Aze Ong Expresses Her Long Journey to Healing Through Loops of Yarn

(SPOT.ph) "Minsan makukulit 'yang mga 'yan," fiber artist Aze Ong tells us in a matter-of-fact tone, the way that a mother might speak lovingly of her children. And yet she hadn’t spoken out of maternal charge nor as a kind of good-hearted aside about pig-tailed toddlers running around in her studio, but instead to the spiritual correspondence that persists between her and her work.

She told us that her installations appeared in her dreams. They spoke to her in 2011 when she had first solo exhibition at the Kanlungan ng Sining at Rizal Park in Manila City. "They were playing in the rain and they were so happy," she recalls. That same night, an outpouring left the city in disarray, but her installations were untouched by rain or windswept debris. They were dry as day. She recalled another time in the same year, this time in a gallery in Makati. She had woken up distraught, with a bad feeling in her stomach. She called the gallery to learn that her installation had collapsed. 

Often, pieces don’t come to her in large, schematic blueprints or intricate patterns; instead, they are conceived through dreams, from the frenzied aftermath of faint, hasty sketches. "My works are like my journal. Parang lahat ng gusto kong i-express nasa kanila. Sa feelings mo siya maiintindihan, sa feelings mo siya maga-grasp," she says. 

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Aze Ong for ArtFairPH/Projects

At the time we visited her home and studio in Barangay Bungad, Quezon City, her installation for Art Fair Philippines 2022 as part of this year’s featured artists was not yet in its full 40-feet fluorescence, but there was an aspiration—an inevitability to its scope. "It doesn’t have a goal. It’s just the size that is affixed," she responded when we asked about her techniques in producing one of her longest, most intricate works yet. A stockpile of yarn cones created a detritus of color against the cement wall. 

Her piece for this year’s event, Transcendence, envelops your line of visual perception. It’s fashioned entirely from silk-blend yarn in seemingly monochromatic tones of pearl, alabaster, bone, ash, and even lavender (her favorite color). Loops of yarn spiral concentrically from a concentrated center, which is coupled with other expanding loops, creating a network of fiber synapses that are light and pliable. It undulates of its own accord, utterly subject to external movement, the unloosening grip of gravity. It grazes you like a bride’s veil. 

She began her work on this piece in late 2021, though she was quick to admit that she no longer worked in the same pace and feverish bouts as she once so willingly poured into her previous work. 

When asked about how long it usually would take her to finish more extensive projects, she says, "Kaya ko siguro tapusin ‘yan in three months kasi I won’t sleep, I won’t go out, di ako kumakain. Ngayon kasi I’m trying to balance my life." And yet, for this project there exists still the compulsion that takes over when constructing her pieces stitch by stitch with her pink crochet hook, "Nakakalimutan ko ang oras. Kasi 48 hours gising pa pala ako. Di ko talaga namamalayan. Siguro nasa ibang mundo na rin ako."

Her process is highly intuitive. Her sequence of colors arbitrary, the gradations of pearl to bone to ash more often determined by having exhausted one color after the other than the logic of reason or the dependability of a seamstress’ pattern (the kind of family business she grew up around as a child). The absence of structure must be liberating: her spirit unchecked, sense of place, time, and judgment suspended, even lifted to higher frequencies. 

Transcending Anger

"When I [wake] up, lagi akong may negative thoughts. I was more of a negative person, I was closed. Hindi ako gano’n ka-open sa mga tao. For a time, naging gano’n ako, hindi ko rin alam kung bakit." This was Ong some time after she began her art practice in 2010. 

She confides, "Inis na inis ako kasi there are things in your life you can’t change, or hindi ka makahiwalay." Beleaguered by family conflict, she turned to her art for immediate consolation. "Na-express ko ‘yong galit ko, or inis ko sa work itself. Kaya di ako nakakatulog. Kasi ang sarap niya gawin, ang sarap niya i-release." She was impelled by her circumstances to work to the point of exhaustion, but on the other side of it was a relief, at some point even taking her crochet hook and yarn with her during a routine doctor’s check-up with her father. 

