Visualizing 200 Years Contemporary Ilocano Commentaries On The Basi Revolt Panels Opt

Visualizing 200 Years
Contemporary Ilocano Commentaries on The Basi Revolt Panels

© National Museum of the Philippines and authors, 2022
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without
the prior written permission of the National Museum of the Philippines, except in non-commercial uses permitted
by the Intellectual Property Law.
Visualizing 200 Years: Contemporary Ilocano Commentaries on The Basi Revolt Panels / The National Museum of
the Philippines. Texts by (in alphabetical order) Maria Eliza Agabin, Gloria Lorenzana Agas, Arnold Molina Azurin,
Althea Agas Balmes, Christine Agas Balmes, Jeremy R. Barns, Michael Armand P. Canilao, Joven R. Cuanang, Romeo
Bala Galang, Jr., Rene E. Guatlo, Ana Maria Theresa P. Labrador, Danny Laeda, Jeffrey James C. Ligero, Mary Jane
C. Ortega, Raul Pertierra, Nicolas B. Pichay, Aian Raquel, Emmeline L. Verzosa, Adelwisa L. Agas Weller. Edited by
Maria Lourdes I. Ingel. Layout by Ma. Yohana R. Frias, Leodivico C. Masuli II, Ericka Mae G. Reyes. Photographs of
The Basi Revolt paintings by Benigno T. Toda III.
ISBN 978-971-567-045-6 (pb/bp)

ISBN 978-971-567-046-3 (pdf)
National Library of the Philippines CIP Data

Reccomended entry:
Visualizing 200 Years contemporary Ilocano commentaries
on The Basi Revolt panels. — Manila : National Museum
of the Philippines , [2022], c2022.
pages ; cm
ISBN 978-971-567-045-6 (pb/bp)

ISBN 978-971-567-046-3 (pdf)
1. Paintings— Philippines — History — Criticism and

Interpretation. 2. Esteban, Villanueva, 1797-1878 -- Paintings —
History — Criticism and interpretation. 3. Ilocos Province —
Philippines —History — Criticism and interpretation.
4. Cultural property — Philippines — Ilocos Province. I. Title.
759.9599 ND1028 2022 P12022003
Published by:
National Museum of the Philippines
Padre Burgos Avenue, Ermita, Manila, Philippines
inquiry@nationalmuseum.gov.ph
management@nationalmuseum.gov.ph
Trunkline: (+632) 8298-1100
Table of Contents
Foreword vi
Introduction viii
Panel I 1
Emmeline L. Verzosa
Panel II 5
Romeo Bala Galang, Jr.
Panel III 9
Christine Agas Balmes
Althea Agas Balmes
Panel IV 13
Maria Eliza Agabin
Panel V 17
Rene E. Guatlo
Panel VI 21
Aian Raquel
Panel VII 25
Adelwisa L. Agas Weller
Gloria Lorenzana Agas
Panel VIII 31
Danny Laeda
Mary Jane C. Ortega
Panel IX 37
Jeffrey James C. Ligero
iv
Panel X 41
Michael Armand P. Canilao
Panel XI 45
Mary Jane C. Ortega
Panel XII 49
Nicolas B. Pichay
Panel XIII 53
Arnold Molina Azurin
Panel XIV 57
Raul Pertierra

Concluding Commentary 61
Joven R. Cuanang
About the Contributors 63
About the National Museum of the Philippines 69
v
Foreword
Jeremy R. Barns
Director-General, National Museum of the Philippines
The National Museum of the Philippines began its series of Treasures of Philippine Art publications in 2013
with the project aimed at producing catalogues for our fine arts exhibitions that would also include, apart
from those that pertain to art history, monographs on art conservation. The Basi Revolt by Esteban Villanueva
digitally published in downloadable format in 2020 and printed earlier last year, 2021, belongs to the said
series.
The said catalogue is for two related exhibitions installed next to each other at the Old Carcel Museum
of the NMP Ilocos Regional Museum Complex (IRMC) in Vigan–that of The Basi Revolt paintings, and of
the Containing the Cultural World of Basi, which carries ethnographic and botanical objects associated
with the Ilocos’ indigenous sugarcane wine, basi. Included in the monographs are studies conducted to
examine the materials used in the paintings and image analysis that are relevant both for appreciating the
significance of the artworks in Philippine art history and for guiding us towards their preventive conservation.
An ethnographic exposition that puts in context the place of basi in the history of the region and in the life of
the Iloko and neighboring communities in the Cordillera also forms part of the book.
This present publication, Visualizing 200 Years: Contemporary Ilocano Commentaries on The Basi Revolt
Panels, pertains to the same set of nationally-significant art pieces whose bicentennial we commemorated
last year and which the NMP declared as National Cultural Treasure in 2009, but on another trajectory.
A first for the NMP that we may consider as an experiment for now, Visualizing 200 Years is of a different
genre in that it foregrounds the voices of our museum audiences and exhibition viewers. It is most welcome
and something that we should look forward to developing through future projects, especially if we are to be
true with the position that local narratives and interpretations, and diverse voices, are important to know,
make visible, and share. Imaginably more appealing to a broader set of audiences, it also presents great
potential in encouraging more of our publics to meaningfully engage in, and therefore develop a greater
sense of ownership of, the NMP’s exhibitions and programs.
vi
We take this opportunity to acknowledge anew the Ilocos Historical and Cultural Foundation, which turned
over The Basi Revolt paintings in 1989 as a permanent loan to the NMP. We convey our utmost thanks to
our 17 contributors for this project – Ms. Emmeline Verzosa, Prof. Romeo “Jun” Galang, Ms. Christine Balmes,
Ms. Althea Balmes, Ms. Maria Eliza Agabin, Mr. Rene Guatlo, Mr. Aian Raquel, Mrs. Adelwisa Agas Weller,
Ms. Gloria Agas, Fr. Danny Laeda, Former Mayor Mary Jane Ortega, Prof. Jeffrey James Ligero, Dr. Michael
Armand Canilao, Atty. Nicolas Pichay, Mr. Arnold Azurin, Dr. Raul Pertierra, and Dr. Joven Cuanang – who all
generously shared their time and put their heart into writing their pieces. We additionally thank them for their
support and cheer with us for the programs and achievements of the National Museum of the Philippines.
I would also like to express my appreciation to our Deputy Director-General for Museums, Dr. Ana Maria
Theresa P. Labrador, who has challenged and inspired, guided, and supported our NM Ilocos team during the
pandemic lockdown towards taking their previously simpler social media campaign concept to a higher level
and into a full-blown publication project. Finally, I laud our NM Ilocos team as well as our teams in the Fine
Arts and Exhibitions, Editorial and Media Production Services Divisions for the work and the passion they
put to see this initiative through. May we all be inspired in crafting and producing more of this and beyond.
vii
Introduction
Ana Maria Theresa P. Labrador, PhD
Deputy Director-General, National Museum of the Philippines
This book project began as an inquiry into the paintings identified as the work of Esteban Villanueva y Pichay,
an Ilocano landowner who 14 years after the Basi Revolt may have commissioned a series of 14 paintings as a
visual account of the uprising against Spanish control of their local and social libation known as basi, which
is fermented sugar cane juice. Prior to this project, we were curious about the thoughts of contemporary
Ilocanos and how they may view the paintings from their perspectives as professionals, artists, public
servants and academics.
The National Museum of the Philippines produced The Basi Revolt by Esteban Villanueva in 2020 as a
catalogue for the exhibition featuring the said paintings, which have been on permanent exhibition at the
NMP Ilocos Regional Museum Complex (IRMC) in the City of Vigan since 2015. The said exhibition catalogue
is largely academic like the other NMP publication projects, with the monographs being products of scientific
studies that the NMP as an educational and research institution is mandated to conduct. If perspectives that
others would label as subjective are forwarded, these are still within the bounds of what in the academic
world is referred to as phenomenological and thus borne by qualitative methods of inquiry.
This new book, Visualizing 200 Years: Contemporary Ilocano Commentaries on The Basi Revolt Panels,
differs in this respect. It speaks of the same historical artworks that the NMP has declared collectively as
National Cultural Treasure in 2009 and whose bicentennial we celebrated in 2021. However, it veers away
from the usual museum publication mold in a positive, exciting way.
For one, this big little book is a compilation of commentaries on the paintings that were published in the
NM Ilocos Regional Museum Complex (IRMC) social media page in a series on the latter half of September
2020, celebrating the 213th anniversary of the Pedro Mateo and Saralogo Ambaristo-led Basi Revolt of 1807,
and paving the way for The Basi Revolt paintings’ bicentennial. As our IRMC team wrote in soliciting the
participation of the target contributors, the concept was to have interpretations of the paintings by viewers
“who come from different fields, so that the commentaries would have a mix of approaches from different
perspectives”. The requested persons graciously obliged, each focusing on a certain painting as anchor for
their reflections, and also heeding to the plea that the articles be made brief (given the nature of social media
readership), which could have been the more difficult part of the task.
viii
The 17 contributors came from various professions and backgrounds, a good number carrying multiple self-
identifications. There are active and retired civil servants and executives, heritage workers, literary artists,
writers, gardeners, environmentalists, educators, a priest, a lawyer, and a surgeon. Among those from the
academe are historians, anthropologists, an archaeologist, and a sociologist. Two are also descendants of
Esteban Villanueva. As intended from the end of the NMP, most of them are Ilocanos, with 15 either born
in the Ilocos region or have Ilocano ancestry. The two non-Ilocanos, meanwhile, are linked to the Ilocos
through their affinity and scholarly work. All of them are eminent in their own chosen fields.
Their compelling commentaries would make readers imagine both the quiet reflections and the spirited
discussions of the paintings’ viewers, remembering those many others who expressed their views for over
two centuries. As viewers, their perspectives are evidently informed first by what they know of the uprising
– some of which are limited – that inspired the creation of the paintings, and by the images illustrated
in the paintings. As apparent in their commentaries, their perception of the artworks emerges through
their lenses shaped from their personal experiences. Eventually they lead us to layers of interpretations
visualized through 200 years, coming from the paintings themselves, which are interpretations in 14 scenes
of the comet-witnessed Basi Revolt drama that effectively challenged Spanish colonial rule but served as a
cautionary tale against those who may plan a similar upheaval 14 years later.
This publication departs from the usual academic tone of monographs, allowing interpretations that convey
emerging voices freely expressed, ranging from the serious to the humorous. It has been interesting to read
these as social media posts and now as an omnibus of perspectives. We appreciate their views for carrying
powerful critiques, tempered by their Ilokano experience and emotional brilliance.
ix
1
I
“Ilocanos had a clear sense of

importance in fighting for their
economic and cultural rights.”
Emmeline L. Verzosa
Former Executive Director
Philippine Commission on Women
Direct descendant of Esteban Villanueva
The Basi Revolt I

