Multimedia artist Dr. Joaquin Gasgonia Palencia sleeps amongst bul-ul; palm-sized or man-sized, seated, standing, or dancing, naked or modestly covered, these carved figures of the Ifugao rice god surround his bed like a legion of other-worldly guardians. In his home office, their ranks occupy row upon row on the shelves, one can hardly see him ensconced behind an unadorned balayo desk.
The bul-ul collection is the result of decades of impassioned search, an immersion into ancient tribal culture, initially for his own gratification, subsequently to preserve a vanishing patrimony (his efforts inspired the Ifugao priests or mumbaki to adopt him as a native son and give him the name Kimmayong—literally, “wood”), and for the last two decades following the behest of Our Lady of Lourdes College Foundation (established in 1977 by his family), which has acquired his bul-ul figures for the yet-to-open ABEM Museum.
The collection—already in the hundreds—will be shipped off to their permanent home in his hometown in Daet, Camarines Sur. A few may also be lent to the Musee du Quai Branly in Paris, which will be holding an exhibition on art by Philippine minorities in 2013. Rather than be despondent that his Makati home will be emptied of its treasures, Dr. Palencia is thrilled to show the public his findings—a culmination to his painstaking hunting for what he deems “a truly pristine cultural artifact, successful for 4,000-5,000 years, which preceded colonization and survived long after the Philippines became a country.”
Are you keeping any for yourself?
Possession is having them around me while they’re building the museum. So, maybe I live in a museum. I’ve had them for the past 30 years… I don’t have to own them to enjoy them.
How did your collection start?
I was in med school. I went to a friend’s house and I saw one dancing piece in wood… I just had a connection… I was 20. I’d never seen anything like it before... There was something elemental about it; it was a primal urge that was intercepted.
We’re used to seeing bul-ul on their haunches, not dancing.
It’s supposed to emulate the flight of a hawk, it’s how they dance. But it was totally context-less, it was just a piece of carved wood for me at the time. Initially it was just the form; as you get involved with the form, of course you get immersed into the context. So you appreciate more.
The figures appear distorted.
The point is a connection to the ancestors—stories, myths and legends. The Ifugao believe that the heroes in the Sky World are former ancestors. They become gods… So the depiction is really not so much anatomical as it is essential, the essence of the ancestors… it has to look human but it doesn’t have to be realistic.
This bul-ul is mestizo rather than dark.
Bul-ul is carved in narra (Pterocarpus indicus), which is red, brown or yellow. When you cut narra, the sap is red, it’s like blood. It’s like cutting down a person. You have to be guided by the Ido, the sacred bird, it lands on a certain tree, and that’s the tree you cut. It’s a ritual carving. You have to be very careful. One time, the ear of a bul-ul was cut off, somehow, the next day the owner’s ear was swollen. There are stories about owners dying… these beliefs have their own logic.
Is this the oldest bul-ul in your collection?
It could be. We don’t know the exact ages; we have yet to carbon-date the figures. This is Mayatag ad Pagayape, he walked from one part of Ifugao to another and he was all alone. They thought, ‘He must be lonely,’ so they asked another carver to carve a smaller one for him—if you’re lonely, then you have to have a partner, a mate. They’re ancestors, so the Ifugao provide. Bul-ul are carved in pairs, it’s tied to being rice gods. Rice is food, fertility, perpetuity, and children.
Do all the bul-ul have names?
Yes. The owners or the priests name them. They appear in dreams.*
At what point do they stand up and talk to you? Most people would be uneasy.
If there’s anything like that, I would think they would be more nurturing. Why would they do something bad to me? If they do [speak up], I’d probably be very happy, because then my research would be first-person.
How do you handle bul-ul?
I offer a little bit. Every time they bring me native rice, I put it in one for everybody. (Bul-ul may have carved niches for offerings called duyo for the individual, or a bowl in their hands called gam-ngan, for communal sharing.) Every few years, I hold a baki (the ritual by the mumbaki or priest to ensure the bul-ul has power), they offer chicken and they chant. It’s to keep me connected… We Filipinos have a belief that inanimate things absorb [spiritual energy], especially wood. If you believe that to a certain degree, then you will think these are highly-charged images. I think the proper respect is enough. You don’t have to hold baki.
Can they be used as décor?
I have no problem with the bul-ul being used as a decorative piece. At least they keep them clean. You can’t expect everybody to be animists, just the fact that they are taking care of it; it’s not in the storage area. People ask about it. Somebody will come and see it and fall in love with it like I did.
What drives you to acquire and reject pieces?
Quality that speaks to me. It should be an authentic ritual piece. It’s rare, because how many bul-ul do we have in a sea of primitive art? Ifugao is just one small province of 300,000 hectares and less than a million people. Right now, some dealers are selling for over P1 million; regular pieces sell at 4,500-5,000 euros. It is collected by the top collectors of primitive art in France, Belgium and the U.S. In the Philippines, maybe less than 10 people are interested, maybe five really serious ones. I think the bul-ul is going to have a spectacular future because it is an undiscovered gem.
Originally published in BusinessWorld High Life.
* In the unedited draft of this article, Dr. Palancia lists the other names of the bul-ul: "Bang-ngo ad Targiawon. Caloco ad Nabyun. Guyguyon ad Himpawon. Ong-nga ad Gawa. Chuchuwo ad Bayugon. Pong-ngak ad Manaleng. Yaguchon ad Pannike... An owner dreams of yellowing rice and calls the bul-ul Mondanal ad Luhadan. Danal means a disease of the rice, so when you say mondanal that means the one who takes charge of the yellowing of the rice. You make offerings to him in order that your rice doesn’t turn yellow."