By Eric S. Caruncho
Inquirer

MANILA, Philippines–Let’s face it, kitsch ’R’ us.

We might pay lip service to Bauhaus style, or minimalism, or the Miami style, or whatever new wrinkle in interior design happens to be trendy at the moment, but deep down, we’re all the same.

Face a Pinoy with a bare wall or an empty shelf and that old horror vacui just wells up inside him. And chances are, he’ll pick the cheesiest possible piece to put there.

For instance:

• The Sto. Niño theme. Much has been made of the Filipino devotion to the Christ Child. What most commentators fail to mention is the fact that for many of us, the Sto. Niño also fills the role played by Ken and Barbie for young girls, an opportunity to play “dress up.” And age—or gender, for that matter — is no barrier. I once interviewed a high-ranking police official on some long-forgotten story, but I’ll never forget the foot-tall Sto. Niño on his desk, dressed from head to toe in full khaki uniform, complete with insignia matching the rank of the owner (this was before the PNP switched to dress blues). I’ve also been to some local government offices where the Sto. Niño is dressed up like some minor government functionary, in polyester barong and double-knit pants, and some clinics where he’s dressed in scrubs and is carrying a toy stethoscope. And of course, there’s the “farmer” Sto. Niño, with his little salakot, red pajamas and neckerchief.

• Religious décor: While we’re on the subject of Jesus, whatever happened to those 3-D pictures of Christ — you know, the one where his eyes seemed to be looking at you no matter where you were? Holy paranoia, Batman! There used to be one in every home, laminated on a wood plaque, very likely hung next to a similar plaque containing the story of “Footprints in the Sand” or some such “uplifting” sentiment. They seem to have been replaced by “disco Jesus,” where in lieu of a halo, Jesus’ head is surrounded by flashing colored lights. This is a Vietnamese import, but it could just as well have been Pinoy.

• Baguio : Apart from being the country’s produce market, the City of Pines is also the source for much kitschiniana, and just about every lowlander who pays it a visit goes home with a bottle of strawberry jam, a month’s worth of veggies and a “barrel man.” There seems to be a city ordinance that says you can’t visit Baguio and not buy one of these “conversation pieces.” Me, I prefer the giant Igorot warriors brandishing the freshly-severed heads of their enemies, or carrying a deer or wild boar across their shoulders. If only I had the space!

• Dining room décor: Baguio is also where you get those giant wooden spoons and forks that Pinoys like to hang on their dining room wall, together with the de rigueur Last Supper. Our family was considered avant garde in our neighborhood because we had Dali’s “Last Supper” in our dining room, instead of Da Vinci’s.

• Weapons of Moroland: The origins of this artifact are lost in the mists of time. Probably some enterprising craftsman thought it might make a good souvenir for Yanks coming home from the Jolo campaign of 1915. In any case, this wooden plaque with miniature replicas of the kris, the barong, the kampilan and other blades from the far South used to hang in every Filipino home to remind the inhabitants of their proud warrior heritage. Now, of course, they’re hot sellers on eBay, billed as a genuine “cultural, ethnological artifact,” which is probably why you don’t see them as often. Among other things, Weapons of Moroland would be a cool name for a hardcore band — somebody start one!

• Art: This is where good taste and good sense fail the Pinoy utterly, because as long as he gets a kick out of a picture, he’ll put it up a wall, whether it’s an Amorsolo, a black velvet painting of a bare-breasted Igorot maiden, an on-the-spot charcoal portrait of the owner, or a tapestry of dogs playing poker or shooting pool. More than likely, he’ll have all of them on a wall somewhere in his house, maybe even in the same room.

• Plastic: Pinoys like to keep their furniture in mint condition, the same way that comic book collectors do, by wrapping them in plastic. Many’s the home in which my ass has sweated on a plastic-covered sofa or armchair. And since for many Pinoys the car is simply an extension of their home, they also like to preserve that new car smell by not removing the factory plastic wrap on the upholstery. While we’re on the subject of coverings, Pinoys abhor a bare surface just as much as they do a bare wall, and in almost every Pinoy home you’ll find carpets, mantelpieces, table runners, doilies, antimacassars, coasters, placemats—sometimes several layers of covering between you and bare wood.

On the bright side, bad taste is the great equalizer. You might think that Pinoys have all this horrible shit in their homes because they can’t afford better, but you’d only be half right. When Pinoys start making money, they just buy more expensive kitsch. They might make a show of sophistication and purchase a Bencab, but they won’t take down the Ermita paintings they already have hanging. They might trade up from a Tamaraw to a Toyota Corolla but they’ll keep the nodding dog and the stuffed Garfield and the seven dwarfs and their other dashboard ornaments. They might start serving pasta al dente and leave the sugar out of the sauce, but that wooden couple will still be dancing the tinikling on their wall.