By Karla Maquiling
Philippine Bureau Chief

A PHOTOJOURNALIST, slowly losing his vision, teaches his teenage son the ropes in preparation for the real world.

Newsbreak lensman Luis Liwanag’s initiation into photojournalism occurred one night in the eighties at a print house in Avenida, where he was doing presswork as photographer for the University of the East paper, The Dawn.

Hearing gunshots in the stillness, Luis ventured out on the streets and witnessed the commotion. “Bumalik ako sa taas at kinuha ko ang flash ko,” he recalled. “Pagbalik ko, may nakita na akong nakabaliktad na tao, binaril.”

Then 19, Luis did what any other photographer would do: he took out his camera and started shooting. He froze at one point, realizing it was the first time he had seen a corpse. Before he knew it, he had used up two rolls of black-and-white film. Intelligence men arrived shortly after, manhandling the young man, letting him go only when he whipped out his college press ID, its original logo covered with that of Life magazine.

The media arrived too late, and an uncle, who happened to be a reporter, took him aside, “Alam mo ba kung sino yang kinunan mo?” Luis shook his head, not knowing that the corpse in that dark alley was “Ben Tumbling,” one of the era’s most wanted men.

Destined to shoot

If his father had his way, Luis would never have been a photographer. As a child, he was drawn to sketching and images (was it merely incidental that his family name, Liwanag, literally meant “light” in Filipino?). He would take apart Diana cameras to understand their inner workings. Luis was 12 when he took his first pictures with a Kodak Instamatix 76X.

Small wonder, this, as Luis comes from a family of artists: Nestor Redondo, Darna illustrator and later cartoonist for D.C. and Marvel Comics, was an uncle. His own father, an architect by profession, painted as a hobby.

Fine arts, naturally, was the college way to go, but his father put his foot down. “Sabi niya, kung magaling ka talaga, hindi mo na kailangan mag-aral.”

Luis enrolled in geology at UP Baguio but his father’s stroke halted his studies, forcing him to earn a living. With the little money saved from his job designing textiles for men’s shirts, Luis enrolled at UE to pursue what he wanted most: fine arts.

He never got to finish college, however. The Ben Tumbling episode would land him a position at the Daily Express, where he worked with the likes of Ed Santiago, Jun de Leon, and Manny Goloyugo.

“Si Ed Santiago yung unang naging teacher ko,” he related. “Hindi siya nagpa-flash, simple lang siyang mag-shoot pero parang si Eugene Smith. Lagi niya akong sinasama at inoobserbahan ko talaga siya. Pati nga yung porma niya nun, in-emulate ko. Mahilig mag-pipe yun saka Mao cap, kaya ginaya ko rin.”

Luis’s biggest break was during the years leading up to the 1986 People Power Revolution, covering for Asiaweek and Agence France Presse, which would lead him to string for Gamma Liaison.

Luis went on a four-year hiatus from photojournalism, beginning in 1988, learning animation and art-directing Felix the Cat and The Simpsons for Bigtop Productions in San Francisco. But soon, the photographer in him became restless. “I realized that my heart was with photography,” he said.

Coming back to the Philippines, Luis renewed old contacts and found himself at Manila Times. Later he would also photograph for Getty Images, World Picture News, and Newsbreak.

Little did he know that light was turning out on him.

Holga visions

Luis’s left eye was diagnosed with glaucoma in 1992, but it was only in 2000 that the condition accelerated. This was a crippling realization for someone who lived his life catching light and shadows.

“I was really scared and resigned to a life without pictures, especially when I found out that total blindness was a real possibility,” Luis confessed.

A drastic change in lifestyle occurred. His whole family went vegetarian, and Luis started practicing yoga, which helped him come to terms with this life-altering course. “It was when I started having a deeper understanding of life that my entire approach changed. I used to be so emotional—I still am—but now I am able to detach myself and be more pragmatic.”

He also underwent laser surgery treatment at a local eye hospital through Don Jaime Zobel de Ayala’s assistance. Today, Luis is on medication meant to decrease the pressure on his eye.

There are times when he is at his best, and days when he sees the world behind a foggy looking glass. That “every day may be the last shooting day” is a shattering realization.

“One time I slipped and fell into a pool when I was covering the Miss Earth competition, soaking all my equipment,” he said. For three days, he painstakingly blow-dried each piece. “It was a miracle that I recovered all of them.”

Second-generation lightcatcher

This experience brought the family closer, especially Luis and his 15-year-old son Akira, who is showing signs of following in his father’s footsteps.

Akira (the name itself—from the filmmaker Kurosawa—tells of greatness to come, one documentary photographer observed) was eight years old when he took his first snapshot with his father’s Nikon.

At 12, he started taking photography seriously, joining school and district photo competitions, where he bested older students. He placed ninth in this year’s Quezon City Digital Photo Contest, where he came up against the same photographers who were judges in previous competitions. Akira now assists in his dad’s shoots, whether it be at the U.S. Embassy, the Baseco Compound, or Chinatown.

Akira also gets to rub elbows with the notorious and the famous, such as the former president Joseph Estrada on house arrest at his mansion in Tanay, Rizal (“a house you would never want to leave,” the quiet and shy teenager observed).

Lessons in light and shadows

It’s a learning experience anybody would pay to have, but Akira gets an honorarium for a good day’s work (“my dad pays well,” he mused) in addition to spending quality time with his father.

A recent lesson in black-and-white photography had Akira shooting with a Lucky SHD100 and his father’s Leica. It took more than a month before father and son got hold of chemicals for the developer, a concoction (shared by one Jay Javier, a kindred lightcatcher) that combines Rodinal with paracetamol.

“It was exciting!” Akira described the developing process. “I was also nervous at the same time, because it took many days before I finally saw my pictures.”

Aside from the photography lessons, Luis is also increasingly concerned about training Akira to understand the business side of things. “It’s not just what you know,” Luis said. “It’s who you know and how you present yourself.”

With twilight slowly descending on him, Luis is taking everything in stride. “I shoot like hell. And I can’t see myself not taking pictures any time soon,” he shared.

With Akira following closely, Luis’s Leica will certainly not be retiring soon.

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Luis Liwanag, who candidly admits to being a “blind photographer,” documents his forays in Pitik Bulag and Pitik Bulag Dokyu. He is also featured in JPG Magazine and Lightstalkers.
Visit Akira’s Darkroom here.