The country’s best writers and cultural institutions paid homage this year to the 100th anniversary of the late National Artist Nick Joaquin.
Ironically, had Joaquin been around, he might never have allowed the tributes and accolades given in his honor. Or maybe, he would, but at great discomfort.
Said writer Jose ‘Pete’ Lacaba, “Sinasabi sa amin ni Nick pag dumadalaw kami sa mga burol ‘ayaw ko ng mga tribute-tribute. Ibalot niyo na lang ako sa banig, itapon niyo ako sa Pasig River.’ Pero tinatanggap din naman niya pag binigyan siya ng award [Nick would tell us whenever we were in a wake, ‘I don’t like tributes. Just wrap me in a mat and throw me in the Pasig River. But he still would accept every time he is given an award].”
Europe, the seat of everything that was grand, powerful, and prosperous, was caught in the teeth of the First World War, the year Nicomedes Márquez Joaquín was born on May 4, 1917. It was half a world away from a boy who would emerge half a century later as one of the greatest literary minds in a poor and exploited country still caught in its own, long drawn-out war of independence in 1917.
“Our sense ... of our country is a sustained act of imagination. From that vantage, it can be said that our writers and artists, who are men and women of imagination, create our country (italics mine). That is to say: they evoke those images of ourselves as we live life day and night, those images of ourselves which we share and by which we recognize our nativity. We are our own best interpreters of our history and culture because it is we who have lived through that history and created our own values by which we live.”
—National Artist for Literature Gemino Abad
It’s a four-year-old book of poetry—a slim book, all of 90 pages, with 55 poems published in 2022, ready to be read and absorbed.
And for English-proficient third-millennium Filipinos—whether aspiring for comfort or already living in ease—the images spun by 16 of the 55 poems hark back to a time beyond their consciousness.
That is why Jim Pascual Agustin’s Bloodred Dragonflies can be the metaphorical blood transfusion required to pump poignant, visual, and painful cells of old memory into the veins of the unconcerned and unaware.
It was the type of news that jarred the senses because it was the first time it happened in the country. Government officials called it an “unprecedented tragedy.”
On the morning of June 22 of this year, two students, aged 14 and 15, bypassed the security checks of San Jose National High School in Tacloban City.
One student carried in his bag a Glock 17 pistol, the other carried a .38-caliber revolver. At past 9 a.m. both opened fire indiscriminately inside the school’s crowded rooms and hallways. And then the shooting stopped, but not after killing three students and wounding 20 more.
Eight years ago, Rosario “Chat” Lachica, 58, made her first visit to the Libingan ng mga Bayani. She was there to pay her last respects to National Artist Nick Joaquin who died in his sleep on April 29, 2004.
“Our sense ... of our country is a sustained act of imagination. From that vantage, it can be said that our writers and artists, who are men and women of imagination, create our country (italics mine). That is to say: they evoke those images of ourselves as we live life day and night, those images of ourselves which we share and by which we recognize our nativity. We are our own best interpreters of our history and culture because it is we who have lived through that history and created our own values by which we live.”
—National Artist for Literature Gemino Abad
For decades, mining has occupied a complicated place in the national conversation, caught in a tug-of-war between the promise of economic growth and the cost of environmental degradation.
It was the type of news that jarred the senses because it was the first time it happened in the country. Government officials called it an “unprecedented tragedy.”
On the morning of June 22 of this year, two students, aged 14 and 15, bypassed the security checks of San Jose National High School in Tacloban City.
One student carried in his bag a Glock 17 pistol, the other carried a .38-caliber revolver. At past 9 a.m. both opened fire indiscriminately inside the school’s crowded rooms and hallways. And then the shooting stopped, but not after killing three students and wounding 20 more.
It all started in 1927 when a Filipino publisher named Ramon Roces put up a weekly magazine that offered considerable pages for Tagalog literary pieces.
Edited by Tagalog novelist Agustin C. Fabian, the Graphic popularized this literary tradition until it was shut down during the Japanese occupation.
The magazine was revived in 1948 and was called the Kislap-Graphic, later returning to its original name The Graphic, this time publishing the works of Filipino writers in English.
Ramon Roces would over time be known as the grand old man of Philippine popular publishing and “Komiks King.”
In the 60s, ownership of the Graphic was transferred to industrialist J. Antonio Araneta, when it became both a political and literary publication. Martial Law in 1972 closed down the magazine again, together with dozens of newspapers and magazines during that period.
ICONIC PHOTO of National Artist and Philippine Graphic editor-in-chief Nick Joaquin (left) with Graphic owner, businessman-philanthropist Ambassador Antonio L. Cabangon Chua (right)
The Graphic once again transferred ownership in 1990 and was reborn as the Philippine Graphic. Owned by the late media mogul-businessman and philanthropist Ambassador Antonio L. Cabangon Chua and his family. It had National Artist Nick Joaquin as its first editor-in-chief and Juan P. Dayang as its first publisher.
From 1990 to the present, the Philippines Graphic has stood the test of time as the longest-running and only existing magazine that is printed weekly and distributed nationwide.
We thank all our loyal readers and supporters over the decades who have shown their love for Philippine literature and the news by patronizing the Philippines Graphic.
More than the words, these photos tell our story.
