The Weaver’s Daughter — Child of Kinulhudan, the master weaver. Her threads aren’t just craft. They’re spiritual acts. In our myth, weaving restores harmony and health. Artistry woven into community and prayer

Dinipaan ad Daya — The master blacksmith. Strength, skill, and the transformative power of fire. He doesn’t just hold the spear. He made it.

Pinading di Muyung (engkanto ng gubat)— She is the forest. In Ifugao belief, the mountains and rivers are never empty. They’re guarded. The flower covers her eyes, but she sees us. The unseen holds more power than what we touch. She is not to be feared. She is to be respected.

Beauty Within”_

We chase what the eyes can see. But the beauty that lasts is what’s built slowly — in character, in culture, in care. This painting is about that kind of beauty. The kind you don’t perform. The kind you are.

"Fiorire" Series 2026

Fiorire is Italian for “to flower” or "to bloom." But this series isn’t about the final bloom, It’s about the process of getting there.

I started as a self-taught artist in charcoal. No color to hide behind. Just pressure, value, and truth. Charcoal taught me honesty. It taught me to sit with the dark and still find a face in it.

When I moved to acrylic, I got louder. Color became a way to talk about growth.

Charcoal gave me structure. Realism gave me discipline. Acrylic gave me patience. Abstract realism gave me freedom.

Fiorire isn’t a style. It’s a decision I make every time I touch a canvas. To keep becoming. To let the gold show even when the background is still black. To bloom without asking if I’m ready.

These three paintings are me at different stages. All of them are flowering. They may look "unfinished" but, I intentionally left it that way because just like them, I allowed myself be a masterpiece and a work-in-progress simultaneously.

Woven palm by palm, rung palm by palm. The inabol/inabel is loomed to give warmth. The gong is struck for many reasons - It may be to begin the planting, bless the harvest, seal marriages, and call neighbors to celebrate, or to honor someone who has left the living world. Both are daily tools that clothe, feed, and gather the Ifugao village.

Ifugao elders are living archives of tradition.

They hold the weave, the rites, and the memory, passing them to the next generation.

His quiet gaze speak of years spent tending land, story, and family. In him, culture does not end - it continues.