Esteban Villanueva y Pichay
1821
Oil on canvas
Vigilancia del Sr. Alcalde Mayor sobre las Rondas

Ti naannad a panagwanawan iti Gobernador iti inna panaglikmut
Ang maingat na pagbabantay ng Gobernador sa kanyang pag-iikot
The vigilance of the Governor on his rounds
2
A COMMENTARY ON THE PANEL
Vigilancia del Sr. Alcalde Mayor sobre las Rondas

Emmeline L. Verzosa
Today, September 16, we commemorate the Basi Revolt of 1807. To protest the Basi Monopoly by Spain,
Ilocanos from Piddig in Ilocos Norte marched southward, meeting up with other rebels. But the rebellion
failed and their leaders were hanged and decapitated in Vigan on September 29.
Fourteen years later, Esteban Villanueva, then aged 24, painted 14 panels of the remarkable events now
known as The Basi Revolt, recognized as a National Cultural Treasure. It is said that the paintings were
commissioned by the Spaniards to discourage further uprisings. But whether this is true or not does not
matter. What is important is that a piece of history had been put on canvas, one of the oldest of its kind in
the Philippines to depict a historical event.
For me, The Basi Revolt serves as a reminder of the courage of the Ilocanos to question authorities and fight
for their rightful ownership of and control over an important indigenous commodity, the sugarcane alcoholic
beverage, called basi. Ilocanos had a clear sense of importance in fighting for their economic and cultural
rights.
Two questions come to mind as I view the significance of these paintings.
First is—Where is that Ilocano identity of bravery and sense of martyrdom now? The Spanish colonizers
are gone, but although the Filipinos have gained their independence, they lack the assertion of genuine
democracy. Especially in a place where patronage politics is entrenched, voices of citizens wanting change
are muted by fear. Only a few dare to challenge the dominant forces and understand the healthy practice of
political participation and critical collaboration, of being able to freely speak out and negotiate, to demand
and assert what is due on equal terms.
Second is—Where are the women in the paintings? Where were the women during this uprising? Invisible
and hidden in their homes going about their usual household chores? Caring for the wounded and mourning
the dead? As widows and solo parents, working the double burden to raise and feed their children?
3
The Great Comet of 1807
Known as C/1807 R1, it is an unclassified comet that was first recorded on
September 9, 1807 by Castro Giovanni. The comet was described as visible
to the naked eye. Notably, it is depicted in at least four paintings in the series.
In The Basi Revolt, women, with children in tow, are seen only in three
panels—as evacuees taking refuge in the church (Panel VIII) and spectators
to the presentation and gruesome hanging of the rebels (Panels XII and XIV).
But certainly, at that time, there were Ilocano women who had not remained
silent and invisible, but showed courage and leadership. About forty years
before the Basi Revolt, our own Ilocana, Gabriela Silang, valiantly fought the
Spaniards.
As artworks, may The Basi Revolt remind us, women and men, to be brave
and be willing to die for our freedoms, and heritage, which continually connect
us to our past and give us that powerful sense of place and community to go
about our contemporary lives.
Don Juan Ibañes

He was the Alcalde Mayor of Ilocos during the time of the revolt.
In this painting, he is portrayed by Villanueva as a “vigilant” official.
4
5
II
“In the panel, stance defines the degree of power

in the hierarchy of positions. It is uncertain, however,
whether the representation of stance is meant to be
an artistic device or a faithful rendering
of actual circumstances…”

Institute of Arts and Sciences
Far Eastern University
The Basi Revolt II

1821
Oil on canvas
El Alcalde Mayor de las Provincias D. Juan Ibañes, da ordenas a los Governadorcillos

de Naturales Mestizo, Bantay, S. Vicente y Sta. Catalina.
Ti Gobernador kadagiti probinsia iti Ilocos, Don Juan Ibañes, mangmangted iti bilin kadagiti
Gobernadorcillo dagiti patneng ken mestizo iti Bantay, San Vicente ken Santa Catalina.
Ang Gobernador ng mga lalawigan ng Ilocos, Don Juan Ibañes, nagbibigay ng kautusan sa mga
Gobernadorcillo ng mga katutubo at mestizo ng Bantay, San Vicente at Santa Catalina.
The Governor of the Ilocos provinces, Don Juan Ibañes, gives orders to the Gobernadorcillos
of the natives and mestizos of Bantay, San Vicente and Santa Catalina.
6
El Alcalde Mayor de las Provincias D. Juan Ibañes, da ordenas a los

Governadorcillos de Naturales Mestizo, Bantay, S. Vicente y Sta. Catalina.
The second panel illustrates the preparations initiated to defend the provincial capital from the advancing
rebel forces. The alcalde mayor summons the gobernadorcillos from Vigan and the surrounding towns to
his office, the Casa Real which is now the equivalent of the Provincial Capitol. This scene may have probably
preceded the previous panel since the gobernadorcillos from Vigan who were able to readily conscript
volunteers were already positioned at a strategic site, and were on the look-out for the first signs of the
rebels in the place. The alcalde mayor dropped by to monitor progress in the site, while the volunteers were
to stall and ward-off the advance party of incoming rebels, pending the arrival of southern-town recruits to
augment the state’s troops.
The tense situation is reflected in a somewhat hasty meeting conducted in front of the Casa Real, which are
the crucial actors in the defense of the provincial capital. Among the 14 panels in the painting series, this has
the least number of depicted figures. Nonetheless, the panel exudes power. All seven people hold positions
of power, as evidenced by the symbols of authority in their persons: the baston de mando or staff of authority
they hold, and the top hat they alone are entitled to don and the regal looking vestments they wear.
In the panel, stance defines the degree of power in the hierarchy of positions. It is uncertain, however,
whether the representation of stance is meant to be an artistic device or a faithful rendering of actual
circumstances that transpired on a certain period of time. Nonetheless, the natives (Ilocanos and mestizos)
are portrayed in a subservient position in relation to the Spaniards. Only the alcalde mayor and one other
Spaniard dons the top hat, while the gobernadorcillos—the highest political office that can be held by the
natives and mestizos—had to take off and simply hold their top hats in his presence. Furthermore, they
bow their heads in deference to the alcalde mayor and most likely, the administrator. A certain distance is
maintained, as the alcalde mayor, from whom power emanates, stood apart, while his commands are issued
through the administrator.
7
The inscription provides a commentary on sites of power. The gobernadorcillos
headed the towns immediately outside Vigan, which, interestingly, was not
mentioned. It is, however, referenced through the two-gremio structure
of the city: the Naturales and Mestizos, where each of these gremios is
represented by their respective gobernadorcillos.
The backdrop of the scene is a site of power—the Casa Real—where the

alcalde mayor holds his office and official transactions pertaining to his
jurisdiction. The building’s appearance is reminiscent of architectural
practices done in the past. Discernible beneath the applied paint, traces of
vertical lines as representations of the old wooden panels hint of the previous
appearance of the old structure, which was limned again in Panel VII. The
present appearance of the Casa Real in this panel, the building of which was
modified during the 1897 renovation, however, makes it readily recognizable
in early photographs of Vigan scenes.
Race and power portrayed

All throughout the series, the relative social positions of actors are expressed by
the way the figures are drawn. The contrast between Spaniards and native Ilocanos
and mestizos is apparent by depicting the former as taller and imposing. Even the
superior and inferior positions of authorities relative to one another are portrayed.
In this particular panel, the gobernadorcillos of the three indicated towns are shown
with their heads bowed while receiving orders from the province’s governor.
8
9
III
“For a colonial work as this one, it is important for me to interrogate

whose perspective is portrayed, without minimizing the art works’
relevance to provide information... if we ‘read against the grain’, other
perspectives more sympathetic to the Ilocano natives can be gleaned.”
Christine Agas Balmes

Artist
“It is not uncommon for artists to include symbolism that subverts

the propaganda nature of the work they are commissioned. If it is true that
this piece was commissioned by the Spanish colonizers, I’d like to imagine
that Villanueva was an artist empathic to the cause.”
Althea Agas Balmes

Storyteller
The Basi Revolt III

1821
Oil on canvas
Los Ilocanos Insurgentes del Norte dirigen al Sur.

Dagiti nagalsa nga Ilocano iti Amianan agmarmartsa nga agturong iti Abagatan.
Ang mga Ilokanong mag-aalsa ng Hilaga nagmamartsa patungong Timog.
The Ilocano insurgents of the North marching to the South.
10
Los Ilocanos Insurgentes del Norte dirigen al Sur.

Christine Agas Balmes & Althea Agas Balmes
What struck me most about The Basi Revolt paintings is the relevance of the event in Ilocano anti-colonial
history—and the scarcity of what is actually written or known about it.
To me, Panel III feels like a drawing instead of a painting. The human figures are so tightly packed that it is
almost hard to distinguish one from the other. There is hardly any difference in scale between the humans
in the foreground and the trees on the hill in the background. Also, the colours have faded over time, giving
this painting an overall flat quality.
That Villanueva used a series of paintings instead of a single painting to illustrate the Basi Revolt reminds me
of the comics artform, where a story is told in a series of images, rather than a single tableau. As Villanueva
may not have been taught painting in a traditional way, his decision to present a series rather than a single
painting provides an alternative approach to the medium.
For a colonial work as this one, it is important for me to interrogate whose perspective is portrayed, without
minimizing the art works’ relevance to provide information. As the paintings end with the execution of the
leaders of the revolt, it would seem that it shares the perspective of the colonizers. However, if we “read
against the grain”, other perspectives more sympathetic to the Ilocano natives can be gleaned. (CB)
It is not uncommon for artists to include symbolism that subverts the propaganda nature of the work they
are commissioned. If it is true that this piece was commissioned by the Spanish colonizers, I’d like to imagine
that Villanueva was an artist empathic to the cause.
When I first saw Panel III, I was drawn foremost to the comet and the flag. In an otherwise static panel, the
comet stood out in the way it is painted: solely occupying the sky with line work that aimed to capture the
fierceness and force of the comet. I wondered at the meaning behind it and learned in other readings of the
Basi Paintings that during the uprising 45 years before led by Ilokano leaders, Gabriela and Diego Silang, a
comet also preceded that revolt.
11
The other symbol that struck me is the flag. It is so similar to the Americans’,
who at that time presented themselves to the Filipinos as allies and promised
liberation. To carry such a flag then into a fight symbolized a different
possibility. A future freed from colonial rule.
Panel III is the most significant in the series as it is an attempt of an artist

to capture the heart and soul of the Ilokano. It speaks about the fighting
spirit of the Ilokano people, the strong connection to the Ancestors and their
collective imagination for a better future they felt strongly to manifest. These
are characteristics that must be remembered as we watch history unfold.
(AB)
Flag of the insurgents

The color scheme of the flag could be interpreted differently by
viewers depending on their positionality in time and space. It could
be read as the colors of the Spanish flags which are red and yellow.
It could also be associated with that of the Americans for its stripes.
12
13
IV
“This is still the reality of our contemporary times.

