an Iloilo Visita Iglesia

a Lenten Special

Lent calls for atonement and spiritual reparation. It is an occasion for one’s inspection of life and its vagaries. During this forty day period called cuaresma vast numbers of Catholic Filipinos practice numerous traditions that are considered acts of penance. One such popular custom is the Visita Iglesia.

Visita Iglesia, or literally church pilgrimage, is the practice of going to seven different churches. Often but not exclusively performed during Maundy Thursday, the faithful follow penitential rites and recite the Stations of the Cross in each church.

Last year, in a trip to Iloilo, I went around the heritage churches of the province and I was able to finish an entire loop of seven churches outside the big city. In time for the season of introspection, let me embark on a photographic journey of these magnificent monuments of faith. This is my Iloilo Visita Iglesia

the Church of Sta Monica, municipality of Pavia

Romaneque in its solidity and Byzantine in ornamentation, this church is the only church in Iloilo made of redstone as opposed to furnace-fired bricks. The façade is dominated by three archway portals, simple vertically slit windows at the side and by the pediment and rose windows.


Canon EOS 350D, 1/1250s, f/5.0, 21mm, ISO 100, +1/3EV


the Church of San Nicolas de Tolentino, municipality of Cabatuan

Constructed in the mid-1800s, the church is the largest red brick structure in the Visayas. The central façade is plastered in white and is contrasted by the bare red bricks at each side. Influences of Tuscanic, Baroque and Neoclassic design pervade throughout the architecture.


Canon EOS 350D, 1/400s, f/3.5, 18mm, ISO 200


the Church of Sta Barbara, municipality of Santa Barbara

This stone church made its mark as the headquarters of revolutionaries during the Filipino-Spanish war in the Visayas in the late 1900s. The Baroque Renaissance gem has a convent which is striking for its use of pierced-and-cut hardwood ornamentation and geometric Moorish patterns.


Canon EOS 350D, 1/200s, f/3.5, 24mm, ISO 200, +1/3EV




Canon EOS 350D, 1/125s, f/3.5, 21mm, ISO 200, +1/3EV


the Church of San Juan Sahagun, municipality of Tigbauan

Outside the church retains its Old World exterior- cut coral stones, a giant triangular pediment, a three-story campanario, arched windows and doors, a pyramidal roof, and intricate carved lace-reliefs around the central door. Inside though, modernity pervades- steel trusses, Byzantine-like folk mosaic and marbled floors. The late renovation has its share of critics and followers, with little in between.


Canon EOS 350D, 1/250s, f/5.6, 22mm, ISO 200, +1/3EV




Canon EOS 350D, 2.50s, f/8.0, 18mm, ISO 100, +1/3EV


the Church of San Nicholas of Tolentino, municipality of Guimbal

Its yellow igang stone makes this late 18th century church a standout. Elegant, delicate and uncharacteristically light looking, this showcases elements of Greek, Oriental and Moorish design.

Canon EOS 350D, 1/200s, f/6.3, 18mm, ISO 100, +2.0EV



Canon EOS 350D, 1/100s, f/5.6, 55mm, ISO 100, +1/3EV


the Church of San Joaquin, municipality of San Joaquin

The gigantic pediment is its crowning glory- deeply carved, animatedly ornate, with an expressively militaristic storyline to boot (the triumph of the Spanish army against the Moroccan in Tetuan). Made of limestone and white coral stone, it is one of the select 26 churches declared by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts as a national treasure.


Canon EOS 350D, 1/1600s, f/5.6, 18mm, ISO 100, +1/3EV



Canon EOS 350D, 1/200s, f/5.6, 27mm, ISO 100


the Church of Santo Tomas de Villanueva, municipality of Miag-ao

The best for last. There is only one UNESCO World Heritage Site in the Visayas and it is in Miag-ao. As one of four Spanish-era churches officially inscribed the international honor, the church is a masterpiece of Earthquake Baroque, with solid buttresses, 3-feet walls and massive belltowers. Its most famous features is the high relief carving on the pediment. With motifs like the coconuts, guava, papaya, vines and tendrils, it is a dramatic articulation of tropical art.


