Michael Arcega / The venerable monkeypod trees on the grounds of The Contemporary Museum have sprouted new growth–a series of 101 small tent-like structures attached to branches and tethered to the ground with colorful ropes. This is the work of Bay Area artist Michael Arcega, who has spent the last two weeks completing a site-specific installation entitled Overlook. We connected with Arcega, first to work as part of a volunteer crew that helped to complete the construction of the tents, and then to sit down and talk about his work.

You came to the U.S. with your family in 1984, when you were 10. What compelled the move and what has it been like to return to the Philippines since then?

Our family’s move to Southern California was part of a greater exodus that Filipinos took in that period, faced with a declining economy and political upheaval. I was excited about being in America, as many Filipinos were. The main connection was through language–I was bilingual [Tagalog and English], conversing with aunts and my grandmother; it was the transition itself that had most impact in terms of my development. I’ve been back to the Philippines three times since; twice for family visits and the last time in 2007–first time as an adult–for the opening of an exhibition. I recall one experience that really brought home the cultural distance I had traveled. My Tagalog–kept alive talking with elderly women–proved to be polite, submissive and somewhat outdated, so talking with people like cabdrivers resulted in being treated rather rudely. I learned that language was one way to understand the social stratification of Manila, and I had to learn to speak with a more adult, authoritative voice.

We’ve seen your work here before, in exhibitions at The Contemporary Museum, Nuuanu Gallery and the Honolulu Academy of Arts. Are there common themes that play through your work?

Yes, I think all of my work involves looking at polarized social hierarchies, and finding things embedded in those relationships. I am interested in asymmetrical power dynamics and what results from them. I usually focus on things I look at as cultural residues of those relationships, whether it is Spam [the food product from which Arcega fashioned a map], pidgin [an artifact of cultural mixing] or tents [featured in Overlook.] “El Conquistadork”–a model of a Manila galleon constructed from manila file folders–followed the trade route that bridged two cultures; “Eternal Salivation” addressed the relation between people that preach and people that listen.

Overlook is a site-specific work–how did you develop the idea and what features of the site were particularly interesting or challenging for you?

I developed the idea early on, after the idea of using the garden was presented by Inger [Tully, TCM’s associate curator]. I was invited back for a site visit, and also spent time looking around Oahu–at homeless encampments, the military presence. I am aware of the elite nature of the museum’s site, and also have an interest in the outdoors–so tents seemed like the most appropriate cultural residue to work with, since they can represent different strata of society. I was also aware that the monkeypod trees were not indigenous, but have been “naturalized.” So the contrasts between invasive/native, blight/beauty are heavy here. The tents in the trees are a physical representation of that. Also, the title “Overlook” relates to that duality. In one sense it suggests the way the museum’s gardens overlook the city from an elevated point of view. In another sense, it suggests what might be overlooked or disregarded in the relationship between things like social strata, or nature versus built environments.

Your work is conceptually complex but also very dependent on the physical and material aspects and the process of making things. Can you speak a bit about the role of the tangible in your work–the materials you choose, the scale on which you work?

I really believe that the history of materials is an important part of my work. It’s a bit like cooking–you throw in one ingredient that has a certain flavor, a kind of resonance–so materials generally assert themselves early on. In this case, I knew it was going to have to last for a long time and it was going to be outdoors… Regarding scale–a lot of it is practical, and I am interested in altering scale. For example, if something is very big or small, you have a different visceral reaction to it. I have thought about how people would navigate the space, and in terms of wanting an entry point, the use of bright colors was part of that. I also wanted to have some whimsy because I don’t want to present a cold shoulder to the viewer; I want it to be challenging but accessible.

It has been noted that word play–puns, double meanings–often figure in your work. How does that connect to the visual or physical aspects of the work?

A lot, actually–when jokes are deconstructed, there are these steps that happen between two people talking–the teller, the listener. Think about the classic “orange” knock-knock joke. Something happens when you get the slippage between “orange” and “aren’t you” in the meaning. In a similar way there is the art work and the viewer–in the end, a shift occurs that leads you in a new direction of meaning. I don’t use language to obscure meaning, but to suggest that meaning can operate on multiple levels, visually as well as linguistically.

Speaking of language, how do you understand and relate to the term “Asian-American” to describe the group to which you have been linked? What are the uses and liabilities of such a term?

“Asian-American”–it feels like it is falling out of favor, like other hyphenated terms. It is certainly a double-edged sword–it identifies, but also isolates. I would rather have my work be more inclusive–less about my identity and more about the issues at hand…We are all part of many subcultures. I appreciate the support I get from the Filipino- and Asian-American communities. I hope I am doing them justice, but I’m not waving a banner.

KQED Spark - Michael Arcega

Arcega discusses puns and history.