One against the other is pitted in the name of a so-called war.”
Maria Eliza Agabin

Heritage worker
The Basi Revolt IV

1821
Oil on canvas
Los Caudillos de Candon y Santiago fueron reprendidos por el Alcalde por no haber llegado a tiempo.
Dagiti pangulo iti Candon ken Santiago ket inungtan iti Gobernador gapu iti saanda nga isasangpet iti
naituding nga oras.
Ang mga pinuno ng Candon at Santiago ay kinagalitan ng Gobernador sa di pagdating sa itinakdang oras.
The chiefs of Candon and Santiago were reprimanded by the Governor for not arriving on time.
14
Los Caudillos de Candon y Santiago fueron reprendidos

por el Alcalde por no haber llegado a tiempo.
Maria Eliza Agabin
Nineteenth century Ilocos was a stratified society and a highly changing one as well. With the heightened
colonial demands on the local population, grievances arose, and uprisings continued to occur, some
becoming more significant than others.
Ilocos in the year of 1807 witnessed poor harvest and low income from textiles. It is perhaps no surprise that
the alzamiento or rebellion in September of 1807 gained traction and followers in Ilocos. Fr. Joaquin Martinez
noted that “many suffered from shortages and joined the mutineers in order to change their fortunes”.
Primary accounts by Augustinian priests in Archivo Histórico Hispano-agustiniano Y Boletín Oficial De La

Provincia Del Smo. Nombre De Jesús De Filipinas noted three major reasons for the rebellion. Could the basi
monopoly possibly have been the last straw for the grieved rebels?
The parish priest of Bantay, Fr. Juan Arriortúa, talked and tried to persuade armed rebels who were on the
march to Vigan to talk to the Alcalde Mayor:
Seeing that this was deceiving me, I told them that how come they came armed in that way, or
what their purpose was, to which they replied that they came to ask the Mayor to grant them
the basi and remove the estanco del tabaco (tobacco monopoly) and that no married man
enter the quinta (military draft); To this I told them that it was a bad way to ask for said grace
with weapons in hand, and that far from granting any grace in that manner, it would rather
irritate the Judge of the territory, and that they would be rejected, and that he would not listen
to them or give them any input.
While in the northern towns, the loyalists at some point were outnumbered by the multitude of rebels. They
were asked to go back to their towns while waiting for help. The parish priest of Dingras, Fr. Agustin Diez,
actively “continued to exhort my parishioners until the order of Alcalde Mayor arrived in which the union of
all the Peoples of the South participated”.
Panel IV illustrates the northward movement of the native troops conscripted from the southern towns
Candon and Santiago, headed by the caudillos (local leaders). C.D. Mariano Abaya, a prominent family of
Candon, heads the native contingency. Could the other conspicuous personage in the middle be the Alcalde
Mayor? Unfortunately, the name is illegible to the naked eye.
15
Birds flying above
The bird is often symbolic of freedom, and the birds in this panel
appear to be doves, which are associated with peace. The placement
of the “dove” above the loyalist forces in the painting could suggest
that they are the “peace restorers” in the conflict.
The troops appear very smudged, but this is most probably because of the
overpaint in the 1970s. Tse et al. in the publication The Basi Revolt: Treasures of
Philippine Art noted how this panel was extensively restored and reworked.
What was most striking for me in this panel is the text accompanying the
image. The painter reveals another layer of meaning to the depicted scene of
the colonial world of Ilocos. The discrimination of the colonized subjects is
made apparent: the Alcalde Mayor rebukes the caudillos for their tardiness.
The colonialist view of the presumed indolence and unreliability of the natives
is evident. The State must continue to discipline the irresponsible natives.
The fourth panel depicts two painful realities that we must face, nevertheless.
First, similar to the Tobacco Monopoly uprising of 1788, such was also the
case of the revolt in 1807, wherein servile citizenry was conscripted to fight
against their own outlawed brothers.
Second, that this is still the reality of our contemporary times. One against
the other is pitted in the name of a so-called war. Subservience—blindly
following authority without questioning—is frighteningly reminiscent of the
colonial period. Dissent is stifled, civil liberties are challenged, and freedom
of speech is criminalized.
Padre Florentino asks the dying Simoun in Rizal’s El Filibusterismo, “Why

independence, if the slaves of today will be the tyrants of tomorrow?”
16
17
V
“Unlike Jesus who was helped by a random stranger,

the rebels from the north were subdued by their fellow Ilocanos.
It is the misfortune of many a rebel, and many a prophet,
that he is not acknowledged in his own land.
This too is Gospel truth.”
Rene E. Guatlo
Freelance writer
The Basi Revolt V

1821
Oil on canvas
Tropa de Vigan enviada a rechazar los ataques del enemigo en Bantaoay

Nabaon dagiti buyot iti Vigan tapno labanan dagiti panagraut sadiay Bantaoay
Ang hukbo ng Vigan ay isinugo upang labanan ang mga pagsalakay sa Bantaoay
The Vigan troops are sent to repel the enemy attacks in Bantaoay
18
Tropa de Vigan enviada a rechazar los ataques del enemigo en Bantaoay
Rene E. Guatlo
The Basi Revolt paintings, attributed to Esteban Pichay Villanueva, total 14 in all, and some scholars have
likened it to a layman version of the Stations of the Cross that symbolize the suffering of the Ilocano people
under colonial rule.
In the Catholic Stations of the Cross, the Passion of Christ is recalled as a means for Christians to meditate on
their way to salvation—from the judgment to the burial of Jesus.
In the fifth station, Simon of Cyrene is commanded by the soldiers accompanying the exhausted Jesus to
carry the cross part of the way. Not any of the disciples, but a random person along the way. And Simon
carried the cross, and is immortalized in scripture.
In The Basi Revolt paintings, the fifth image is of troops ordered to repel the rebels at the river called Bantaoay,
a river that turned red with blood; the point where the rebellion was crushed. The troops who repelled the
attack were from Vigan, and the towns further south, notably Santiago and Candon, who were reprimanded
by the governor for not arriving on time in the previous painting (Panel IV).
Unlike Jesus who was helped by a random stranger, the rebels from the north were subdued by their fellow
Ilocanos. It is the misfortune of many a rebel, and many a prophet, that he is not acknowledged in his own
land. This too is Gospel truth.
Divide and rule.
19
Palm leaf in the sky?
The presumed depiction of a comet is also interpreted as a ramo[s] (palm leaf).
During Domingo de Ramos (Palm Sunday), fashioned palm leaves are brought
to the church to be blessed. These are brought home and kept as Ilocanos value
these blessed palms as anib (talisman) for protection against malevolent forces.
20
21
VI
“Here lies the true allure of The Basi Revolt paintings—their ability
to remind us of a defining moment in the history of the Ilocos
as well as of the divine and the mysterious
that confront every generation.”
Aian Raquel
Provincial Tourism Officer
Ilocos Norte
The Basi Revolt VI

1821
Oil on canvas
Soldados enviados por el Sr. Alcalde Mayor para hacer frente a la fuerza Insurgente
Inbaon iti Gobernador dagiti soldado tapno sangnguen dagiti agalsa
Isinugo ng Gobernador ang mga kawal upang harapin ang mga mag-aalsa
Soldiers are sent by the Governor to confront the insurgent force
22
Soldados enviados por el Sr. Alcalde Mayor para hacer frente a la fuerza Insurgente
Aian Raquel
The obvious juxtaposition of the ruling Spanish and the Ilokano stems from the intent to illustrate the tensions
between the seat of power, Ciudad Fernandina de Vigan, and the rebels of the North, and ultimately impart
to its original audience a warning against dissent.
On the sixth panel, we can see a regiment, mightily mounted, modern and civilized in their intimidating
neatness and uniformity. Preceding this is the third panel, Los Ilocanos Insurgentes del Norte dirigen al Sur
(The Ilocano insurgents of the North marching to the South), depicting a massive but disorganized, barefoot
movement, led by no identifiable character but a flag. Both panels unfailingly depict an ensuing rupture in
the serene Ilocos landscape.
In these straightforward, dry but also rabid depictions, we can clearly see the intent of who commissioned
the paintings. But we also see suggestions of the unknown—the bandus (comet).
It is both valid to read the bandus as setting the paintings in a specific period (Great Comet of 1807) and
to see it as portentous. Here lies the true allure of The Basi Revolt paintings—their ability to remind us of a
defining moment in the history of the Ilocos as well as of the divine and the mysterious that confront every
generation.
Was the bandus a bad omen or an encouraging sign for both the rebels and the colonial authorities? Were
they inspired by it, or did they just carry on despite the divine warning?
Esteban Villanueva’s paintings are important historical records, situated today in their rightful physical
context. And even when for some viewers the paintings fail in their seriousness due to the crude and rather
juvenile figuration, they are celebrated as real treasures of the Filipino nation.
As we face an invisible enemy, should we look up to the heavens for signs as the old Ilokano did in the time
of revolutions? In this time of uncertainty, perhaps The Basi Revolt art pieces could help us look at our past
and decide if we are to unite or divide.
23
To the battlefield
As shown in the painting, uniformed personnel, most likely regular soldiers
riding horses on their way to face the insurgents marching towards Vigan. In
contrast to the depiction on Panel IV, the illustration of colonial forces is well
drawn in this painting. Moreover, the two panels’ portrayal especially of the
formation of the figures delineates that the native militia lacks “order” compared
to the gallant posture of the soldiers in Panel VI. Did the artist put more effort to
paint the regular soldiers? Or was it a conscious attempt to express distinctions?
24
25
VII
“The significance of this painting is not so much that it depicts
how one ‘insurgent’… is killed and presented to the ‘public’.
It rather lies in the fact that one individual Ilocano is willing to die
for what he considers his right to economic and personal freedom,
which the Basi Revolt was all about.”