But Ong is a different person now. On the day of our visit, around a dozen or so vigil candles were lined up in a row against her studio’s glass door. Incense burners baked under the sun on the other side with her potted Aglaonemas or La suertes, which shone benevolently in pink and green hues. In 2018, she met Rem Tanauan, an I Ching or Yi Jing practitioner, whose teachings were based on an ancient Chinese text much like other divination systems such as the Tarot. Through him, she discovered Master Zhu Gang Sha, a medical doctor, Tao Grandmaster, and author of Divine Healing Hands, a lime-green hardbound book that sat on Ong’s worktable under the heap of crocheted flat circles, yarn cones, and the slumbering trails of Transcendence. 

She told us that she chants Divine Soul Songs every day, which carry divine frequency and vibration. "Heal the soul first, then the healing of mind and body will follow," Master Sha declared as part of his soul healing system. She starts early, around five in the morning. She lights the vigil candles and then burns the incense. Right after, she offers an invocation and begins her chanting. She sings while washing the dishes, while watering her plants (a pandemic-acquired pastime), until it spills out toward the rest of the day, toward her crocheting. 

Deeper into Master Sha’s work, Ong learned about the forgiveness practice. She told me, "Forgiveness is directly connected to healing. Kasi if you don’t forgive, ikaw pala mismo ‘yong nakukulong sa galit. That was me before. Galit na galit ako noon. Nakulong ako doon." But ever since her deep dive into soul healing, "Onti-onti napapansin ko sarili na naghe-heal talaga ako." The manic, reclusive artist she once was had been superseded by this version of her in the present: more open, balanced, expressive. She welcomes guests, even writers like us to her studio. She relishes the first sight of a common frog in her growing garden. "Saan nanggaling ‘yon?" she says, looking at us with shy bewilderment. Through the simple yet sacred minutiae of daily life, she transcends her past pains. 

But remnants of her past self linger. Pieces from her 2018 exhibit Liwanag hang from the rafters of her studio, supple forms that look like they were in recoil, ready to spring. "Dati nanggigigil ako sa kaniya. Gustong-gusto ko siyang matapos. Gustong-gusto ko [na] lahat marami," she says. They seemed to embody the existential duress that once was the life force of her work. Their hallucinogenic colors encroach, caution the senses. They reminded us of foxgloves and Chinese lanterns, plants that produce highly toxic bell-shaped and tubular flowers. "Tapos ngayon nag-let go na lang ako. Mas balanced na siya. Hindi na ako gano’n ka-obsessive sa kaniya. Maybe I’ve found my balance and how to treat the material," she says.

This new piece speaks to her, too. But the shift in tone is reassuring. "Gusto niya di ako ma-stress. Gusto niya ma-balance ko ‘yong physical activity sa spirituality. At tsaka ma-balance ako as a person." Now that Ong finally gained a deeper understanding of the meditative quality of her work, Transcendence embodies the convergence of her physical and spiritual journeys. "Art saved me. Art healed me," she says. The focal point of the piece—a flower lace motif reminiscent of a sphere that radiates ever outward—reminds her of the Golden Ball of Light in meditation. It’s a kind of meditation where you imagine an orb of light permeating from your legs, up the whole body, and out through the fingertips. 

"Kaya siguro mahaba siya, kasi ang haba rin ng journey to healing, and to finding light," she tells us, just as we were about to wrap up. Now, she hopes to facilitate a transference between her healing and the people who witness the installation as it will be exhibited in the coming weeks, "I hope they feel certain healing. Gagaan ‘yong loob nila. When you’re happy, that’s healing. When you smile, it’s healing. Gano’n lang ‘yong forms of healing, pero minsan nagiging complex na nakakalimutan natin ‘yong simplicity." 

Art Fair Philippines 2022 runs from March 23 to April 1 at Ayala Triangle Gardens, Paseo De Roxas Street corner Makati Avenue corner Ayala Avenue, Makati City. For more information, visit Art Fair Philippines' website.

UPDATED (March 22): This article has been edited to include Aze Ong's work on display at Ayala Triangle Gardens for Art Fair Philippines.