Search Results

Fluid Gold Journal is an online journal publication, featuring dynamic substance and engaging lives from Filipinos and Asian communities across the globe. Incandescent Creatives Roman Zaragoza Actor, Director, Producer Sybil Wa Architect Michael Cho Design Director for Bridal & Evening Wear Elizabeth Clenci Miss Grand Philippines 2017, Musician Health Advocate Taylor Yasui Cellist & Real Estate Professional Actor, Director, Producer ART GALLERY Biligt Enkhtaivan Nancy Qin Herminio Tan Niyamat Mehta Travel & Lifestyle Diary La Maison des Crêpes, Paris France DISCOVER

< Back A Fuller Spectrum of the Complexity of Filipino Culture and Identity By: Pamela A. Coumans The common portrayal of Filipino history, as it is taught, discussed, and celebrated, gives prominence to the period of Spanish colonization, which began in the late 16th century and lasted for approximately 333 years. This essay will explore some of the significant elements of the history of the archipelago (Philippines) to stimulate the minds of younger generations of Filipinos worldwide into questioning and unveiling their complex identities. It also aims to encourage older generations of Filipinos and the international community to help redefine the future of the country, inclusive of our historical past beyond the period of Spanish colonization. Detailed accounts of the pre-colonized Philippines have been documented by historians, both Filipino and non-Filipino alike. In our modern world, where the outcomes of colonization have become the foundation of our progress as nations in terms of technology, infrastructure, governmental, social, and economic structures, I regard such historians as the genuine heroes and heroines of our time. Reflecting on the history of the archipelago, in 1521, Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan claimed the island of Cebu—presently one of the two largest cities in the Philippines located on the Visayas island—from its leader Rajah Humabon for the Spanish monarchy. However, within the same year, Rajah Humabon was killed by an Indigenous leader named Lapu-Lapu. In 1565, a Spanish conquistador named Miguel Lopez de Legazpi successfully established a settlement on the island of Cebu, marking the inception of Spanish colonization. Following Cebu, a larger settlement on the island of Luzon called the kingdom of Maynila (present-day Manila and the capital of the Philippines) became significant. Legazpi ordered an exploration of the settlement due to its ideal location. Situated at the mouth of the Pasig River and the Bay of Manila, it was an active trading port for countries such as China and Indonesia. It was the largest territory on the archipelago before 1565. Before the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors, the archipelago (The Philippines) was already a flourishing chain of islands. The trade routes on the archipelago were part of the larger maritime trading network in Southeast Asia. Before the 10TH century, trading with other Asian and non-Asian groups presently known as China, Indonesia, Vietnam, Malaysia, Brunei, and the Arabs was already taking place. China was a significant partner in trading for the Indigenous groups along the coasts. The earliest record of trading between China and Ma-I (present-day Mindoro), was mentioned in the Sung Dynasty history archive for the year 972 CE. “The first Philippine tribute mission to China appears to have come from Butuan on 17 March 1001.” [1] The port of Butuan is located on the northwest corner of the island of Mindanao, south of the Philippines. Trading relations particularly with the Kingdom of Champa (present-day Vietnam) and China were mostly for tributary purposes. Each tributary state and Indigenous group from the archipelago had theirspecific roles in trading with China. They were not regarded as colonized states and the tributary trading relations were a diplomatic initiative of the Chinese. “As late as 1373, the first tribute mission from Luzon appears in the company of envoys from Chola on the west coast of India.” [2] Apart from trading goods, ideas, knowledge, and cultural practices became a significant part of trading. Religions such as Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam made their way to the archipelago through trading relations with Indian, Arab, and Malay traders. Hinduism is believed to have arrived on the archipelago in the 9th century, Buddhism followed in the 10th century, and Islam in the 13th century. The fact of the matter is, that these religions were present centuries before the first Spanish and Portuguese conquistadors reached the islands of the archipelago. Presently in Manila, there are roughly twenty mosques and over fifty Buddhist centers. For a country with strong Catholic influence, perhaps this may serve as evidence of the diverse religious presence before the arrival of Catholicism. One of the most significant archeological finds in the Butuan was the balangay, a small narrow boat built with planks and wood pegs. These were the same boats that met the fleet of Magellan as they three were heading to the island of Cebu for the first time. According to UNESCO, “around nine balangay boats have been uncovered at the Butuan sites that range in date from the 10th to the 13th century CE. All the recovered boats were constructed with the same edge-pegged method of construction, which is typical of Southeast Asian boat-making technology. The planks are one long continuous piece, carved to shape and made of hardwood.” [3] The oldest balangay is currently on display at the Butuan National Museum in Calaga Mindanao. As noted on the museum exhibit, the oldest balangay was discovered on September 3, 1976. Gakushuin University in Tokyo, Japan determined that the oldest balangay dates to 320 AD. The construction of the boat enabled it to endure rough winds, allowing Indigenous traders of the archipelago to navigate their way along the waterways and open seas. Another significant archeological discovery on the archipelago includes gold artifacts in Surigao Mindanao dating from 10th to 13th CE, corresponding to the ancient period of the Srivijaya Empire’s (present-day Indonesia) influence on the archipelago. Gold has played a significant part in the ancient culture of the archipelago. It was a medium for trading as a form of currency and for the expression of artistry in the form of jewelry for example. The ancestral gold jewelry of the archipelago attested to the sophisticated craftsmanship of Indigenous people, their creativity, and hints of cultural influences obtained through maritime trading. The pre-colonized communities on the archipelago were culturally diverse, particularly along the coast where trading had taken place for centuries. The Venetian nobleman named Antonio Pigafetta served as the chronicler for Magellan observed upon their arrival on the archipelago, “The islands are accustomed to wear cotton and silk garments, and gold pieces (not merely thin plate) and brooches to fasten them; and rich necklaces, pendants earring, finger-rings, ankle rings, for the neck, ears, hands, and feet – the men as well as the women.” [4] The people of the Visayas islands were also called Pintados because of the intricate tattoos the Indigenous people had on their bodies. In contrast with the kingdom of Maynila (Manila), “The Muslims, both men and women, were well-attired. They wore showy head-dresses of many colours that were turned and knotted at the back of their head. They had learned to melt gold and form it into trinkets which they wore as body ornaments. The chiefs were more elegantly attired in comparison with the freemen. Both men and women wore anklets of gold and bracelets around their arms [Relation to the Conquest pg 163, The Muslims in Manila Prior to Colonial Control]. The men wore their hair short while the women pierced their earlobes and wore earrings.” [5] The Spanish also noted that specifically in the Visayas and Mindanao islands, the gold craftsmanship of the locals was exceptional. The Ayala Museum in Makati Philippines displays the most exquisite collection of ancient gold artifacts found on the archipelago. Gold jewels belonging to high-ranking leaders such as a Datu, were looted by the Spanish when they discovered them inside burial grounds. To secure gold for the Spanish monarchy, one Augustinian missionary named Miguel Lopez de Legazpi issued a decree; “In the island of Cubu (Cebu) of the Western Islands belonging to his majesty on the 16th of May 1565…henceforth, no grave or burial-place be opened without the permission of his excellency, in order that there might be present at this opening one of the king’s officials, or myself… so that no fraud or deceit may occur.” [6] Arguably, this first natural resource extraction by the Spanish on the archipelago not only exploited the country's wealth, but also inflicted environmental damages, andinsulted the dead, the ancient Indigenous groups, and their descendants. Today, there is an increasing call for the repatriation of art to their countries of origin, these gold artifacts may one day be part of a repatriation effort. Between the beginning of the common era until the Spanish occupation of the archipelago, between the Visayas and Luzon which began in 1565, “the basic socio-political unit was a small community (barangay) of thirty to one hundred families. This unit was characterized by a stratified class system with a petty chief or datu at the apex. The general patterns of settlement and society reflected both the prevailing political decentralization and the limitations of subsistence cultivation.” [7] The name barangay came from the Malay word balangay which was the boat that was used for trading around and outside of the archipelago. During the Spanish occupation from 1565 to 1898, a barangay was 5 subdivided into smaller units called barrios. During the American occupation between 1898-1946, governmental reforms took place and barrios became municipalities or towns with a centralized government. Within a barangay, there were four recognized social classes at least by Spanish accounts. At the top of the tier was the ruling class which consisted of the head or the leader of the social unit. The title of the leader was influenced by the region where the community was situated. Islamized communities on the island of Mindanao called their leader Sultan, the Tagalogs in Luzon Island called their leader Lakan, in the Visayas, the leader was called Datu, the Subanon tribe in Zamboanga called their leader Thimuay, and Indianized polities that traded with Indonesia and Malaysia called their leader Rajah. The Rajah’s barangay was referred to as a kingdom. The present-day Manila was called Kingdom of Maynila led by Rajah Sulayman, and the adjacent kingdom of Tondo led by Rajah Lakandula. The second tier of the social class during the pre-colonized period was the maharlika or the warrior class. The maharlika was considered a nobility over the commoners. Analogous to how a knight functions in service to a king, the maharlika functioned as the datu’s ambassadors or court members. They worked and fought alongside the datu. The third class consisted of the commoners, servants, and slaves. Becoming a slave was commonly caused by the inability to pay a debt or a result of captivity in a raid. There were two types of slaves. The namamahay lived in their own houses and cultivated their fields. They provided service to their master when they were called upon. The other type of slave was called sagigilid. They cohabitated with their masters and provided the service full-time. They were typically unmarried and treated with civility by being able to eat at the same table as their masters. The sagigilid would be able to improve one’s position in the barangay if the debt was paid off or by marriage, which would include marriage within the master’s family. Any foreigner who would travel to the Philippines, particularly in Manila, would notice that many upper middle-class to affluent families travel with the yayas or nannies to restaurants or shopping malls, typically in uniform. Sometimes, the housekeeper is independent of a nanny, but other times, the two responsibilities are held by one person. Like a sagigilid, the yayas and housekeepers typically 6 live with the family. Unlike a sagigilid in the ancient past, these individuals are not necessarily indebted, but rather, they have obtained their positions through employment. The fourth social class was the shaman or babaylan. A shaman was a highly respected individual who typically came from a distinguished background, an advisor to the community, a healer, and may have been regarded as someone who possessed some spiritual power or abilities. A shaman could be a man, a woman, or a feminized man. The position of a shaman is a vivid example of gender equality by Western standards. To this day, the practice of babaylan, also known as albularyo or manghihilot is still common particularly in the provinces. Although they are looked down upon by some, one would likely overhear someone saying, “I know a manghihilot who can help cure your illness.” In the larger barangays such as the kingdom of Maynila, offering a dowry to the woman’s family in exchange for marriage was customary. Polygamy was an accepted practice for men if he was able to support multiple wives, however, only the first wife was recognized to be legitimate by the barangay. The concept of divorce between a couple was also practiced with some conditions. For a man to leave a woman, he would have had to compensate the woman’s family the amount equal to the dowry. In contrast, a woman would have had to compensate the man twice the amount of the dowry. This may very well contradict the definition of gender equality by Western standards. Such contradiction illustrates the complexity of the culture and identity of the pre-colonized societies in the archipelago. Upon a married man’s death, only the direct descendant could receive an inheritance. This meant that if the man did not have children with the legitimate