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INTERVIEW

Seeing Beyond Selves

Veejay Villafranca

Writer

Zahra Amiruddin

There is a kinship that exists between a storyteller and their tales - one of mutual admiration, trust, integrity, and ethos. It enables the narrator to knit accounts that piece together both, past and present worlds, for generations far into the future. It’s been similar for Manila-born photojournalist, Veejay Villafranca, whose immersion into the histories of cultures, religious practices, and communities in the Philippines, and across the world started off at a young age. Since his grandfather himself was a journalist who happened to cover both, the Vietnam War as well as the fall of the Berlin Wall, the photojournalist’s quest for reportage seems quite hereditary.

There is a kinship that exists between a storyteller and their tales - one of mutual admiration, trust, integrity, and ethos. It enables the narrator to knit accounts that piece together both, past and present worlds, for generations far into the future. It’s been similar for Manila-born photojournalist, Veejay Villafranca, whose immersion into the histories of cultures, religious practices, and communities in the Philippines, and across the world started off at a young age. Since his grandfather himself was a journalist who happened to cover both, the Vietnam War as well as the fall of the Berlin Wall, the photojournalist’s quest for reportage seems quite hereditary.

There is a kinship that exists between a storyteller and their tales - one of mutual admiration, trust, integrity, and ethos. It enables the narrator to knit accounts that piece together both, past and present worlds, for generations far into the future. It’s been similar for Manila-born photojournalist, Veejay Villafranca, whose immersion into the histories of cultures, religious practices, and communities in the Philippines, and across the world started off at a young age. Since his grandfather himself was a journalist who happened to cover both, the Vietnam War as well as the fall of the Berlin Wall, the photojournalist’s quest for reportage seems quite hereditary.

Image
© Veejay Villafranca
Image
© Veejay Villafranca

ZA :

Your practice covers the ethnography of Gangs in Manila, the tough displacement of people owing to Climate Change, as well as attempts to understand age-old Filipino belief systems. Since it’s so vast, how do you ensure you are completely immersed in the worlds that you document, instead of standing at the fringes?

VV :

There are multiple layers that exist when it comes to this. I think because I belong to the generation where there was a transition from the analogue medium to the digital, we were in a state of limbo while adapting to it. And so, it became more about the integrity of the image rather than the form it was photographed in. It’s also about each interaction, and as the cliché goes, being exposed to different kinds of truths. But I think the most essential thought that stays with me, whether it’s for a long-term body of work or a short assignment, is that I am working in borrowed space on borrowed time, and that helps me stay true to the story.

Image
© Veejay Villafranca
Image
© Veejay Villafranca
Image
© Veejay Villafranca

ZA :

We often carry this idea in any artistic practice of “staying true to oneself.” Since your projects are about the truths of others in collaboration with your own visual language ; what is the phrase/word/thought that crosses your mind right before you press the shutter that merges both these aspects?

VV :

I think it would be ‘respect.’ My influences come from war photographs and hardcore documentary photographers whose work has taught me how cruel scenarios can be to individuals. It’s important to remain consistent as a witness and storyteller, and hone your skill to give the story a voice in the best way that you can. It’s the harmony between your own truth and the respect of time and space that has been given to you.

ZA :

“They called themselves the Chinese Mafia Crew or CMC, once one of the most feared gangs at the Bataan Shipping and Engineering Company (Baseco) compound in Manila’s Port Area,” you write about your work titled Marked: The Gangs of Beseco that covers the communities quest to rebuild their lives and reputation. Were they open to letting in an outsider to tell their story?

VV :

Since this project (2016-2010) was my first attempt at being a documentary photographer, I didn’t go in with a method and was constantly fearful about exposing myself. This body of work was a baptism by fire of sorts, where I worked on getting over my personal fears and finding intimate spaces with the people that I photographed. Since they were a microcosm that depicted the harsh reality of the Philippines at the time, I was constantly battling hurdles within the community. In retrospect, I wish I was more patient with my photography. Since I was always in a hurry, or distracted, I don’t think this work is as lyrical or solid as it could have been. But apart from that, it was such an enriching experience because it made me learn the ropes of documentation and the importance of representation. And more essentially- when one needs to stop pursuing a story.

Image
© Veejay Villafranca
Image
© Veejay Villafranca

ZA :

Your photobook, SIGNOS, which illustrates different scenarios brought about by severe weather patterns in the Philippines also won you the 2018 Invisible Photographer Asia photobook award. What pushed you into telling this story in the form of a photobook?

VV :

After working on A Race Divided: Chin migrants in search of identity and a life of peace (2009) in India for about a month, the idea of displacement never left me. The intensive typhoons in the Philippines in 2009, 2010, and 2013 wreaked havoc and devastation deeper than what the naked eye could see. The book is a re-examination of this term “resilience,” that is loosely used to describe a community’s experience and the struggle for survival. In 2013, when the wrath of Typhoon Haiyan left 1.9 million Filipinos homeless and over 6 million people displaced in the whole Visayas regio, the fate of this project was sealed. It was a book that I felt was essential to make.

ZA :

I noticed that while your photojournalistic imagery is compositionally hard-hitting, repleat with intense movement, and stark emotions; your project, Against the dying of the light, is quieter, gentler, and more contemplative. Is there a reason for the shift in language? Or was it merely subconscious?

VV :

Thank you for noticing that. While the work is part of my larger body of work Barrio Sagrado, that explores faith above fate, these photographs were made when my father had just passed away. It was my reflection on both, spirituality as well as mortality and what belief systems one leans towards to cope with death. Are they spiritual, animistic, or health-related? Barrio Sagrado’s core idea comes from a few clippings that my father passed down to me about my grandfather’s investigation on ‘psychic surgeons’ in the 1970s. While my grandfather was also poisoned by one of them, he still completed his investigations. I am working towards my own book about this, which I hope will be ready soon enough.

ZA :

Lastly, who inspires you?

VV :

There are multiple photographers who are a part of the Luzviminda archive, that promotes Filipino photographic history. The works of George Gascon, Nap Jamir, Jose Enrique Soriano and Sonny Yabao who passed away in 2021 have played a big role in my journey. Then there is Alex Webb, Josef Koudelka, Trent Parke, Cristina De Middel, Graciela Iturbide, and Cristina Garcia Rodero who work with magical realism and visual mythologies that really fascinate me. When I’m burnt out with the news and need to widen my perspective, their photographs are the ones I find myself revisiting.

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© Veejay Villafranca