Canon EOS 350D, 1/100s, f/5.6, 18mm, ISO 400, +2/3EV

the sober grace of the Cathedral of Antananarivo

Madagascar is an island nation isolated from most of the world. Eastwards and northwards, it’s just the big empty Indian Ocean. To the west is its nearest continental neighbor, Mozambique, but there’s the treacherous channel that is three hundred miles. As if sheer distance is not enough, its capital, Antananarivo or Tana for short, is protected by a geographic elevation of some 1,300 kilometers above sea level.


the cathedral sits on a hill with an elegant wide driveway
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/200s, f/9.0, 24mm, ISO 100




what the Malagasy could not do in stone and tiles, they did in hardwood and decorative painted patterns
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/15s, f/5.6, 18mm, ISO 200


Imagine what traveling to the island some hundred years ago, before airplanes and sea freighters. The French certainly struggled in wrestling control of the island from the British in the notorious Scramble for Africa. It took brawn, might and cunning of imperial France to finally annex Madagascar in the late 1800s.


an ornate niche featuring the image of St. Joseph
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/2s, f/5.6, 18mm, ISO 200


Today, more than four decades after decolonization and full independence, Madagascar still exhibits a strong French feel. The country mostly understands and speaks French. The languid ambiance of tree-lined avenues and café-flanked boulevards persists. And there is religion. Almost half of the Malagasy are also Christians, about 50% of which are Roman Catholic.


the tracery window is simple and geometric and in various tones of blue
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/50s, f/5.6, 42mm, ISO 200


Of the numerous churches that were built during colonial rule, one which symbolizes the quiet elegance and regality of the French is the Cathedral of Ambodin Andaholo.


the massive wooden front door is made light and airy with the floral-motif wooden cutwork
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/200s, f/9.0, 22mm, ISO 100


Catholic missionaries first set foot on the island in the 1860s. As the royal Malagasy court did not allow proselytization, Jesuit priests came in disguise. Although Europeans were soon expelled from the country by the Queen Ranavalona I, the Jesuits befriended her son, Radama II. It was when he succeeded his mother that he eventually welcomed the missionaries back to the island. In 1873, the Catholic mission was given the land in Andohalo of what was then Tananarivo. Here, the cathedral was built, based on the design by Father Alphonse Taix, a Jesuit. It took 17 years to complete the cathedral and in 1890, it was consecrated as Cathédrale de l’Immaculée Conception d’Andohalo or the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.




outside is a grotto of the Lady of Lourdes
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/60s, f/5.6, 24mm, ISO 100


A testament of local ingenuity, the church features no frescoes, mosaics, cutout filigrees and rose windows often associated with French cathedrals. The door omits the carved reliefs although the lintel offers an almost naively simplified floral tracery that is repeated in several of the arch windows. In place of murals, the groin vault ceiling of hardwood was enamel-painted in the light shades of blue. Statuaries are sparse. Arches bear semblance to the Islamic ogee. Along the nave, the edges of the columnade were painted with dainty patterns in royal blue. The only obvious concessions to neo-Gothic complication were the the slit windows which show off imported stained glass panels of Catholic church figures and the tile trim around the recessed niches.


the narrow vertical windows at the sides boasts of imported French stained glass panels
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/30s, f/5.6, 27mm, ISO 200


For a church that was expected to be showcase of the grandiose and of ornamentation, the Cathedral of Tana, offers simplicity that eloquently communicates a sober spiritual grace.


the groin vault ceiling is covered with hardwood, painted in blue hues that evoke of the cerulean skies
Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/8s, f/5.6, 22mm, ISO 200

A short foray in wedding photography

I don’t think I’d ever be a wedding photographer.

Like anything new to me, I probably would enjoy it at first. Novelty always moves me. I can imagine myself contorting in unusual positions and challenging normal conventions so as to cook up the most unusual of compositions and the most intimate of responses.

However, I would not have the patience to capture all steps of the ceremony and the party thereafter, nor could I prevent myself from getting bored in doing the same stuff all over again. Any couple who are about to enter a most important chapter in their lives deserves a photographer with more commitment than my fleeting cursory interest. Hats off to the all event photographers for enjoying the rote and always finding something fresh.

Anyway, last May 24, I found myself invited to the wedding of Keith, a colleague. As he’s a fellow chemist who used to work with me in the lab, I could not say no but decided to come only for the church ceremony.

I’ve already heard mass inside the Guadalupe Church several times in the past but that was before flickr. Having been built after the war, the church is fairly new by Cebu standards. It does have an interesting central dome which helped me from getting restless as I whiled away my time by photographing it at several angles.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/60s, f/4.0, 18mm, ISO 100, +2/3EV (as-is, uncorrected)
the dome of Guadalupe Church, Cebu City, the Philippines


However, the wedding ceremony started 30 minutes late. I then decided that I might as well photograph the couple, not really during the mass as I don’t have an official photographer accreditation which is now required by the Archdiocese of Cebu, but at least in the minutes leading to the part when the wedding party would walk down the aisle. I did not really photograph the rest of the wedding party. I did not have a good vantage point as I was sitting at the back pews and there was a rope cordoning off the aisle. Besides, their official wedding photographers already covered them. I took some shots of Keith and waited for Angel, the bride to arrive.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/40s, f/5.6, 220mm, ISO 800, +1/3EV (as-is, uncorrected)
Keith, just before his wedding at the Guadalupe Church, Cebu City, the Philippines

