Printed memories: ‘Lapnag’ at UPV MACH

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By John Anthony S. Estolloso

It was 2015 when the Charlie Hebdo incident happened: employees of the French satirical tabloid were targeted in a fatal shooting which left several people dead. Although I was already teaching language and literature that year, journalism seemed a rather distant field of interest for me that time. The issue at the wake of the shooting somehow sparked my interest on how media – especially in print – become contested spaces of the freedom of expression and constant purveyors of the acquisition of knowledge.

A few weeks ago, I finally got to see a physical copy of Charlie Hebdo at UPV’s Museum of Art and Cultural Heritage. On the blazing green cover page is a turbaned caricature of a man holding the sign Je suis Charlie, the viral hashtag attached to social media posts of the tragedy.

Last March 24, the museum opened two new set of exhibits in its galleries: ‘Panulok kag Tingog’, exploring women’s art and women in art (which I was not able to closely peruse) and ‘Lapnag’, a collection of prints and volumes from various time periods, the bulk of which are from the collection of Reginald Zell and Eloisa Abelarde Zell, with some coming from the university’s Center for West Visayan Studies.

The latter especially captured my attention. While there is aesthetics involved in the production of these reading materials, the close examination of these artifacts seems to belong more to the realm of the historian rather than the art critic. Admittedly, one senses a highway through history in the displayed pages – and the exhibit’s title mirrors that. At its simplest, lápnag refers to the propagation of ideas, through word of mouth or publication. As such, the word holds nuances of fame or popularity, of encounters and the exchange of ideas. In the exhibit, the term is fleshed out through paper and ink.

There is a plethora of local journalistic material in many languages. Taking a preeminent place among the compilations of newspapers was the donated copy of ‘El Látigo Nacional’ (a rarity!), produced by Ilonggo journalist and hero Graciano Lopez Jaena. Together with a 1938 copy of Makinaugalingon in Hiligaynon, a 1941 issue of El Tiempo in Spanish, and compilations of The Aklan Reporter, The Capiz Times, and Antique Monitor, these sundry gazettes assemble a picture of a literate region that demanded to be updated and informed of latest events, as well as a gritty journalistic tradition maintained to this day.

Novenarias from revered local publishing house La Panayana reflect its people’s religiosity. Set together with loose pages and fragments from Books of Hours in various languages and from different time periods, they are resonant of a faith enculturated with native sensibilities.

Hanging on the walls are framed 18^th and 19^th century cartographic prints of the country and its environs. Alongside these are prints and pages of engravings and illustrations: scenic vignettes, detailed renditions of flora and fauna, manuals and instruments of toil and industry. Rare and fragile volumes of lexicons and manuals dating from the 17^th and 18^th centuries sit beside profusely illustrated compendiums of German fairytales and French travelogues and tabloids (Charlie Hebdo among them). Chinese accordion books with concertina binding (線裝)reveal oriental printing practices, prevalent and popular centuries before the rudimentary Western printing press became operational. Whether as iconographic depictions or written texts, they emphasize the universal urbanity of printing’s main objective: to inform and instruct.

On a lighter side, limited and rare editions of DC and Marvel comics together with compilations of comics from Hiligaynon and Yuhum, and locally produced graphic novels underline the catholic appeal of the printed image and intertext: not only to inform but also to entertain.

Briefly, the exhibit altogether offers a narrative of humanity expressing himself and interpreting the expression. When Guttenberg and his press formalized and democratized printing in the West, he lent a certain material permanence to ideas and provided a more accessible medium to various artforms. Inevitably, the printed page became – and still is – an instrument of the dissemination of knowledge.

With the rise of digitalization, a paperless literacy, and the ubiquitous competition from social media, the spaces and contentions for expression and its liberties have moved to other platforms and avenues, beyond the possible imaginations of past journalists, writers, and illustrators. So what becomes of the printed page?

(The writer is a language and literature teacher in one of the private schools of the city. Some photos are from Mariela Angella Oladive.)