wife, no other children from the other wives could receive the inheritance. Only the direct descendant would have the privilege of inheritance. Presently, divorce is not legally allowed in the Philippines. Rather, a couple who seeks permanent separation would apply for an annulment, the official way to dissolve a legally recognized marriage. Polygamy is also not legally allowed in the Philippines; however, the case may be different in Muslim communities. Pedro Chirino was a Jesuit missionary and an observer during the Spanish colonization period on the archipelago. Upon meeting the people of the Visayas, he noted “that a woman, whether married or single, could not be saved, who did not have some lover…Consequently, virginity was not recognized or esteemed among them; rather, women considered it as a misfortune and humiliation. Married women, moreover, were not constrained by honor to remain faithful to their husbands, although the latter would resent the adultery, and hold it as just cause for repudiating the wife.” [8] As a historian and a present observer, I would discourage limiting one’s mindset to simplifying Chirino’s observation to a practice of hedonism on the island. His observations reflect the expectations of Christianity towards women. She is to be a role model of propriety, a faithful wife, a devoted mother, as well as the one in charge of the household. “Women were forced to suppress their individual needs and desires to their husbands, all in the name of rationality and civic decorum.” [9] “The fact that female desire was given equal weight profoundly disturbed the repressed and repressive Spanish patriarchs.” [10] The stark difference in the expectations of women within a barangay versus the Christian communities came as an astonishment to the Spanish patriarchs, causing them to emphasize the perceived indecency of women’s sexuality. Before the colonization of the archipelago, members of the barangays did not have a notion of land ownership and entitlement. They also practiced the act of sharing, a concept that may be difficult to accept in Western societies. There was an abundance of land and natural resources for every barangay. To associate the barangay practice with modern Western societies, each member of the barangay was a shareholder. The member could cultivate any land and benefit from his or her harvest while sharing the surplus with other barangay members with no form of monetary value. Reciprocity could be in the form of lending an extra hand in cultivating the land or receiving harvest surplus from other barangay members. Francisco Alcina was a Spanish historian and a Jesuit priest who provided service in the Visayan islands during the Spanish colonization. He provided his account on the Visayan land rights in 1668. Regarding land, here there is no difference between mine and thine as in other parts, or the usual lawsuits in almost all of them over its dominion and possession; because it is so great, so extensive, and in almost all places so good, in all islands, that it is not only more than enough for all their inhabitants, but could be given to thousands of farmers of those in other parts who are begging for it and sometimes cannot farm for lack of land, while here, on the contrary, there is more than enough and very extensive land but a shortage of those to cultivate it. And although it is true that every town or vicinity has its own boundaries and they are like their own lands and not those of other towns, nonetheless, to anybody who comes and settles among them, even if he was never seen before and is unknown, they give option to choose as he will, all and as much land as he wants without giving a penny for it or any contract, so long as it is uncultivated. Regarding farming or cultivating it, the one who farms or cultivates it is owner, and even more so if he planted coconuts or fruit trees, which are always his, without there ever having been disputes or lawsuits among them over it until now. God grant that this sincerity and goodwill might always endure among them, because these days it appears there have been some who wish to disrupt it somewhat, some who, by bringing in modern ideas [ladinecer], are spoiling it with swindling. So the ancient goodwill and trust is being lost with which they used to live without grabbing from one another, but readily giving way to the one who first planted coconuts, fruit trees, abaca or other things, to which they always had right and dominion, even if they only swear to it and then go live in another town (Alcina 1668 [3]:75-76). [11] The absence of land ownership, entitlement, the practice of gender equality, and the customary act of sharing in a barangay were part of ancient traditions that were distinctive of Indigenous values and morals. The earlier description of the Visayans by Chirino could very well be a projected bias of himself or the Catholic church rather than an accurate observation of the barangay, which places uniform weight on both men and women. Chirino’s view on the tolerance for women’s sexuality should have been about the community’s acknowledgment that a man and a woman were of equal importance to the community rather than a criticism of the community for indulging, and the interpretation of a woman’s freedom as her lustful existence. Both men and women each had their own roles and responsibilities during the pre-colonial period, consequently, they did not have the chance to compete in the community directly. A woman’s ability to reproduce, however, gave her a significant place in the community. Like other groups in Southeast Asia, having more daughters meant a sign of wealth. According to Chirino, “The dominant marriage pattern was one of monogamy, with divorce relatively easy for both sides" and "In the Philippines, ‘marriages last only so long as harmony prevails, for at the slightest cause in the world they divorce one another’ [Chirino 1604:321; cf. Morga, 1609: 275]. In Siam, similarly, ‘Husband and Wife’ may part again at pleasure, dealing their goods and children without further circumstance, and may re-marry if they think good, without fear of shame or punishment' [Shouten, 1636:146; cf. La Loubere, 1691:53; Van Vliet, 1636:86]. [12] Although pre-marital affairs were common and a woman’s virginity was not expected upon marriage, once a couple was married, they also were devoted and loyal to each other. The more organic custom of the people which was the rhetoric of the Catholic church’s position on a woman’s sexuality and preservation made observers such as Chirino focused closely on women’s sexual activities. The Tagalog language is an example of ancient culture demonstrating the concept of gender neutrality. It became the commonly spoken language during the Spanish occupation particularly in Maynila (present-day Manila). The language, also known as Pilipino, with modifications in the number of alphabets and words, evolved to become the national language on September 3, 1937. On February 26, 1987, the Philippine constitution designated Filipino as the national language of the country. As simple as a change in one letter of the name of the language, from “P” to “F,” can be regarded as a subtle detail of how colonization has been imposed. Many local Filipinos, who are not English speakers, would be challenged by the pronunciation of “F” for Filipino when the pronunciation of “P” for Pilipino is more natural phonetically based on the Tagalog language. The Tagalog language itself is an ancient language. “A 1962 study by David Thomas and Alan Healey concluded that all Philippine languages have descended from a common ancestral tongue since about 1300 BC, and that Tagalog, Visaya, and Manobo separated around 100BC.” [13] In contrast to Latin-based languages such as French, Italian, and Spanish, the Tagalog language, which evolved into Filipino, is distinguished for its gender-neutral structure, where pronouns represent all genders and act as one unit. For example, ako means I, ikaw means you, siya means him or her (singular, gender neutral), tayo means us, kayo, means you (plural) sila means them. All objects and adjectives by structure are gender-neutral. For example, translating the sentence “The chair is big” in both Tagalog and French, Ang silya ay malaki (Tagalog, gender neutral), La chaise est grande (French, feminine). The kingdom of Maynila prior to the arrival of the Spaniards in 1570 was a well-established, reputable, and wealthy community. Rajah Sulayman was a wealthy chief who was also related to the royal family of the Sultan of Brunei. “His house was large and contained many things of value such as copper, iron, porcelain, blankets, wax, cotton, and wooden vats filled with wine. Cannons were also found in Soliman’s storeroom.” [14] Manila was a fortified fort under the rule of Rajah Sulayman. Its population included Muslims, Chinese, and Japanese people. The community was progressive in the field of trading and agriculture and maintained a trading relationship with China. They were knowledgeable in metal smelting to produce weaponry which included cannons, and gunpowder artillery. The leadership of the community was strong and able to resist invasions from outsiders. Their leaders originally wrote in Kawi script (old Javanese script) and were writing the baybayin or Malay or Arabic script by the time the Spanish arrived on the island. Although the people of the kingdom of Maynila were converted Muslims, they were not fully abiding by the traditional Muslim practices. For example, some members would consume pork, not conduct circumcision, and not read the Koran. The variety of practice is another example of the complexity of the culture and identity of the pre-colonized societies on the archipelago. Intramuros in the present-day capital city of Manila, also known as the walled city, remains to this day the most formidable accomplishment of the Spanish colonization. Its urban design followed the model that was developed by the Spanish in Mexico. Intramuros is characterized by a large centrally located church with a sizeable plaza in front, a demonstration of the growing dominance of the Roman Catholic religion. Surrounding the plaza are government buildings and expensive private residences. The streets are laid out on a grid pattern. It was strategically located south of Pasig where it meets the opening into Manila Bay on the west end corner. Upon the defeat of Rajah Sulayman in 1572, Maynila (Manila) became the capital of the Spanish government on the archipelago. Both gentrification and segregation took place as settlers inside Intramuros were restricted to the Spanish settlers, the catholic church, as well as government buildings. All native settlements including the Chinese and the Japanese settlers were ousted out of the area where Rajah Solayman’s settlement once stood and mandated them to resettle somewhere else. The Chinese who became a crucial part of external trading for the Spanish, along with the Japanese, were required to settle in a designated market area in what was once the kingdom of Tondo area. The Chinese also settled in other provinces in the archipelago. The Spanish believed “the healthy society was one in which peoples of different cultural backgrounds were kept apart and not allowed to live together in helter-kelter fashion.” [15] Prior to the Spanish colonization, Indigenous people cohabitated with the Chinese, the Japanese, and other foreigners who traded with them. Intermarriages earlier on would attest to the culture of ethnic diversity. One would argue that the idea of forced segregation on the archipelago was a Spanish concept. Fort Santiago was a defense fortress inside Intramuros that was built by the Spanish in 1571. It was destroyed in 1574 during the attack of the Chinese led by Limahong. A stone fortress was built between 1589-1592. However, it was once again rebuilt in 1645 due to damage incurred by an earthquake. Throughout the history of colonization of Manila, the fort was used by the Spanish, the British, the Americans, and the Japanese as their headquarters as well as imprisonment and torture chambers of men and women in captivity. It was destroyed during the Battle of Manila in 1945. In 1950, Fort Santiago became a memorial for the freedom of Filipino victims during WWII. Restoration took place the following year. The Spanish introduced on the archipelago the system of encomienda. It was a form of a reward system for the military men who took part in the conquest. Indigenous inhabitants who were settled within the area of Spanish sovereignty were expected to abide by the system of encomienda. The encomendar or the delegated individual was responsible for enforcing the encomienda. “He had the power to collect tribute, basically a tax, and to expect unpaid labor, or corvee, from the inhabitants of the encomienda. The tribute furnished the revenue for such expenses as those of the missionaries imparting Christian doctrine and running the encomienda.” [16] “Indeed the encomienda system was a set up to provide an income base for settlers and soldiers as well as to control the pacified people.” [17] This was a form of exploitation as an element of Spanish colonization. Indigenous people were not only forced to convert to Christianity for their survival and protection, but they were also forced to pay tribute to support the Spanish settlers. Presently, Roman Catholicism is the most dominant religion in the Philippines. However, Catholic Filipinos cannot simply be compared to Catholics in the Western world as the people evolved to sustain some Indigenous beliefs and practices. Despite their dedicated faith in Catholicism, many Filipinos still believe in the presence of ancestral spirits, fairies, superstitions, folk healers, pagmamano or the gesture of a young person taking the hand of an elder to bring to their forehead as a sign of respect and greetings, and bayanihan or the act of a community working as a single unit. A significant portrait resulting from bayanihan are the rice terraces in Northern Luzon, on the Cordillera mountains. The