Retired teacher, community worker, gardener, and recently, a grandmother
‘I grew up in a community producing sugar canes that were later

milled and made into molasses, basi or vinegar… I have witnessed
men and women drinking and enjoying basi… after working all day
in the rice fields. Such were happy occasions and not a cause for a revolt!’

Gardener, community volunteer and environmentalist
Tagudin, Ilocos Sur
The Basi Revolt VII

1821
Oil on canvas
Insurgente aprehendido por los Mestizos y muerto de azotes.

Ti maysa a nagalsa a natiliw dagiti mestizo ket nasapsaplit inggana iti ipapatayna.
Isa sa mga mag-aalsang nahuli ng mga mestizo ang hinagupit hanggang kamatayan.
An insurgent apprehended by the mestizos is scourged to death.
26

As I listened to a virtual symposium on Press Freedom and the Pandemic, the back of my mind was also
trying to formulate an essay on the seventh panel in Esteban Villanueva’s series of paintings. Part of my
problem in giving a comment was because I have not seen the original, and the e-photo sent to me was
small, thus difficult to see. I had cataract surgery years ago, hence my vision is not so good even now. I could
not see the colors and details very well. But I persisted … not only because I am an Ilocano cultural worker,
but also because I still like to play the role of a teacher to fellow Filipinos and to other nationalities in the
diaspora, if given the chance.
There are many socio-cultural and political lessons we can glean from the painting despite its not too
impressive size and color. Villanueva, like today’s journalists, used his talent to inform his audience of an
important event. This painting shows the apprehension of just one rebel out of several and how he was
punished by soldiers and well-dressed mestizos, with guns, top hats, jackets, long pants and shoes, standing
around him lying face-down after he was scourged to death. There is also what might be their commander,
in his uniform astride a horse, a line of soldiers facing the spectacle, and to his right a column of soldiers (or
rebels?) with their emblem. I could not tell whether the rebels or soldiers in kattukong (gourd hat), shirts with
rolled-up sleeve and knee-high pants are barefoot or wearing boots. I do not understand whether the group
of men similarly dressed at the background and carrying a lance with what looks like an emblem are soldiers
or townspeople witnessing the event. Maybe these are all soldiers of different categories and there are no
townspeople and rebels, just one insurgent lying on the ground, dead.
But which are mestizos and which belong to the Spanish Guardia Civil? There are categories here if one can
distinguish them from their attires. The facial expressions, if discernible, could provide additional clue if they
are mestizos or insurgents, I think.
Also identifiable are a man in dark clothing who might be of the religious order, and another barefoot man
with a drum. I wish I know more of the relationship of the religious and the military in the Ilocos at that time
to be able to interpret the role of the man in dark clothes. But instead of belonging to the religious, he might
be a political official giving his imprimatur.
27
What lessons can we glean from this work then? First, that it is essential to
document a historical event in whatever medium we are capable of using.
Second, to include as many details as we can, such as the architecture of the
building, the presence of a guard, the attire and body language of the figures,
the landscape and physical environment, as part of the story. Third, that
future socio-political and cultural interpretations of the event are dependent
on the details provided. Last, the colors used are not as important as the
message conveyed.
The significance of this painting is not so much the fact that it depicts how
one “insurgent”, who should be more accurately described as a freedom
fighter, is killed and presented to the “public”. It rather lies in the fact that one
individual Ilocano is willing to die for what he considers his right to economic
and personal freedom, which the Basi Revolt was all about. It is also an
important record of how a colonizer ruled and how the colonized responded
to injustices and oppression. The same roles are being performed today
between an authoritarian government and citizens, except that the weapons,
venues, and players have changed through time.
28

I have viewed The Basi Revolt paintings of Esteban Villanueva, permanently displayed at the National
Museum-Ilocos Regional Museum Complex in Vigan, Ilocos Sur, at least three times in the past few years.
During my first visit, I was awed by the sizes and the number of paintings on the same topic. However, the
different emotions that swelled in me, ranging from sadness, hatred, pity and feeling of injustice, at the time,
prevented me from looking at all 14 of them during that first visit. In subsequent ones, I forced myself to look
at a few each time for artistic reasons.
This opportunity to comment on Panel VII, whose Spanish title is translated as “An insurgent apprehended
by the mestizos is scourged to death”, made me look at the painting more closely. I assume that the scene
depicted is possibly in a public place in Vigan due to the style of the building in the background. The insurgent
was probably allowed to confess before he was scourged to death because of the presence of the figure in
a black garment like that worn by the religious. The figure on horseback might have been the commandant
giving the orders. The figure with the drum probably played the instrument before or after each phase of
the event. I wonder if all of the armed figures in the scene were mestizos, or some were Indios loyal to the
people in power at the time.
I grew up in a community producing sugar canes that were later milled and made into molasses, basi or
vinegar. This annual activity was always a happy occasion wherein we children were allowed to go with our
parents to the farm to witness the milling and to participate in making various types of delicacies made of
sweet rice cooked in molasses. Additionally, I have witnessed men and women drinking and enjoying basi
drawn from a burnay (stoneware jar) with a small ungot, made of a half-coconut shell, late in the afternoons
after working all day in the rice fields. Such were happy occasions and not a cause for a revolt!
29
Native militia
As illustrated in the panel, the native militias are mostly armed with bamboo
spears in contrast to the regular soldiers who are uniformed and well-armed.
30
31
VIII
“…What we see are people, then and now, who are resilient to disasters…
who put their faith in God, run to the churches for physical and spiritual
safety, as they pray for the husband, father, or son, neighbor and even
for the strangers who have bonded together for justice and reforms.”
Mary Jane C. Ortega

Educator, manager, leader
“In retrospect and from the lens of a priest, this piece of art… is already
an early repudiation of the Propaganda Movement which came
six decades later showing the church and the friars in a bad light
as oppressors of the people.”
Rev. Fr. Danny Laeda

Parish Administrator
Saint Isidore Church, Pinili, Ilocos Norte
The Basi Revolt VIII

1821
Oil on canvas
Los Naturales de Bantaoay entran al templo.

Simrek dagiti patneng iti Bantaoay sadiay Simbaan.
Pumasok ang mga katutubo ng Bantaoay sa Simbahan.
The natives of Bantaoay enter the Church.
32

Mary Jane C. Ortega
I have learned to appreciate basi and discovered the difference between basi for women and basi for men.
History tells us that long before the Spaniards came, basi, wine from sugar cane, was already a favorite drink
in the Ilocos.
The tobacco monopoly was imposed in 1782 and it was so successful in collecting revenues that in 1786, the
Spanish authorities also imposed the wine monopoly. The tobacco monopoly lasted until 1883 for 101 years,
but nobody led a revolt against it.
In the case of the basi monopoly, after only 21 years, the Ilocanos rebelled against the Spaniards. Could this
be because it affected the way of life of the people, especially the men? After a cockfight, the men gather and
drink basi. After working in the fields during the day, they end it by drinking basi. During fiestas, it would not
be a successful fiesta without the basi for all. Basi was also used for cultural rites.
Esteban Pichay Villanueva was a son of a landed farmer, who, most likely, aside from planting rice also had a
plot for sugar cane to grow, to be processed into basi. He was ten years old when the Basi Revolt happened
and he must have been a witness to the events that transpired. He might even have been one of the young
boys depicted in his painting, running towards the church for safety. He must have been eavesdropping to
the conversations of the adults as they talked about the revolt that was started by Pedro Mateo and Saralogo
Ambaristo from Piddig, to Laoag, to Batac, down to Badoc, Sto. Domingo and were now nearing Vigan. From
the church, he may have seen the captured rebels and could have even witnessed the killing of the rebels.
33
The Ilocanos, having been exposed to the Catholic teachings of the
Augustinian priests, think of the church as their haven. When typhoons come,
when earthquakes happen, when pirates come, they run to the church even
before they hear the church bells toll. In 1807, when the residents learned of
the impending encounter between the Spanish soldiers and the rebels, the
first thought was to run to the church. Being regularly exposed to man-made
and natural disasters, they flee towards safety with their clothes, food, and
treasures wrapped in a handwoven blanket, balanced on their heads. The
spirit of bayanihan also comes into play for bigger items and we see men
helping one another.
The painting depicts an event in September, 1807. During the revolution of

1898, we have read of people seeking refuge in churches. And during my
lifetime, I have seen the same scenario of people fleeing to seek refuge
during man-made or natural disasters but this time to schools or evacuation
centers. But what we see are people, then and now, who are resilient to
disasters, fleeing not empty-handed, but with their necessities and valuables
with them. And to those who put their faith in God, run to the churches for
physical and spiritual safety, as they pray for the husband, father, or son,
neighbor and even for the strangers who have bonded together for justice
and reforms.
34

Fr. Danny Laeda
Have you ever wondered why churches in the Philippines during the Spanish colonial era were built so big?
Aside from the mystical purpose, that is, to manifest the great glory and magnificence of God, they had
practical use. The church was the evacuation center during calamities both caused by force majeure and
man-made. Especially in the coastal areas, people sought refuge in the church when there was a siege due
to muslim marauders prowling the seas. This was a scourge in the Philippines during the Spanish colonial
days until well into the middle of the 19th century, checked only by the coming of the steam boat and the
repeating rifle.
The people of Bantaoay sought refuge in the church when the northern Ilocos rebels came in surge. But I
am perplexed where this church could have been. Was it in San Ildefonso or San Vicente? Or was it only
a construct of the artist to show that the local church was a place of refuge in times of calamities? It is
noteworthy that in the series, this painting is placed before the actual battle takes place.
In retrospect and from the lens of a priest, this piece of art that depicts the Basi Revolt is already an early
repudiation of the Propaganda Movement which came six decades later showing the church and the friars in
a bad light as oppressors of the people. It is popularly known that these churches were built out of the forced
labor system of the colonial government. But the construction of such building can also be seen from another
angle, that is, it was a labor of love dedicated to the heavenly majesty and a manifestation of vassalage with
the Spanish monarchy. Building of such churches are manifestations of the faith of our forefathers: to praise
God and in return the church is both a mother and a teacher.
35
The drummer boy
In military terms, the drummer was important to make soldiers march in sync
and also to communicate commands to the troops. In Europe, boys as young as
the age of 13 years were enlisted to become military drummers, and 19th century
European painters often depicted them in paintings of battles. In this particular
panel of The Basi Revolt, instead of signaling troops, the drummer boy directs
the townsfolk to hurry inside the church. This imagery gives an impression of the
urgency of the coming battle between the colonial forces and the insurgents.
36
37
IX
“It was also said, in effect, that Ambaristo’s doom

was already foreseen at Sinait town before the decisive
battle at Bantauay took place.”

