DrawHappy in the Philippine Daily Inquirer

July 26, 2012
Art, Drawing, News
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This week, something unexpected happened; I’m a published print journalist once again. Pop the champagne! It’s nothing I haven’t already wrote or spoke about before—I wrote about DrawHappy (full article below) for the readers of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. This is the first print article about the project, and I hope to write about my other projects, too.

DrawHappy in the Philippine Daily Inquirer’s Learning section

How did this happen? Last week, I had coffee with my former editor, whom I hadn’t seen in eight years and who now runs the Learning section. She was kind enough to listen to the projects I am running. That was on a Wednesday; my first article ran five days later. I have been through enough to be grateful for paths of least resistance. It’s pretty much the same routine of me looking at all submissions, except that whatever I send to my editor will exist in print first, then this blog.

Why this newspaper? Well, I used to write for them. While I was rarely in their offices—the consequence of the Internet—I did meet my editor, the president, and the chairperson once, and they’re quite lovely people whom I respect. I have quite fond memories of assignments involving me as a zookeeper, a magician’s assistant, a mascot, a sushi chef, as well as the requisite book and movie reviews. The Philippine Daily Inquirer also has the widest readership in the Philippines. Because it exists in print as well as online media, I hope my projects reach even those who can’t afford technology.

Back in the day, I was what they would call a youth correspondent, and I was just out of high school. (No need for gasps of ageist-related awe; there were people younger than I was, and trust me, the differences in depth of writing among them were vast.) During college I wrote over 100 articles until I moved to New York.

I am very thankful for those years with the Inquirer because it taught me to be able to write about anything with the tightest of deadlines and with the barest of writing instruments and technology. It has taught me to take criticism, hate mail, and the occasional death threat with as much poise and dignity as possible. Going back to those old articles has always made me smile and wince at the same time. What one writes when she is 29 years old is quite different when she was 17.

It’s also funny because, as someone who was always taught that writing is no way to make a living, it has been helping me pay the bills in the almost-two months I’ve been finished with my Fulbright. Back in those days, I deposited all my writing-related paychecks in a couple of local bank accounts that I promptly forgot when I left to travel. It’s not much, but hey, guess who just paid herself while she gets her projects off the ground? Oh, the irony.

Below is the article, with the link to PDI’s website here.

What Makes the World Happy

DrawHappy: A global art project on drawing your happiness

“Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.”

—Dalai Lama

Perhaps it was a nagging curiosity, perhaps it was restlessness, but for one reason or another, I found myself in the mysterious and sometimes mystical country of Iceland. It wasn’t just the need to get away from the mania of New York City. I went there on a hunch. For years, I have been fascinated with happiness—its arbitrariness as well as our insistence on studying it as though it were quantifiable. Iceland happens to rank consistently as one of the happiest places in the world. And so off I went.

I wanted to ask these people what made them happy, but ah, how do I get them to show it? I realized that one of the most universal and clearest ways to record their responses was to ask them to draw their happiness. Drawing is one of the earliest skills we learn; its basic elements are comprehensible to people of all ages, cultures, and nations. I reasoned that if people knew that they were happy, they should be able to identify the source and moreover, visually embody this joy.

Kindness is first

I vividly remember the first time I asked someone to draw. It was in a diner, a short pit stop on the way back to Reykjavik after spending time in the black beaches of Vik. The young man, Arnar, who worked the register and couldn’t be more than 17 years old, was such a warm an genuine character that I knew I had to ask him.

When you have a project in your head, the initial step is always one of uncertainty and awkwardness. I didn’t have a name for the project yet. I felt foolish for even asking. But I was immensely touched when he drew something that I never thought would be the first sketch. “When I see people do an act of kindness, that makes me feel truly happy,” he said. Kindness! In a world that’s often depicted as materialistic and disconnected! Perhaps there was something to this after all.

A one-woman happiness machine

That first encounter made it easier for the succeeding ones. I became a one-woman happiness machine right afterwards, asking everyone in my path. Even a particularly cold and windy day (in Iceland, “windy” means “being swept off your feet”) didn’t stop me—I went through the entire street of Laugavegur, the primary commercial street in Reykjavik, and asked every single person who would listen to me. Some turned me away, but many took my offered pencil and drew, which they confessed they hadn’t done in years. Some told me that no one ever asked them this question before, which made me do a double-take (Seriously?) and a cartwheel (Yes! About time!).