stark contrast between a Filipino Catholic and an American or European Catholic is yet another example of the complexity of the culture and identity of the pre-colonized societies on the archipelago. This essay covered only a fraction of the Filipino culture before and during the Spanish colonization. Many Filipinos are not fully knowledgeable of the ancient history of the archipelago: the diversity in culture of the Filipino predecessors, the extent of Islamic influence in Luzon, the long history of trading with kingdoms outside of the archipelago, the long history of the Chinese traders (known as the mestizos) on the islands and their settlements, and the social infrastructure of the barangays with very distinct mindsets and standards…just to name a few. The Filipino people and their culture are complex and cannot easily be compared to any other culture outside of the country. Roman Catholicism has been influenced by Indigenous beliefs and practices. Islam during the pre-colonization period, the time of Rajah Sulayman in the kingdom of Maynila, the people did not fully abide by the practices of the Islamic religion. Although it was not thoroughly discussed in this essay, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Animism were part of the Indigenous culture before the arrival of the Spanish on the archipelago in 1520. Abundance of wealth and land were available and harmoniously enjoyed by various Indigenous groups. There was no notion of ownership or entitlement. Foreigners and Filipinos alike would characterize the Philippines as a matriarchal society. It is a legitimate observation for someone who is comingfrom a patriarchal society. However, in the absence of such bias, one would realize that the ancient Filipino societies acknowledged the existence of both men and women of equal importance to each barangay. By Western definition, Filipino societies were neither matriarchal nor patriarchal because it was in aspects a culture of gender equality. There were few opportunities for both men and women to compete directly because they each had their own societal position and responsibilities. Like a man, a woman’s happiness was equally important. A marriage was nurtured by devotion and loyalty for as long as harmony was present. The practice of divorce was initiated by either a man or a woman. The question that this essay leads to is how will Filipinos justify their progressive future and how will the younger generations identify with it? Fort Santiago inside Intramuros in the capital city of Manila, for instance, has become a memorial to the victims of WWII. The formidable structure which represents the Spanish proficiency in the colonization of the archipelago has been rebuilt a few times. This essay hopes to provoke one to question…does the preservation of the architecture which solely gives cultural prominence to the power of the Spanish colonizers and the erasure of the ancient Filipino culture and people a justifiable future for all Filipinos worldwide? Will the younger generation continually be forced to identify as descendants of the imprisoned, captured, erased ancient people of the past? As an architect by discipline, I believe that architecture itself holds a significant role in representing the people and their culture. This essay hopes to reach out to prominent leaders including young promising leaders, and architects to take the opportunity to redefine the message that Fort Santiago and Intramuros had imposed on Filipinos for far more than 333 years, extending to the British, the Japanese, and the American colonialism of the archipelago up to now. Only when the stone walls are opened can Filipinos see the opportunity to understand their historical past, but until then, the people will be limited to the stone walls, never revealing the true history of Rajah Sulayman, Rajah Lakandula, Rajah Humabon, their kingdoms, the Datus in the Visayas, the Sultans in Mindanao, and the Thimuays in Zamboanga, and the other barangays on the archipelago. In our progressive world filled with modernizations and technology, I would propose that based on the country’s ancient history, it is reasonable and responsive to our time now that the footprint of Intramuros could change to a new barangay. The new concept of a barangay could be a cultural hub, an urban layout that would have buildings representing the archipelago’s historical past. This urban planning concept would include (1) a modern design museum, interpreting the ancient architecture of settlements using modern materials, highlighting artifacts of historical past, and narration of the lives of the people, and featuring ideas, knowledges, languages and other cultural elements obtained through maritime trading relations with other countries; (2) an academy that would specialize in ancient technologies, medicinal practices and history of accomplishments of various Indigenous groups so that young Filipinos including members of various tribal groups on the islands would be given the opportunity to learn and improve their lives; (3) a monument not only to memorialize the victims of wars, but also a monument to symbolize that the ancient Filipinos will live on through their descendants; (4) the preservation of the Catholic church to represent the religious tolerance of the Filipinos and their dedicated faith; (5) the building of a mosque and temples to represent Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism; (6) a hotel which would showcase artistic influences of trading relations in a hospitality setting; (7) a prominent bridge to what was once the Kingdom of Tondo so this may tear down the Spanish ideal of creating distance between groups of people with different cultural backgrounds; (8) revive the natural ecosystem of the area by replanting indigenous vegetations. These are hypothetical yet realistic urban planning ideas that ought to be considered by Filipinos with the support of the neighboring Asian communities. One must understand the long history of Filipino relationships with the Chinese as well as other neighboring Asian countries. Before any European set foot on the islands, the archipelago was a flourishing and culturally diverse chain of islands. If Filipinos are given the chance to study their DNA makeup, more people may realize that they are descendants of the ancient people who traded on the archipelago coming from present-day Indonesia, Malaysia, Vietnam, India, Thailand, Taiwan, Japan, and China. The complexity of Filipino culture reflects the history of exchange with these groups. As an author and a Filipino of Chinese descent, we are one with them and no walls in history imposed by colonization could permanently erase ancient markers in the peoples’ makeup. Men and women existed side by side. A woman was naturally empowered as a human being with the capability of bearing a child. The happiness of both men and women held equal weight in the community. Both had their own capabilities and roles in the community. Filipino societies allowed for their harmonious existence. Not only was there a great tolerance and acknowledgment of gender equality, but ancient Filipino societies also had great tolerance and acknowledgment of various religions. As discussed earlier in this essay, Indigenous people on the archipelago who were either Christianized Catholics or Islamized, all adapted to their new religions but kept with them their Indigenous values and beliefs. This is the complexity of the Filipino people which made them unique and puzzling for the Spanish conquistadors who first encountered them. The younger generations of Filipinos will have plenty to look forward to regarding their true identities and be proud, if the older generations will work to reveal, protect, and revive the people’s ancient past. Most of Filipino history has been passed down by the people through oral stories. These stories will not live to see the next light of day if they are kept in silence for much longer. The younger generations have every right to be taught their history so they can rightfully judge and pursue their future. [1] Willian H Scott, Prehispanic Source Materials for the Study of Philippine History (Quezon City, Philippines: New Day Publishers, 1984), 66. [2] Ibid., 67. [3] “Did You Know? The Butuan Archaeological Sites and the Role of the Philippines in the Maritime Silk Roads,” UNESCO , https://en.unesco.org/silkroad/content/did-you-know-butuan-archaeological-sites-and-role-philippines-maritime-silk-roads . [4] Luis H. Francia, A History of the Philippines: From Indios Bravos to Filipinos (New York: Abrams Press, 2021), 39. [5] Carmencita T. Aguilar, "The Muslims in Manila Prior to Colonial Control," Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia 2, no. 1 (1987): 153, https://www.jstor.org/stable/41056722 . [6] Emma Blair and James Alexander Robertson, eds., The Philippine Islands 1493-1898 ( Mandaluyong Rizal: Cacho Hermanos, Inc., 1971), 172-173. [7] Daniel F Doeppers, "The Development of Philippine Cities Before 1900, The Journal of Asian Studies 31, no. 4 (1972): 770, https://www.jstor.org/stable/2052101 . [8] Luis H. Francia, A History of the Philippines: From Indios Bravos to Filipinos (New York: Abrams Press, 2021), 41-42. [9] "Women of 16th Century Venice," USC Dornsife, https://dornsife.usc.edu/veronica-franco/women-of-16th-century-venice/ . [10] Luis H. Francia, A History of the Philippines: From Indios Bravos to Filipinos (New York: Abrams Press, 2021), 42. [11] Willian H Scott, " Prehispanic Filipino Concepts of Land Rights," Philippine Quarterly of Culture and Society 22, no. 3 (1994): 166-167, https://www.jstor.org/stable/29792156 . [12] Anthony Reid, "Female Roles in Pre-colonial Southeast Asia," Modern Asian Studies 22, no. 3, Special Issue: Asian Studies in Honour of Professor Charles Boxer (1988): 629-630, https://www.jstor.org/stable/312601 . [13] Willian H Scott, Prehispanic Source Materials for the Study of Philippine History (Quezon City, Philippines: New Day Publishers, 1984), 68. [14] Carmencita T. Aguilar, "The Muslims in Manila Prior to Colonial Control," Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia 2, no. 1 (1987): 154, https://www.jstor.org/stable/41056722 . [15] Edgar Wickberg , "The Chinese Mestizo in Philippine History," Journal of Southeast Asian History 5, no. 1 (1964): 64, https://www.jstor.org/stable/20067476 . [16] Luis H. Francia, A History of the Philippines: From Indios Bravos to Filipinos (New York: Abrams Press, 2021), 65. [17] Daniel F Doeppers, "The Development of Philippine Cities Before 1900, The Journal of Asian Studies 31, no. 4 (1972): 772, https://www.jstor.org/stable/2052101 . Previous Next

Niyamat Mehta NIyamat Mehta.jpeg NIyamat Mehta.jpeg NIyamat Mehta.jpeg NIyamat Mehta.jpeg 1/5 Images provided by Niyamat Mehta BIOGRAPHY Born in 1999 and raised in New Delhi, Niyamat Mehta discovered her love for sculpture during her formative years at a boarding school in the serene foothills of the Himalayas (Sanawar). Inspired by a dedicated mentor, Niyamat began exploring the art of sculpting and soon realized that it was not simply a hobby but her life’s purpose. This passion led Mehta to the prestigious Florence Academy of Art in Italy, where she immersed herself in the rich traditions of classical sculpture. Her time in Florence was transformative, spent under the tutelage of master sculptors, refining her skills, and cultivating a profound artistic vision. Determined to expand her understanding of the global art landscape, Mehta pursued advanced studies at the Sotheby’s Institute of Art in London. During this time, she not only deepened her knowledge of the art market but also taught at the London Fine Arts Studios. It was here that Niyamat embraced the diverse expressions of contemporary and pop art, further enriching her unique creative perspective. Upon returning to New Delhi, Mehta founded Atelier Della Firenze, a haven for artistic creation and education. Today, she divides her time between New Delhi, London, and Dubai, presenting her work at international exhibitions and sharing her vision with a global audience. Her sculptures, rooted in the traditions of both Western and Indian art, embody a delicate balance of heritage and modernity. Through her work, Niyamat captures universal themes of resilience, connection, and individuality, creating pieces that resonate deeply and reflect her journey as an artist and a storyteller. EXHIBITIONS Summer exhibition with The London Art Exchange Summer exhibition with Red Eight gallery, London Essere, solo exhibition with Arushi Arts (New Delhi based gallery) at Bikaner House, New Delhi 1100 Previous Next

Biligt Enkhtaivan Biligt, Enkhtaivan, 'Father sky Mother Earth', fragment, linocut print on paper, 2025.jpg Biligt, Us, 154.4x253.8cm, linocut prints collage, 2023.jpg Biligt Enkhtavian.jpeg Biligt, Enkhtaivan, 'Father sky Mother Earth', fragment, linocut print on paper, 2025.jpg 1/4 Images provided by Biligt Enkhtaivan ARTIST STATEMENT My work explores existential questions—life, death, time, truth—through a personal visual language rooted in printmaking and mixed media. I developed a unique technique that blends traditional printmaking with other materials, allowing me to express complex inner emotions and impressions. Deeply inspired by Mongolian philosophy and our reverence for the Eternal Blue Sky, my art reflects a worldview in which all beings—humans, animals, nature—are part of one interconnected universe. Through my work, I aim to remind us of our place as guests on this earth, and the importance of living in harmony with nature. BIOGRAPHY Biligt Enkhtaivan (b. 1988, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia) is a multidisciplinary Mongolian artist and architect whose work explores identity, nature, and human connection through printmaking and contemporary visual media. She began her formal art education studying printmaking at the Arts and Culture University of Mongolia (2005–2006), and later graduated as an architectural designer from the Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing, China (2007–2013). Biligt has presented numerous solo exhibitions both in Mongolia and internationally, including Eternal Blue Sky (2024, Thinking Box Gallery, Gwangju, Korea), Steppe Full of People (2023, Khan Gallery, Ulaanbaatar), Humanoid (2022, Arts Council of Mongolia, Ulaanbaatar), A story of us (2019, Union of Mongolian Artists exhibition hall, Ulaanbaatar) and Children of Eden (2019, Mongolian National Art Gallery). Her work has been showcased in major group exhibitions such as the Ulaanbaatar Biennale (2025), Nord Art in Germany (2024), ARA International Contemporary Art Festival (2024, Mongolia) and Art week-2023 (Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia). A recipient of multiple awards, Biligt was awarded “Best Artwork” at the 2024 ARA Festival and Best Printmaking Artwork at the 2024 Independence Exhibition in Ulaanbaatar. Her work has been featured across exhibitions and art events in Mongolia, South Korea, Japan, China, Taiwan, Thailand, Vietnam, Italy, Germany, and the United States, contributing to a growing international presence. Previous Next

