Lynn Lu’s Be Afraid Only of Standing Still is part of a larger series exploring nomadism, migration and the meanings of border-crossings in diasporic life. First presented in Venice in 2017, and later in Singapore and Santiago, it now comes to Manila. This edition honours Lu’s lineage, recalling her grandmothers’ daring escapesfrom Communist China to the Philippines and Hong Kong, carrying jewels sewn into the hems of their samfu.

 

For six hours, Lu moves through Ayala Museum, across Greenbelt and into Ayala Triangle Gardens, adhering text fragments of ancestor journeys—collected from across Asia, Europe and Latin America—onto liminal spaces, using a concoction of sweat and tears from the artist and her daughter. As the moisture evaporates, the fragments loosen and drift. Visitors encounter and reposition them, becoming part of a living choreography of movement, memory and migration. In this fleeting exchange, inherited stories echo, and new narratives emerge fragile, ephemeral and always in motion. 

 

Image credit: Lynn Lu, Be Afraid Only of Standing Still, National Gallery Singapore, 2017. Photography by Murni Khaliesah Binte Uda.

Dandelion Scream is inspired by the theme of struggles arising from traumatic experiences and how we express them through our physicality in an architectural space. The original concept was developed for a venue with a spiral staircase—like roots creeping through cracks in concrete, continually spiralling upwards, slowly searching for light. The performers start at the bottom of the staircase, their bodies weighing on one another. From this moment of pressure, they slowly and skilfully navigate their way up the staircase; their bodies morph and intertwine. They ebb and flow through different emotional states, and the different stages of the staircase reflect the changes they are undergoing—a place of transition, a space full of momentum. Through deliberate, conscious acts, they navigate themes of change, fragility and hopelessness, offering a poignant exploration of the complexities of personal transformation.

 

Image credits: Marah Arcilla and Sylvie Cox, Dandelion Scream, Tai Kwun Contemporary, Hong Kong, 2025. Image courtesy of the artists.

Triple Goddess, shared across many mythologies. She represents the Maiden (pubescent girl), the Mother (fertile years) and the Crone (post-menopausal). While maidens and mothers are often celebrated, crones are frequently feared and rendered invisible. Yet in some societies, these elders are venerated for their enduring authority as healers, midwives and wise women. 

 

In the original performance of Maiden, Mother, Crone, the artist, her mother and her daughter offered themselves as ‘human books’, inviting participants to sit one-to-one as ‘readers’ and ask questions about their respective life stages. For the Philippine edition, Lynn Lu expands this living archive by inviting a new constellation of ‘human books’: four female crones and two pubescent girls. Together, they form The Human Library—a multigenerational gathering that foregrounds continuity and difference, honouring the full spectrum of female experience, memory and presence.

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Image credits: Lynn Lu, Maiden, Mother, Crone: The Human Library, Singapore, 2024. Photography by Kelly Janine, courtesy of AGAS Singapore Gallery Month.

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Image credit: Filipinas Heritage Library. Photography by Vanini Belarmino.

In The Standard, Pitchapa Wangprasertkul considers research, information and social media content that constantly reproduce ideologies convincing us that certain standards are normal and fair. They make us believe that we can actually live in such oppressive conditions that they almost drown us. 

In this performance, Wangprasertkul blurs the boundary between her roles as an artist and a full-time employee by working and attending meetings within the glass enclosure for eight hours each day. Inside the glass box are only the bare necessities required for her work. The performance critiques societal standards—from minimal living spaces to curtailed sleep—imposed by authorities or systems of power, resulting in barely liveable conditions.

 

By recreating a labourer’s environment with only essential objects, the performance underscores the tension between living and working. Originally presented at the Bangkok Art Biennale (2022), the work will be recontextualised for the Philippines. 

 

Image: Courtesy of the artist.

In a new performance, The Mitochondrial Eve, Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen explores the figure of the mother and the many facets of motherhood. Drawing on a wide range of perspectives, she integrates text to traverse the emotional, cultural and corporeal dimensions of the maternal experience, including the ambivalence that characterises these roles. She thematises the complex and existential aspects of motherhood in the face of contemporary issues, and touches on topics such as the parental role and the choice to abandon it, postpartum psychosis, fertility problems and Münchhausen syndrome. In a striking visual gesture, she wears a white costume while thirteen babies crawl across her body, inspired by Kai Nielsen’s 1920 sculpture Vandmoderen (The Water Mother). Recontextualised for Ayala Museum, the work transforms shared environments into spaces where audiences encounter the intimate, powerful and sometimes challenging presence of motherhood.

 

Image credit: Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen, The Mitochondrial Eve, Vigeland Museum, Norway, 2025. Photography by Jon Gorospe.