Learning history has always been interesting to me because of how much the Philippines
has been influenced by colonizers. It is extremely difficult if not impossible to find surviving precolonial evidence of our culture. I can’t help envying our Asian neighbors whose identity can be
easily recognized just by their architecture. Compared to the stupas of India and the temples of
China and Japan, our iconic bahay kubo looks quaint. Reading this presentation made me realize
how even in landscape architecture, the Philippines lacks a distinct style.
When thinking of the “traditional Filipino” setting, our mind immediately brings us to the
terracotta-roofed buildings and capiz windows preserved in places like Intramuros and Vigan.
Although the bahay na bato adopted the wooden elements and open ventilation of the bahay kubo,
everyone can clearly see that Spain was here. We don’t need big, red letters to know that. The very
arrangement of our cities around churches and plazas was mandated to control and convert
Filipinos to Christianity. One new thing I understood from this lesson is why priests were never
just priests. They were almost always scientists or doctors of some kind. I used to think that they
were just so hardworking and smart that they would also practice science. It did not occur to me
that knowledge of plants or medicine would extend their power over their communities. If
everything the people needed was inside the monastery, there would be no need to go outside. By
detaching from the natural landscape, we have forgotten its value.
It was also quite appalling to read the specifications for the sites the Spaniards should
colonize. While it is a basic human instinct to settle where there are abundant resources, it is
outrageous that colonizers reaped the benefits while our people suffered in poverty and forced
labor. This made me wonder again what our country would be like had it not been colonized. How
would the Gadang tree house evolve to fit our modern lifestyle? Would our cities still be this
densely populated by concrete? There are so many could-have-beens, but I am quite certain that
our natural environment would have thrived longer.
Eastern civilizations seem to share the philosophy that nature is something to be respected.
Looking at the slides, there is a stark difference between the landscapes of India, China, and Japan
and the landscapes of England and France. Even though human activity was involved, eastern
landscapes look natural, like it was always meant to look like that. Take Indian temples for
example. It is obvious that the carvings of their religious figures are too intricate to be caused by
nature, but somehow it looks like the rocks only weathered over time instead of being sculpted.
Japanese gardens, on the other hand, show what nature could be like with its more minimalist and
careful layout. I especially liked learning how moss and lichen could give the impression of
“centuries rolling over”. In buildings, these plants can be a sign that the structure is unkept or too
old, but when it comes to Japanese gardens, they gave me a sense of smallness. These plants were
here before me, and they will continue to be here without me. Who am I to dictate where they do
and do not grow?
Meanwhile, the concrete temples, bridges, and pavements in European gardens make it
clear that humans are in control. Although the vast green landscape and pools of water can give a
sense of tranquility, the symmetrical topiary and perfectly kept parterres feel restricting to me. If I
was in a French garden, I would be too afraid to touch anything lest I ruin the aesthetic. It’s as if
there is no room for mistakes, which I now realize is actually also an Asian trait. Another foreign
concept to me is the folly, a nonfunctional structure for beauty. There is no doubt that Western
landscapes are beautiful, but for some reason their purpose seems to stops there –to be beautiful.
Out of 113 slides filled with stunning landscapes, this one about Chinese gardens made the
biggest impact on me. At first glance, the image brought me
inner peace. There is almost no hint of people being here
because even the temple blends in through the use of natural
materials. Humans can be obsessed with perfection and order,
but this scenery feels like it’s telling me, “you don’t have to
try so hard.”
I have always struggled with open spaces in my designs as an architecture student, so
studying history is one way for me to find inspiration. For my future designs, I hope to achieve the
harmonious feelings that Eastern landscapes evoke. I said at the beginning of this paper that I felt
disheartened about Philippine landscape architecture having ambiguous personality. However, I
am reminded to look at the brighter side. There are hundreds of other aspiring architects like me
who are more environmentally aware and want to promote the importance of the natural landscape.
History proves that we are capable of change, and it is never too late for it.