‘Sari Sari’ exhibit explores the layers of Filipino-Guamanian identity through art

By Ron Rocky Coloma

Geraldine Datuin stood over her painting of a boy mid-transformation into a fruit bat. In his mouth, a fruit symbolizing the sacrifices of ancestors. Around him, echoes of tattoo patterns, family migration and distant histories. For Datuin, this wasn’t just art. It was a reckoning.

“I was drawn to the ‘Sari Sari’ exhibit because it reflects the layered and often complicated identity I carry,” she said. “Art has always been my way of asking questions about who I am and where I come from.”

The “Sari Sari” art exhibit, which opened June 26, isn’t simply a showcase of Filipino creativity in Guam. It’s a curated collection of personal histories, reinterpreted symbols and diasporic longing. The name, drawn from the Filipino word for variety or mix, captures the spirit of its works—collisions of past and present, tradition and experimentation.

Curator Marcus Villaverde said the idea had been in the works since 2019. The spark? A personal absence he felt as a 1.5 generation Filipino-Guamanian artist navigating spaces that often centered solely on indigeneity.

“I wanted to explore the intersection of those two identities with fellow Filipino artists of various experiential backgrounds,” he said. “This epiphany created an angst in me that wanted to push for an exhibit like this.”

Rather than issuing a public call for submissions, Villaverde selected artists he knew could speak meaningfully to the theme. The result is a mix of commercial artists, students, educators and hobbyists—some of whom arrived on Guam only recently. That range, he said, was critical.

“I knew the Filipino identity is not monolithic. So, when they migrate to another place, like Guam, the Filipino identity can truly be called ‘sari-sari,’” he said.

Datuin’s piece, titled “50 pesos = 87 cents or…the moment I realized our shared histories”, stems from her grandparents’ immigration story, chasing the promise of U.S. dollars. She remembers hearing her grandfather’s stories—surviving bombings during the war, talking about Jose Rizal, working as an H2 laborer.

“The painting centers on a boy transforming into a fruit bat,” she said. “The bat holds a fruit in its mouth—a symbol of the fruits of his great-grandparents’ labor and sacrifice.”

For Datuin, the piece also pays homage to the overlooked links between Filipino and CHamoru communities—similarities in language, food and tattoo traditions. She incorporates precolonial Visayan warrior patterns and references historical texts like the “Boxer Codex,” layering those with bold, modern brushstrokes.

“My pieces want to have a conversation with the neo expressionist painters such as Jean Michel Basquiat,” she said. “Basquiat pulled from his identity too, which allowed me to explore my ethnic identity—rooted in Cebuano, Pangasinan and Visayan heritage—through art.”

Villaverde echoed this blend of old and new, crafting the exhibit’s visuals to mimic the textures of immigrant nostalgia. The marketing materials were inspired by Manila’s street flyers and jeepney signage, filtered through the grainy aesthetic of black-and-white photocopies.

“I wanted it to feel as if you were looking into a first-generation immigrant’s journal or scrapbook in the ’90s,” he said.

Despite early doubts and DIY obstacles—venue changes, tight timelines and a near-postponement—Villaverde says the support of friends helped him carry the show forward.

Datuin hopes visitors leave with a deeper appreciation of the cultural intersections that shape everyday life on the island.

“I want people to walk away with a greater appreciation for the cultural intersections we live within every day,” she said. “Art helps keep cultural memory alive by making invisible histories visible again.”

Villaverde, now standing at the exhibit he once only imagined, says this is just the beginning.