Interview Vanini Belarmino
Editing The Kanto team
Images Tekla Tamoria


Created from fabric scraps at TESDA, a vocational training centre in the Philippines, multidisciplinary artist and CCP Thirteen Artists awardee Tekla Tamoria’s AlterBibo has expanded through photography, video, performance, and site-specific installation. As the work evolved, shifting from urban settings to natural landscapes, it mirrored Tamoria’s artistic growth, challenging her to embrace unpredictability. Over time, AlterBibo transformed into a performative entity—a living presence that shapes her creative process as much as she shapes it.
Tamoria delves deeper into AlterBibo as a guiding force in her exploration of movement, materiality, and site-specificity, on full display at the latest iteration of the work at ChinaHouse, Georgetown, Penang, Malaysia. She highlights how an artwork can develop its own agency, compelling the artist to refine, adapt, and embrace unexpected shifts in process and meaning.
With AlterBibo_02 on the horizon, Tamoria envisions a new chapter that reflects her artistic maturity and evolving relationship with wearable art. Through this work, she continues to explore the delicate balance between control and surrender, learning from an experiment that has become integral to her artistic identity.
What follows is an interview by exhibit curator Vanini Belarmino with the artist, on the occasion of the Malaysian leg of her solo show (12 March to 14 April, 2025)
Vanini Belarmino: We’ve spoken at length about your journey into wearable art, particularly how your training at TESDA equipped you with the technical skills to manipulate fabric and sewing techniques. Given this foundation, I’m curious how AlterBibo extends beyond material exploration into photography and video.
Could you walk me through your thought process behind the 2017 and 2018 video works, where you placed yourself at the centre of a bustling marketplace in Pasig, twisting, turning, and playing with your costume? What ideas were you exploring in these performances?
Tekla Tamoria: When I introduced AlterBibo in 2017, the theme of the group exhibition I was part of was Apparition. That’s why I decided to perform in a public space—the Pasig Market—a place I know well. I wanted to introduce an element that was unfamiliar to the people there.
The first performance was a spontaneous decision—it was also the first time I wore AlterBibo. It felt like a phase of getting to know the work. The sound in the video was a reversed version of the background noise at Pasig Market—the voices and music playing through a speaker. I simply asked around the market, “Do you have music I can dance to?” At that time, I only knew that, technically, I should be able to dance and move freely with this wearable art.


Watching both videos, there’s a clear shift in AlterBibo’s presence—2017 features more confined, almost controlled movements reminiscent of club dancing, whereas in 2018, the persona appears bolder, and more confident, taking up more space with expansive gestures, even using a stage to elevate its presence within the market.
How do you see AlterBibo evolving between these two iterations? While both videos share a similar setting, there’s also a notable difference in duration—2017 runs for 3 minutes and 40 seconds, whereas the 2018 piece extends to 8 minutes and 35 seconds. What prompted this shift in temporal experience?
By the time I made the second video in 2018, I had already been invited to Paris, so I thought of upgrading the first video and creating a second one. But they turned out very different from each other. Some people even volunteered to help me (in exchange for something), as I didn’t have my own camera during this time. The sound in the second video is a live recording of people in the marketplace, edited to create an unusual, unfamiliar sound.
This was also when I started exploring photography. For the first time, I thought of taking pictures of AlterBibo in a forest or greenery to contrast with the public market. Perhaps it also helped that by then, I had already created Fortunata, another character named after my grandmother, based on flowers and plants.
Additionally, could you elaborate on your choice of music and sound?
There’s also a noticeable contrast in the visual atmosphere—the 2017 video captures a warm, golden-yellow light, whereas the 2018 piece leans towards a cooler cerulean blue. Given your background in painting and colour mixing, how intentional was this shift in cinematography? Did it signify a conceptual transformation in your approach to the work?
The colour differences were based on the cameras used. That was the biggest difference between 2017 and 2018—by 2018, the people I was working with had better cameras. Most of the time, when working on wearable art, I can already visualise where the piece would look good on camera while I am still making it.
That’s why I was so happy to finally have my own camera in 2022. I often cried about it because I know that when working with people, comfort is important. Whenever I asked friends to take pictures of me, I felt a bit guilty. That’s why, for my last work, Soft Ledge, it was just me, my sister, and my mother. (In all my works, I decide where to shoot and where to go.) I am very careful when collaborating because, if I’m working with another artist, they might alter my initial visual concept or imagery.
One intriguing detail I noticed is that the people around you in the video appear to be walking backwards. Was this a deliberate choice? If so, what was its significance?
In the first video, I liked the reversed effect because it looked unusual. The people walking backwards were simply a result of the reversed footage. When I take photos or videos of my work outdoors—not just AlterBibo—I am always aware that there will be elements beyond my control. My confidence lies in the work itself, and I have to adapt to the locations I choose for filming. I kept the reversed aspect in the video to make it obscure and strange.
The third instalment Vegetating Alternative History, saw you collaborating with Nomida Nuda. In this work, AlterBibo moves through a forest and an abandoned house, marking its departure from the urban setting of the earlier videos.
Could you share what informed the development of this work and your collaboration with Nuda? How did this shift in the environment contribute to the evolution of AlterBibo?
By this time, I had already exhibited at the Vargas Museum. We were still in brainstorming mode when I thought about making AlterBibo’s hair much longer. Since the work was now interacting with nature, I felt it needed to have more presence. I also wanted to exaggerate AlterBibo’s appearance and add more elements to it. But this time, the change was drastic. I asked myself, “How can I show that she has lived in the forest if she has short hair?” The length of her hair also reflects the passage of time. That’s why, for Malaysia, I made it even longer—because she is not just a costume, I see her as a living individual.
At the time, we were thinking of AlterBibo as a ghost of the forest. We filmed this at UP Los Baños, where there are many endemic plants and abandoned historical structures.
Unlike the previous videos, this piece is devoid of music or sound. What influenced this decision? How do you think silence shapes the experience of the work?
The video had no sound because we didn’t have a sound artist. But to be honest, it was also due to my ongoing exploration of wearable art. Through this, I realised that I still had so much to learn—even now—about performance art, sound art, and cinematography. I always try to fill in what is lacking. I study things that are new to me.
For me, creating my artwork is a way to learn about elements that can improve my work. That’s why I see AlterBibo as a child, my firstborn. Through it, I have learned so much, and I know I still have more to explore.


