence Collective titled Home is all around it. The work right outside my door, documenting unrest in the Darjeeling region, is another reminder of one of the common things I have experienced in this edition: how conflicts and the never-ending quest for capital derail us. I make my way around the house. Oddly enough, the sentimentality of the works made me miss my family. How fitting that it is titled Home. I am sad to say that I don’t know the deep issues in the south asian region, but I am saddened that I can relate to it by way of seeing the common conflict and issues visualized. I can’t help but wonder how these pictures show the main points I’ve experienced at this festival.

And so as I make my way to the stairs, the familiar sight of the mirror I’ve seen countless times, the week I’ve been there, with the words “Look after each other” took on a whole new meaning to my tired muscles and aching head. I peeped inside the door, trying to soak it all in. I took pictures too, for the gram as the kids say.

I looked at the slideshow. The breeze of the air conditioner is familiar. I clutch my stomach. I curled up in the bed facing the curtain as the pictures flashed. The thought immediately crossed my mind— “Why are we so afraid to forget?”

The act of photography itself is a rebellion against forgetting, but why are we afraid?

There are always new pictures to make, new things to experience, and new people to meet. And yet we try. We document. We remember.

Despite the grand scheme of existence, forgetting is the norm.

“It’s ok to forget. It’s ok to be forgotten.” I told myself.

I looked at my watch. It’s already 8:15 pm. I fell asleep. I probably missed the first half of the graduation slideshow. I turned off the air-con and the projector, posted some Instagram stories, and made my way to the projections.

As I question the meaning of forgetting while in a tuk-tuk, I turned to thinking of what the hell am I doing back in the festival in the first place. I never even went to my high school’s 10-year reunion, but I was hell bent on coming back to Siem Reap. Sure, the “press release” type of answer I give is that I just wanted to give back to the festival, but really, it’s because I need something to mark an end.

Everybody moved on from the pandemic, while I feel I was left behind. So why not go back to the event that I felt significantly moved my life forward?

As my tuk-tuk arrives at the venue, I can’t help but look around at the faces illuminated by the projector.

Why are they all here?

Is it for work?

Is it for learning?

Is it for finding meaning?

Is it a CV stuffer?

Is it to look for solidarity as a military junta destroys the democracy of your country?

Is it for doing what you feel is your purpose?

Is it to fight against a struggle?

Is it to live your advocacy?

Is it just to be?

As my mind raced through these thoughts while digesting all the works of the participants for the 20th edition, I went back to the switches to turn on the lights (like I always do for all the projections this entire festival).

Boss Jessica went on the mic to congratulate the participants of the course, and one by one, she acknowledged everyone involved in the festival, inviting everyone in front for a photo. And as she called my name, she said, “And A.g,. who unfortunately is not here…

OH WAIT, you’re here!” As she suddenly noticed I was standing in the corner.

“It’s nice to be noticed. It’s beautiful to be remembered.” I told myself as I scrambled forward.

Take care of each other, ties everything the 20th edition of the Festival stands for: To be here is to take care. For yourself, the community, and everyone who relies on you. How fortunate is it to be remembered, to be taken care of, to be taught, to be worthy of being acknowledged, to be spoken with care, to be reminded to drink water, to be told that you are worth caring for.

If you want more information on this exhibition, please read and look over curator Dennesse Victoria’s notes here.

(This is part 3 of an ongoing journal series of my southeast asian trip last Feb. 2025, mainly volunteering for the Angkor Photofestival and Workshops. Part 1 is on Bangkok, Part 2 is about volunteering at the festival. The next part will feature a quick stop in Kuala Lumpur. Subscribe and backread to follow along.)

Feb. 7, 2025 - Lubd poolside, Siem Reap

The most efficient entity in the world is an independent arts organization.

I’ve been involved with multinational companies, worked with ISO-certified corporations, and sat through academic audits—but I’ve never witnessed the same level of efficiency as when I work with independent arts organizations.

Every tape is utilized, every trip is maximized, and everyone’s skills are leveraged to achieve the best possible outcome.

It was the same when I worked with the Thousandfold Photobook Library, collaborated with Fotomoto, and joined other efforts in the past. But volunteering for the 20th edition of the Angkor Photo Festival and Workshops has cemented it for me.

