The Sinag Arts Studio is a technical theater and training center located in the heart of Mandaluyong. That it was built barely four years after the founding of Sinag Arts Foundation (July 2, 1998) is a testament to her determination in uplifting the level of technical theater in the Philippines–and, to a greater extent, in Asia. The foundation brings together lighting designers, costume designers, electricians, producers, arts managers, interior designers and other theater professionals who share the same goals. These said professionals conduct workshops on backstage work such as lighting design, theater photography, costume design and make-up, sound and acoustics, events management, interior design and theater maintenance. Shoko proudly says Sinag is the first in Asia to provide training in all fields of backstage work. The training studio began operations at their new headquarters only last May 15. Prior to that, Sinag members were like gypsies traipsing the archipelago.
Despite its founding member’s protests, the story of Sinag does not begin and end on our shores. It is, after all, Shoko’s pioneering spirit that has brought together this unusual theater group.
In person, the accomplished lighting designer is lean but obviously fit. She speaks English with a thick Japanese accent that sounds even more appealing when delivering whatever sparse Filipino she has learned since she made the Philippines her home in 1994. At 47, she remembers an early interest in theater back in her native Yokohama. Then an impressionable 18-year-old, she was deeply moved by the student revolution brewing in Japan in the 1970s. Shoko was then taking a course in graphic design (a fashionable degree to which many of her generation–"The last of the hippies," she admits–were attracted to). The underground theater movement in her university was so exciting that she was compelled to join the action.
"The only skills I had were in painting and drawing," says Shoko who has since mastered her craft as a gas and electrical welder, electrical engineer as well as a lighting designer. "But the more I learned about theater, the more interested I became. At first, I tried calling professional set designers hoping I could apprentice with them. But I was told that only men worked backstage. Once, I was even asked if my supposed interest was part of a joke."
Shoko laughs out loud when asked how she fought the gender bias in a world dominated by men. Calling herself "unstoppable" (primarily because she was young and didn’t know any better), she was determined to break into theater even if it meant blowing the doors open. What happened next wasn’t as dramatic. A small ad in a theater publication provided access to the backdoor. It didn’t worry her that that she knew nothing about being a lighting designer. As an apprentice, at least she had a shot at working in theater productions. "I had a hard time as a trainee. I would cry almost every day because the work was hard. There was no one to really teach me. I had to learn things on my own. My co-workers didn’t want me around because I was ‘only’ a woman. It took time but, after I proved myself, their attitude towards me changed," she says.
Six months later, Shoko was faced with an even greater challenge. The lighting company was impressed with her work as an apprentice and was ready to hire her as full-time employee. But she had to choose between school and a career in theater.
"So I dropped out of school without my father’s knowledge," she again laughs naughtily. "You see, my family is quite conservative. Most Japanese don’t think highly of theater people. They think theater people don’t earn enough and that they’re lazy. Actually, any profession outside business is not thought of highly in Japan."
For several years, Mr. Matsumoto was led to believe his eldest daughter was going to be a graphic designer. His wife was in full support of their "rebellious" offspring who conveniently moved out of the house–staying away from the watchful eye of her father–as soon as she began her career. It was only much later that he was told (over dinner one night when he asked when Shoko was graduating) she was actually employed in a field he did not approve of.
"He has since passed away. But I guess I was also able to prove that there is honor in theater work. I have never depended on anyone financially since I began working," she concludes.
In 1978, Shoko left Stage Lighting Staff Co., Ltd. and joined Black Tent Theater. This was also the year she was taken under the wing of Director Makato Sato. Her work in productions abroad began in 1982–the first time she visited and immediately fell in love with the Philippines.
"I have to admit they had to drag me to the airport. I was very reluctant to go to Manila because I had a lot of work to do in Japan. But, as soon as I arrived, I was elated. I was delighted with the dynamism of your political climate. It excited me. Black Tent was then doing a co-production with PETA. We stayed for a month. During that time, we accompanied PETA members to street rallies and protests. I would never forget the Philippines because this is the first country I ever visited."