I set my goal for the Iceland trip to 100 drawings, a big yet manageable number since my trip lasted around two weeks, with half of the time spent chasing waterfalls, volcanoes, and the Northern Lights. But I persisted, even asking people on the plane with me en route to New York. Upon returning, I reviewed the sketches I had, reflected on why I was even interested in doing this to begin with, and decided to put everything online and continue the project.

Drawings as data

My teachers and classmates at the Interaction Design program at the School of Visual Arts, where I received my MFA this May, helped me a lot in tightening up my story and clarifying my intentions with DrawHappy. A final project for my Data Visualization class led to me creating an infographic about the sketches I had. I began treating the drawings as actual data, categorizing the countries where people came from and what they drew. I think doing this helped me understand why people chose to draw what they did.

Until now, I ask people to give their name, age, country of origin, and profession. They don’t have to, but I encourage it because I think it’s important to own up to your happiness and it gives me a way to see how it is defined by people of their demographic. I also ask them about what they were doing right before they made the drawing; I think our notion of happiness is contextual and affected by the things that surround us. How a person views happiness also changes through time, and occasionally, I get another submission from a previous participant, whose definition of happy has evolved.

Going global

It has been more than a year since Iceland. The project has since received submissions from 47 countries. Even now, my heart would skip a beat every time I get an email from a complete stranger, wanting to participate in the project. I have smiled, laughed, wondered at, and cried at the stories I have gotten from people I may never meet. DrawHappy has been a window into our shared humanity, one that is universal and timeless. I hope to run this project forever; I think it has sustained me as well as the people who have supported it.

Lessons on happiness

DrawHappy has also made me understand happiness in a deeper way. Happiness is a paradox. To quantify it, as I have found, is less interesting to me than to qualify it by what people have chosen to draw. Happiness is also a way of life, not an end. How we are happy, that is, whether we can see the little joys in the day, matters more than the bigger payoffs of life. Finally, I now believe that happiness is something that can be cultivated or practiced every single day. I hope that in getting people to draw, they will be reminded of their happiness and that they take steps to pursue it.

Parts of this article have appeared in the project’s site, http://www.DrawHappy.org as well as my personal blog, http://www.ThePerceptionalist.com. Follow the project at http://www.DrawHappy.org or @idrawhappy.

Starting today, we will be accepting DrawHappy submissions from all PDI readers! Visit http://www.DrawHappy.org/submit for submission guidelines  and terms, and email drawhappyproject@gmail.com with the subject line “DrawHappy PDI.” We will feature a drawing every week in Inquirer Learning, and will post them online at http://www.DrawHappy.org. If you wish to hold a DrawHappy event in your school, company, or organization, please email me as well.

Extraordinary Smells of Ordinary Objects: The Scents of Rain, Space, and Tumors

July 21, 2012
Science, Smell, Uncategorized
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One afternoon, I accidentally got off the wrong floor of my East Village apartment. Each floor in the building looked exactly the same, and yet, for some reason, I felt that something was amiss. Wait, it smells different, I thought.

Smell, the most underestimated and underappreciated of our senses, is everywhere. In Chandler Burr’s The Emperor of Scent, he tells the story of a woman to whom everything smelled vile. The condition, cacosmia, kept her indoors for years, until a doctor diagnosed her to have a form of epilepsy that was interfering with her olfactory bulb. Once given the proper medication, the woman could recall the specific moment when her sense of smell started to become normal. The room she was in started to change in perspective, as though it were moving. It seems that smell affects our sense of space.

Curiously, things that we may not immediately attribute smells actually give off odors. Here are some examples:

1. Rain

Can you smell when a storm is coming?

You know when you (or animals) can “smell” that rain might come? Well, it turns out that you’re not imagining it. Rain does give off a smell; three of them, in fact. These are ozone, petrichor, and damp earth, according to Daisy Yuhas of Scientific American.

(HT @sciam)

2. Space

Space can remind astronauts of steak, metal and welding fumes, among other things.

Perhaps “ordinary” isn’t the word I would use for space, but it’s quite fascinating that something that primarily awes us visually can also smell otherworldly. Megan Garber of The Atlantic reports that astronauts describe the smell of space in various ways, such as “seared steak,” “hot metal,” and “welding fumes.”

3. Tumors

Dogs as cancer detectors

Dogs, whose sense of smell is 100,000 times more sensitive than that of humans. Last year, German researchers reported that dogs can detect the smell of cancer, specifically lung cancer. When cells start to mutate because of the disease, they give off volatile odors that dogs can detect.