Of course, more than a decade in the scene has taught me that it doesn’t always work that way. I’ve seen groups come and go, and I’ve been looped into plans that never materialized. The secret sauce, I think, is that most of these organizations (at least the ones I’ve been part of) are not primarily driven by capital. Generating eyeballs, attendance, and other business metrics is still important in the system we live in—but for festivals and similar pursuits, that’s not the main driver. At the risk of sounding like a management class cliché: it’s about buying into the purpose. In corporate settings, salary is the carrot that pushes you forward.

For the arts, the driver is belief. In a corporate setting, the reward for your belief is salary; in the arts, it’s often an expression of your humanism. One of the lessons I learned in Philosophy class in university is that leisure is the wise use of your time.

And I suppose that’s why I came back. Since its maiden edition, Angkor Photo Festival has been influential to Philippine photoland (and, I daresay, Asian photography). Trace the paths of many major practitioners in the Philippines today and, at some point, you’ll come across an alum of the Angkor Photo Workshops. It’s become so significant that during Big Boss Jessica’s visit to Manila, she was asked what makes the workshop so influential. In true Big Boss fashion, she gave an insightful answer: “It’s not so much the workshop itself but what people bring when they go there. The same goes for the alumni who return.”

This, I think, is what’s crucial about community—a word so overused these days that it risks losing its meaning. Community is not just a group of people coming together for a common cause; it’s a place of care. A refuge where, when you feel lost about your pictures, others are there to tell you how to get better. A space to connect with people who’ve had similar experiences. Not just an efficient entity that exists to put on a festival, but a vessel of care and continuity.

Seeing the festival and the workshops again, this time from the perspective of a volunteer, affirms what I’ve always believed about photography: if you want to be good at it, lead an interesting life. Find something in your life that you want to share, no matter how vulnerable or little it may seem. The work, if driven by your love or desire for your topic, usually leads to success. Organizing a festival is only half of the work; the real magic happens when participants allow themselves to be vulnerable and share who they are.

The funny thing is that the ten years since, the city of Siem Reap has also changed. Gone are the dusty gravel roads in the main city, replaced by concrete, asphalt, and wide sidewalks for the commercial establishments.. The Shack with the smell of Chicken barbecue is gone. It was replaced by a pizzeria. Tuk-tuk drivers are not as aggressive as ride-sharing apps are the norm. At this point, there have been dozens, and perhaps a hundred, stories made during the course of the 20 editions of the festival. And still, new stories are unearthed by the participants, bringing out who they are to produce work in as little as a week.

So here’s to the workers and the dreamers, the yappers and the thinkers, the mothers and the fathers, the survivors and the warriors, the yearners and the hopers, the theys, the thems, and everything in between—those who commit themselves to the medium and allow themselves to be vulnerable. Whoever you are, a photo festival workshop can be for everyone, because it is, at its core, a demonstration of photography’s democracy.

I haven’t even left yet, but I already wish I’d done this sooner. Here’s to hoping I can return next year.

(This is part 2 of an ongoing journal series of my southeast asian trip last Feb. 2025, mainly volunteering for the Angkor Photofestival and Workshops. Part 1 is on Bangkok and later parts will feature Kuala Lumpur. Subscribe and backread to follow along.)

Some books I read/encountered at the festival

When Abba Was Ill by Adil Hassan - A book I first encountered during my time at the festival in 2014. It’s about his fatherhood, memory, and grief. It’s a book full of care and subtlety in how Hassan remembers the life his father lived.

The Best Days by Yang Seung Woo - When a friend of Seung Woo committed suicide, Seung Woo vowed to record his life with the friends he still has. Full of debauchery, youth, and energy in trying to maximize what life has to offer. It turns out it’s not just in the drunken evenings or relentless womanizing but in gentle moments of clarity. The best days are not just the wild days but also the quiet ones when you realize how far you’ve come.

Tiga Mata Zine by Zontiga - A wonderful zine project by Zontiga, inviting a curator to come up with a prompt that the community has to react to. I want to talk about it more once I get to the Kuala Lumpur leg of this series! Give them a follow for now.