< Back Nihil By: Paolo Coumans Previous Next

< Back Growing Roots in the Air By: Renee Valerie Fajardo It’s not unusual for environmental lawyers to be asked how and why they chose their field. And even though the answers may vary, I found that they share a common denominator. Outside of their professional lives, my colleagues are sailors, hikers, divers, and volunteers – practically involved in every other activity that puts them in close contact with the Earth or if not the Earth, the industries that destroy it. I am no exception. Before I went to law school, I volunteered in rehabilitation projects for communities in the Philippines that survived typhoons. After about three years of progressively worsening storms, I began to feel powerless and, frankly angry. I thought, surely I can do better than this. Surely, I can do more. Today, I work as an environmental lawyer, with a sub-specialty in international climate change law, particularly the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change, the Paris Agreement, and the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer. In this, I find the traditional Filipino spirit of bayanihan (which loosely translates into a communal spirit for collective well-being) to be helpful. It is not enough to simply provide information or to speak passionately. Persuading others to take ambitious action on climate change requires a deeper understanding of what they deem important and showing a willingness to address their priorities alongside your own. This is particularly important in building partnerships among nations, especially between developing countries. Contrary to Western ideals of individualism, a shared sense of community is a more powerful in galvanizing people towards action. In this sense, I infuse the bayanihan spirit in my work. I remember the first time I sat down with negotiators from other countries. I had already done my research beforehand but nothing could prepare me for the way they lit up when they discovered how much I had studied their national circumstances and spoke from a place of understanding. This built camaraderie and trust, which encouraged them to see matters from the perspective of the delegation I served. Building community spirit is impossible without pakikisama or an appreciation for togetherness. This is not so much the willingness to compromise as it is the recognition that harmonious relationships are more important than one’s ego. I would not get far in my work if it were not for the brilliance and generosity of scientists and lawyers who continue to contribute to the body of knowledge and policy on climate change. Working with them requires an openness to criticism and no small degree of flexibility as strategies pivot according to the latest scientific and political developments. On a more personal note, I’ve learned that staying firmly grounded in my beliefs requires understanding – and I mean really understanding – that I owe my success now to the generations who came before. My maternal grandfather was a fisherman from the island of Culion, Palawan. My paternal grandmother grew up in Sorsogon, Bicol during the Japanese Occupation. They dedicated their lives to protecting their families and making sure their children – my own mother and father -- had the tools needed to succeed in life. And so, my life and my dreams belong as much to them as they belong to me. This is both a privilege and a responsibility. I choose to direct my gratitude outward and to help build a future for generations to come. And what does that future look like? One where development is not destructive. One where countries like the Philippines lead by example in creating an equitable society that cares for the Earth. It is a future that does not rely on fossil fuels, a future that respects the knowledge and rights of indigenous peoples over their lands and protects them from exploitation, a future where humans can co-exist peacefully with nature. This can start with (1) efficient public transit systems in cities; (2) food production systems that are optimized for human consumption patterns and avoids overuse of chemical fertilizers and food waste; (3) decarbonizing electric grids by quickly transitioning towards renewable energy; and (4) preservation and promotion of indigenous knowledge. These do not need to happen overnight, but the sooner we adopt towards less carbon-intensive lifestyles the better off our future generations will be. Previous Next

< Back The Noguchi Museum By: Julia Sy The Noguchi Museum, opened in 1985 in a neighborhood in Queens, New York City, was designed by its namesake, Isamu Noguchi. Throughout his life, the American-Japanese multimedia artist held on to the belief that art should be "beyond personal possession... a common and free experience". Bench 1966 The museum, by no fault of its own, seems to stray away from this belief, simply because ti is inaccessible to most who reside in the City. From the museum, the nearest train is a seventeen minute trek through warehouses, abandoned factories, a few children's shops, and an occasional Deli. I always find that the trip up to The Noguchi Museum takes up half of my day. It is out of the way, and especially when sunlight is painful and unwanted, the decision to come to the Museum necessitates the determination to get there. I took the trip to The Noguchi, frankly, overwhelmed with my large and demanding to do list. The seemingly ceaseless storm of three fast tracked summer classes, two jobs, freelance work, personal projects and, daily marathon training on top of social and familial obligation, sometimes leaves me in a panicked frenzy, physically unable to stay present because of a constant need to do something "productive". Dance 1982 One of the items on my to do list was to visit this museum, and write a review on its permanent collection. In retrospect, It was one of the best things I have done for myself this summer. As I walked into what is often the first area that visitors enter, the open air pavilion holding his large collection of stone sculptures, I found it difficult to think of anything but the earth and my place in it: his pieces seem to hold the memory of mountaintops, and ti si hard not to feel small in the midst of a mountaintop. The stone sculptures are made of basalt and granite, and were carved at his studio in Mure, Japan. Noguchi writes of stone: "I seek the love of matter, the materiality of stone... they are unique and final... no stone becomes immutable before its final consecration". Awa Odori 1982 I would like to note that It is not obvious, at first, what these stone objects represent. Like a lot of art that is abstract, It is easy to find these sculptures pretentious and meaningless, but in the context of Isamu Noguchi, the artist and his personal experience and love for the earth, they seem to be touching, love letters to the earth that birthed him. For example, Sculpture #974, titled Awa Odori, is reminiscent of Noguchi's love of matter, and the belief of their uniqueness. The piece pays tribute to the dance spectacle of the Awa Odori, which is danced as part of the "Festival of the Dead" and is a Buddhist celebration of ancestors, which takes place ni the south of Mure as a continual procession of dance. Following the movement of the dancers, the piece is dynamic and abstract, pronounced shapes through the stone. Similarly, #994, the Basalt Shiva Pentagonal pays homage to Shiva, the Hindu god, known as The Destroyer and Creator of the universe, and geometrically, seems to represent the human essence that unites spirit with nature. Sun at Noon 1969 The main interior areas are striking because of the use of light coming in from the Sculpture garden. The sun seems to be an object further manipulated by Noguchi, which hits the sculptures, which are cleaner and less densely structured than that of the open air pavilion. Dramatism is created by light, and further emphasizes the grounding feeling of earth as a state of rest. The sun seems to be a force of great power in the eyes of Noguchi. Sculpture #664, Sun at Noon, is made as a circular shape of Spanish Alicante marble, and is representative of the sun as a visually powerful entity that has inherent tensile strength. Similarly, Sculpture #730, the sibling of #664, The Sun at Midnight, made of black granite, is representative of this feeling, which focuses on the Sun as a grounding force and object of desire. It is impossible not to feel the sense of calm that is seemingly demanded from visitors, sitting in The Noguchi Museum's outdoor Sculpture Garden. The garden is like Isamu Noguchi himself, a union of two cultures: American and Japanese. Standing at five feet tall when it was first planted by Noguchi, the Katsura tree now stretches its limbs across the garden and is central to the space. Tsukubai 1962 The open space holds stone sculptures that seem to belong in the garden naturally, as if in a surrealist version of the space. The pieces in this space are touching in what they represent: the idea of learning, of growing, of being grounded and of art being a means of overriding inhibitions. For example, Sculpture #547, "Tsukubai", which is representative of life and the series of limitations that hold us back, but with which we choose to overcome in order to learn. Made of Miharu granite, Sculpture #583 "To Darkness" is representative of a quarry overgrown with weeds, which Noguchi "imagines possibilities... one begins to know what to make of them". The Noguchi Museum was a needed reminder that there is more to life than the constant productivity that dominates our culture and is demanded of us. It is an exhibit that reminds us to stay grounded, and to take the time to be grateful for the earth, and our unique, extremely rare and valuable place within it. Isamu Noguchi 1904-1988 Previous Next

Fluid Gold Journal is an online journal publication, featuring dynamic substance and engaging lives from Filipinos and Asian communities across the globe. Fashion Creators’ Eruptive Nature Jay-r Gamboa Flores Filipino Fashion Designer Michel & Amazonka Mongolian Fashion Designers Nguyễn Tiến Truyển Vietnamese Fashion Designer Lê Ngọc Lâm Vietnamese Fashion Designer Kermit Tesoro Filipino Artist and Fashion Designer Minae Lee Korean American Luxury Real Estate Agent & Developer ART GALLERY PING HATTA THAILAND BRIAN HOANG VIETNAM ANNI LIU CHINA Travel & Lifestyle Diary Adobo, The Root of Happiness by: Albert Bloise | USA Growing up as both Dominican and Filipino, I always had identity issues when it came to my ethnicity. It was tough to fit into either culture, and I often put a lot of pressure on myself—pressure that, looking back, was all in my head. In school and summer camp, no one believed I was Dominican, and the fact that I didn’t speak Spanish didn’t help my case. As for my Asian heritage, I was bullied and given a lazy nickname, “Soysauce.” It even went so far as being asked if I ate cats or dogs. As a result, I stopped sharing my unique lineage and started labeling myself simply as American. It wasn’t until I got older that things began to change. When I realized I wanted to cook for a living, I sought to shine a light on the cuisines of both my cultures. From cooking with specific ingredients to observing how certain techniques were used, I was intrigued. That curiosity became the foundation of my passion for cooking. As I delved deeper into Dominican and Filipino cuisine, I immediately noticed many similarities. Both cuisines have a variety of stews and fried delicacies, with rice or some type of starch as the main vessel for most dishes. The more I learned about my Dominican and Filipino roots, the more I fell in love with the cultures. This filled me with pride and a deep connection to these beautiful countries. The Philippines were colonized by Spain in 1565, bringing a lot of Spanish influence to the country, both in food and other aspects of their culture. Interestingly, the Spanish Empire was introduced to the adobo cooking process, which was first created in the Philippines! I used to hate being asked, “What is your favorite thing to cook?” I found the question repetitive and difficult to answer. However, as time went on, I found a solid answer—it’s adobo! Adobo is often described as “the unofficial dish of the Philippines.” It’s a simple stew usually made with chicken, soy sauce, vinegar, bay leaf, garlic, and peppercorns. While straightforward, it can be prepared in different ways, using various techniques and ingredients. The word “adobo” comes from the Spanish word “adobar,” which means “to marinate.” In Spanish cuisine, there is a type of adobo as well, which, though different, shares similarities with Filipino adobo. The Spanish version is a paste rather than a stew but also features garlic and vinegar prominently. The more I cook, the more I find myself making adobo, sharing it with the people I love, and boasting about how proud I am of this dish and my culture. I realized