Associate Professor, Division of History
University of the Philippines Los Baños
The Basi Revolt IX

1821
Oil on canvas
Sangrienta lucha estallada en Bantaoay

Bimtak ti nadara a dangadang sadiay Bantaoay
Simula ng madugong digmaan sa Bantaoay
Bloody battle breaks out at Bantaoay
38
Sangrienta lucha estallada en Bantaoay

Bigan-born and raised Filipino lawyer and folklorist Isabelo de los Reyes (1864-1938), local historian and
public school teacher Fernando Ferrer (1851-1916) and the local history of Sinait, Ilocos Sur offer us another
side of the story of the “Ambaristo Revolt” or “Basi Revolt.” I share here some notes that are pertinent to Panel
IX.
The colonial government troops were stationed on the southern bank of the Bantauay River at San Ildefonso
pueblo as the rebels approached the town of Santo Domingo. At noon of September 28, 1807, the terrible
and bloody encounter between the loyalist troops and the mutineers took place in that site, transforming
the waters of the river into red. It was said that when the rebels reached the northern bank of Bantauay, they
found a woman with a pitcher, offering them drinking water. The insurgents ignored the woman, refused
her offer and began to cross the river. The river suddenly boiled and swallowed the rebels, because the
woman, who turned out to be the Nuestra Señora de la Caridad that was then missing from the church in
Bantay, poured the water from her pitcher. The Ilokanos loyal to the foreign rulers who were watching the
insurgents drown threw themselves on them with such bravery that in a moment they managed to kill the
latter and hanged from a tree the head of a certain Garrido, general and soul of Ambaristo’s force. Since then,
travelers who passed through that place felt eerie and so people came to believe that that area of Bantauay
was cursed.
It was also said, in effect, that Ambaristo’s doom was already foreseen at Sinait town before the decisive
battle at Bantauay took place. When Ambaristo and his force reached the said pueblo, they called a brave
woman leader who lived in the western part of the Poblacion to convince her to rally behind the cause of
the oppressed people. The high-spirited woman named Maria who possessed supernatural powers refused
to join the rebellion; it was believed that the insurgents failed in enlisting her support and so they finally met
their defeat at Bantauay.
It is obvious from the above, that accounts and lore written about the Ambaristo-led revolt lean towards
justifying the defeat of the rebels, even utilizing religious idolatry to support colonial propaganda. Similarly, it
is believed that the Spanish authorities commissioned Esteban Villanueva of Bigan to paint the events of the
Basi Revolt as a means to discourage the Ilokanos from challenging the colonial state again.
39
Contrary to this view, I infer that Villanueva can be considered as the first
Filipino to use painting as propaganda to express anti-colonial sentiments
by subtly exposing in his artworks the violence, cruelty and injustice of the
Spanish government in dealing with the native malcontents. He did not
use allegory but his brush strokes embellished meanings and associations
which unveiled his artworks to contending interpretations, most probably
as a precaution; he painted the Great Comet of 1807 in his panels; he made
the Spanish officials and soldiers bigger than the natives and depicted the
rebels as a mob. In 1881, Madrid-based Filipino propagandist and lawyer
Gregorio Sancianco (1852-1897) mentioned Esteban Villanueva together with
Juan Luna, Melecio Figueroa, Miguel Zaragoza and Felix Resurreccion as the
five Filipino artists who had come to expand in their studies, implying that
Villanueva was a trained painter and that he had also enticed enormous
attention for his phenomenal paintings.
Weaponry
Despite their advantage in numbers, the insurgents were only armed with bows
and arrows, as well as bamboo spears. The colonial soldiers and militias, as
depicted in the painting, were armed with guns and cannons which were far
more superior compared to the weapons of the insurgents.
40
41
X
“We are reminded of the colonial pecking order where we as natives

are pigeonholed into and where we must remain. We are reminded
of the outcome of any nascent longing for freedom from hegemony.”

Archaeologist, anthropologist
The Basi Revolt X

1821
Oil on canvas
Entierro de los muertos Insurgentes.

Pannakaikali dagiti natay a nagalsa.
Paglibing sa mga nangamatay na mag-aalsa.
Burial of the dead insurgents.
42
Entierro de los muertos Insurgentes.

As part of fourteen The Basi Revolt paintings of Esteban Villanueva depicting the squashed uprising that
started in Piddig, Ilocos Norte and ended in Vigan, Ilocos Sur in 1807, I would say that painting “X” is quite
riveting in conveying to the beholder the vast magnitude and scale of this short-lived battle-turned-disaster.
The fog of war has barely settled in the horizon with distant hardwood trees probably due North towards
the source of this rebellion. The centerpiece of this painting is the Bantaoay River that meanders from East to
West geographically marking the northern margins of the greater Vigan area. This was the putative waterloo
for whatever force movement the insurgents managed to throw against the colonial powers in Vigan. Note
the mass of insurgent bodies floating or fished-out of the river using bamboo poles. In the eyes of Villanueva,
this battlefield was the last stand for the insurgents who were probably overwhelmed by superior colonial
arms matched with entrenched positions as they attempted to cross the river towards Vigan. Those few
who made it across were simply overwhelmed by superior colonial forces. Note that the land and the river
is soaked in blood, draped with a sky tainted with an eerie cadaver-like hue. There is so much blood in the
water that it causes fish kill and the riverbanks are stained crimson. Finally, two mestizos appearing larger
than life bear the badges and emblems of the colonial order directing the Vigan troops and Bantaoay villagers
in the retrieval and burial of mangled insurgent bodies.
43
Today, we are now citizens of a Philippine nation free from the colonial grip
of Spain but when we behold symbolic violence, according to sociologist
and anthropologist Pierre Bourdieu in his 1998 book, the interaction elicits
submission to the established order. An order that is a “product of the
agreement between on the one hand, the cognitive structures inscribed
in bodies by both collective history (phylogenesis) and individual history
(ontogenesis) and, on the other, the objective structures of the world to
which these cognitive structures are applied.” This hammers out an almost
“immediate adherence [or] doxical submission to the injunctions of the
world which is achieved when the mental structures of the one to whom
the injunction is addressed are in accordance with the structures inscribed
in the injunction addressed to him.” We are reminded of the colonial pecking
order where we as natives are pigeonholed into and where we must remain.
We are reminded of the outcome of any nascent longing for freedom from
hegemony. Another anthropologist, Ann Stoler, also calls this ruination, like
a cancer that forms on the “material environment and on people’s minds
riveted on the rot that remains” in a book she published in 2013. According
to Stoler, this ruination is literally the “waste of bodies, the degradation of
the environment, and the psychic weight of colonial processes that entangle
people, soil, [and] things.”
Buried in the riverbanks

In the painting, dead bodies of the native rebels are shown being buried in the
banks of the river of Bantaoay. Bodies are also seen still in the river, suggesting
that some of the dead had to be retrieved from the water. An account of the
battle even states that the river turned red after the clash between the two sides.
44
45
XI
“They had their heads bowed down in prayer,

resigned to their fate but with the hope
that the injustice would eventually be rectified.”
Mary Jane C. Ortega

Educator, manager, leader
The Basi Revolt XI

1821
Oil on canvas
La Victoria de la tropa de Vigan en 29 Septiembre 1807.

Ti panagballaigi dagiti buyot iti Vigan idi maika-29 iti Setiembre 1807.
Ang pagwawagi ng hukbo ng Vigan noong ika-29 ng Setyembre 1807.
The victory of the Vigan troops on the 29th of September 1807.
46
La Victoria de la tropa de Vigan en 29 Septiembre 1807.

Mary Jane C. Ortega
The Spaniards were triumphant! The rebels were caught, and with their heads bowed and tied to the ropes,
were dragged to the town plaza by the Spanish victors on their white horses.
But the Ilocanos, although captured, shook the complacency of the Spanish authorities and made them
realize that basi (sugar cane wine) was part of the culture and festivities of the Ilocanos and slowly, the
authorities relaxed the basi-making in the homes. The monopoly of wine from palm continued until January,
1865.
The wine monopoly was instituted in 1786. In the north, the harvests of the sugar cane fields were all
surrendered to the Spaniards for them to process. The dapilan, the grinder where the carabao went around
to crush the sugar cane, was left idle. Basi production was all done by the authorities and sold in government
stores.
The Ilocano Pedro Mateo and Tingguian Saralogo Ambaristo were the leaders attacking the taxes and forced
labor imposed by the Spanish authorities, and noticed the passionate response of the audience when the
basi monopoly would be mentioned. It was the 21st year of deprivation of the much sought after basi and
“Let us revolt against the basi monopoly!” became the battle cry!
From Piddig to Sarrat, to Laoag and then on to Batac, they marched, with their numbers increasing as they
went down south to Badoc. The goal was to reach Vigan, the seat of the Spanish Governor.
In Badoc, the Ilocanos defeated the Spanish guardias civiles. But when they were at Bantaoay river in San
Ildefonso, near Vigan, Spanish troops captured the rebels as depicted in Esteban Villanueva’s painting. The
prisoners were men, with leaders definitely inspired by Diego Silang who led an earlier revolt in 1762. There
was no Gabriela in their midst. But like the Diego Silang Revolt, there were Ilocanos and Tingguians fighting
side by side against the Spanish authorities.
47
Were the prisoners scared of losing their lives? Would they all be hanged?
Would they be decapitated? I believe most of them may have had their heads
bowed, their eyes cast down, not in defeat because they were ready to die for
the cause that they fought for. They had their heads bowed down in prayer,
resigned to their fate but with the hope that the injustice would eventually be
rectified.
Hat toss for victory

A colonial official threw his hat as he met the government forces along with the
captured insurgents. Hat tossing is an expression to celebrate something exuberant.
In this particular panel, the official did this to show his exhilaration for the victory
of colonial troops against the native insurgency. Notably, the bell tower of St. Paul’s
Cathedral is depicted in the background indicating the place of the event.
48
49
XII
“... basi as the pivot point to a revolution must give us some pause;
or at least underscore for us some form of irony—
i.e., that the deprivation of the vino made
the Ilocanos realize the veritas.”
Nicolas B. Pichay
Poet, playwright, lawyer
The Basi Revolt XII

1821
Oil on canvas
Cuatro complices procesados debajo de la korea.

Uppat a naipagarup nga agkakabuyot iti sirok ti pagbitayan.
Apat na inakusahang magkakasabuwat sa ilalim ng bitayan.
Four accused accomplices beneath the gallows.
50
Cuatro complices procesados debajo de la korea.