Feb. 5, 2025 — Motuga Hostel, Bangkok

That red-eye flight was a bad idea. As a viewer of images, your physical and mental state affects how you look at pictures. So when you arrive from a red-eye flight lacking sleep, stomach hurting from an allegedly not-so-spicy kra-pao (it was spicy as hell), and cheap coffee not hitting, it might not be the best condition to look at images.

This isn’t my first time in Bangkok, but it’s the first time I get to experience the city on my terms. With only two days to explore Bangkok’s photoland, my only choice was to commit.

So I powered through to BACC (Bangkok Art and Culture Centre) to see what photo-related things they had.

Shwe Wutt Hmon’s exhibition, Myanmar Odyssey, shook me awake.

It presents three facets of Myanmar’s ongoing conflict. Forever Young focuses on Generation Z and how they navigate the unrest. Portraits of the Anonymous highlights lens-based practitioners in Myanmar documenting the conflict, risking vulnerability to tell the stories that must be shown. And Permission to Stay is Shwe’s reflection on holding one of the world’s weakest passports and the constant limbo of navigating life in Thailand.

Shwe takes an active approach by creating space for others to express their experiences. Her work not only protects their identities but also centers the conflict on them.

After viewing the images, I sat on one of the upstairs benches to let it all sink in. It achieves photography’s fundamental aim: to document and inform.

I doomscrolled for a bit. Looked up more news about Myanmar. Dropped my phone. Drafted a few words for this newsletter and IG. I thought I was familiar with the conflict, but this gave it a new dimension.

I couldn’t help thinking about the Philippines about our current situation.

Yes we have weak passports but it’s not that bad. Sure we have a dictator’s son as a president and he’s tanking the economy but we still have an economy. What would I do if there were a military takeover? Wait a minute, the Lumad peoples are already getting bombed too! We are not doing enough! How would I act? Would I resist? I know I’m a coward, but I would try. Can we really trust the younger gen? Is there a way to stop all of this?!?!?!

I had to pull myself back and stop catastrophizing. I placed my bag in the free lockers and told myself to check out the rest of the exhibitions. I can only control what is in front of me. I can feel sad about the world, and at the same time, I can fix it by taking care of my well-being. I will face it when it comes. For now, my heart will go out to the Burmese people.

My therapist would’ve been proud of my train of thought.

I went upstairs to wander around. Admittedly, my mind wasn’t paying much attention to the rest of the Bangkok Art Biennale. Thoughts about Myanmar, home, and sleeplessness lingered.

It was only upon seeing the familiar work of Amanda Heng that I snapped back into focus. I had the chance to meet and photograph Amanda a few years back during an exhibition at the Vargas Museum.

Her work, Always by My Side, spans three life stages leading up to her mother’s passing—capturing care, femininity, and familial bonds. When I photographed her, what stood out was her warmth and lightness. These qualities radiate through the images as they confront mortality and the roles we inherit.

Another standout wasn’t part of the Biennale itself: Dow Wasiksiri’s portraits of exhibiting artists. Not the usual plain backgrounds or dramatic black-and-white headshots bordering on LinkedIn safe, but quirky, contextual portraits that carry the full history and vibe of each artist.

Honestly, I spent more time on these portraits than some Biennale works. I keep telling myself to be more open to other forms of art, but I’m biased. Pictures are still my home.

Then there was Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn’s exhibition, Finally Free.

Her photographic reflections on the lifting of lockdown restrictions. And I love it.

I remember a college conversation about tiers of opulence: social media flexing is probably B tier. Everybody does it. Hiring a photographer to photograph your vacation or even is A tier. Then… using billboards as your personal Instagram is probably S tier. Exhibiting your photos in this manner falls in that tier for me.

One of photography’s tenets is that your images reflect your lived experience. So, of course, a monarch photographs the world of a monarch. The trick is to understand it not by comparing it to the typical work you see online, but by considering her access, position, and how she uses photography.

Her images hold humor, banality, and affection for her country. Oddly, they also hold authorship. She might be one of the few monarchs publicly sharing her photography. If there’s a chance, I’d love to own one of her photobooks someday.