that adobo is the connecting bridge between my Dominican and Filipino sides. As someone who used to feel like I didn’t belong to either culture and was unsure where I fit in, it brings me such relief to finally say how proud I am to be both Dominican and Filipino. Both cultures are actually very similar in many ways, from language to cuisine. It brings me immense happiness to teach and show people how to make adobo, and I’m always excited for them to take that first bite. I feel like I’m introducing them to a whole new world and educating them. These two cuisines are all about pride in where they’re from and about togetherness, creating a sense of welcome and inclusion. I’m all about making people feel comfortable and welcome with something as simple as food. Nothing makes me happier than showing off where my roots are from, and I owe that to adobo. Photos provided by Albert Blloise A Glimpse of Mongolia by: Buyantogtokh Sukhbaatar and Yeruultuvshin Chimeddorj | Mongolia Mongolian Lunar New Year: Tsagaan Sar Tsagaan Sar, or the Mongolian Lunar New Year, is one of Mongolia's most important and revered holidays. It marks the beginning of a new year and the arrival of spring. Celebrated over several days, Tsagaan Sar is a time for families to gather, honor elders, and partake in traditional customs. The holiday is rich in symbolism and rituals. Families prepare a feast featuring "buuz" (steamed dumplings) and a special dish called "Uuts," a whole side of sheep. Homes are meticulously cleaned and adorned, as cleanliness symbolizes a fresh start. The celebration begins with the "Bituun" night, the eve of Tsagaan Sar, where families enjoy a large meal and clear out old food to welcome the new year with abundance. On New Year's Day, people dress in traditional clothing, visit relatives, exchange gifts, and offer blessings for health, happiness, and prosperity in the coming year. Tsagaan Sar is a beautiful blend of cultural tradition, family values, and spiritual renewal, deeply rooted in Mongolian heritage. Traditional Home: The Architecture of Ger A Mongolian ger, also known as a yurt, is a traditional portable dwelling used by nomadic herders. The ger is circular, with a wooden frame and felt coverings, designed to be easily assembled and disassembled as families move with their livestock. The structure is highly practical for the harsh Mongolian climate, offering warmth in winter and coolness in summer. Inside, the space is arranged according to traditional customs, with specific areas designated for cooking, sleeping, and socializing. The ger is not just a home but a symbol of Mongolian culture and the nomadic way of life, representing resilience, simplicity, and a deep connection to nature. Traditional Sports Festival: Naadam Naadam is Mongolia’s most iconic holiday, celebrated every year in mid-July. Known locally as "Eriin Gurvan Naadam," which translates to "The Three Manly Games," this national festival is a vibrant display of the country’s rich cultural heritage and the enduring spirit of the Mongolian people. The festival centers around three traditional sports: wrestling, horse racing, and archery. These games have been practiced for centuries, dating back to the time of Genghis Khan, and continue to be a source of national pride. Mongolian wrestling, or "bökh," is a highly respected sport, with wrestlers competing for titles and honor. Horse racing during Naadam is unique, as the races involve young riders, some as young as five, racing across vast open plains on semi-wild horses. Archery, the third sport, showcases the skill and precision of archers, who use traditional Mongolian bows to hit targets from great distances. Naadam is more than just a sporting event; it’s a time for Mongolians to celebrate their history, culture, and unity. The festival also features traditional music, dance, and vibrant national costumes, making it a spectacular showcase of Mongolian identity. For both locals and visitors, Naadam offers a unique glimpse into the heart of Mongolia, where the past and present come together in a powerful expression of tradition, strength, and pride. Video Credit: Buyantogtokh Sukhbaatar and Yeruultuvshin Chimeddorj The State of Samoa by: Hazel Octa | USA Located in the central South Pacific, Samoa is a Polynesian island nation known for its lush tropical forests and volcanic origins. It consists of two main islands, Upolu and Savai’i, along with smaller inhabited islands such as Manono and Apolima. The capital city, Apia, is situated on Upolu, one of the country’s primary islands. With its tropical climate and rich natural beauty, Samoa is a true paradise. Fale Beach One of the accommodations we stayed in was a fale (hut) by the beach. These oceanfront fales are common on the island, and you can rent them for the day or for an overnight stay or two. It’s like beach camping in a hut, with different styles available. You can rent the most basic kind that is open or one that is enclosed with an attached bathroom. We chose the enclosed one with an attached bathroom, as I dislike shared bathrooms when I travel. One thing to note is that the nicer and more popular fales need to be booked in advance. I initially looked into booking a night at Litia Sini Beach Resort, but it was already sold out when I tried to reserve two weeks before our trip. Instead, we stayed at the one next to it called Taufua Beach Fales, and we were happy with that choice. The beach is beautiful, and our room was surprisingly comfortable. This reservation included a full-board meal (breakfast, lunch, and dinner) for $89 per night. The meals were served at a communal-style table in their restaurant. There was plenty of food, and it was delicious. They don’t serve the same menu every day, and we were envious to hear that we missed the lobster dinner from the night before. Besides the beautiful surroundings, one of the things I enjoyed during our overnight stay was chasing cute hermit crabs and making friends with the resident cats and dogs. Waterfall I love seeing waterfalls, so if there is an opportunity to visit one, it is always on my itinerary. On the island of Upolu, there are a few, but I only had the chance to visit two of them. One of them is named Fuisipia Waterfall. While getting to the top of the falls is only a short distance from where you park your car (managed by a local resident), the pool of water at the base of the falls is not accessible. Sinalei Lodging After “roughing it” at our last accommodation at Taufua Beach Fales, we upgraded our stay for the next two nights at Sinalei Reef Resort & Spa. The island offers a few high-end resort accommodations that can range in price between $250 and $1,000 per night. Our room cost about $305 per night, including taxes and fees, as well as a complimentary continental breakfast. The room itself is somewhat dated, but the resort grounds are well-maintained and beautiful. The resort has access to a clean and calm beach. Dining It was close to 2 p.m. when we arrived, and that was low tide, so you can walk until the water color changes to dark blue. That is where you will see tons of live clams! If you have sensitive feet like me, I recommend wearing water socks or shoes, as entry to this beach is pretty rocky and full of broken coral. Spa at Sinalei Beach We visited the spa for our 60-minute couples massage. The cost was $106 and included a bottle of wine that we enjoyed for dinner that night. The massage was amazing, and that price is unheard of here in the U.S.! At the Giant Clam Sanctuary Sadly, you will notice that some clams have a white haze on top of them. Apparently, the chemicals from sunscreen and sunblock cause this phenomenon. The young man who collected our entry fee told us we could not wear any kind of sunscreen or sunblock, even the “reef-safe” kind. It’s best to wear a rash guard shirt for sun protection. We gladly obliged, and I am glad they are enforcing this rule. Snorkeling to Find Clams It was close to 2 p.m. when we arrived, and that was low tide, so you can walk until the water color changes to dark blue. That is where you will see tons of live clams! If you have sensitive feet like me, I recommend wearing water socks or shoes, as entry to this beach is pretty rocky and full of broken coral. Video This video shows how many clams there are in this sanctuary. It's something I have never seen before. The average size is about that of a football. The giant clams (not shown here) are not as colorful as the smaller ones, but their size is very impressive! It is definitely worth the stop, and it’s better to visit during high tide. If you have any further questions or need additional assistance, feel free to ask! Video Credit: Hazel Octa

Fluid Gold Journal is an online journal publication, featuring dynamic substance and engaging lives from Filipinos and Asian communities across the globe. IN THE SPOTLIGHT Erica Paredes Filipina Parisian Chef Veejay Floresca Trans-woman Couturier Maria Rivera New York Runway Model Jeremy Hu Luxury Real Estate Agent Taipan Lucero Baybayin Calligraphy Artist ART GALLERY View More MUST READ ESSAYS A Fuller Spectrum of the Complexity of Filipino Culture and Identity By: Pamela A. Coumans How will young Filipinos shape their future while honoring their past? Fort Santiago's colonial legacy overshadows the rich heritage of ancient Filipino culture. This essay challenges this narrative and envisions Intramuros as a modern cultural hub—a new barangay. Picture museums, academies, and monuments that celebrate Indigenous achievements and unity. Let’s break down colonial walls and build a future rooted in authentic Filipino identity. Are you ready to redefine our legacy? Read More Growing Roots in the Air By: Renee Valerie Fajardo Building community spirit is impossible without pakikisama or an appreciation for togetherness. This is not so much the willingness to compromise as it is the recognition that harmonious relationships are more important than one’s ego. Read More Nihil By: Paolo Coumans Read More The Noguchi Museum By: Julia Sy "Art should be beyond personal possession... a common and free experience" Isamu Noguchi Read More UNTOLD SHORT STORIES Rituals on the Ancestral Land BATO, Boracay Ati Tribal Organization | Boracay, Philippines Fluid Gold Journal extends our deep gratitude to the Boracay Ati Tribal Organization (BATO) for granting us permission to share and publish two of their rituals. The following rituals have been translated from the ATI Community local dialect. Our culture in the past was rich in numerous rituals. While we still teach our children about the various types of rituals, the process of performing them is no longer passed down. Due to the influence of Catholicsm and the establishment of the church, it is now rare to find medicine people, healers, or shamans, and many rituals are no longer practiced. A shaman is considered more powerful than a healer. Many of the shamans from earlier times have passed away, and only one healer, Tay Johnny, remains. As a result, we now seek the help of a shaman from a different province and also go to the hospital when we are sick. Despite this, we still believe in the value of our rituals, as they have the power to save lives and cure illnesses that Western medicine cannot. Palubad This ritual is conducted to determine if supernatural entities reside on the land. A hole is dug to plant a coconut seed. After three days, the hole is re-excavated to inspect the seed. If the coconut shakes, it indicates a negative presence on the land. If it remains still, the land is deemed safe for use and settlement. Sanag This ritual is for a newly constructed house. The father of the house or head of the household will conduct the ritual where the house will be built using stone or money. Plant the coins along the perimeter of the house in order to buy the land from supernatural entities. Travel & Lifestyle Diary 1/4 The Miao People in China by: Su Xianshun | China It’s a very traditional Miao village located in Rongshui, Liuzhou, Guangxi, in China. We were attracted by the sign on a house along the way to the top of the mountain. The sign displayed Mandarin characters representing some unknown meaning in the Miao language, which were later explained by the grandson of an old man. The old man, with a distinct Miao appearance, couldn’t understand any Mandarin, nor could we understand Miao. Our interest peaked when the kid told us the sign was about Miao music. They ushered us in, and the old man took his precious 古瓢琴 (ancient gourd lute musical instrument) from the wooden wall as we were viewing the unusually humble house. He carefully cleaned the instrument and tuned it, knowing what we were expecting. It took him quite a while to make it work again. It was completely unexpected when he sang for us in Miao while playing the 古瓢琴(ancient gourd lute musical instrument)! The sound of his voice and the instrument was ancient and touching. For a moment, we were transported on a journey to those fluid golden days that are gone forever. Part of the lyrics means: “We only met because you came here.” Photo and Video Credit: Su Xianshun Lost in Lucious Luxembourg by: Raffid Mahmood | Pakistan When I had first heard of Luxembourg, I didn’t really know what to expect. The only information I had prior to my visit was that there was a lot of French and German influence behind it. However, I was left utterly stunned and enchanted on my first visit to the country. The roads wind and twist around the city and in a car it feels as though you’re on a roller coaster going up and down and all around. The colossal bridges tower above the town and it’s seemingly nestled in between a valley, this makes Luxembourg city feel distinct and unique in the way it almost disconnects you from the hustle and bustle of modern life. I would definitely love to visit again! Photo Credit: Raffid Mahmood HUMOR US SECTION We invite our readers to show us some love and send us some humor to quench our community's thirst for laughter! Send us an email via Contact page and note HUMOR on the subject line.

