Winged, whimsical and no longer grim

I would gladly ride a grocery cart around the mall, but never a wheelchair. I guess I am superstitious that way. Wheelchairs, to me, are the Dementors of the vehicle world. Their metal arm and foot rests feel like scalpels against the flesh. Their folding seats, like traps. A writer dreads a wheelchair like bad Internet connection on deadline day, or Annie Wilkes. Yet the wheelchair is one of the most convenient inventions of all time, and it wasn’t always so bleak (in the 17th century it served more as a wheelbarrow, carrying stones and sand, and apart from transporting the disabled, it carried spoiled royals). It’s unfortunate that it has maintained its sad, gray state, while other vehicles, like bikes and cars, get pimped out every day. Why so serious, wheelchairs?

And then this happiness project of sorts happened. A pair of like-minded individuals, Dr. Joven Cuanang, art collector and medical director of St. Luke’s Medical Center, and Gilda Cordero-Fernando mulled over an idea for five whole minutes, and decided it was worth doing. This was four months ago — the Apolonario Mabini Hapi Wheelchair Art Project was born. “I once had to go up three floors on a wheelchair at the Wilfredo Ma. Guerrero Theater in UP Diliman, there was a show that I wanted to see. I had to be carried by four hunks –– the theater hunks, my hunk, and then another hunk. And I thought, ‘Ang saya saya pala to be carried by hunks! Paano pa kaya kung yung wheelchair decorated na parang jeepney?’” says Gilda. “I thought, Ang ganda gawin nito ng maramihan.” She called Dr. Cuanang, they agreed on a plan, and that zygote of an idea turned into the first-ever wheelchair art parade in the country, held at the Mind Museum grounds in Bonifacio Global City recently, in time for the Apolonario Mabini Week for Persons with Disability.

The objective is as straightforward as the means: trigger a paradigm shift in the way we look at how we can help people with disabilities. “A lot of people don’t want to ride in a wheelchair. Maybe they don’t want people to know they have disabilities.  And the wheelchair itself is a symbol of disability. In my experience, people who have had strokes become really depressed. We believe that, while there are a lot of medications available for depressed patients, if you can use non-pharmaceutical means to uplift their spirits, why not?” says Dr. Cuanang. “Art is a great tool that should be utilized. People with disabilities go under rehabilitation programs that involve art classes and craft-making, because studies have shown that people with disability or even elderly people who do art therapy are happier, more cooperative and are easier to take care of,” he adds.

The scene at the lobby of Mind Museum was trippy. Rondalla players made music transported me back to my old high school’s field on flag day, playing ethnic-esque music as wheelchairs dressed up to the nines approached. The resulting designs answered Dr. Cuanang’s question: “What if wheelchairs weren’t black? What if they were crimson, red, or in polka dots, or adorned with balloons?” Except they weren’t just red or printed –– they had wings and lights and boobies.

The artists took wheelchair art to heart and designed with the user in mind. Agnes Arellano’s “Anti-stress Wheelchair” was covered in breasts of different sizes, placed on the backrest, seat, armrest and footrest to cushion and pamper its occupant.

Kawayan de Guia went back to his roots and created a chair that tries to rediscover traditional mountain cures, a carved bul-ol on the body of the wheelchair absorbing illness caused by bad spirits.

Io Regalado’s “Ibong Malaya” has golden wings made of foam and fabricated stainless steel. “Most patients feel trapped in a wheelchair. This one should make them feel they can fly,” says Regalado.

Ling Quisumbing Ramilo and Pancho Villanueva collaborated on “House Chair,” inspired by ancestral houses, complete with stained glass windows, a fabric roof with calado trimmings, and a banggera.

“My All-Weather Guardian Angel Salumpuwit” is Kidlat Tahimik’s collaborative project — the rattan guardian angel that hovers over the occupant was made by blind Ifugao sculptor Rogelio Ginanoy, while other parts were by Baguio, Ifugao and Bontoc weavers, carvers, painters and junk dealers.

Don Salubayba’s retablo-inspired design combined recycled wood, metal, cloth, foam and LED lights. “Get a wheelchair, make it bongga, make it masaya. That was the objective,” says Salubaya. “Wheelchairs are designed in a way that makes you look sadly-relaxed. This one let’s you enjoy.”

Karen Ocampo Flores and Noel Soler Cuizon collaborated in “Primera, Segunda, Tercera,” a “conjugal wheelchair” made with acrylic and oil on wood, a light box and found objects. “We wanted to make a ‘couple wheelchair’ and worked around the concept of “Till death do us part.”

Leeroy New’s “Temple of Healing” was a throne of antlers painted in vibrant coral.

Nona Garcia worked with IV drips, weaving them together to create the seating and backrest. Aba Dalena’s “Anghel Bulilit” is made with fiberglass, acrylic and papier mache. Wendy Regalado’s chair, “Man’s Beast Friends,” tells a story of three bamboo-and-paper cats. Marc Cosico’s blue “Custom Kalesa” is a carosa flanked by a pair of cherubs. Gerry Leonardo built a mobile boom box, the “TRV” or “Therapeutic Rolling Vehicle.” Plet Bolipata, inspired by the Fall of Icarus, created “Winged Chariot.” Robert Alejandro fashioned yero (tin) into the “Silver Chariot.”

The senior students of Makiling High School of the Arts created an orgami reinterpretation of a city, made mostly of resin and paperboard, and mounted it on the back and seat of the chair.

“If the designers of wheelchairs think out of the box and make it a little less drab, like what these artists did, we can make the wheelchair an instrument to make people happy,” says Dr. Cuanang.

The wheelchairs are on display at the lobby of St. Luke’s Bonifacio Global City until tomorrow, Aug. 6.