“Being half-German doesn’t make me less Filipino — it just makes the contradictions in me more visible, and I try to let the work speak through that”—Kawayan de Guia

This interview with Kawayan de Guia is part of a special series of artist conversations facilitated by Trickie Lopa, co-founder of Art Fair Philippines, spotlighting Filipino artists whose work offers powerful reflections on identity.  Kawayan de Guia is a multidisciplinary artist based in Baguio City, whose work spans painting, installation, sound, and object-making. For over two decades, he has been a central figure in the local art scene — a mentor and collaborator across generations, rooted in the ethos of community. Through layered, often ironic compositions, Kawayan’s practice explores memory, myth, and the unfinished business of history, with recurring references to symbols of power, ritual, and the absurdities of nationhood.  In this wide-ranging conversation, he reflects on contradiction, community, and the ghosts that haunt both materials and memory.

CNTRFLD. You were raised in Baguio City, a place rich in indigenous culture and artistic experimentation. Growing up as the son of National Artist Kidlat Tahimik and surrounded by figures like Santiago Bose and Roberto Villanueva, how did your upbringing shape your journey into art?

KDG. At a young age I was exposed to a colorful array of charismatic characters, great artists such as Roberto and Santi and the rich, relatively intact culture of the Cordillera people. You can say this unusual mix was my norm: longhaired artists, vegetarian food, independent film screenings, art openings and spontaneous art happenings.  Growing up within this juxtaposition of the slow and rooted ways of the indigenous culture of the Cordilleras over the fast, modern ways of today’s world, you might say that my worldview is quite unique and perhaps I am some sort of an anomaly. (as far as I was concerned this was all normal). It was only when I left Baguio in my youth that I began to feel different. Not really fitting in on either side of the fence. Not quite Filipino nor was I German. I was a Baguio boy, an English/Ilocano speaking kid who occasionally wore a G-string and chewed betel nut. I also joined my grandmother for Sunday lunches at the Baguio Country Club. In a way you can say I am the epitome Baguio’s diversity and these two culturally opposing worldviews.

CNTRFLD. Your practice spans painting, sculpture, and installation, often combining found materials, local icons, and colonial relics. Can you walk us through how a work typically evolves for you—from idea to object?

KDG. I try to liberate myself from the notion of an end-product or “a finished artwork”. Instead, I focus on the process or the making. I create a playing field that doesn’t limit the horizon of where I am taking the artwork. This way I am able to approach my subject and material in a non-conventional manner pushing it to the limits.  Also a big part of my artmaking is collecting: objects, images or ideas. I have piles of junk and surplus of stuff in boxes that lay around my studio (and for that matter, in my head). Fabrics, paper, carvings and a lot of unfinished work (you can say that is my palette). Some of these things may end up in the work I am presently doing. Old works come out of the closet and are repurposed. The key I think is playfulness and experimentation. This way I am never tired of working. I am constantly taking an idea one step further, challenging my aesthetics and mastering my material.  Drawings become paintings and paintings become sculptures or installations. Artmaking for me is really more like an intuitive visual math problem. I may not be working with numbers, rather with ideas, lines, colors, textures and different materials. The studio is my temple and massive amounts of time are spent there, mostly in solitude.

CNTRFLD. Many of your works confront histories of trade, occupation, and consumerism     through irony and critique. What role does humour or play serve in your visual language?

KDG. I often add an underlying equation of humor through the narratives in my work. It may not be obvious at first glance but it’s there.  Humor is an alternative avenue for us to frame and understand the truth. A colorful path in which we can laugh and comprehend the hard truth, giving us light and clarity to an otherwise harsh and complicated reality. It works like an emergency release valve in all of us, releasing pressure from within, keeping us grounded and sane. It not only is necessary, it also allows us to celebrate the beauty, madness and joy that life has to offer. 

CNTRFLD. Baguio has long been known as an alternative arts hub to Manila. Why have you chosen to remain based there, and how has this location shaped your creative community and output?

KDG. Baguio is an interesting place, the place where I was born and raised. It originally was established as a hill station by the American colonial government in the 1900s. A place where they found gold and since it had spring weather, meaning free air-conditioning all year round they could govern the Philippines from there, especially during the long hot summer months. They transformed this rough mountainous patch of indigenous Ibaloi land into some sort of little America, complete with a golf course, churches and a lot of schools. It became a processing plant for the colonial government, in which Filipinos from all over the country would come and learn English. Their mission: to educate and Christianize “our little brown brothers.” Baguio became this sort of melting pot where the highland indigenous culture of the Cordilleras started to mingle with other cultures.  It really is a high contrast culture clash. All this happening clearly in front of your eyes. So this rich cultural history as my backdrop is the source where much of my work stems out from. But not only that, I also am a clear representation of Baguio, that blending of two polar cultures crashing into one another.