On June 18, 1990, the revived Philippine Graphic came out with its first issue. Its cover: Egai Fernandez’s painting Kahapon, Ngayon at Pangarap [Yesterday, Today, and Dreams]. The cover, as described by its editors, “illustrates the past and present threats to national sovereignty, and the people’s hopes for tomorrow. Kahapon, Ngayon, at Pangarap also epitomizes our hopes for this magazine whose maiden issue you hold in your hands; we are born in a time of turmoil, but the future gives us no cause for despair.”Graphic editor-in-chief and National Artist Nick Joaquin with first Graphic publisher Juan P. DayangThe first Graphic staff under the editorship of Nick Joaquin (from left) Malou Dizon-Francisco, Greg Brillantes, Concon Cordova, Jomar Kho Indanan, Rosendo Bonifacio, Cristina Calilan, Bayani SanDiego, Dana Batnag, Joane Daphnellan, and Jose F. LacabaNick Joaquin with Caloy Conde, Malou Dizon-Francisco, Cristina Calilan, and Marra LanotJose ‘Pete” Lacaba, Nick Joaquin, and Manuel F. Almario lead in a toast during a Graphic anniversary celebration
A photo for posterity highlighting the Philippine Graphic’s 10th anniversary celebration (from left) Monica Feria, former Manila mayor-now Buhay Party-list Rep. Lito Atienza, Graphic editor-in-chief Nick Joaquin, T. Anthony C. Cabangon, future publisher of the Philippines Graphic; Ambassador Antonio L. Cabangon Chua, and Manuel F. Almario
The Philippines Graphic newsroom
Present staff of Philippines Graphic (from left): associate editor/literary editor Alma Anonas-Carpio, editor-in-chief Jose Pablo Salud, artist Malou Francisco, managing editor Psyche Roxas-Mendoza, artist Guillermo ‘Boying’ Altre, Senior Editorial Assistant Susan Bermas, and associate editor Fil V. Elefante
Philippines Graphic 2017 anniversary: seated (from Left): Dennis Guevarra, advertising sales manager; Psyche Roxas-Mendoza, managing editor; D. Edgard A. Cabangon, president and CEO of the ALC Group of Companies; Joel Pablo Salud, editor-in-chief; Adebelo Gasmin, vice-president for Finance; standing (from Left): Sabrina Anonas, Patricia Bolosan; Charmaine Arquibel, account manager; Susan Bermas, senior editorial assistant; Alessandra Brigitte Anonas, Alma Anonas-Carpio, associate editor; Fil Elefante, associate editor; Guillermo ‘Boying’ Altre, artist, and Loida Virtudazo, vice president-Human Resource Development
L-R, Adebelo D. Gasmin, VP-Finance, Business Mirror Group of Publications, Glenn Ian S. Tiempo, Pru Life UK, Marketing, Anne Carly Abad, Poet of the Year, Scott Lee, Chua, Second Prize, Christian Ray Buendia, First Prize, Wayne Benitez Castillo, Third Prize, Benjamin V. Ramos, President of Philippines Graphic and T. Anthony C. Cabangon, Publisher of Philippines Graphic during the 2017 Nick Joaquin Literary Awards Night held at bHOTEL in Quezon City. (photo by: NONOY LACZA)
L-R, Benjamin V. Ramos, President of Philippines Graphic, D. Edgard A. Cabangon, Chairman of Aliw Media Group and T. Anthony C. Cabangon, Publisher of Philippines Graphic during the Toasting Ceremony at the Nick Joaquin Centennial Celebration held at bHOTEL in Quezon City. (photo by: NONOY LACZA)National Artist Frank Sionil Jose
National Artist Bienvenido LumberaCaloy Conde
Charo Joaquin, niece of late National Artist and Graphic editor-in-chief Nick Joaquin
The country’s best writers and cultural institutions paid homage this year to the 100th anniversary of the late National Artist Nick Joaquin.
Ironically, had Joaquin been around, he might never have allowed the tributes and accolades given in his honor. Or maybe, he would, but at great discomfort.
Said writer Jose ‘Pete’ Lacaba, “Sinasabi sa amin ni Nick pag dumadalaw kami sa mga burol ‘ayaw ko ng mga tribute-tribute. Ibalot niyo na lang ako sa banig, itapon niyo ako sa Pasig River.’ Pero tinatanggap din naman niya pag binigyan siya ng award [Nick would tell us whenever we were in a wake, ‘I don’t like tributes. Just wrap me in a mat and throw me in the Pasig River. But he still would accept every time he is given an award].”
Europe, the seat of everything that was grand, powerful, and prosperous, was caught in the teeth of the First World War, the year Nicomedes Márquez Joaquín was born on May 4, 1917. It was half a world away from a boy who would emerge half a century later as one of the greatest literary minds in a poor and exploited country still caught in its own, long drawn-out war of independence in 1917.
“Our sense ... of our country is a sustained act of imagination. From that vantage, it can be said that our writers and artists, who are men and women of imagination, create our country (italics mine). That is to say: they evoke those images of ourselves as we live life day and night, those images of ourselves which we share and by which we recognize our nativity. We are our own best interpreters of our history and culture because it is we who have lived through that history and created our own values by which we live.”
—National Artist for Literature Gemino Abad
It’s a four-year-old book of poetry—a slim book, all of 90 pages, with 55 poems published in 2022, ready to be read and absorbed.
And for English-proficient third-millennium Filipinos—whether aspiring for comfort or already living in ease—the images spun by 16 of the 55 poems hark back to a time beyond their consciousness.
That is why Jim Pascual Agustin’s Bloodred Dragonflies can be the metaphorical blood transfusion required to pump poignant, visual, and painful cells of old memory into the veins of the unconcerned and unaware.