I was really beat by this point. Grabbed lunch at Som Tam Nua and made my way to the hostel in Talad Noi.

I was smitten by this neighborhood the first time I visited. It reminds me of the best parts of Manila, mixed with what makes Bangkok charming: An eye for the past while embracing eccentricities of the future.

What sold me was the Charoenkrung walk—photographic prints hung on the walls. These aren’t the types of images I usually seek out, but I appreciate them. They’re a love letter to the neighborhood, and a way for tourists like me to engage with it. I hope they preserve or refresh the prints.

As soon as I checked in, took a quick bath, and then crashed in my hostel bunk, 11 glorious hours of sleep.

The next day was more touristy. Not as photography-heavy, but it was nice to do things at my own pace.

I had breakfast at Hugs Songwat. What pulled me in were the gravel bikes parked outside. Inside, I found a piece by a Thai artist that reminded me of my friend Sean Olalo aka @MyNegativeFeelings. Zines and photos were tucked all around—exactly the kind of “bikes, pictures, and meaningful trinkets” setup I love.

Another cycling-related stop was Bicycle Boys, featuring images of NYC bike culture. They even stock Calling in Sick, a bike culture zine I follow.

People criticize photography as decoration, but I don’t mind, depending on the context. A photo of someone’s grief shouldn’t become decor, sure (or maybe as a form of subversion, why not?) But for these particular prints? They’re cultural identifiers. They mean something to the community that owns them.

One final photo encounter: a wall I saw while walking.

Why do Thai monarchs seem cool? Maybe it’s because I’m looking from a Filipino perspective, where we don’t have monarchs but have politicians who act like royalty.

This wall wasn’t a state-mandated display. Someone chose to put it up. Why those images? Reverence? Parasocial relationship? It left me curious and will be at the back of my head every time I look at Thai photography.

Two days aren’t enough for Bangkok’s photoland. I missed the photography museum, barely visited Fotoclub BKK, and still haven’t been to Vacilando bookstore. Based on what I’ve seen, the Thais’ use of photography has similarities with the Philippines, particularly its use case as a form of expression. I wish we could have the same level of institutional support. Then again, it doesn’t hurt that one of the most prominent figures of the country has a relationship with photography. I’m pretty sure I have much to learn about Thailand anyway. I’ll surely be back or at least find a reason to be.

For the trip, I’ll probably skip the red-eye flight.

Onwards to the main event of this trip— Angkor Photo Festival and Workshops, Siem Reap.

Speaking of Bangkok

My friends from Bad Eyes Collective will be conducting an intensive 5-day photography workshop. Why not explore and understand your photography while being in one of the best cities for it.

Here’s the full info:

Death and Rebirth: A 5-Day Photography Workshop

Organized by @badeyes.collective

This workshop challenges you to question, reflect, and push your practice through intensive critique sessions and discussions. Over five days, engage deeply with your work, explore new perspectives, and refine your visual language through learning, unlearning, and critical exploration.

Special Guest: @kamonlak.sukchai

Kamonlak Sukchai will share her process and approach, offering insights into how she navigates her practice.

Workshop Details:

Dates: 2nd-6th June 2025

Fee: 12,000 Baht per participant

Limited to 6 participants

Language: English & Thai

Mentors:

Harit Srikhao @haritsrikhao

Natthaya Thaidecha @maiheartnandsoul

Daniel Huete @danielhuete

Application Period:

Open: May 12 – Close: May 24, 23:59 PM (Bangkok Time)

Location: Bangkok, Thailand

Venue: TBA

How to Apply:

Portfolio: 20 images representing your current work or direction

Email us replying to this question(English or Thai)

Why is photography important to you?

Submission: Send all materials to badeyes.collective@gmail.com

Announcement of selected participants: May 28th

—

This is a fantastic opportunity. Feel free to contact Bad Eyes on their Facebook or Instagram for more info.

See you in Part 2 of my SEA on the road series.

• A.g.

Geloy Concepcion sits anxiously at the corner of Purveyr’s space. One of the many meet-ups and get togethers that he has been a part of for this leg of his return. Present in the audience for this one are practitioners from different genres, styles, and experience level. The emcee, Veejay Villafranca started with the title of the talk itself: “so Geloy, what’s next?”

