Learning history from old pots

The Rosita Arcenas Collection of Oriental Ceramics in the University of San Carlos Museum in Cebu City may be small compared to those in bursting halls in the National Museum, or the Roberto T. Villanueva Collection that occupies the better part of one floor in the Ayala Museum. Nevertheless, and despite its size and the fact that individual pieces cannot compare in terms of quality and rarity with the collections in Manila, the Arcenas collection manages to tell a story — if the visitor is willing to see beyond the boredom of looking at old pots.

Visitors to museums often skip displays of Philippine earthenware because these look drab, crude, and unsophisticated compared to the elegant monochrome wares from the Song dynasty kilns in China or the visually appealing designs of blue and white that were so valued in the 16th century that these were exported and copied worldwide. You can only appreciate Philippine earthenware in the context of prehistory, or the period before written records, to imagine life made livable by simple implements of wood and stone that made hunting and fishing more efficient. Our ancestors ate their food raw until they tamed fire that provided light in the darkness of night and heat for cooking. Thus they progressed to broiling or grilling raw meat over an open flame; from then it was a step to boiling food in vessels of clay forged in fire.

The palayok and banga that are still used these days to cook and serve Filipino dishes like kare-kare and sinigang have a long history. Color and design have changed little since prehistoric times. One of them, the Calatagan Pot, has an inscription in baybayin incised on its neck—proof that pre-Spanish Filipinos were literate and had their own writing system. Another National Treasure, the marvelous Manungul Jar, was used as a coffin. On its body are incised designs that resemble waves known to seafaring people; on the cover are two figures in a dugout sailing peacefully into the afterlife.

That Philippine earthenware did not develop into high-fired ceramics or porcelain is often blamed on the introduction of Chinese ceramics into the country beginning in the 9th century, or the Tang Dynasty. These early ceramics were brought by Arab traders together with Islam, long before the Spanish arrived and gave us the name Filipinas. These ceramics suggest that our ancestors had no need for roads and bridges introduced by the Spanish in the 16th century, because our ancestors travelled on water. Swimming was second nature. Our highways and streets were the sea and various waterways. They used boats and rafts instead of bridges to connect one island or bank to another.

While the 21st-century Filipino sees the Philippines as an archipelago of 7,100 islands separated by water, the prehistoric Filipino saw an archipelago connected by water.

If you compare the low-fired Philippine earthenware with the high-fired ceramics introduced from China, Thailand and Vietnam  before the 16th century, you will understand why our ancestors were enamored of these “imported” wares that were: impermeable, glazed, ornamented with iron spots or freely painted with writing in Chinese or Sanskrit. Many pieces are decorated with images of pine, peach, fish, twin Mandarin ducks, dragon chasing pearl, phoenix, and frolicking Fu dogs.

Aside from their pleasing design, high-fired plates and bowls had one big difference from earthenware: When flicked with a finger they rang like a bell. It was so amazing a characteristic that these ceramics came to be used for ritual and became markers of social, economic and religious status. In time, and because of their design and utility, these imported ceramics became prestige objects that proclaimed their owner’s wealth, power, and social standing.

Preference for the imported—often described as a sign of “colonial mentality”—is not new to the Philippines. It was there long before the archipelago was colonized by Spain in 1565-1898, the United States in 1898-1941, and Japan in 1942-1945.

Undergraduate and textbook history did not teach me to read earthenware and ceramics like a text to understand the Philippine prehistoric world. But museum collections do.

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