< Back Arman Nurmukhanbetov Echoes of the Great Steppe: Arman Nurmukhanbetov Reflects on his Saka Culture The history of the Saka people, though often overshadowed by the grand narratives of ancient empires and civilizations, tells a compelling story of resilience, innovation, and cultural influence that continues to resonate. As nomadic tribes traversing the vast Eurasian Steppe, the Saka were far more than warriors or herders. They were pivotal agents of cultural and economic exchange, shaping the development of entire regions. While Europeans referred to them as the Scythians, the Saka are known as “Saka” or “Sakha” in Kazakhstan and surrounding areas—terms that reflect their cultural identity distinct from the European designation. Emerging research sheds new light on their origins and cultural impact, pointing to roots in Siberia. This connection is explored in Bruce Bower’s October 8, 2024, Science News article, Ancient Scythians Had Cultural Roots in Siberia . In their October 7, 2024, Antiquity report, archaeologist Gino Caspari and his colleagues analyzed artifacts from the 2,800-year-old Tunnug 1 burial mound in southern Siberia. Among these artifacts were “two bronze belt fittings decorated with stylized animals like those in later Scythian art, horse-riding gear, and metal and bone arrowheads.” These discoveries indicate that mounted Siberians played a critical role in disseminating artistic and burial practices westward across Asia within a relatively short time. The “animal style” motifs found among the Saka’s artistic traditions exemplify their cultural influence. These motifs continue to inspire contemporary Central Asian design, particularly in textiles, jewelry, and architecture. The discoveries at Tunnug 1 also offer striking parallels to Herodotus’s descriptions of Scythian kingly burials, including the use of birch stakes for ceremonial purposes, underscoring the depth and longevity of Saka ceremonial practices. The Saka’s legacy extends beyond their artistry. Their contributions to the development of the Silk Road positioned them as architects of cultural and economic exchange, permanently shaping Central Asia’s identity as a historical crossroads. Such enduring influence amplifies the significance of preserving their traditions and sacred heritage. Arman Nurmukhanbetov, a distinguished cultural historian, shamanic practitioner, and passionate advocate for the Great Steppe’s heritage, emphasizes this point: “The people who do not respect their sacred places disappear. Remember to hold your traditions, visit your holy places, and your people will live forever.” His words serve both as a tribute to the Saka’s enduring legacy and as a call to honor and safeguard their sacred traditions for future generations. A Childhood Rooted in History Born in 1970 in Almaty, the capital of modern independent Kazakhstan, Arman Nurmukhanbetov’s early life unfolded during the Soviet era. Reflecting on this period, he states, “My country was then an occupied part of the Russian Empire,” a poignant observation that underscores the political and historical realities of his upbringing in the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic. Nurmukhanbetov grew up in a close-knit family with three brothers—one older and two younger—in a household where order, respect for elders, and dedication to education were paramount. His father, a scientist and archaeologist, had a profound influence on his formative years. “Starting in April, as soon as the snow melted, my father went on expeditions, often taking us with him,” Nurmukhanbetov recalls, offering a glimpse into how his early exposure to the steppe’s rich historical and cultural heritage shaped his worldview. Equally influential was his mother, whose resourcefulness in navigating the constraints of limited resources defined much of their family life. “When we were little, she worked in the same kindergarten where we were sent to take care of us there. When we grew up a little and went to school, she got a job in the school cafeteria to feed us lunches,” he shares, illustrating her dedication to their well-being. These childhood experiences, though modest and full of challenges, instilled in Nurmukhanbetov a resilience and a deep appreciation for history and heritage—qualities that would later serve as the foundation for his future endeavors. Educational Struggles, Self-Determination, and Cultural Identity In 1989, Nurmukhanbetov embarked on his academic journey at the Faculty of Journalism at Kazakh State University. However, his aspirations were interrupted by a serious illness, casting a shadow over his education. Reflecting on that period, Nurmukhanbetov recalls, “When I recovered, the economic crisis of the 1990s began. There was no time for studying—I had to feed my younger brothers and work a lot.” Despite these challenges, Nurmukhanbetov's determination remained unshaken. He turned to self-education, immersing himself in subjects that would later define his career. This unwavering pursuit of knowledge earned him respect and success, proving that formal credentials are just one path to achievement. Nurmukhanbetov's struggles mirrored the broader experience of his fellow Kazakhs during a transformative time in history. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Kazakhstan emerged as an independent nation, facing economic hardship, social upheaval, and the challenge of forging a new identity. Yet, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the country demonstrated remarkable resilience and innovation, showcasing the enduring strength of Kazakh culture. Language, too, became a cornerstone of this journey, both for Nurmukhanbetov personally and for Kazakhstan as a whole. Fluent in Kazakh, Russian, and English, Nurmukhanbetov reflects on the difficulties of reclaiming his native language: “Under the Soviet Union, the languages of conquered peoples were eradicated. In Almaty, a city of over a million, there was only one Kazakh school during my childhood.” Rediscovering and mastering the Kazakh language as an adult was not only a deeply personal achievement for Nurmukhanbetov but also a vital act of reconnecting with his heritage—a shared endeavor for many Kazakhs striving to reclaim their cultural identity in a post-Soviet world. Saka Traditions and Nomadic Heritage Though details of Saka history were scarce in his childhood, Nurmukhanbetov fondly recalls a children’s couplet: “I am a Saka, I have an akinak.” This pride in their warlike ancestors, symbolized by the akinak (a short sword), resonates deeply in Kazakh culture, where the ancient warrior spirit of the Saka people continues to be honored. “The knightly traditions of the Great Steppe, rooted in Saka civilization, remain significant today,” he notes, underlining the persistence of warrior values across time. Hospitality, ancestral lineage, and burial customs are enduring elements of this heritage that tie present-day Kazakhs to their forebears. Nurmukhanbetov's reflections explore the unique worldview of nomads. “The nomadic way of life wasn’t forced by natural conditions. It reflected an internal choice—a love for freedom, travel, and an expansive worldview,” he explains, emphasizing that this way of life was a conscious embrace of boundless horizons. In his view, the nomadic lifestyle is not merely a response to external factors, but a profound reflection of the individual’s internal values, a desire for unattachment to a single place, and a deep yearning for freedom. "The only, main problem of the nomadic way of life," he observes, "is the full life in an absolutely wild natural environment, in the palm of the pristine elements. This is not available to everyone." The constant need to move, he notes, can be challenging for some, yet it offers a unique kind of freedom for those who embrace it. He goes on to explain that while a sedentary person might view constant movement as a burden, for a nomad, it is a joyous and liberating experience. "For a sedentary resident, moving is akin to a disaster. For a nomad, it is a joy and a holiday. For a sedentary person, life in nature is eternal discomfort and stress. For a nomad, it is constant pleasure." This contrast, he argues, lies at the heart of the nomadic identity: the freedom to roam, to experience the world, and to live unbound by fixed structures. Nurmukhanbetov further challenges the view that nomadism is a forced adaptation to natural conditions, emphasizing instead that it was, and remains, a choice—a deep-seated value of freedom and exploration. He believes the nomadic way of life is connected, first of all, to an internal choice—a value of being unattached to one place, a desire for the freedom of movement, and a passion for travel and new sensations. Nurmukhanbetov also highlights the Kazakh saying, "He is not rich who has a lot. He is rich who has seen a lot." While a sedentary person might live his whole life in the limited space of a city, the nomad covers thousands of kilometers, encounters many landscapes and cultures, and absorbs languages, faiths, and arts. In this sense, the nomad is far more developed and has a much broader worldview than the sedentary person. This perspective is central to understanding the persistent nature of nomadic traditions, even in the face of modern pressures. "In the 1920s and 1930s, the nomadic way of life faced substantial disruption with the arrival of Soviet collectivization. This was a period when the traditions of the steppe were forcibly interrupted," he states. The collective push for urbanization and permanent settlement marked a significant rupture, yet despite these historical challenges, the core values of warrior pride and nomadic resilience remained ingrained in Kazakh culture. Drawing connections between past and present, Nurmukhanbetov highlights the continued influence of Saka traditions in modern Kazakh life. "If we talk about those aspects that are still relevant today, then this is, firstly, and certainly, the warlike nature of the Kazakhs, who traditionally lead in various kinds of martial arts, for example, boxing or wrestling," he shares. The skills and discipline honed by ancient Saka warriors continue to shape the modern identity of Kazakhs, demonstrating the enduring connection between their historical legacy and contemporary practices. One of the most striking continuities between ancient Saka practices and modern Kazakh culture is the persistence of funeral customs, which still reflect the ancient traditions of honoring the deceased. As noted by Nurmukhanbetov, the Sakas traditionally held lavish funeral ceremonies, arranged memorial rites, and constructed elevated burial mounds for their deceased. "Even today, the Kazakhs, even calling themselves Muslims, still cannot get used to the Islamic tradition of simply burying the deceased, installing a simple stone on his grave and trying to forget about him forever." Instead, the Kazakhs maintain rituals of remembrance that go beyond Islamic norms, with wakes held not only on the day of the funeral but also on the seventh day, the hundredth day, and even one and three years later. Furthermore, the Kazakhs decorate graves in a distinctive manner, building elaborate mausoleums—a practice strictly prohibited in Islam, yet deeply rooted in the Saka tradition of erecting grand burial mounds. These enduring customs reflect a broader cultural refusal to sever ties with ancestors, reaffirming the living presence of lineage and legacy in Kazakh society. Cultural Preservation and Art For over two decades, Nurmukhanbetov has been a tireless advocate for preserving the culture of the Great Steppe. “For a quarter of a century, since 1999, I have been exclusively engaged in promoting the culture of the Great Steppe,” he says, reflecting on his expansive contributions. From writing articles and poetry to organizing events, he has explored every medium to share its richness. One of his most significant efforts is the promotion of the Sakas’ contributions to art, particularly their famous Animal Style. This unique art form, characterized by dynamic depictions of animals in various poses such as running, dancing, or fighting, was crafted from diverse materials like metal, gold, wood, felt, bone, and even amber. The Sakas integrated these vivid representations of animals into every aspect of their lives—decorating yurts, carpets, weapons, dishes, and horses. It is widely believed that the Saka Animal Style influenced the art of neighboring cultures, the Germanic tribes, the Iranians, and the Chinese, showcasing its enduring impact. Beyond visual art,Nurmukhanbetov highlights the importance of the Sakas’ musical heritage. Stringed and plucked instruments, believed to have originated with nomadic peoples, were made from animal bones, sinew, and intestines—materials readily available to cattle breeders. These early instruments not only reflect the ingenuity of the Sakas but also their deep connection to nature and their environment. Recently, Nurmukhanbetov has shifted his focus toward the development of Kazakh shamanic traditions. “I have left all these activities and fully concentrated on the development of Kazakh shamanic traditions,” he explains. As the founder of one of the first shamanic schools in Kazakhstan and the author of the First Kurultai of