Geloy’s response: Hindi ko din alam mehn?!

(I have no idea man)

The Fotomoto opening was a huge success. Amazing turnout, lots of friends and colleagues, and lots of press people in the event and in a major museum no less. I’ve spoken in the Ayala Museum before but it’s the first time I will be exhibiting there. It was overwhelming from the crowd to the scale of what it was to how it is now. It’s weird that this event is what officially opened the PH Arts Month/Fair Season. There’s still a lineup of events and a few others here and there. To be honest, I have no idea how to write about this season as the scene is as big as I remember it to be.

I expressed these anxious feelings to Fotomoto curator Stephanie Frondoso in which she replied:

“Isn’t this what we were all working towards?”

She is right.

I can’t remember who asked the question but somebody asked Geloy in the What’s next talk if how much is too much when it comes to sharing yourself. He answered in the typical humorous manner he always does. He imparted that the game now, if you are willing to play, is social media presene. You have to be in places where you want to be seen.

Although the follow up question is the one that I want to stick to you my dear reader. Veejay asked if there are downsides to showing too much of yourself.

“Meron din siyempre pero tanggap naman ni Bea (Geloy’s wife) at inuunti-unti ko na din si Narra (Geloy’s daughter). Sila kasi nagpapakain sa amin eh. Pero kasalanan din natin eh. Sabi natin magpakatotoo ka lang. Oh eh di ayan.”

(There are downsides of course but Bea knows about this already and i’m starting to show it to Narra as well. It’s the audience that gives us this opportunity. Then again, maybe this phenomenon is our fault since we kept on saying “Be yourself”. So this is the result of that.)

Radical acceptance through relentless sincerity. I like that.

The live edition of Raw and untitled critique sessions was anxiety inducing but fun. It is different from the portfolio review format that feels like speed dating. This is somewhat closer to Shark Tank as we give our insights and comments in real time.

For our closing words, Veejay Villafranca reminded the audience the importance of events like these especially to keep conversations going. I went with the selfish route of telling everyone to enjoy everything and trust the process as this time last year, I was nursing a broken collarbone.

Our youngest co-panelist, a young, talented, and award winning Austin Garcia said this (among other things):

“Photography has become my passion and I just want to do this forever.”

Then let’s find ways to make it possible for everyone.

I’m currently on the road on a backpacking trip to Bangkok, Siem Reap and Kuala Lumpur mainly to volunteer for the Angkor Photo Festival 20th edition. I’ll be writing and showing some stuff I see/observe on the road. Follow the reading photographs instagram for updates and subscribe to the newsletter for the latest. Thank you.

Riding the Wave

We are living in a great era of Philippine photography right now. There’s so much energy and activity happening.

I haven’t lived through the 200-year history of photography and the almost century of photography in the Philippines, but this feels like the most dynamic period for the medium ever. Photography-related events are abundant—so many that I often have to choose between them. From photo clubs and street photography groups to galleries embracing the art form, there’s no shortage of talent or compelling work. The annual fair season, in particular, has become the largest photography showcase since 2020.

Filipino photographers are also making waves internationally. Wawi Navarozza received widespread acclaim for her New York exhibits, while Veejay Villafranca served as a World Press Photo jury member, participated in the Gwangju Biennale, and capped the year with the Jeju Biennale. Jes Aznar joined the Jeju Biennale as well, earning a strong response at an auction of his print depicting Imelda Marcos listening to Here Lies Love for the first time. Closer to home, Hannah Reyes and Geloy Concepcion delivered powerful homecoming exhibits through Tarzeer.

These accomplishments complement my favorites of the year. Highlights of 2025 include Artu Nepomuceno’s Cathedrals of Light and Renzo Navarro’s Who Needs a Blade. On a personal note, my collective, Flint Photo, had an equally busy year. We released a zine, concluded our Firestarter program, and organized multiple slideshows. The writing scene is going well too, with LK Rigor’s presentations, Insights 2 by Toni Cuesta, and countless other contributions.

