I’m always looking for meaningful experiences to share with families, and this recent exhibit at the Queens Museum really caught my eye. It’s all about the Filipino American community and their history, told through art and stories. It feels like a wonderful way to learn something new together, especially during Filipino American History Month. I found that understanding the background of a place makes any visit feel more special.
Sharing Filipino American Stories
I’ve been researching exhibitions that offer a strong cultural connection, and the show at the Queens Museum, titled “Abang-guard: Makibaka,” seemed perfect. It focuses on the work of artists Maureen Catbagan and Jevijoe Vitug, who actually work as guards at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Their name, Abang-guard, is a clever mix of art terms and a Filipino word meaning “waiting” or “watchful.”
This connection to their daily work as guards adds a unique layer to their art. I find that when artists draw from their own lives, the work often has a deeper resonance. It makes me think about the value and importance placed on everyday objects and spaces, and how sometimes, the most significant stories are found in the overlooked corners of our lives.
The exhibition itself uses performance, painting, and sculpture to explore a variety of themes. The title, “Makibaka,” comes from a Tagalog word meaning “coming together for change.” This political edge is something I appreciate, as it encourages reflection on broader societal issues through a specific cultural lens. It’s a reminder that art can be a powerful tool for dialogue and understanding.
A Look Back at 1965
A key part of the exhibition centers around 1965, a significant year for Filipino American history and one that also marked the 60th anniversary of the World’s Fair in New York. This moment in time is explored as a critical turning point.
I learned that the 1964-1965 New York World’s Fair was an important event because it was the first time countries outside of the Western world, like the Philippines, were invited to participate. This set the stage for bigger conversations and cultural exchanges.
The year 1965 itself was packed with pivotal events for Filipino Americans. I’ve been reading about the Delano Grape Strike, a huge labor movement where Mexican and Filipino farmworkers joined forces. This solidarity is a powerful example of collective action.
Another major event was the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, also known as the Hart-Celler Act. This law significantly changed immigration policies in the United States. I think understanding these historical shifts is crucial for appreciating the diverse communities we see today.
Additionally, the launch of Medicaid and Medicare programs in 1965 played a part in significant Filipino immigration. These programs created a need for healthcare professionals, leading to the recruitment of many Filipino nurses to the U.S. It’s fascinating how policy changes can have such a far-reaching impact on migration patterns and community development.
The Legacy of the Delano Grape Strike
The exhibition includes a replica pavilion designed to look like the Philippine Pavilion from the World’s Fair, filled with time capsules and care packages. This specifically honors the Delano Grape Strike, which lasted for almost five years.
The strike’s persistence led to major victories for farmworkers, including union contracts that provided better wages, healthcare benefits, and protections from harmful pesticides. These are all crucial aspects that still resonate in labor discussions today, as many of these protections are now being weakened.
I think it’s important for families to learn about this history because it shows that collective action and resistance can lead to real change. It provides a historical framework for understanding ongoing struggles for workers’ rights.
While Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta are often remembered for the strike, the exhibition also highlights the names of 75 Filipino organizers and strikers. Their contributions, like Larry Itliong who initiated the walkout, are inscribed on missile-shaped time capsules. Placing these in a sculpture shaped like a traditional Filipino farmer’s hat, a salakot, adds a beautiful symbolic touch.
These time capsules are filled with items from local shops in Little Manila, Queens. This detail really brings the concept of care packages, often sent between the Filipino diaspora and their families, to life. It’s a way of connecting the past struggles to the present communities.
“Bridged Monuments” and Memory
The artwork “Bridged Monuments” places the artists directly on-site, guarding spaces like Little Manila in Stockton and Delano. This act of “guarding” serves as both a performance and a memorial.
I find the idea of incorporating aesthetic elements from traditional changing-of-the-guard ceremonies, often seen at prestigious sites, quite powerful. It elevates the status of these historically significant places and their stories.
By physically being present and guarding these sites, the artists honor the “Manongs” and “Manangs” (elder Filipino brothers and sisters). It’s a way to bear witness to and hold the histories of their struggles and contributions. Going to these places and performing this act is about remembering, protecting, and keeping these memories alive, bridging the past with the present.
Thinking about this makes me consider how we can all be more mindful guardians of history in our own communities, ensuring that important stories are not forgotten. It’s a concept I’ll definitely keep in mind when planning family outings.
Environmental Justice and Health
Environmental justice is another critical theme woven into the exhibition, specifically through the work titled “The Air We Breathe (For Dawn Mabalon).” It’s important to connect labor history with air quality and public health, especially considering the impact on working-class communities of color.