Kazakh Shamans in March 2024, Nurmukhanbetov is pioneering efforts to preserve and promote this sacred practice. His method of revealing the shamanic gift has drawn numerous students, and his scientific research, encapsulated in the book Kasiet , marks the first publication dedicated to the sacred magical gift, ensuring that this vital aspect of Kazakh culture continues to thrive in the modern world. Horses and Warrior Culture Horses held a sacred place in Saka life, serving as companions, status symbols, and tools of war. Nurmukhanbetov recounts several traditional practices, such as rider initiation ceremonies for young children and symbolic gestures like cutting a horse’s tail to signify mourning or declare war. He observes that "the Kazakh respect for horses and martial arts has its roots in Saka traditions," and that such practices were deeply embedded in the nomadic way of life. One example is the "rider initiation" ceremony, a universal practice for all nomads. A three-year-old child would be ceremoniously seated on a horse, with special embroidered bags hung on the horse’s croup. The newly initiated rider would then be led through the entire aul (nomadic camp), and residents would offer congratulations, gifts, and treats to the child. Another practice tied to horses was associated with funeral rites. If someone died in the village, the deceased's relatives would cut off the tail of their horse, hang it on a spear, and attach the spear to the wall of the yurt. This "banner of death" served as a visual signal, allowing others to see from a distance which house was in mourning. Similarly, cutting off a horse’s tail during a stay on the territory of another clan or family symbolized a declaration of war on that group. This respect for horses extended to Saka women, who were often active in equestrian culture. As Nurmukhanbetov explains, "The traditional respectful attitude of the Kazakhs towards women is clearly of Saka origin." He points to traditions like bride-groom wrestling and the game of Kyz Kuu, which reflect the empowerment of women in Saka society and their significant role in the warrior culture. The Role of Women Arman Nurmukhanbetov underscores the elevated status of women in Saka society. He explains, “The Saka bride had to fight her groom before marriage—if he lost, he became under her servitude,” illustrating the society’s unique gender dynamics. This legacy persists in modern Kazakh games like Kyz Kuu, where women compete with men in horseback races. If a man fails to catch the woman as she races away from him, she will pursue him. The Saka culture, part of the nomadic societies of the Great Steppe, exhibited a remarkably egalitarian approach to gender roles, particularly in comparison to many other ancient societies. Women in Saka society enjoyed significant status and independence, with archaeological evidence suggesting their participation in military activities and leadership roles. According to Barry Cunliffe in By Steppe, Desert, and Ocean: The Search for the Scythians , "one-fifth of the excavated warrior burials dating from the fifth to fourth centuries are female," challenging the notion that warfare was exclusively a male domain. Historical Figure When asked about an influential Saka figure in history, Nurmukhanbetov highlighted the extraordinary story of Shirak, a humble Saka shepherd who used his wit and bravery to outsmart one of the most powerful empires of his time. Shirak’s tale is one of resourcefulness and sacrifice. When the Persian army threatened his people, he devised a clever plan: he altered his appearance and entered the Persian camp, claiming that the Sakas had harmed him and that he sought vengeance. Shirak persuaded the Persians to trust him and follow him into the desert, where he promised to lead them to the rear of the Saka forces, where their families were hidden. Once they ventured deep into the desert, however, Shirak's deception was revealed, and the Persians, unprepared for the harsh environment, were left stranded. Though Shirak's actions ultimately cost him his life, his strategic brilliance and self-sacrifice are remembered as a powerful example of courage and cleverness, leaving a lasting legacy in the history of the Saka people. Connecting Saka to the World As Nurmukhanbetov explains, the Saka people were not isolated but deeply intertwined with global history. Their military tactics, artistic influences, and even contributions to the Gregorian calendar reveal their far-reaching impact. “The mounted knight, a symbol of medieval Europe, originates from the Great Steppe,” he asserts, tracing the lineage of warriors like the Huns, Sarmatians, Pechenegs, and Avars to Saka traditions. The military techniques and tactics of these nomads, unmatched in their time, contributed directly to the development of the mounted cataphract, a precursor to the European knight. This cultural influence is not only reflected in military strategy but also in intellectual achievements. For instance, Dionysius Exiguus, a Scythian monk, proposed the widely used Gregorian calendar, marking a lasting legacy from the Saka. Moreover, figures like Anacharsis, a Scythian who introduced the anchor to the Greeks, further illustrate the profound impact of these nomadic peoples on ancient civilizations. Even the legendary Greek hero Achilles is believed to have had Scythian origins, with some sources suggesting that his story inspired the creation of Europe’s earliest epic. As Nurmukhanbetov highlights, these examples underscore the dynamic exchange between the nomadic and sedentary worlds, an influence that has long been overlooked but undeniably shaped the course of history. When asked about the historical trade or influence the Saka people may have had on Southeast Asia, Nurmukhanbetov remarked, "Unfortunately, I do not know of a direct connection between the Sakas and Southeast Asia. However, the Sakas certainly influenced China. Which, in turn, influenced the rest of the continent." He further explained that gold processing technologies and stylistic features from the Animal Style of the nomads, which originated in Saka workshops, eventually reached China, demonstrating a ripple effect of Saka influence across regions. Nurmukhanbetov also offered an alternative perspective on the Great Silk Road, suggesting it could be seen differently from the viewpoint of the Sakas. He noted, "Silk went only in one direction, from East to West. From West to East, from the Saka steppes to China, herds of horses went, which were absent in China." This exchange was pivotal in shaping China's cavalry and chariot technologies, which were deeply reliant on nomadic horse culture. Furthermore, he observed that the Sakas' military advancements, such as the development of the double-layered sword, impacted Asian cultures, including the Koreans and Japanese. "The characteristic features of its attachment to the warrior's torso were directly borrowed by the Koreans, and then by the Japanese, from the Sarmatians," he added. These influences, he concluded, might have even extended to the more southern regions of Asia, but further research is needed to explore these phenomena in depth. Advice for the Next Generation Arman Nurmukhanbetov’s message to young people is clear: “Know your heritage. Study it, preserve it, and adapt it for the modern world.” His own life’s work is a testament to this philosophy—an unwavering commitment to celebrating and preserving the culture of the Great Steppe. Reflecting on the importance of heritage, he emphasizes, "If you want to know yourself, get to know your ancestors. If you want to imagine your future, get to know the past. If you want to love your people, get to know the culture of the Steppe." These words go beyond a mere call to honor history; they urge the creation of a future that intertwines modernity with the wisdom of the past—a future where the Saka legacy continues to thrive. In a world where some may believe the past is irrelevant, Nurmukhanbetov challenges this view by asserting, “We come from something. We are descendants of someone. We think like someone in the past. We are like one of our ancestors. We move like them, we think like them. In fact, we are them. We are only a link in an endless chain of succession. Not the first and not the last.” For him, the legacy of the Saka is more than just history—it is an intrinsic part of identity. He believes that to understand who we are, we must look to our roots, for “if we do not know anything about this, if we do not think about it, then we will not be complete.” Through the continued exploration of Saka culture, both academically and in everyday life, Kazakhstan’s younger generations will keep the flame of their ancestors alive, ensuring that the Saka story is not a forgotten echo but a vibrant part of the global cultural tapestry. In this way, Nurmukhanbetov's vision calls for a dynamic blend of tradition and progress, a future that honors the past while shaping the world of tomorrow. Conclusion: The Saka People's Unparalleled Contribution In reflecting on the rich legacy of the Saka people, Arman Nurmukhanbetov emphasizes the timeless relevance of their traditions—an enduring proof of resilience, cultural exchange, and adaptability. His own journey of rediscovery and dedication to preserving the culture of the Great Steppe stands as an inspiring example for future generations. As Nurmukhanbetov urges, understanding and embracing the past is not just an act of remembrance but a foundation for shaping a future where heritage and modernity coexist harmoniously. The Saka people, with their unparalleled contributions to art, society, and history, remain an indelible part of Kazakhstan's identity and the world's cultural fabric. Their legacy, from the sacred bond with the land to the empowering role of women and the martial prowess of warriors, continues to inspire and inform the present. Much like the ancient traditions uncovered through recent archaeological findings, the Saka's impact on history and culture cannot be overlooked. By honoring this heritage, future generations can ensure that the echoes of the Great Steppe resonate for years to come, uniting the lessons of the past with the possibilities of tomorrow. 1/4 Images provided by: Arman Nurmukhanbetov, Gold by FGJ Previous Next

< Back James Ramsey Building a Future through Symbiotic Opposition: James Ramsey's Lowline and the Harmony of Urban Nature Architecture thrives with symbiotic opposition, and New York City exemplifies this dynamic contrast, balancing innovation with preservation, and nature with urbanity. As the city that never sleeps, it continuously evolves to confront challenges such as urban density, climate change, and sustainability, all while maintaining its historical and cultural identity. At the forefront of this evolution is James Ramsey, an architect, inventor, and founder of RAAD Studio. His visionary Lowline project—an underground park currently in development—reimagines the potential of subterranean spaces and addresses urban sustainability in unprecedented ways. Vision and Innovative Approach Unlike other urban projects that merely adapt existing frameworks, Ramsey's approach is distinctly innovative. He perceives the Lowline not just as a park but as an urban archaeology initiative that invites exploration and discovery. This perspective sets Ramsey apart from his contemporaries, as he integrates elements of history and technology to create a space that fosters community engagement and environmental awareness. His work resonates with global urban innovation trends yet remains unique in its execution and philosophy. The Lowline stands as a reflection of his commitment to transforming neglected spaces into vibrant public realms, challenging the status quo of urban design and inspiring future generations of architects to think beyond conventional boundaries. Born in New York City to Korean and American parents, James Ramsey, a Yale University alumnus and avid origami enthusiast, recalls his first profound architectural experience during his youth while visiting relatives in France. "A little 12-year-old me walked into a cathedral, and I was just blown away by the power of that space," Ramsey shared. Immersing himself in the intricacies of Gothic architecture, he became fascinated by how structures built with heavy stone, adorned with extravagant buttresses and columns, could evoke a sense of lightness. "It just gave me such a profound shift in perspective—that is something I brought with me for years," he added. Journey Through NASA Ramsey began his NASA career at the remarkable age of 19, taking on a pivotal role in the Pluto Fast Flyby project and contributing to the development of the Cassini mission to study Saturn, which successfully launched in 1997. Reflecting on the trust placed in him, he remarked, "It is kind of startling to me that they would give so much responsibility to someone so inexperienced and young." Despite his youth, Ramsey's brilliance was evident as he developed an infrared spectrometer for the Pluto Fast Flyby mission. "A spectrometer which allows you to see through a piece of optics at the surface of Pluto," he explained. This technology aimed to analyze the planet's surface by identifying its substances and elements. While the