CNTRFLD. Your work often draws from Filipino material culture—jeepneys, jukeboxes, Ifugao rice gods, and more. How do you define Filipino identity today, and how does this shape the stories you tell?

KDG. The Philippines is a melting pot of many different diverse cultures, a testing ground by colonial powers. Its rich and painful history drags on in every Filipino, it follows us like a shadow mocking our every move. The country has too much western influence to be part of the exotic east and too backward to be in the category of a modern society.  So ever since, its identity has been questioned. What is Filipino? This question is still out there and is still being solved by artists, scholars and thinkers. Both my parents Kidlat Tahimik and German mother Katrin de Guia have devoted their life’s work giving light to this question. Early on I was aware of this dilemma (if that’s what you want to call it). Being born in a body with Caucasian features, I inherited the question of identity… Me… with a name Kawayan meaning Bamboo in Filipino. This betelnut chewing tall fair skinned artist is not very Filipino. So again if I am not Filipino, What is Filipino? Is it an image? A trait? Character or kind?  I use these iconic hybrid objects and images as takeoff points for the narratives of my work. Like an old jukeboxes that play country folk songs in Kankanaey (language in the mountain province). The language and culture managed to survive in spite of heavy American influence when locals took a liking in cowboy country music. I think it is this spirit the Filipino has. That agile ability to adapt in crisis and fast changing times.     

CNTRFLD. With your mother, Katrin de Guia, being German and your father Filipino, how does this dual heritage shape your understanding of identity and influence your artistic practice

KDG. There can be nothing more bipolar than these two opposing cultures: the lax mañana island culture of my father and the organized ways of my dear mother. It has been a lifelong saga from the smallest to the biggest things in life. Nevertheless, this union of theirs has managed to stay afloat for over 50 years! I have to give it to the both of them, hands down. Our cross cultural family dynamics works like some kind of check and balance.  My artist turned academe mother’s interest was understanding the Filipino psyche and studied Filipino Psychology at the University of the Philippines under the guidance of Dr. Ver Enriquez and Dr. Alfredo Lagmay. She has written Kapwa: the Self in the Other or the Shared Self, a core value which is innate in many Filipinos. Her case studies were on a handful Filipino artists: my father of course Kidlat Tahimik, Rene Aquitania, Angel Velasco Shaw and Roberto Villanueva to name a few. She wanted to show that the way they approached their artmaking and process was capturing the very essence of what it means to be Filipino, very different from western modules.  I, being exposed to all these great artists and culture bearers have definitely influenced my outlook directly or indirectly.

CNTRFLD. You've exhibited widely, from Palais de Tokyo to the Sharjah Biennale and QAGOMA. How have your experiences exhibiting internationally compared to showing in the Philippines? What support systems—or gaps—have you encountered in both contexts

KDG. I consciously try to distribute my weight around the different cultural arenas. Primarily engaging myself in local issues, which may perhaps develop further into other projects that may lead to international platforms.  Support system? I don’t really know of any support system on either side of the fence. Since I work from an independent platform, I have to be the one to personally make the connections to get my work out there, and all three exhibitions that you stated were my initiative. No gallery helped me make that network. I wish they had, and I wish I had a gallery to back me up, but it really hasn’t happened to me that way.   That’s why years ago, I among others initiated AX(is) Art Project. It was a platform where a bilateral dialogue could happen, some form of engagement between the many facets and factions in the art world. I did it out of necessity since no government nor private entity had such an initiative. It was like everyone was in their own bubble.  After several years of doing such projects, you dry up and you realize you can only do so much. Initiating, organizing and executing such projects eventually take its toll. Times change and things run its course, and you have adapt to new realities and find what’s appropriate. You’re not giving up on the cause but rather your following new currents and changing skin.

CNTRFLD. Projects like the AX(iS) Art Project and Markets of Resistance highlight your commitment to community-based, collaborative work. What have these experiences taught you about the power of collective cultural practice?

KDG. In the end, I think it is projects like these that make everything worthwhile. They may be the more difficult aspects of one’s duty... that of being an artist, organizer, funder, therapist and janitor, you have to be determined and have to wear many hats to pull such projects off.  I still believe that the role of the artist in one’s community is vital. Growing up in Baguio, I witnessed the strength of the Baguio Arts Guild along with my parents, Santiago Bose, Rene Aquitania and Roberto Villanueva, Ben Cabrera, Tommy Hafalla and Willy Magtibay project a bright force onto the public arena, where they dug deep going past the art bubble and engaged themselves in community and organized art festivals. These were such eye openers that empowered many. The effects are still evident today, and you can say it is rather contagious.

CNTRFLD. Looking back over the past two decades, how would you describe the evolution of the contemporary art landscape in the Philippines? What has changed—and what do you feel still needs to shift?