Hacking into olfaction

Scientists are increasingly finding ways to elucidate the complex process of olfaction. In 2010, Harvard scientists engineered mice that were capable of “smelling light.” The same year, German scientists also engineered flies that were capable of perceiving light for unpleasant smells.

You Don’t Look It: Age, Achievement, and The Perception of Time

July 15, 2012
Journal, Time
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“You’re 29? You look so much younger!” one of the teenagers in my taekwondo class exclaims, incredulous. (As I’ve discussed before, more kids get into martial arts at a younger age in Asia. Whenever I train in the western world, I’m always one of the youngest, but back here in Manila, I always feel like their token geezer.)

We live in a world where we are judged by numbers. We are obsessed with stats—the number of miles we ran or biked, our waistline, the number of wrinkles on our faces, our credit score, the number of exes, how many times we get a retweet—the list goes on. There’s probably a smartphone app to track each one of them.

These are numbers we can improve upon, manipulate, transform. But there’s one that is universal and irreversible: birthdays. The passage of time. The number of candles on a cake that signals another 365 days have gone by.

From my experience, it’s considered rude to ask someone’s age in America. In Asia, people can ask quite directly, though it’s a question I believe people secretly don’t like once they hit 25. The question, “How old are you?” almost becomes accusatory, and the answer is usually followed up with “Do I look it?”

Consider some of the articles that have recently had so much discussion. “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All” by Anne-Marie Slaughter, “The Busy Trap” by Tim Kreider, and to a lesser, but no less important, extent, “Friends of a Certain Age” by Alex Williams. Among obvious issues the articles are primarily about, such as feminism, work values, etc., lie a crucial factor that unwittingly drives our questions of achievement and meaning: time, and whether we have enough of it to do all that we, in our limited existence in the world, desire to do.

We feel that time is a resource we are constantly running out of, and then comes the inevitable question we ask ourselves: “What have you got to show for it?” Where is the book you’ve promised yourself you were going to write? Have you gone on that big trip you said you would? Did you learn that second language, get that graduate degree, make that movie? Why are you single, separated, or divorced?

Perhaps some of us go through time hoping we can pause it. Please, hold off until I catch up. There are way too many decisions to make, hurdles to overcome, and relationships to manage to be able to check things off of our personal bucket lists. But time is like a cab ride; the meter keeps going until your journey is over.

Time impacts everything we sense. In The New Yorker’s profile of neuroscientist David Eagleman, who studies time perception and synesthesia, he says:

“But the interesting thing about time is that there is no spot. It’s a distributed property. It’s metasensory; it rides on top of all the [other senses].”

With regards to birthdays, it seems that age does affect our perception of time. Burkhard Bilger, who wrote Eagleman’s profile, elaborates in the article:

“One of the seats of emotion and memory in the brain is the amygdala, [Eagleman] explained. When something threatens your life, this area seems to kick into overdrive, recording every last detail of the experience. The more detailed the memory, the longer the moment seems to last. ‘This explains why we think that time speeds up when we grow older,’ Eagleman said—why childhood summers seem to go on forever, while old age slips by while we’re dozing. The more familiar the world becomes, the less information your brain writes down, and the more quickly time seems to pass.”

Many people try to cheat time by compromising. The hear the ringing of what I’ve heard called, rather amusingly, “marriage-o-clock,” according to Kate Bolick of The Atlantic. They set themselves a deadline for getting married and having kids. Or they choose and stay with jobs they secretly don’t love. The older we get, the less options we supposedly have, and no one wants to feel like they didn’t “make it” and that their time was a waste.

For as long as I can remember, I have always been guilty of  judging myself for what I have done in the time I was allotted. In my mental timeline of my slowly-disappearing twenties, I can narrate the past decade by the things I have achieved, such as exhibitions, degrees, residencies, personal projects, travel, and friendships I’ve made and developed. I’ve seen them as significant milestones, because each has provided me with a type of personal growth that I think is unachievable if I tried to live otherwise. I suppose that subconsciously, I do this partly in the hopes that I’ll never have to lie or feel embarrassed about my age, as the months slowly encroach into my thirtieth year, when I will ask myself whether I made excellent use of the time I had and if I feel the need to withhold the year of my birthday.

So back to my interrogation. “How long have you been doing taekwondo?” presses my gregarious young friend.

“Since I was thirteen.”

“Really? But you’re still good!”

Oh, bless you, my child. I think.