As customary in the Philippines, the bride was the last to come out. When she only got off the car, she was a vision in white. Against the strong afternoon light glaring out of the wide church doors, she seemed to be floating in air. My initial shot was of the bride being attended to by her bridesmaid. I love how the color pink was cast over her gown, as reflected from the dress of the bridesmaid.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/125s, f/5.6, 55mm, ISO 800, +5/3EV
at the Guadalupe Church, Cebu City, the Philippines


My best shot however came when she already was alone. The curtain of rope hanging at the door which is to keep birds from entering and nesting inside the church became a dramatic background. And when she slowly began to walk down the aisle, she beamed a wide smile which distilled the joy of the occasion.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/200s, f/5.6, 55mm, ISO 800, +5/3EV
Angel, the bride, just before walking down the aisle at the Guadalupe Church, Cebu City, the Philippines
phototip: The strong backlight here was pushing the exposure compensation to +5/3EV. Except for the conversion to b&w, this photo has no other post-processing.


I took a few more shots of her as she marched towards her waiting groom. Everything else was denouement for me and I did not lift my camera again. Wedding photography still escapes me.

the new dome of Carmen

I got a jolt last Friday while driving in the coastal towns of North Cebu. All of the sudden, from what were just countryside scenes typical of the Cebu coast, a gleaming brightly painted classical dome jutted out of the canopy of trees. We just passed by Danao City, so I knew that we must be in the town of Carmen already. Slowly, as we approached Poblacion, the town center, I definitely could make out that the dome was that of its church.

What surprised me was that two years ago, we had a North Cebu flickr meetup and we skimmed the churches from Liloan up to Borbon. The Church in Carmen was not a standout. It appeared to be built fairly recently and not the usual 19th century stone churches that Cebu is famed for. In fact, I only posted one picture in flickr, that of its chandelier against their multicolored ceiling. Most of all, I could not remember any dome at all.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/2s, f/22, 55 mm, ISO 100
St. Augustine Parish Church, Carmen, North Cebu, the Philippines
phototip: Play with quadrants.

So I dug into my archives. Indeed, the church is new. It was opened in 1971, as evidenced by the plaque below.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/100s, f/4.5, 30 mm, ISO 100
a playque in St. Augustine Parish Church, Carmen, North Cebu, the Philippines


The interiors were simple- generic wooden pews, pale ceramic tiles, colored glass windows and concrete walls.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/125s, f/4.5, 18 mm, ISO 100
a holy water font in St. Augustine Parish Church, Carmen, North Cebu, the Philippines


So on our way back two days later, I purposely stopped in front of the church. I took a picture from the side. Renovation is clearly ongoing. The convent has been spruced up. Redevelopment seems to have been started from the back and is working its way to the front. Fresh paint has certainly not touched the façade yet. But again, the standout is the central dome. It is majestic!


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/125s, f/4.5, 18 mm, ISO 100
St. Augustine Parish Church, Carmen, North Cebu, the Philippines


Although it was Sunday, it was already high noon so the front doors were closed. Religious services would not resume until mid- afternoon at the earliest. I was sure that the side doors were open but our baby was asleep and we need to hurry back home. The interiors would have given me more clue about the dome.

Was there really a dome two years ago? Was it merely plain and nondescript that we barely took notice? I scanned the internet and I could not find any full photo. The church was right beside the highway so shooting it directly in front will not allow any glimpse of the roofline. Even the photos of my flickr friends during our meetup did not show any full view of the church. But had there been a dome, would we have missed photographing it?

Anyway, I had a fun time photographing the dome, photogenic as it is. The more I look at the photos, the more I admire its regal design and fine execution for it resembles the copulas that cap the old and grand buildings of Europe and the US.


Canon EOS 350D Digital, 1/640s, f/8.0, 75 mm, ISO 100, +1/3
the newly painted dome of St. Augustine Parish Church, Carmen, North Cebu, the Philippines


So back in the office, I asked around. Indeed, the dome was a recent addition. Construction was said to have started late last year, at the behest of patrons, foremost of which was the Lhuillier clan which owns tracts of lands in the town. If philanthropy speaks with a voice, this one is shouting volumes. There is something inexplicably uplifting with grand architectural designs. Beauty is a contagion and I sense that the community is using the church as rally point for the betterment of their environment. Inspiration can be both spiritual and physical, so why not both? Ultimately, it would take more money and time – years perhaps? – for the the refurbishments to be completed.

For me, it will be one exciting wait.