Bukas
Bukas (Tomorrow in english), is a performance art piece that invites the public to partake in the collective washing of war-stained and soiled flags–specifically of those countries that currently undergo ethnocide and genocide. Initiated by Dela Peña, the simple domestic action of handwashing creates a familiar matriarchal feeling, transforming the mundane into a powerful statement of radical care and reclamation. Through this ritual, participants engage in an intimate and communal act that addresses the themes of healing, memory, and the aftermath of conflict.
By physically cleansing the symbols of past strife, the work fosters a space for reflection and dialogue about the consequences of war and the possibilities for renewal. The act of washing, a traditionally feminine chore, becomes a radical metaphor for the collective effort required to mend the fabric of our shared history and envision a more peaceful future.
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In a bold act of defiance against censorship, I invited the public to raise flags representing Palestine, Lebanon, the Philippines, and other nations that continue to face genocide, imperialist oppression, and colonial violence. This performance, part of the annual ARTCH Festival, aimed to highlight the struggles of these oppressed communities and challenge systems of power through collective solidarity.
The ARTCH Festival, which supports contemporary and emerging artists, provides a platform for creators to connect with local art communities, businesses, collectors, and the public. This year, ARTCH partnered with Place Ville Marie to sponsor the event. Unfortunately, this partnership came with unforeseen consequences that challenged the integrity of my work.
PVM has taken control of my project, narrowing the space for compromise and making the concept shallow. They expected me to change the work to "protect their image and avoid being associated with any political stance."
My original performance, featured flags from countries that have endured or continue to endure colonialism, imperialism, ethnogenocide, and oppression. These flags, intended to be soiled and stained, symbolized the degradation and resilience of these nations. I envisioned inviting the public to wash the flags by hand, a collective act of cleansing and solidarity. Once clean, the flags would be draped over potted plants, allowing the water to nourish the earth beneath—an act that symbolized the healing power of unity and resistance.
This visually jarring and thought-provoking work was designed to provoke reflection on the role of solidarity in the struggle against oppression. However, PVM—concerned with protecting their corporate image—refused to support the work in its original form. Instead, they proposed that I use plain white flags with simple text, fearing that proper support for oppressed peoples might damage their bottom line.
"This not only censors and silences my expression but also speaks volumes about their choice to remain neutral as an arts institution partner," I said, reflecting on the restrictions.
Undeterred, I proceeded with the performance, but with a powerful intervention. On October 20th, after the final white flag was hung, I opened the space to radical youth collectives, inviting them to chant and raise their own flags in direct response to the white ones.
Photo credits: Andy Tran (first), Cloe Lamb (second)
Thank you Anakbayan Montreal
Jade Crevier for the statement writing
To my mom for the plants