Nicolas B. Pichay
What could be made out of the fact that Ilocanos would endure forced labor and exorbitant taxes for
tobacco, their cash crop; but would take up in arms when prohibited from producing and drinking basi, their
Dionysian beverage of choice? One can make a t-shirt out of that “Give Me Basi or Give Me Death.” This of
course, is the sort of tale that gets passed around with the shot glass of basi. A happy drunkard’s tale.
Although many historians read the Basi Revolt as the culmination of a series of disappointments by the
Ilocanos of the abusive, often corrupt, and inept mismanagement of the colonial administration, basi as the
pivot point to a revolution must give us some pause; or at least underscore for us some form of irony—i.e.,
that the deprivation of the vino made the Ilocanos realize the veritas.
History is replete with accounts of the work ethic of the Ilocano. Weren’t the Ilocanos—hardworking people
of the North—the specific choice of the Americans, the next colonial administrators, to tend to the sugarcane
and pineapple plantations in Hawaii merely on the basis of a Manong’s or Manang’s thick and calloused hands?
‘Hardworking’ is a character trait that has defined the Ilocanos through history what with the subsequent
migration of a generation of nurses, and then doctors. And continues today with the Ilocano presence in
most, if not all, of the places where manual labor is needed. Looking at Panel XII, I am reminded of the
executions of OFWs that our government has failed to stop. This panel could well be renamed: Trabajadores
Filipinos debajo de la korea. (What does “korea” mean in the painting? Is it a misspelling of “horca”, which is
gallows in Spanish? Or did he mean “correa”, the Spanish word for strap?)
My abuelo’s series of paintings depict politics in action where the fight for power often leads to a bloody
revolution. The Basi Revolt may have been quelled, but it seems that in the painting as well as in real life,
public executions of political dissidents have served to unify opinion and consolidate forces, more than
instilling fear in a people. Another thing that comes to mind in Panel XII is the contemporary term “solid
north” which references unity that may have been forged in the Ilocano DNA because of the Basi Revolt. One
might even argue that circa post-Edsa, the solid north as a socio-political phenomenon still holds currency
and explains the complexion of its regional politics at present.
51
The paintings are priceless on many levels. In celebrating these images,
we commemorate the number of narratives that populate the paintings as
object, idea, process, and re-imagination. One story is the history which it
depicts. We drink to the Basi Revolt! Another is the story of how the painted
panels came to be. Could we ever solve the mystery of my Lolo Esteban?
Did he paint the series to discourage future rebellion as the Spaniards who
commissioned the works wanted him to do? Or was he a subversive who—
in painting the events in an emotionally hazy almost expressionless way—
invited the viewer to project their feelings of hope, nationalism, and yearning
for independence? A third narrative is how the paintings were discovered in
the bodega—a stroke of luck; a reminder that history endures for as long as
people care to remember. A fourth is how the paintings were authenticated
and restored—a proud moment for our museum. And the fifth is the individual
narratives we compose as we view the paintings with the hindsight of history.
In conclusion, the paintings for me stake out for the Ilocano a place of pride
in history. Sadly, the paintings in its prescience also manage to universalize
the unchanged condition where oligarchs reign at the expense of heroes who
constantly find themselves “debajo de la korea” across our time.
Korea or correa?
The word “korea” in the painting’s caption could be the misspelled “horca”,
the Spanish word for gallows, or “correa”, the Spanish word for strap, which
is part of the gallows. Hypotheses have been offered to explain the latter,
where “correa” probably became “korea”. According to one, people’s use
of the letter “k” instead of the “c” or “q” in spelling words with hard “c”, as
early as the 19th century, could have been an expression of defiance.
52
53
XIII
“The most significant grab of Spanish symbolism is

the ethnopolitical tag ‘Filipino’, which the freedom fighters used
as their collective nom de guerre, so as they approached Vigan
they shouted their newly-forged battle cry,
‘¡Avance filipinos!, ¡fuera españoles! ’”

Cultural historian
The Basi Revolt XIII

1821
Oil on canvas
Estrangulacion de los 4 Caudillos Insurgentes.

Dagiti uppat a nangidaulo iti yaalsa ket nabitay.
Ang apat na namuno sa paghihimagsik ay binitay.
The four insurgent leaders are hanged.
54
Estrangulacion de los 4 Caudillos Insurgentes.

Spanish historian Montero y Vidal’s overfocus on the so called Basi Monopoly as the triggering factor of
the uprising that began “in the summer of 1807 … in the mountains of Ilocos (Norte)” might have easily
misled other chroniclers, especially from outside Ilocos, to call the entire insurgency as the “Basi Revolt”.
Vigan-based historians like Buenaventura Bello, on the other hand, called it as it was precisely labelled by
contemporary historians, “El Alzamiento de Ambaristo en 1807,” in an essay published in 1931. Earlier, another
Vigan-born historian-journalist, Isabelo de los Reyes, likewise called it “El Alzamiento de Ambaristo” in his
Historica de Ilocos, thus providing a broader perspective of the serial causes and effects of the insurgency.
First of all, the foremost aggravation was not the prohibition of making or consuming the home-brewed wine
but the extremely abusive implementation of the Tobacco and Wine Monopoly by illicit or fake personnel.
De los Reyes found documents that proved how Ilocanos had been abused and badly treated by colonial
employees as those in the Renta de Tobaco y Vino. He similarly cited reports by the likes of Spanish official
Sinibaldo de Mas and Jesuit Father Vicente Aleman that the Spaniards in Islas Filipinas were “despicable
people” and even criminals who “had originally fled from Spain”.
Whereas, those Spaniards born in Islas Filipinas who were called “Filipinos españoles” or simply “Filipinos”
eventually found themselves among the ranks of deserters or rebellious vagabonds whose sociopolitical
identity or class got lost in the anarchic muddle. As de los Reyes summed up: “In 1807, then, people were
not predisposed to anything good and in the month of July, some recruits fled Vigan and took refuge in the
mountains of Piddig where they were joined by many discontented people. They tried to get the people of
Sarrat to rebel. When they failed, however, they returned to the mountains, taking with them the drums that
were in the bantayans (watch towers) of the towns.”
Grabbing those drums was a crucial sociopolitical strategy because the drumbeat was the official sound
calling the townspeople to a quick vigilant assembly—the call to arms was therefore now in their hands. Also
in their hands was the Spanish military banner, although two more blood-red stripes were added to the
three red stripes, as if to declare, symbolically, “Among us we have more blood to spill.”
55
The most significant grab of Spanish symbolism is the ethnopolitical tag
“Filipino”, which the freedom fighters used as their collective nom de guerre,
so as they approached Vigan they shouted their newly-forged battlecry,
“¡Avance filipinos!, ¡fuera españoles!’”
For the very first time the Ilocano rebels craving, fighting, dying for freedom
from Spanish Rule had assumed as their own the collective or unifying battle
cry “Filipinos”. The sole signifier of their reinvented rebel identity had been
drawn from the name of the colonial territory by way of a semiotic switch or
a flip upside down. Although they lost in September 1807, their gallant battle
cries eventually became embodied in the heart and mind of freedom-lovers
across Islas Filipinas.
The first time such revolutionary Filipino identity was documented in black
and white was when Vigan-born Padre Jose Burgos argued, via his essays,
against those hostile friars who persistently downgraded the capacities of the
newfangled Filipinos. Burgos consequently called himself “Filipino Indigena”,
writing as such to advance the interest of what he deliberately called the
“Pueblo Filipino” or the Filipino Nation in the making. The second time this
emergent and insurgent Filipino identity was proclaimed for all freedom-
fighting Filipinos in the archipelago was when Jose Rizal wrote his poem
A La Juventud Filipina as he made a plea to the Filipino youth to regard no
other Motherland except Las Islas Filipinas. Thence inevitably followed Rizal’s
La Liga Filipina, Mabini’s memories in La Revolucion Filipina, the Magdalo
Katipuneros’ La Republica Filipina, the Iglesia Filipina Independiente led by
Padre Aglipay, and more, onwards.
A painful death
As illustrated in this panel, the leaders of the revolt were hanged to death in
full view of the public. One of them was climbed on by one of the men dressed
as executioners, apparently to make an additional weight, while another man
pulled the rope below. It is believed by some that the subject rebel did not die
immediately; thus, this additional weight was put over to kill him faster.
56
57
XIV
“Were such displays of violence

meant as much for public entertainment
as they were for instilling fear of the law?”
Raul Pertierra
Sociologist, anthropologist
The Basi Revolt XIV

1821
Oil on canvas
Decapitacion de los condenados a esta pena.

Dagiti naikeddeng a nagbasol ket napugutan kas naipato.
Ang mga hinatulan ay pinugutan ayon sa hatol.
The condemned are decapitated as sentenced.
58
Decapitacion de los condenados a esta pena.