KDG. Well a lot has definitely changed in the art scene not just in the Philippines but the world over. I think we are starting to feel the effects of commerce, the internet and AI come and influence our creative backbone directly or indirectly. It has become a norm and part of the equation in our day to day activities. I think this rapid influence on one’s creative process isn’t helping anyone. A new kind of instant homogenous artist army is on the rise. One that thinks and behaves in accordance to popular trends and opinions, like some sort of fashionable art commodity.

I think to counter that, artist collectives everywhere must create creative hubs and programs that promote and propagate local artist initiatives that reflect local flavors and it must go beyond the facade of the artworld and into the streets. Exchange programs would also be necessary to build up a network of alternative platforms that would encourage a healthier critical thinking. All this outside big institutions. 

CNTRFLD. What are you currently working on, and are there any upcoming projects or exhibitions you’re particularly excited about?

KDG. I have a number of exhibitions lined up locally and abroad. Nevertheless I am not yet there. Presently I am working on a number of book projects. This started with a book that AX(is) Art Project produced some time back entitled Tiw-tiwong, An Uncyclopedia to Life, Art and Living in Baguio and the Cordilleras and Beyond. It works as an anti-textbook to understand our landscape through the eyes of the artist and the culture bearer. The idea of the book I think is a perfect prototype for other minority cultures and communities to adopt and copy, Its one last attempt to save what is salvageable from today’s fast homogenized world. It is a self-published book under Baguio Kunst Book Publishing. We hope to produce more books about local artists and their practice.

I am also in the middle of creating an art archive. Both my parents have a ton of material that have accumulated and with the passing of my brother Kidlat de Guia a few years ago, the burden of collating their life’s work falls on my lap. It’s a race against time before the Baguio mould gets to it.  Alongside Nospace (an online platform that promoted local artists during the pandemic lockdown) and Ax(is) Art Project we continue to produce exhibitions, projects and film programs locally at the Victor Oteyza Community Art Space and Ili-Likha Artist Watering Hole and major exhibitions locally and internationally.

CNTRFLD. What advice would you offer to young or emerging Filipino artists—especially those based outside major cities or art centres—who are navigating questions of identity and practice today?

KDG. If you’re coming from a region away from the big city, your identity will naturally follow you like a ghost, from the way you talk, to what you eat or how you eat. All this may beinnate and second nature to you but taken out of your comfort zone and put in a different environment, you will come to see how different you are. These unique traits can be the basis of one’s lifelong journey as an artist.

Up here in Baguio we have some of the most skilled woodcarvers that come from Ifugao, a region and people renowned for the mastery of water irrigation, the rice terraces and yes,woodcarving. This skill/art has been passed down from generation to generation. There is an Ifugao saying that the baby learns how to carve in the mother’s womb. Many of these great Ifugao carvers migrated to Baguio after the war in the 1950s. Slowly they transformed their traditional indigenous motives to easy commercial souvenir products. A whole carving industry naturally gravitated towards supplying the tourist market. I guess you can say that the Ifugao art of woodcarving and their culture did not die and managed to adapt to the times but 90 percent ofwhat is produced is kitsch.

It would be great if one is able to harness such amazing talent and gradually encourage carvers to produce one-of-a-kind sculptures and works of art. But things like these involve a lot of factors and can’t be rushed. A gradual progression has to develop naturally… I guess like culture. Belonging to a cultural minority is a tricky one that could work both ways, you somehow have to be rooted to your identity but at the same time be open to what’s out there allowing your understanding and disposition to evolve. After all, culture is a living species and not a museum artifact.

About the Artist

Kawayan de Guia (b. 1979, Baguio City, Philippines) is an artist and curator whose multidisciplinary practice spans painting, sculpture, and installation. Deeply rooted in the culture and landscape of the Cordillera region, where he continues to live and work, de Guia’s art draws from Filipino material culture—juxtaposing objects such as Ifugao rice gods, decorative torpedoes, and American jukeboxes transformed into jeepneys. His assemblages are both humorous and sharp, addressing complex narratives around occupation, trade, consumerism, and identity, particularly as they relate to Philippine history and the Cordilleran experience. A central figure in Baguio’s alternative art scene, de Guia follows in the footsteps of his mentors Santiago Bose, Bencab, and Roberto Villanueva, and is the son of National Artist for Film Kidlat Tahimik and German writer Katrin de Guia. His dual heritage, as well as his upbringing in a culturally hybrid city shaped by indigenous traditions and American colonial remnants, inform much of his work’s critical perspective. De Guia has initiated key community-based projects including the AX(iS) Art Project and Markets of Resistance, and has exhibited widely at institutions such as Palais de Tokyo, Sharjah Biennale, Singapore Art Museum, and QAGOMA. He is a recipient of the Thirteen Artists Award (2009), multiple Ateneo Art Awards, and was a finalist for the Signature Art Prize and Sovereign Asian Art Prize.

With thanks to Trickie Lopa for facilitating this interview.