Frozen Water: Icebergs, Glaciers, and The Beauty of the Ponderous

July 13, 2012
Art, Science
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There is nothing like a heatwave that will make you wonder about things that are cold. Seriously, with some of the warmest temperatures hitting North America, it’s time to think about natural structures that will likely disappear in time. Here are two of my favorite artists and their pieces on ice:

1. Camille Seaman

In her project, “The Last Iceberg,” photographer Camille Seaman captures breathtaking portraits of these colossal structures. “They are like humans in that each one reacts to its environment and its circumstances in its own way,” says the 42-year-old artist in an interview with the New York Times. “There’s a sadness to them.”

I think they’re hauntingly beautiful; it feels like they’ve been around forever and have the history of the earth etched on their faces.

Svalbard, 2008. Image copyright by Camille Seaman via NYTimes

(via NYTimes)

2. Katie Paterson

One of my favorite artists, Katie Paterson, has a lovely piece called “Langjökull, Snæfellsjökull, Solheimajökull.” These are the names of three Icelandic glaciers from which she obtained sound recordings, pressed them into three records, cast, frozen with meltwater from each of the glaciers, and played until melted.

Langjökull, Snæfellsjökull, Solheimajökull. Image copyright by Katie Paterson via the artist’s website.

I’m so happy artists are able to create these beautiful pieces that sadly may outlast their subjects. While you’re at it, check out Project Pressure, an organization that aims to document the world’s changing glaciers.  (via The Guardian)

Ghosts from Projects Past: Visitations from Old Designs

July 8, 2012
Art, Design, Journal
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You know you’re home when old projects haunt you like spirits.

While my work is primarily about the “intersections of science and art,” I do, from time to time, do design work for things I care a lot about. Here are two of them that have appeared on my radar, physically and online, almost as if to say, “Hi! Remember me? Look at me now!”

It’s as though they were orphans I raised and gave to caring homes.

So, here are the children I gave away:

1. A logo for the Philippine Taekwondo Association 

As my friends and colleagues know, taekwondo is something that’s really important to me, but not in a competitive way. I think it has helped me a lot personally and professionally. I wanted to give back, not through competing (which I assure you, does not suit me) but through something else—design. Around 2008, I reached out to my old teacher, Coach Jobet Morales, a former medalist and currently the Philippines’ national coach, who said that coincidentally, they needed a new logo. I already had something in mind, but I also met with Coach Morales and Grandmaster Sun Chong Hong who discussed what they needed. (I remember that day! It was lunchtime and I thought that being with these two black belts was the safest place in the world. We had Korean bibimbap.)

The logo they approved has the association’s initials, rendered in the colors of the Philippine flag. The blue letter has the profile of a bird, symbolic of the Philippine eagle. The red letter is a roundhouse kick, which was a compromise because I initially suggested a side kick (better suited with the T shape), though was told that roundhouse kicks were more frequent in taekwondo (actually, true). The yellow letter has a sun from the Philippine flag.

Now it’s 2012 and, training at the central taekwondo headquarters in Manila, I keep seeing it all the time. On certificates, belts, chest guards, banners, etc. It’s quite an honor, and I’m thrilled they’re still using it.

2. A poster for Carlos Celdran’s Intramuros tour

My friend Carlos, who does these awesome tours in Manila, tagged me on this photo emailed to him by some European tourists and newlyweds. The poster on the right was my first graphic design poster, which Carlos gives away on his tours. I did this around the same time as the taekwondo project, and both remain among the graphic design projects closest to my heart. What he has done for the Philippines is fantastic, and while his tours are primarily performance art, it has contributed to the discourse of critical issues in the country.

(To the people in this photo, shoot me an email if you’d like to be identified. And thank you so much! You made my day. Oh, and congrats!)

A Disclaimer

I did these projects without any graphic design education at the time. The only things I had experience in were molecular biology and journalism. I was just a girl with a curiosity for Adobe Illustrator and a thing about “making the world a better place.” Years have passed and I’m done with an art residency and an MFA in Interaction Design, and looking at back at these projects made me both smile at the exuberance of youth and cringe at some tiny mistakes. (The kerning! Rats. I need to fix that.) But my friends / clients still seem happy about them, so I suppose that’s what counts. That brief time I was in Manila, I just loved their work and what they’ve done for me, and I thought that this was the best way to help them out. I may never be in the Olympics or Games of any sort, but at least my logo will! And helping cultural gems like Carlos’s work is something that’s always rewarding to do.

I have a cold. And this is probably why I’m sentimental.