Raul Pertierra
This event should remind us of the rebellion of Diego Silang and his wife Gabriela, decades earlier. These
events took place around Vigan and involved friends in nearby Abra. An unusual feature of these rebellions
is their secular aims, in contrast to the religiously oriented rebellions such as that led by Hermano Pule
in Laguna. The Ilocano rebellions aimed at breaking away from Spanish political domination. Silang took
advantage that the British had defeated the Spaniards and occupied Manila in 1762. Silang was assassinated
by a colleague but his wife Gabriela continued the rebellion from Abra until her capture and death in 1763. As
was the custom then, Gabriela’s body was dismembered and displayed in several towns in Ilocos.
We see a similar desecration in the Basi Revolt. After the victims were hanged, their decapitated heads were
placed in baskets and displayed throughout the region. Public hangings and garrotes were a common feature
of European and Spanish judicial punishment until the end of the 19th century. Rizal’s execution by a firing
squad was one of the last examples of the State’s public display of its awesome power.
Why is the State publicly displaying its celebration of violence? Its reputed deterrence was clearly
inapplicable since rebellions and similar instances of dissent were a regular feature of colonial society. Were
such displays of violence meant as much for public entertainment as they were for instilling fear of the law?
Was this barbarity a feature of pre-modern states? Public executions became scarce by the beginning of the
20th century. Why has the State in contemporary times decided to conduct capital punishment in private
rather than in public?
Part of the answer lies in the increasing distaste for such displays by an expanding bourgeois class generated
by the industrial revolution. It also reflects the increasing powers and interests in the State’s domination
of private life. Rather than instill fear by displays of public violence, the modern state prefers to create the
conditions preventing dissent through programs of indoctrination and education. It is through this intrusion
into the private lives of its citizens that the state exercises its awesome powers.
59
To return to the Ilocanos and their taste for basi, one assumes that the
Spanish prohibition against the domestic distilling of alcohol struck them
as an unbearable imposition. Basi had been part of Ilocano festivities for
generations. But there were other sources of alcohol during Spanish times
such as tapuy, a favorite of the Tingguianes of Abra and the Apayao region. But
its production was more private than the communal distillation of sugarcane.
This was done in the privacy of the home and stored in special earthenware.
Piddig was famous for its basi and for its close connections with the highlands.
Piddig was also famous for its archers and was a major reason for the defeat
of Gabriela’s forces. It seems that Vigan and Piddig were tied in complex
colonial connections as often agonistic as convivial.
A horrifying reminder
After their execution, based on this painting, the leaders of the revolt
were decapitated. Their heads were placed inside cages, which are
believed to have been hung for display to the public. The common
interpretation is that this scene was illustrated to horrify the natives,
to warn them not to revolt against the colonial government again.
60
Concluding Commentary
Joven R. Cuanang
The restoration of the 200-year-old The Basi Revolt is indeed an occasion to celebrate. The 14 paintings
attributed to Esteban Villanueva are now displayed in solemn dignity in the elegant National Museum in
Vigan.
The paintings depict an interpretation of the celebrated revolt which happened in the northern lowlands of
our country, which started in Piddig and culminated tragically in Bantaoay, a few kilometers north of Vigan,
then the seat of colonial power in the Ylocos.
The revolt extols the bravery of my Ilocano compatriots of old, one of the many times when Filipinos raised
a defiant arm to decrees imposed by our Spanish colonizers. We sing in praise of their exemplary action
against tyranny.
That it ended in tragedy brings me to a troubled silence, and as a physician, who has seen many patients die,
I ponder, as we always do in our scientific discipline, to consider a critical question: Why did we fail? In the
same vein with the Basi Revolt, why did the revolt fail, in spite of the bravery of the Ilocanos?
To answer this critical question, we in medicine go through a painful process of an impassionate review of
every aspect of the care that we have given. In fact, part of our discipline is to do an autopsy of the body, to
find out if there was something wrong with our assumptions in our diagnosis, and the way we intervened,
ever mindful that in learning from our mistakes, we would be better in the care of the sick, next time we are
presented with a similar case.
Rene Guatlo, a dear friend and a fellow Ilocano, being a meticulous historian and an avid chronicler of
Ilocano culture, recounted to me how the basi makers in Piddig reacted to the decree imposed by the
colonizers regarding their basi. The bitter brew, beloved by the Ilocanos, is produced from the sugarcane
that they grow, the juice fermented in huge jars called burnay that they store under their houses. Drinking
basi constitutes a happy respite from their backbreaking work in the fields after a long day. They drink in the
convivial company with fellow farmers, their womenfolk included. I can imagine the resentment and the
anger that all of them felt when the decree was brought down upon them.
Basi is precious to the Ilocano. It is not only because it is a drink to be enjoyed socially, but it is part of the
rituals of their life. Basi is drunk upon the birth of a child. It is drunk before the Ilocano swain recites a daniw
(poem) to a beloved or before he goes to a tapat (serenade) to express love to a fair maiden under a full
moon. It is part of a medicinal concoction applied to the temple of a sick child, it is part of an anib (potion)
to thwart evil spirits. It is laid out together with other offerings in the altar for the dead, and is mixed with the
ashes of burnt rice stalks to wash away the sorrow of the grieving family after the dung-aw (dirge) and the
elaborate rituals for the departed. Basi is a part of life!
61
That they must now give to the colonials control of basi, the ‘spirit’ of their life, was to them, unacceptable.
In anger, the bolos were brought out, sharpened and brandished to kill the enemy!
From Piddig they marched southwards to Vigan, scantily armed, save for their bolos and brawn, gaining
more angry supporters along the pueblos they passed on their way until there were a few thousands of
them, only to have their precious blood spilled to stain the river in Bantaoay red with their bravery.
As a physician, and a true blooded Ilocano, I conclude my essay on the Basi Revolt, with a dispassionate
reflection, by raising questions that could be the basis for further inquiry in this significant event in the history
of the Ylocos.
Before they marched to their martyrdom, did the leaders of the revolt analyze thoroughly the situation that
they were going to encounter? Did they try to forecast what the reaction of the powers in Vigan would be to
suppress the revolt given that they had to maintain their powers at all costs? Did they have a plan to counter
the possible moves of their enemies? Did they collaborate with their fellow Ilocanos in and around Vigan to
rally to their cause? A clever general in a game of war would think deeply to craft strategies to counter any
possible move of the enemy, and to execute the plan wisely and efficiently.
Superstitious as the Ilocanos are, were they guided by the comet, as a celestial sign, to goad them to what
they might have thought as a predestined victory?
Many actions no matter how well intentioned end in tragedy, if there is no sober reflection on the best action
to take, to ensure victory, and safety of limb and sinew. Deliberate planning and impeccable execution more
than ensure success, rather than if one succumbs to an unrestrained emotion that oftentimes can lead to
perdition.
That the rebels were massacred is an outcome that we grieve to this day.
As we celebrate the 200th year of the paintings depicting the Basi Revolt and its singular reminder of the
heroism of our ancestors, let us not forget the lessons learned from this historical event, as we move onwards
to build a stronger nation.
62
The Contributors
About the Contributors
Emmeline “Miyen” Lahoz Verzosa served as Executive Director of the Philippine Commission
on Women (PCW) from 2002 until her retirement in 2019. Together with the women’s
movement, several women-friendly laws were passed during her term. Apart from other
contributions to civil society, she continues to lend her expertise in efforts to achieve gender
equality and women’s empowerment while managing her family’s Vigan ancestral home, the
Villa Angela Heritage House. Miyen also paints, probably with the genetic influence passed
down from her great, great grandfather Esteban Villanueva.
Romeo Bala Galang, Jr., also simply known as Jun Galang, obtained his Master of Arts in Art
History degree from the University of the Philippines-Diliman, where he is also finishing his
doctoral degree in Philippine Studies. He teaches Humanities (Art Appreciation) at the Institute
of Arts and Sciences of the Far Eastern University where he holds the rank of Assistant Professor
IV. He authored A Cultural History of Santo Domingo (UST Publishing House, 2013), where he
shares a multi-faceted understanding of the art objects in the Santo Domingo ecclesiastical
complex. He wrote “Re-Visioning Ilocos”, a paper on the Spanish period urban fabric of Vigan
that was published in Conscripcion: Imagining and Inscribing the Ilocano World exhibition
catalogue (National Archives of the Philippines, 2014). Jun moreover occasionally comes to
Vigan to pursue his interest in studying religious iconography.
Christine Agas Balmes moved with her family to Toronto as a young adult. She went to
school at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor with a major in Asian Studies and a minor
in Biology. She is a member of Kapwa Collective, a group of Filipinx-Canadian artists, healers,
and critical thinkers who are interested in bridging the narratives between the Indigenous and
the Diasporic, and the Filipino and the Canadian. She is currently a horticultural apprentice.
Her interest is in learning and doing more to make landworking more aligned with Indigenous
knowledges, systems, and practices.
63
Althea Agas Balmes is a multidisciplinary visual storyteller and UX designer. Her work
explores themes and stories of migration, labour, ancestral knowledge, tech and personhood
stemming from curiosity, wonder and play. Her art practice embodies an anti-oppressive
framework, process of decolonization and community building. She studied Anthropology
and International Development in her undergraduate at York University and studied User
Experience Design for her Master’s at University of Toronto.
Maria Eliza “Liz” Agabin has been working in the field of heritage conservation in Ilocos Sur
during the last decade or so. Her latest collaborative projects include Museo Balay Mestizo in
Vigan and Museo ti Sakada in Cabugao.
Rene E. Guatlo is a freelance writer based in Manila. He writes feature articles on travel, food,
arts and culture for various magazines and broadsheets in the Philippines. Educated in Manila,
Tokyo and Okinawa, he is also a Japanese language translator and interpreter, and a collector
of the traditional fabrics woven in North Luzon.
He is a business consultant and Japanese language interpreter serving the Embassy of Japan
in Manila, the Japan External Trade Organization (JETRO), the Japan International Cooperation
Agency (JICA), and various private companies and organizations in Japan and the Philippines.
Rene E. Guatlo wrote the main essay for Glimpses (2010) for the Singapore Tyler Print Institute,
A Batch that Made a Difference (2013) for Batch ’73 of the Asian Institute of Management,
HABI: A Journey through Philippine Handwoven Textiles (2013), Elpidio & Alicia: The Love
Letters (2015) for the National Historical Commission of the Philippines, and contributed to
Inabel Philippine Textile from the Ilocos Region (2015) of ArtPost Asia. He is also the author of
the monograph KIUKOK: Via Dolorosa (2017) for Finale Art File, Makati City.
64
Aian Raquel is the Department Head of the Ilocos Norte Tourism Office. He is in charge of
strategizing programs that mark Ilocos Norte as part of the Ridge and Reef Travel Corridor.
He is a creative director with notable cultural projects such as the “Tan-ok ni Ilocano”, as
well as collaborations with visual artists, performers, fashion designers and traditional Iloko
textile inabel weavers. He also lectures on gender, tourism development, and culture. Aian
is teaching a Communication course as a part-time faculty member of the Department of
Languages and Literature at the Mariano Marcos State University.
Adelwisa “Deling” L. Agas Weller retired from teaching at the University of the Philippines and
the University of Michigan but still active in promoting community solidarity and development
both in Tagudin, Ilocos Sur and in Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA.
Gloria Lorenzana Agas is now retired, after working at the University of the Philippines at
Diliman and in the United States, in her hometown of Tagudin, Ilocos Sur where she pursues
her continuing interests in weaving, crafts and the arts and being a community volunteer
and an environmentalist. She gardens growing vegetables, ornamentals, fruit trees and native
species of Philippine trees using seedlings that she has grown herself.
Rev. Fr. Danny Laeda hails from Badoc, Ilocos Norte. He taught Philippine Church History at
the Immaculate Conception School of Theology in Vigan for two decades, and previously
served as Parochial Vicar of the Sts. Peter and Paul Church in Honolulu, Hawaii. He is now the
Parish Administrator of St. Isidore Church in Pinili, Ilocos Norte.
65
Mary Jane C. Ortega taught at the University of the East and St. Louis College and also served
as Comptroller-Treasurer-Administrator of the Philippine Daily Express and President of
Express Commercial Printers before going into politics. Although in the Ilocos region she is
most known for her exemplary leadership as Mayor of the City of San Fernando from 1998 to
2007, Ms. Ortega has actually been serving the region and nation in various capacities beyond
her mayoralty.
Among her many roles, she is a faculty member of the Ateneo School of Government; mentor
on Basic Education for the Northern Luzon Educational Council covering Regions I, II and
Cordillera for Synergeia Foundation; Treasurer of the National Federation of Women on the
Philippines, Inc. (NFWC) and President of the NFWC Foundation; Past National President of
the Inner Wheel Clubs of the Philippines and former International Inner Wheel Representative,
Special Adviser of CityNet, a Seoul-based organization of cities in Asia Pacific; and Special
Adviser to the City of Yokohama’s Y-Port Project. She has been a member of the Institute for
Solidarity in Asia (ISA) where balanced scorecard is used for good governance in institutions.
iven her love for history and other advocacies, Ms. Ortega has delivered presentations on
women, including the history of women suffrage in the Philippines. She authored History of
Pindangan Ruins, the Makings of a City – the City of San Fernando, and has a video documentary
on the Victory of the Battle of Bacsil Ridge in WWII.
She is the first Asian to receive the Scroll of Honour Award from the United Nations Habitat
in 2000 and also a recipient of the Konrad Adenauer Stiftung award on Governance. She is a
Centennial Awardee of the College of the Holy Spirit and a Grandes Figuras Awardee of Letran
College for its 400th Year Celebration.
Jeffrey James C. Ligero, an Ilokano who hails from Pangasinan, has been pursuing historical
explorations and researches in several towns in the Ilocos and Cordillera for over a decade.
He co-authored the book Tawid: The Living Treasures of Ilocos Sur in 2010 around the time he
began teaching university history courses. He completed both his Bachelor of Arts and Master
of Arts in History at the University of the Philippines Diliman.
James is currently an Assistant Professor at the Division of History, College of Arts and Sciences
of the University of the Philippines Los Baños.
66
Michael “Migs” Armand P. Canilao began his studies on the development of settlements and
gold trading networks in the Cordillera early on, publishing his first book, Of Gold, Spanish
Conquistadors, & Ibaloi Generational Memory in 2011, three years after obtaining his Masters
in Archaeology from the University of the Philippines (UP) in Diliman. He also led the Provincial
Government-spearheaded Ilocos Sur Archaeological Project in 2011 and 2012, whose results
he published through Mountains and Sea, Case Studies in Coastal, Riverine, and Upland
Archaeology of Ilocos Sur in 2015 as he finished his Masters in Anthropology at the University
of Illinois at Chicago (UIC). He completed his Masters in Environment and Urban Geography,
and Doctorate in Anthropology, also at the UIC in 2017 and 2018, respectively. The book
Remote Sensing the Margins of the Gold Trade published last year is the product of his recent
studies.
Dr. Canilao is a Research Associate in Archaeology with the National Museum of the Philippines
and Research Associate of the Field Museum (Chicago, Illinois USA). He is an Associate
Professor at the UP-Archaeological Studies Program.
Nicolas B. Pichay is a poet, playwright, a lawyer, and an Ilocano. He is currently the Director
of the Legislative Research Service of the Senate of the Philippines. Nick was a scholar at
the Philippine High School for the Arts and the University of the Philippines. In 2007, he was
inducted to the Palanca Hall of Fame. He was a recipient of an Asian Cultural Council Grant and
a Humbert H. Humphrey Fellow spent at the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs
at Syracuse University. He is a published author of poems, plays, and legal commentaries.
Arnold Molina Azurin is a poet, essayist, and cultural historian distinguished for his
unconventional scholarship and critical views on culture, ethnicity and nationhood. His books
of essays, Just Vexations (1990) and Re-Inventing the Filipino Sense of Being and Becoming
(1993), monograph Beddeng, Exploring the Ilocano-Igorot Confluence (1991), and similar
presentations have been well-received even by critics for confidently and captivatingly
putting forward “off-center” interrogation of what have often been accepted as undisputed
historical truths and of dominant and dominating historico-cultural narratives.
67
Apart from the several publications under or with his name, he has also won two first prizes
for his collection of poems Dogodog and Other Poems Bypassed by the Northerlies and his
essay “Unraveling the Knots of Ethnicity” in the 1991 Palanca Memorial Awards.
Arnold hails from Vigan, Ilocos Sur.
Raul Pertierra was born and raised in the Philippines then migrated to Australia later. He
returned to the country of his birth in the 1970s as he began undertaking studies on Philippine
society and culture. He conducted fieldwork in the Ilocos Sur town of Burgos in the middle
to late 1970s, out of which he produced the book Religion, Politics, and Rationality in a
Philippine Community in 1988. He has published numerous other papers and books since,
as he specialized in different areas of study, including among others religion, migration and
diaspora, information technology and social life, globalization and national identities.
Along with teaching in Australia and the Philippines, Dr. Pertierra also held professorships in
Singapore, The Netherlands and Finland before his retirement. He continues to teach graduate
anthropology and sociology courses at the Ateneo de Manila University and Philippine
Women’s University where he is a visiting professor.
Joven R. Cuanang is one of the country’s top neurologists and former Director of the St. Luke’s
Hospital. A well-known patron of the arts, he established the Boston Art Gallery in Quezon
City in 1993 especially as exhibition space for young artists, and in 2010, he also founded the
Pintô Art Museum in Antipolo, which features some of the Philippines’ best contemporary
artists. Likewise an advocate of Philippine traditional textile weaving, Dr. Cuanang spearheads
the revival of cotton production in his home province, Ilocos Norte, to provide a local source
of organic fibers for traditional abel-Iloko weavers, whose production he equally supports.
68
About The National Museum of the Philippines
The National Museum of the Philippines, a non-profit and government institution, is the primary agency in
the country for the management and development of museums and collections of national scope in the
areas of arts, cultural heritage, and natural history. It functions as an educational, cultural, and scientific
institution that documents, acquires, preserves, protects, exhibits, and fosters scholarly and public
appreciation of a wide and growing range of works of art, specimens, and cultural and historical artifacts
representative of or unique to the heritage of the Filipino people and the natural history of the Philippines.
The National Museum Complex in Manila comprises the National Museum of Fine Arts, the National
Museum of Anthropology, and the National Museum of Natural History. It also has 16 regional, area, and site
museums strategically located in different parts of the country, including the NM Ilocos Regional Museum
Complex in the City of Vigan, Ilocos Sur, where the The Basi Revolt paintings are.
Admission to our galleries, exhibitions, and public programs is free to the public. For more information,
you may contact us at:
National Museum of the Philippines