Pluto Fast Flyby mission was ultimately shelved, its concept was later revived with newer technology as part of the successful New Horizons spacecraft, which launched in 2006 and reached Pluto in 2015. Reflecting on his early career at NASA, Ramsey remarked, "Combining engineering with craft to create a design effect is something that has pervaded my understanding of architecture," a philosophy that underscores his innovative approach to design. The Lowline Project As the visionary behind the Lowline, James Ramsey has developed innovative "remote skylight" technology that demonstrates how forgotten subterranean spaces can be transformed into vibrant, sustainable environments. This groundbreaking system channels natural sunlight underground to address the loss of above-ground green spaces. It captures sunlight via a rooftop collector, amplifies it with parabolic concentrators, and directs it through fiber optic cables into the underground park. The 2015 Lowline Lab prototype validated the technology's success, enabling over 100 plant species, including edible varieties, to thrive in an underground ecosystem. At its core, the project aims to revitalize the historic Williamsburg Bridge Trolley Terminal—a 60,000-square-foot space abandoned since 1948. Ramsey's vision extends beyond New York City. During the 2017 Seoul Biennale of Architecture and Urbanism, he presented his solo art installation, Invasive Regeneration , which brought light into a dark, abandoned space, demonstrating the emotional resonance of his technology. Reflecting on the experience, Ramsey shared, "It was one of my favorite things that we've ever built." This installation not only underscored the profound relationship between light and space but also stood as a powerful metaphor: bringing light into darkness is not just a physical transformation but a declaration of optimism, a reminder that even in the bleakest moments, renewal and hope can emerge. Highlighting his extensive work in Korea, he noted, "I ended up having a lot of professional connections to Korea and a lot of reasons to travel there for work. And it ended up for me being something that allowed me to reclaim my heritage and connect with it." During these visits, he also cherished the time spent with his late grandmother, describing his connection with her as a profoundly meaningful experience that deepened his ties to his heritage. Invasive Regeneration poetically illustrated Ramsey's unwavering belief in illuminating the darkest corners of urban landscapes, literally and metaphorically, echoing the profound impact he experienced as a child when first stepping into a Gothic cathedral in France, where the interplay of light and space left an indelible mark on his architectural sensibilities. Facing Challenges Despite significant fundraising challenges—"We are in a place where there is a pretty significant fundraising hurdle"—Ramsey remains steadfast in his vision. His persistence in directing light into forgotten spaces reflects a deep-seated grit and belief in the power of innovation to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Situated in a diverse, immigrant-rich neighborhood on Manhattan's Lower East Side, the Lowline underscores the complexities of urban revitalization, blending innovation with cultural preservation. The Lowline's potential extends beyond mere aesthetics, promising to reshape community interactions and improve mental health by providing much-needed green space in dense urban environments while also addressing issues of environmental justice in underserved neighborhoods. As cities worldwide grapple with increasing population density and diminishing green spaces, projects like the Lowline represent a crucial step towards sustainable urban design, aligning with broader global efforts to create livable cities for the future. The Importance of Craftsmanship While discussing ancient structural innovations in countries like China, Japan, and India, James Ramsey highlighted the enduring importance of craftsmanship in architecture. "There is such a heavy emphasis on craftsmanship—touching material, shaping it, and understanding how it fits together has been a focus of the work that we do in my studio," Ramsey explained. This reflection is particularly relevant today, as many contemporary architectural practices prioritize cost efficiency over the true value of craftsmanship, often favoring mass production over thoughtful design. Ramsey emphasized that understanding localized materials—and how they are thoughtfully assembled—is critical to creating sustainable, durable structures. This approach not only honors the cultural and environmental context but also fosters innovation rooted in tradition. Japan, in particular, holds personal and professional significance for Ramsey; his parents lived there briefly during his infancy, and he has since returned to study its architecture and landscape design. These visits allowed him to immerse himself in traditional wood joinery and engineering techniques, which maximize the potential of native materials by prioritizing how they interlock and function together. Such methods produce structures resilient to extreme climates while embodying timeless craftsmanship. Conclusion: Meaning and Reconnection By reflecting on these traditional practices, Ramsey underscores the importance of reintroducing careful material understanding and assembly into modern architectural practices, ensuring that innovation does not come at the expense of durability or cultural integrity. Reminiscent of Louis Kahn's famous words, "We are born of light. The seasons are felt through light. We only know the world as it is evoked by light," Ramsey's work embodies a philosophy where light not only sustains life but also transforms neglected spaces into symbols of connection and renewal. Amidst the challenges of urban change, Ramsey's design principles and vision offer a path to making a dynamic city like New York more defined, resilient, and attuned to the deeper needs for meaning and reconnection in a rapidly evolving world. 1/3 Images provided by: James Ramsey Previous Next

Previous Next < Back Michael Cho Elegance in Form: Michael Cho at Amsale Images provided by Michael Cho A gown is more than a garment—it is a masterpiece of art, a wearable image that reflects the person for whom it was created. In each fold of silk, satin, tulle, or lace, and every meticulously placed bead, lies an intimate conversation: a reflection of their life, their character, and a quiet dream waiting to be revealed. It becomes a love letter from the visionary who transforms momentary thoughts into a tangible, breathtaking reality—one that endures, expressing a vision that complements both creator and muse. Michael Cho, Design Director of bridal and evening gowns at the acclaimed New York City fashion house Amsale, is a true visionary in modern couture. His work elevates clothing into meticulously crafted dreams for discerning brides and those attending life’s most formal occasions. To meet and collaborate with him is to enter a realm of refined artistry—where imagination, technique, and intention converge to create garments that leave a lasting impression. THE ARCHITECTURE OF COUTURE An important influence on Cho’s design process is the close relationship between architecture and fashion. “We use different materials,” he explains, “but ultimately we both use texture and shapes to tell our ‘stories.’ Understanding construction to properly execute a design is paramount in both.” He points to the challenge of creating a single seam gown as an example, noting it requires profound technical knowledge of how fabric drapes on the body. “Having the technical knowledge to manipulate fabric and appropriately construct a garment is what really separates the masters from amateurs.” EMOTION AT THE HEART OF DESIGN For Cho, design is rooted in storytelling, particularly through emotion. When facing creative blocks, he returns to the basics, asking himself, “What am I trying to convey?” His ultimate goal is to create work with an emotional core: “Without an emotional core, I find that the story lacks depth and meaning and thereby becomes just another empty ‘pretty’ piece.” The word “incandescent” embodies this approach—moments of gentle glow and enchanting warmth that his work aims to capture and share. Born in Atlanta, Georgia, and raised primarily in New York City, Cho is a Korean American whose family background plays a significant role in his perspective. “My parents are originally from South Korea,” he shares, “and I am the youngest of three children.” His cultural heritage, combined with New York City’s diverse atmosphere, shaped his outlook and artistic sensibility. ROOTS AND INFLUENCES His interest in fashion began early. “I first started experimenting with fashion design as far back as middle school,” he recalls. “I loved to mix and match different clothing items with accessories to make unique looks.” In high school, he explored garment deconstruction, creating “avant-garde” pieces that fueled both inspiration and fun. After graduating from Parsons School of Design with a Bachelor of Fine Arts, majoring in fashion design, Cho entered the industry but soon found the corporate environment limiting. “That moment came when I realized I was no longer on the path I once yearned for,” he reflects. Taking a risk, Cho left to pursue his artistic voice, resulting in his first two personal collections: The Black Iris and The Leucite’s Copse. These works combined couture techniques with fantastical, story-driven design and solidified his future in evening and bridal wear. A COSMOPOLITAN PHILOSOPHY: INSPIRATIONS FROM AROUND THE WORLD Cho’s design philosophy is deeply influenced by the cultural melting pot that is New York City. “There is a freedom here to explore varied facets of numerous cultures,” he explains. This cosmopolitan spirit pairs with the city’s modern elegance in what he calls “modern fantasticism.” Additionally, his admiration for Japanese and Icelandic aesthetics further informs his work. Japanese design is defined by minimalism, precision, and respect for form—traits that echo in Cho’s preference for clean lines and meticulous detail. The Japanese value of monozukuri, or craftsmanship with soul, resonates deeply with his couture philosophy. Meanwhile, Iceland’s raw, ethereal beauty—its volcanic terrain, glassy fjords, and quiet isolation—inspires a kind of emotional clarity. “The sweeping landscapes and quiet remote locations I visited were incredibly moving,” he says. “You could say my time in Iceland was truly ‘incandescent.’” THE MEANING OF THE BRIDAL GOWN Within bridal fashion, Cho challenges common misconceptions. “Many believe all bridal gowns are ‘the same’ or ‘lesser than’ evening gowns because they’re primarily white,” he says. In reality, a bridal gown is never just a garment—it carries profound symbolic weight. Across both Asian and Western cultures, the wedding dress is a vessel for memory and meaning. It does not merely signify the ceremony, but also the years, decisions, and shared experiences that have led a couple to that singular moment. The gown becomes a deeply personal artifact—one that speaks to family, cultural tradition, and the emotional arc of a relationship. Cho emphasizes that designing for such a moment demands precision, respect, and emotional awareness. Because bridal design offers no camouflage in bold color or embellishment, its craftsmanship must be exacting. He encourages brides to slow down, reject the pressure of instant gratification, and honor the significance of the dress by investing in a thoughtfully made, custom-fitted piece that will reflect the depth of their commitment. PERSONAL TOUCHES: HONORING STORIES THROUGH DESIGN Cho’s sensitivity to personal stories is evident in his work. He recalls a client who wanted to honor her late father on her wedding day. “I incorporated a small pocket on the left chest, near the heart, to hold a locket pendant with her father’s picture,” he says. “It allowed her to keep him close to her heart on her special day.” Though technology plays a role in fashion today, Cho approaches it with measured respect. “Technology is just another tool in the toolbox,” he says. “I am still a supporter of analog tools, which may be considered ‘old fashioned’ by some.” He warns against over reliance on technology, as valuable craftsmanship knowledge risks being lost with younger designers depending too much on digital methods. ADVICE FOR ASPIRING DESIGNERS To aspiring designers, Cho offers practical and heartfelt advice: “You are surrounded by a deluge of content and opinions, which can be overwhelming. It’s easy to become burnt out or stray from your vision.” He urges young creatives to focus on their unique voice rather than chasing trends or external pressures. “Keep your ego in check, recognize your weaknesses, and strive to better yourself. Never stop creating and pushing boundaries.” As Cho continues to blend tradition and innovation, structure and softness, his work serves as a quiet but powerful reminder: in an industry often fixated on spectacle, it is the emotional core—the story behind the gown—that truly endures. Michael Cho.jpeg Michael Cho.jpeg Michael Cho.jpeg Michael Cho.jpeg 1/5 Images provided by Michael Cho Previous Next