SEPTEMBER 26, 2009 became a very memorable date to Filipinos: it was the date when typhoon Ondoy hit Metro Manila, Rizal, and Laguna. Living in an apartment around flood-prone UST, I and my roommates ended up stranded as the water outside rose to chest level and did not show any signs of subsiding. I really wanted to immortalize the dramatic Main Building and its reflection in the floodwater, placed in front of dynamic clouds signifying the end of the storm. Sadly, a wounded foot and a high-level flood got me think twice. However, the photographer in me strongly knowing that a calamity of this magnitude was very rarely seen affecting UST, I decided to face the flood. I didn’t even consider the threat of leptospirosis or any other flood-borne diseases I might contract. I just had to take this shot.
The flood was still knee-high when I got inside UST. I went to the field to start shooting, and to my amazement, I found beauty in UST that was then a body of water. For me, it seemed like the tragedy and whatever it left behind amplified the grandeur that was UST. I was delighted and thankful with the results of that ‘photo shoot in the flood,’ specifically the one with the Main Building, its reflection and the clouds. To tell you the truth, that kind of shot is one of my reveries.
I do not know whether it was the innate photographer in me which wanted my dream shots to be about UST, or if it is me being a Thomasian that made me want these reveries. My other dream photos would be a shot of the Main Building with symbolic clouds atop (making it look like the UST Quadricentennial Logo with the building and the ‘tongues of fire’), a photo of a lightning-struck Main Building, another photo of the Main Building that seemed to be launching a rainbow (I already witnessed this once but to my disappointment, I didn’t have a camera at hand), and a photo of Main Building and its reflection on the water.
With Ondoy and the picturesque disorder it left UST, I immortalized in photo another one of those reveries (I have three of the four now, I only lack the rainbow shot), I accomplished another dream, and this makes risking meaningful and the risks and threats meaningless.
I then struggled to reach UST’s España side and take a picture of Ondoy’s after-effects to the Arch of the Centuries when a guy passed by and noticed me. “That’s a nice angle!” he said, which made me feel pleased that another person had visualized the same scenario that I had wanted to capture. I realize that, indeed, taking photographs with these conditions is tough, but I would not have it any other way.
Risks. A lot of people are afraid of them, myself included. Consequently, these risks may bar one’s creativity, but an individual’s action and reaction to these limits defines who they are. This is why I like this job. I understand that photography is all about risking for immortal moment in time. And I am proud to say I am living the life of a photographer, with and despite its many risks.