It was the first but not the last. Shoko later worked in productions in Yugoslavia, Belgium, Finland, Canada, the US, France, the UK, Russia, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Egypt, Germany, Taiwan, Portugal, Hong Kong, Korea, Singapore and Malaysia. In 1990, she migrated to the UK where she became a faculty member (as researcher) of Art and Design/Theatre Production of Craydon College. She stayed there until 1994 after which she moved to the Philippines.
"It took courage to live in England because I could not speak English. At work, I would use sign language and facial expressions. But I wouldn’t say I had a difficult time adjusting to a different culture. Theater people all over the world share the same culture. So I didn’t suffer from culture shock. More so when I moved to Manila because I could already speak English. Actually, I no longer need to learn Filipino because everyone here understands English. But stage hands react positively when I speak to them in broken Filipino," she explains.
Sinag Arts Foundation was born out of Shoko’s frustrations with local theater. Giselle Montero, Sinag administrator, clarifies that the workshops began simply as a means to train Filipino theater workers. "In the beginning, Shoko had a difficult time explaining how things should be done because things were done differently here. That’s when she felt that she needed to teach her boys what she knew. This was her way of improving productivity."
Productivity as well as a sense of professionalism. Shoko confesses she is a stickler for promptness. What often disappoints her is tardiness. Instead of simply admitting that they’ve been juggling jobs, some workers come up with a million and one excuses.
Her no-nonsense work ethic takes getting used to. But as a mentor, she is something else. Ian Torqueza, a Sinag lighting designer, has had the privilege of training under Shoko during the 1999 production of Magic Staff at the Meralco Theater. He recently completed work on a video project (as lighting designer) for Ballet Philippines. Not only is Shoko generous with her know-how, she also gives her apprentices a chance to pursue their own careers. "Even with already five years of technical experience, Shoko at first considered me a beginner. Shoko’s way of teaching was far beyond what I expected. Receiving my share of sermons and reprimands, somehow, I was able to look at this in a more positive perspective. I did a turn-about and now I’m happy and proud to say that I’m now one of Sinag’s most trusted lighting staff," Ian shares in the April issue of Backstage (Sinag’s in-house publication).
During the workshop, participants learn backstage work hands-on. There are hardly any lectures. "Backstage work can only be learned through practice. Some people who are scared of heights or who have a phobia with electricity simply learn to overcome such fears. I’m scared of heights but I can now traverse the cat walk," Giselle insists. "Participants usually don’t expect to do the things they are asked to do like climb ladders and do actual wiring. What’s nice about the workshops are the personalities that comprise the group. Sometimes thinkers are grouped with artists as well as technicians. The conflict and dynamism of the group make these workshops so unpredictable. But it’s really teamwork. Each member of the group contributes his/her best for a successful outcome."
A Sinag Arts certificate is a reminder of the wealth of experience garnered from each course. However, the learning does not end there. The workshops have become mini auditions for future productions. Those who excel in certain fields are later recommended to theater groups scouting around for fresh talent. Living up to its name, Sinag’s most popular workshops are those dealing with lighting. Its successful trainees include a female Singaporean journalist who is now pursuing further studies in lighting at a Hong Kong university. There are also a few electricians (the kind you call if your TV is on the blink) who are now getting paid to light up the theater stage. Truth is there is no limit to the type of participant drawn to the workshops. There have been housewives, advertising people, directors, artistic director, teachers, photographers and interior designers. For now, interest in Sinag and its training facility is produced by word of mouth. There is no budget for advertising. In fact, sponsors are needed to keep the foundation alive. Studio facilities (the theater and lobby) are being rented out for rehearsals, performances and functions. Rental fees go to operations, training and administrative expenses.
"Some of our projects have been funded by Japanese organizations. The sad fact is that our own government has not given us any support. Maybe that’s because we focus on backstage work. Backstage work is not considered art because it does not deal particularly with performing arts. Isn’t that strange?" says Giselle. The acknowledgment has, fortunately, come from a different sector. Local universities have approached Sinag for the OJT (on-the-job training) of their students enrolled in theater arts. This sits well with Shoko.
"I really have a soft spot for the Philippines," she reiterates. "The reason why I set up a training center here is because I saw a need for one here. But we want to do more than just uplift the local theater industry. What we aim to do is to export Philippine talent. The work has just begun."