The unplanned life of Moira Lang
It was March 8, 2020, and Moira Lang found herself in Sagada, Mountain Province, celebrating the inauguration of a “restored-slash-reimagined” mural by Baguio artist friends that included Kawayan de Guia and Nona Garcia. Upon the merry group’s descent to Baguio after four or five days, the government was already announcing a lockdown.
The filmmaker—whose luminous career produced the films “Anak,” “Tanging Yaman,” “Sarong Banggi” and “Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros”—quickly bought a ticket back to Manila, two sacks of vegetables and two walis tambo. She was ready to go home; all she had to do was pack.
But as she was stuffing her few days’ worth of belongings into her bag, she stopped and wondered why she was in such a hurry to get away from the highlands. Manila was going to be insufferable in the heat of the impending summer. Offices were closed anyway, and she could just work remotely.
She never got on that bus.
Lang ended up spending six months in a sort of commune with friends in De Guia and Garcia’s guest house, cooking together, eating together, even learning art together while Lang programmed movies for them to watch.
When weeks turned to months, and it became clear that she wanted to stay in the Summer Capital, Lang found her own place to rent.
25 years’ worth of art
Considering that she has only been living in Baguio for almost four years, her townhouse feels very much lived in, quite literally wrapped in things she loves. Aside from the numerous baubles and curiosities purposefully littered around her home, the walls and even ceilings are covered in 25 years’ worth of art, from the ground floor up the stairwell all the way to the attic. Even the underside of the staircase has become a perfect spot to display art.
The piece that started it all holds its place of esteem hovering above the doorway. Titled “Death to Memory,” it was gifted to her by the artist himself, Wire Tuazon from Angono, Rizal, when she had to fill in for a writer who suddenly backed out of the Palawan coverage back when Lang contributed reviews for the now-defunct Today.
Among about a hundred artworks at the exhibit by various Southern Luzon artists, Lang couldn’t get that particular painting out of her mind, an indescribable pull urging her to inquire about it further. But before she could ask to buy the piece, Tuazon already offered to give it to her—on a promise that she would visit their gallery.
“That’s when the addiction started,” she said, laughing about the happy accident.
Lang finds gems from anywhere and everywhere, from exhibits and galleries to Facebook Marketplace and roadside stalls, many by artists who are just starting out.
The way up the second floor is a patchwork of faces. Portraits of real and imagined humans welcome guests, along with a lone self-portrait by the homeowner herself.
Baguio artists
All works in the guest room are by Yasmin Sison-Ching, while Lang has unintentionally kept works exclusively by Baguio artists in her bedroom—including De Guia’s photograph printed from moldy film, a small print by Santi Bose, and a large rubber-cut print by one of Lang’s favorite Baguio artists, Leonard Aguinaldo.
One of the oldest in the collection lives in the attic, a huge piece depicting an entity that is a cross between Jesus Christ and Ronald McDonald by Louie Cordero back from 1998.
A lot of the huge pieces around the house is by Jeona Zoleta, including striking self-portraits and a glorious oil painting of Lang made up like a zombie.
When Zoleta called her one day telling Lang her portrait was done, the producer was confused because she never asks for commissioned work. Turns out, the artist made a painting based on a photo of her during the filming of her 2011 movie “Zombadings 1: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington.”
Oddly enough, Lang prefers not to commission art, needing to feel a connection before she takes a piece home. Her only criteria for buying art, she said, are if she liked it and couldn’t forget about it. (That, and if she could afford it, she added laughingly.)
This system is basically the opposite of how she does her work in film. As a writer-producer, Lang is the kind of filmmaker who does everything from start to finish, which means the idea for a project has to either come from her or she picks up someone else’s idea that she wants to develop, and then brings the team not only to preproduction or postprod, but up to marketing and distribution of the film.
Absence of chaos and noise
In filmmaking, Lang said it’s important to know how to roll with the punches. “There are so many problems, but you have to enjoy it. If you don’t enjoy the process of shooting, you won’t be able to endure it because there are so many unexpected things that could crop up.”
Indeed, her particular knack for turning the accidental into serendipitous has paid off not a few times. In fact, it has helped her return to the industry she initially left when shifted out of her film course to the safer option—business administration.
Later on, she traveled a bit after quitting her job in brand management without a safety net, only to learn from friends about the opening of a new film company, Star Cinema. This would launch her career as brainstormer then screenwriter and later producer.
These days, with the revival of in-person meetings, work has Lang shuttling between Manila and Baguio once again. But she could spend days cooped up alone inside her Baguio home, just sipping her coffee while working, cooking something, and making playlists, which she finds immense pleasure in.
Her playlists are as eclectic as her art stash, refusing to adhere to any rule or genre. But even as her home in the mountains has become a kaleidoscopic jumble of brushstrokes on canvases, the absence of chaos and noise that usually accompany vibrant visuals and messages almost seem miraculous. Instead, each odd piece seems to be living with one another in perfect harmony.
“They have their own energies and they get along very well,” Lang said, referring to the artworks as her housemates.
Perhaps it isn’t so surprising that when asked which piece of art would she live in if she could, Lang pointed to a styrofoam relief by Eddie de Guzman (affectionately referred to as Mang Eddie), a self-taught artist they found one day selling his art along the road.
The piece shows a bunch of people happily having a picnic inside a cave—“nagluluto sila sa kaldero, merong nagkukutuhan, may naggigitara.” After all, this type of simple, serene living is what made Lang settle in foggy Baguio in the first place.