Hello World: Messages from The Listserve

July 1, 2012
Design
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Each time I open an email from The Listserve, I want to reply.

Oftentimes, I wonder what would happen if I did. Most of these people actually left a email address, as well as their location. I wonder if it would add any serendipity to their lives if someone sent a hello. I imagine many already have. In the emails I’ve received, few have chosen to remain anonymous.

I wonder what made them choose to write what they did. I think all human beings want to be heard at some point. To have such a large audience instantly available—what character will you inhabit? What intentions will you have?

It’s the digital version of sending a message in a bottle off to sea, only you’re guaranteed readers.

Some of them wrote short pieces of advice that would, in another context, sound like a daily horoscope, or from a very grandmotherly sounding inspirational app. “Do something fun.” “Forgive.” “Be generous.” “Don’t be afraid.”

Others had short anecdotes about their travels. A visit to Vietnam. India. Crete. Albania.

They send tales about people and things. I learned about Patrick of Ireland. The joy of beekeeping. It’s like getting an email from Wikipedia.

There are interesting essays. An encounter with a one-armed frog. A parrot named Bagel. A recipe for a good Bloody Mary, or a love potion.

I love the miscellany. Book recommendations. International cooking projects. Lists. Words in other languages. The things they did that changed their lives.

It’s like someone’s library exploded and we were emailed fragments of it.

It’s also wonderfully free. Go sign up now.

Genetic Revelations: The Day I Got My DNA Done

June 29, 2012
Experiments, Science
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Opening up your online DNA results is, ironically, almost like cracking open a fortune cookie.

Genetics is something I’ve lived with all my life. My mom was a genetics professor, and my undergraduate degree is in molecular biology. And so I knew that even though I was presented with the “science of myself,” I had to take it with a grain of salt. In addition to our genes, the environment plays a role, too. For example, not being at risk for heart disease is great, but eating foods chockful of saturated fat can kill you eventually.

So over a year ago, I had my DNA done. (You know, it’s like getting your nails done. Kidding.) I used two services, 23andMe and National Geographic’s Genographic Project. The former required you to spit in a tube, while the latter asked for a cheek swab. 23andMe yields a more personalized profile of health and ancestry, while the Genographic Project is a research project that aims to map the migratory history of the human race. Both are very affordable; I wouldn’t have done them if they cost several hundred dollars. I was able to get a 23andMe kit for $99 during a Black Friday sale, and a Genographic kit costs $99.95.

The results are fascinating and intriguing. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure what they could mean. Will I have a different (or perhaps deeper) sense of identity, now that I have a better idea of ancestry? Will I turn into a hypochondriac if I see that I’m at risk for certain diseases?

Some things about me that I already know: I was born and raised in Manila, the Philippines, to a Filipina mother and a Chinese father. I suppose both are mixed at some point, especially considering the Philippines’ long colonial history. I’m pescetarian, a non-smoker, and rarely drink. Because of all the years living in different countries, my immunization requirements (a must for getting your student or exchange visas) are complete. On average, I do 5 to 9 hours of taekwondo a week. (Yes, I realize this makes for a very boring dating profile.)

Here are some highlights of my results:

23andMe

The homepage of your 23andMe profile shows updates to research results. On the left is the menu where you can check out your health and ancestry profiles.

Health

1. I could die from a heart attack. Bummer. Of all the increased disease risks, “atrial fibrillation” topped the chart. This wasn’t much of a surprise. Once or twice a year I end up with an irregular heartbeat; my heart beats harder than normal for several minutes. I would stop and breathe slowly, and my heart beat would eventually normalize. My ECG has always been ok.

2. I have decreased risks of Type 2 diabetes, breast cancer and Parkinson’s disease. Oh happy day.

3. I am lactose intolerant. At this point I started to doubt whether they processed the right sample, because I’ve been drinking milk all my life and I love it. The fine print did say that I “may still be lactose tolerant for environmental reasons.”

Ancestry

1. Based on my maternal haplogroup, I am closely related to East Asians, particularly Japanese, followed by Siberians and South Americans. It wasn’t particularly revelatory; I’ve always had very pale skin. It used to be a joke that I was “whiter than white people.”

2. I am labeled Eurasian, though the Asian-ness greatly surpasses the Euro-ness. My friends surmise the latter is responsible for my height. I’m 5’9″, which is quite gigantic by Asian women’s standards. I do think that I’ve met so many Asian women just as tall, if not taller, so perhaps it’s due to a shift in nutrition as well. (All that milk, I suppose.)