I’ve learned that neighborhoods with a high concentration of working-class people of color are often located near urban highway projects and polluted ports. Cities like Stockton, for example, face severe long-term health effects from this exposure; it’s even known as one of the “asthma capitals” of the nation.
The artwork is dedicated to Dawn Mabalon, an esteemed Filipina American scholar and historian who grew up in Stockton and sadly passed away from asthma at a young age. The piece features monitors that display average monthly air quality readings for neighborhoods in Flushing, Queens, and Stockton, California. This grounds the conversation in tangible, real-world data.
For myself and my family, understanding these connections is vital. It helps us appreciate the environments we live in and recognize how external factors can significantly impact health, particularly for vulnerable populations. It’s a perspective that adds depth to our travels and our understanding of different communities.
Reimagining Pop Art for Filipino Narratives
The exhibition also reimagines Pop art from the 1964-1965 World’s Fair, looking at how artists like Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Robert Rauschenberg, and James Rosenquist depicted American society at the time.
Works by these artists were displayed at the New York State Pavilion’s Theaterama, often reflecting themes of advanced technology, consumerism, and space exploration. However, during that era, historical narratives about Filipino Americans and Filipinos were largely absent from mainstream U.S. discourse.
The artists in “Abang-guard: Makibaka” reconceptualize these Pop artworks to tell Filipino stories, focusing on labor and collective struggle. I find this approach incredibly creative; it uses familiar artistic styles to highlight underrepresented histories.
For instance, Warhol’s “13 Most Wanted Men,” which featured mugshots, is transformed into “America’s Most Help Wanted,” with portraits of Filipina nurses. This shift powerfully reframes criminality into a depiction of essential caregiving labor.
Rauschenberg’s collage, which idealized American progress, is recreated with archival photos of Filipino nurses and President Johnson signing the 1965 Immigration Act. This visually links policy changes to migration and the experiences of Filipino immigrants.
Rosenquist’s mural, originally focused on American consumerism and nationalism, is adapted to showcase advertisements that enticed Filipina nurses to seek better lives abroad, with the slogan “Your cap is your passport.” This highlights the allure and often the necessity behind international migration for career opportunities.
Lichtenstein’s comic book-style art is reframed to depict Corazon Amurao, a Philippine exchange student and the sole survivor of a tragic mass murder of nurses-in-training in Chicago in 1966. This brings visibility to a silenced and violent history, turning a popular art form into a vehicle for remembrance and justice.
Even though these paintings are inspired by Pop artists, they have a distinct Filipino style. I noticed the presence of heavy, textured brushstrokes and subtle Indigenous patterns, which assert ancestral identity within the Pop art vocabulary. These works also reflect the impact of the Immigration Act, showing how it enabled Filipino nurses to migrate, build communities like Little Manila in Queens, and eventually bring their families, fostering growth and connection.
Building Unity and Kinship
As Filipino American History Month wraps up, exhibitions like “Makibaka” offer a vital space for reflection and dialogue. I believe art can be a powerful bridge to understanding complex histories and current social issues.
Filipino history is marked by waves of immigrants arriving as laborers, facing exploitation, and consistently fighting for justice. In the current climate, where discussions around immigration can be challenging, this exhibition provides an accessible entry point.
It allows us to reflect on the significant labor contributions of Filipino immigrants to industries like farming and healthcare in the United States. It’s so important to acknowledge the foundational roles they have played in building the country.
Even more importantly, the exhibition celebrates how Filipinos have built unity and kinship in the face of oppressive systems. This isn’t just about caring for their own community but also about standing in solidarity with other immigrant communities of color.
“Makibaka,” meaning solidarity, courage, and collective action, is truly at the heart of this show. It’s a powerful reminder that the struggle for equity, recognition, and historical truth is ongoing. I think learning about these collective efforts is so important for my daughters, Emma and Sofia. They can see how people working together can make a real difference, even when facing difficult challenges. It’s a valuable lesson in empathy and social responsibility. I feel exploring these themes through art is a wonderful way to approach them.
If you’re planning a visit to New York City and looking for enriching cultural experiences that offer a deeper understanding of the communities that shape it, I highly recommend exploring the offerings at the Queens Museum. It’s a fantastic way to connect with history and art in a meaningful way. Learning about diverse histories enriches our travels and our perspective on the world, and I’m always seeking out places that offer that kind of insight.