Old Legislative Building
Rizal Park Complex, Padre Burgos Avenue, Manila
E-mail: inquiry@nationalmuseum.gov.ph
Telephone: (02) 8527 7889
(02) 8298 1100 ext. 3000
69
/nationalmuseumofthephilippines
@natmuseumph
@natmuseumph
/NationalMuseumofthePhilippines

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Contemporary Ilocano Commentaries on The Basi Revolt Panels

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National Library of the Philippines CIP Data

ISBN 978-971-567-045-6 (pb/bp)

1. Paintings— Philippines — History — Criticism and

759.9599 ND1028 2022 P12022003

About the Contributors 63

About the National Museum of the Philippines 69

“Ilocanos had a clear sense of

The Basi Revolt I

Vigilancia del Sr. Alcalde Mayor sobre las Rondas

Vigilancia del Sr. Alcalde Mayor sobre las Rondas

Two questions come to mind as I view the significance of these paintings.

Don Juan Ibañes

“In the panel, stance defines the degree of power

Romeo Bala Galang, Jr.

The Basi Revolt II

El Alcalde Mayor de las Provincias D. Juan Ibañes, da ordenas a los Governadorcillos

El Alcalde Mayor de las Provincias D. Juan Ibañes, da ordenas a los

The backdrop of the scene is a site of power—the Casa Real—where the

Race and power portrayed

“For a colonial work as this one, it is important for me to interrogate

Christine Agas Balmes

“It is not uncommon for artists to include symbolism that subverts

Althea Agas Balmes

The Basi Revolt III

Los Ilocanos Insurgentes del Norte dirigen al Sur.

Los Ilocanos Insurgentes del Norte dirigen al Sur.

Panel III is the most significant in the series as it is an attempt of an artist

Flag of the insurgents

“This is still the reality of our contemporary times.

Maria Eliza Agabin

The Basi Revolt IV

Los Caudillos de Candon y Santiago fueron reprendidos

Primary accounts by Augustinian priests in Archivo Histórico Hispano-agustiniano Y Boletín Oficial De La

Padre Florentino asks the dying Simoun in Rizal’s El Filibusterismo, “Why

“Unlike Jesus who was helped by a random stranger,

The Basi Revolt V

Tropa de Vigan enviada a rechazar los ataques del enemigo en Bantaoay

Tropa de Vigan enviada a rechazar los ataques del enemigo en Bantaoay

Divide and rule.

The Basi Revolt VI

Adelwisa L. Agas Weller

‘I grew up in a community producing sugar canes that were later

Gloria Lorenzana Agas

The Basi Revolt VII

Insurgente aprehendido por los Mestizos y muerto de azotes.

Insurgente aprehendido por los Mestizos y muerto de azotes.

Insurgente aprehendido por los Mestizos y muerto de azotes.

Mary Jane C. Ortega

Rev. Fr. Danny Laeda

The Basi Revolt VIII

Los Naturales de Bantaoay entran al templo.

Los Naturales de Bantaoay entran al templo.

The painting depicts an event in September, 1807. During the revolution of

Los Naturales de Bantaoay entran al templo.

“It was also said, in effect, that Ambaristo’s doom

Jeffrey James C. Ligero

The Basi Revolt IX

Sangrienta lucha estallada en Bantaoay

Sangrienta lucha estallada en Bantaoay

“We are reminded of the colonial pecking order where we as natives