The Three Responses of Filipino Photography

The works this year reaffirm the three key responses of Filipino photography I’ve been digging about lately: the colonial, memorial, and communal. These responses reflect our collective reckoning with history, trauma, and identity.

The colonial aspect explores our reaction to and development under colonization. The memorial focuses on "post-memory," grappling with inherited traumas from events like martial law, conflicts, and climate disasters. The communal embodies our lambing (tenderness) and bayanihan (community spirit), evolving into pakikibaka (revolutionary action). I will be talking about this in an upcoming presentation for the Jeju Biennale. I will post the info below.

Raising the Ceiling

If the activities are any indication, Philippine Photoland seems untouched by the global recession. But where will this energy take us? While we’ve successfully raised the floor, it’s high time to raise the ceiling.

Talent is abundant, but the field needs professionalization. Can camera brands pay their speakers and Photowalk leaders? Can publications streamline processes to ensure timely compensation? Can institutions support residencies and workshops without relying on constant fundraisers or print sales? Most importantly, can the industry treat its image makers with dignity?

This isn’t just about financial sustainability. It’s about valuing and respecting the work that photographers bring to the table. Energy, if left unused, dissipates or worse blows up in our faces. Institutions, organizations, and corporations must seize this opportunity to channel the community’s vibrancy into impactful programming.

One way forward is to encourage photographers to tell stories that draw them in rather than adhering to convenience. Embrace the stakes and live through the struggle of making. Storytelling, not just technical exploration or grand exhibitions, should anchor future endeavors. We also have to standardize best practices despite being tedious in pre-production paperwork and post-production follow-ups. And of course, we have to carry ourselves with confidence in a manner that fits the situation.

Carve and Create Your Wins

On the flip side, perhaps the answer lies in embracing grassroots efforts. Community-organized print sales and fundraisers might foster a deeper connection with the public than corporate sponsorships ever could. These initiatives allow creators to lead by example, showing how meaningful work can thrive in challenging conditions.

Ultimately, contemporary life demands participation in capital, but this doesn’t mean surrendering our ideals or tenderness in creation. Navigating this balance will define the year ahead.

Whether through building platforms, launching new projects, or learning more about the craft, now is the time to act. Create your wins. Harness the energy of this moment and let it carry you forward. Despite how you move this year, move with kindness, tenderness, and consciousness.

Have a great year ahead!

Upcoming News/Events:

Jeju Biennale 2025 “Drifting”—This edition centers on drift. As mentioned, I will be doing an online presentation for the Biennale on January 18, focusing on the responses of Filipino photographers as we drift along with history. I will post links soon!

Flint Slideshows Vol. 6 — We will be having a slideshow on January 18 over at Convenience Coffee Shop in Makati. Coinciding with the ongoing exhibition with Fotomoto, we will be showing personal work. This is going to be our first show in the Makati area so hopefully you can all attend. Details and poster to follow soon!

Angkor Photo Festival 20th edition — I’ll be present (and possibly volunteer) for the Angkor Photo Festival and Workshops this Feb. 7-16. It will be a homecoming for me as it’s my first time back in Siem Reap since attending the workshop in 2014! Long story So if you’re looking for a festival to attend, make your way to Siem Reap and join in the programs. Here’s a link to a handy travel guide for festival attendees! See you there!

Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur Photobook/Exhibition Hunting - Since there are no direct flights from Manila to Siem Reap, I decided to backpack. Bangkok —> Siem Reap —> Kuala Lumpur. I’m looking for suggestions of where to look at photobooks, photography exhibitions, or anything photography-related. So far for Bangkok I have Vacilando and Fotoclub BKK. For Kuala Lumpur, I will check out Zontiga and there will be an exhibition on Japanese Photography by Japan Foundation KL that I might be able to catch. I think there’s also an exhibition by Ian Teh at the time so I hope to catch that.

So yes, Please send me KL and BKK Photoland places to go and things to do!

And Finally….

One more slideshow by the end of Feb or early March. I will talk about it once finalized but I’m pretty excited about that one so stay tuned.

But yes, all this travel means I’ll be missing the ArtFair season here in Manila. It's the first time in years that I’m going to miss it, so I won’t have an exhibition report. However, I’ll try to make dispatches while on the road.