3. Clicking on “Relative Finder,” I see that I have potential distant cousins who also used the service and whom I can contact. The likelihood of me sending them a message is close to null. I think I would rather reach out to another human being because of similar interests instead of genes. It’s fun to know that I have distant relatives from all over the world, though.

The Genographic Project

Among the results you get from The Genographic Project is a map showing the migratory pattern of your ancestors’ DNA.

There are similarities between my results from The Genographic Project and my ancestry results for 23andMe, which made me more confident in their results. Highlights of my ancestral journey include (starting from Africa, where we all came from) countries in the Middle East, and then Asia. I would love to do a project where I can travel through all these countries with this in mind. Note that for both services, I would get more information if I compared my results with those of a male relative, as I, being female, do not have a Y chromosome.

Now What?

Do I recommend getting your DNA tested? Of course! I think human beings will always be interested in different facets of their identities. Unlike other, dubious diagnostics such as personality tests, horoscopes, etc., this gives you insight into your actual biological past (and present) and can allow you to make important decisions, especially health-wise, about your future.

Will it affect me significantly? Not really. It was interesting to see where my ancestors came from, but in the end, I’m more interested in where I have been myself. My “cultural DNA”—the languages I speak, the places I live in, the habits I acquire, the people I call my friends—will likely make more of an impact on me. As for health, I think I already lead a pretty healthy lifestyle, but it’s good to know what I’m at risk for and what I’m not. At the end of the day, everyone dies.

A Short Case for Curiosity

June 24, 2012
Wonder
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If we are curious,

We can enrich our lives because we can purposefully seek meaning, instead of finding solace in empty superficiality.

Relationships can be stronger because each uplifts the other through their passions.

Organizations can work with more intention, go deeper, and become more innovative and impactful.

Cities can have more engaged and concerned citizens who can make things happen with creative solutions.

Countries can have leaders that are more informed and make better decisions for those they are serving.

The world can sustain itself for future generations.


The Scent of Desire: Birth Control and Mate Selection

June 22, 2012
Books, Science, Smell
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In a conversation with Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project, we exchanged ideas about the senses, particularly about smell. She mentioned a book she was reading called The Scent of Desire by Rachel Herz. A part of it discussed olfaction as a way for human beings to choose mates and how the birth control pill may be a culprit for divorce.

The Scent of Desire by Rachel Herz

Research suggests that birth control affects women’s taste in men. It’s all in the MHCs, or major histocompatibility complexes, hidden in the scent of men. Studies show that females prefer men whose MHCs differ from their own, perhaps to increase chances of  survival—the resulting offspring will then bear more diverse MHC profiles.

But being on the pill creates a preferential shift towards men with similar MHCs. Relationship troubles can then start when the woman gets off the pill; she begins to be attracted to MHC-dissimilar men and is less attracted to the MHC-similar guy she’s with.

In simpler terms, being on the pill can make you attracted to Mr. Wrong, and you realize it when you get off the pill.

(Read more at Psychogical Science.)

Where Science Comes Alive: The Mind Museum and Designing for Emotion

June 20, 2012
Art, Exhibitions, Exploring, Field Trips, Science
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One of the best things I learned since moving back to Manila is The Mind Museum.

The Mind Museum at Taguig. Image via The Mind Museum’s Facebook page

It was a great day to reconnect with the city, and it was an even better surprise when I discover that one of my former capoeira classmates now works there as an exhibit manager.

The building itself is a gorgeous piece of architecture led by Ed Calma (featured in the December 2011 / January 2012 issue of Fast Company). It is a significant addition to the commercial, artistic, and residential landscape of Fort Bonifacio.

There are five galleries in two floors spread over 5,000 square-meters:

  1. The Story of the Universe: Its Beginning and Majesty
  2. The Story of the Earth: Its Story Across the Breadth of Time
  3. The Story of Life: The Exuberant Varieties of Life
  4. The Story of the Atom: The Strange World of the Very Small
  5. The Story of Technology: The Showcase of Human Ingenuity
It’s such a great example of interactivity in a science museum. The major theme is nature in scale. Visitors can go through a human brain, see a skeleton of a T-rex up close, and come across scientific concepts by experiencing them. It has been open since March, but already has gained visits from locals and tourists alike.
Maribel Garcia, curator, emphasized the importance of scientific correctness and emotionally grabbing the viewers—an opinion that   I share, and one that triggered this “science meets art” trajectory in my life.
Visit The Mind Museum site.