What initially drew you to photography? How do you perceive the relationship between AlterBibo and the still camera? How does photography capture or transform AlterBibo’s presence differently from video or live performance?
Hehehe… Hayyy… You know, it’s through photographs that I really get to see my wearable artworks, including AlterBibo. For me, their presence is like spirits flowing inside my mind that need to be brought out. When I see them in photos, I feel something different, but what never changes is my trust in them.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wearable art is not about “me.” I see them as individuals. Now, I have learned to give them time and space because this is not my only artistic practice. I need to nurture them, and I can only do that by improving myself—by self-studying cinematography and performance art.
Building this project was not difficult for me because I trust AlterBibo. It has already accomplished so much in the art world.
In your earlier large-scale tapestry works, you incorporated old photographs of family members in your compositions. More recently, AlterBibo has started making appearances within these pieces.
What is it about your alter ego—the young Tekla Tamoria—that you seek to illustrate through these works? How does the figure of AlterBibo interact with the memories and stories embedded in these tapestries?
I’m also curious—did your practice of repurposing used garments begin with tapestry-making or wearable art? How do these two approaches inform and influence each other?
It seems that you’re constructing a multilayered representation of imagery: first, photography embedded in tapestry; then, the persona of AlterBibo materialised through wearable art and photography, which is again reinterpreted through tapestry. In a way, you are literally and metaphorically weaving these elements together.
With tapestry, I think about the saying itaga mo sa bato (engrave it in stone). Tapestries are also a medium for storytelling. I chose images of AlterBibo that seem like they are leaping—on spherical objects—because she is happy. It’s a still image that expresses movement. It’s not just about her physically jumping, but the idea that she is in motion.
This tapestry exists only because of the project. It gains significance because it is part of everything AlterBibo has explored as wearable art. I started making tapestries in 2020. For me, it embodies the saying “engrave it in stone.” Once I create something with my hands, it becomes part of my history as an artist.
Would it be weird to say that this tapestry feels like closure to me? Because I want to create a new AlterBibo—AlterBibo_02. I started working on it last year. I haven’t completed the wearable art piece yet, but its essence is already there.
I am a sustainable artist. I repurpose all my fabric as much as possible. The original AlterBibo was made from fabric scraps from TESDA School. Over time, I added more materials—whatever fabric was available around me. Some of the fabrics I added came from previous tapestry works.
That will also be a key difference between AlterBibo 1 and AlterBibo 2. AlterBibo 2 will be made from a specific type of fabric, and its stitching will be more refined. I want to create it not just because I want a new playmate but also because it will reflect my growth as an artist. •
AlterBibo by Tekla Tamoria is up at ChinaHouse, Georgetown, Penang, Malaysia from 12 March to 14 April 2025