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EDITORIAL
by Dennis Sun
September - October 2026
This article was published in Jeepney Press 10 years ago in 2016. I thought I'd share it again here. Enjoy.
AUTUMN
Kung ang HARU (spring) ay panahon ng sakura at pagpapaganda, ang AKI (autumn) naman ay panahon ng grand makeover ng buong Japan!
Biglang nagpalit ng kulay ang mga puno—green today, yellow tomorrow, orange next week, tapos red, brown at gold. Parang nag-fashion show ang kalikasan bago tuluyang maghubad!
At may sarili ring itinerary ang autumn colors. Kung ang cherry blossoms ay nagsisimula sa Okinawa at paakyat sa north, ang KOYO naman ay nagsisimula sa Hokkaido at pababa. Parang nationwide beauty parade, at ang buong Japan ang runway!
Kaya kung sa spring ay HANAMI—flower viewing—sa autumn naman, KOYO ang bida. At siyempre, tayong mga tao, maglalakad, magpi-picture, magpo-post at magpapanggap na professional nature photographer!
Dito sa Tokyo, hindi mo kailangang pumunta sa malayong bundok para maranasan ang autumn. Kahit simpleng paglalakad sa neighborhood o pagpunta sa park, mapapansin mong unti-unting nagbabago ang kulay ng mga puno.
Isa sa mga paborito kong gawin sa Tokyo ay maglakad-lakad nang walang particular na pupuntahan—maghanap ng maliit na café, panoorin ang mga tao, at tumingin sa paligid.
During autumn, parang may bagong filter ang buong Tokyo. Puro buildings, trains, traffic at mga taong nagmamadali—tapos biglang may isang malaking puno na kulay orange o pula sa gitna ng lahat.
Parang may nagsasabing:
“Hoy, sandali lang. Tumingin ka naman.”
Maikli man ang NATSU (summer) dito sa Japan, grabe naman ang init! Kaya excited ang marami sa pagdating ng AKI. After weeks of sweating in Tokyo, ang sarap ng unang malamig na simoy ng hangin.
Parang sinasabi ng katawan mo, “Finally!”
I must confess, though, that I love spring more than autumn. Spring is still my favorite season. But autumn comes next!
So, don't be jealous, Autumn!
Exactly during the week when the sakuras are blossoming in Tokyo comes my birthday. Kaya siguro love na love ko talaga ang HARU.
Pero habang tumatanda ako, mas naa-appreciate ko rin ang autumn.
Siguro dahil ang autumn ay season of change.
Ilang buwan lang ang nakalipas, puro green ang mga puno. Then slowly, nagiging yellow, orange, red and brown. At bago mo pa ma-realize, nalalaglag na ang mga dahon.
Parang buhay.
May mga bagay na kailangang baguhin, may mga bagay na kailangang bitawan, at may mga bagong kulay na darating pagkatapos.
Siguro iyon ang lesson ng autumn: hindi kailangang matakot sa pagbabago, kahit minsan ay may kailangang mawala.
Pero sabi nila, marami raw milagro ang nagagawa ng AKI.
During summer, mainit ang ulo ng mga tao. Maraming nag-aaway. Nauubos ang pasensiya. Pagdating ng autumn, medyo lumalamig na ang panahon at parang nawawala rin ang init ng ulo.
Parang may magic ang AKI!
Ang sarap umakyat sa bundok para makita kung paano nag-iiba ang mukha ng mundo. Pero kahit hindi ka umakyat ng bundok, puwede mo pa ring maranasan ang magic nito sa Tokyo.
Pumunta ka sa isang park.
Umupo sa ilalim ng puno.
Maglakad nang mabagal.
Tingnan ang mga dahon.
Minsan, iyon lang ang kailangan natin.
At hindi lang kalikasan ang nagkakaroon ng makeover.
Pati FASHION!
Masarap magbihis kapag malamig. During summer, kung puwede lang short pants, tank top at tsinelas, OK ka na!
Pero pagdating ng autumn, kasali ang lahat sa FALL FASHION SHOW!
Scarves, vests, long-sleeved shirts, jackets, boots, hats—biglang gumaganda at pumopogi ang lahat!
At siyempre, kasama ako sa rampa.
Kahit walang photographer.
Autumn is also a season for eating!
Masarap ang ramen, shabu-shabu at sukiyaki kapag malamig ang panahon. At kapag galing ka sa mahabang lakad, mas masarap lalo ang isang mainit na bowl of ramen.
Take care ka lang dahil sumasarap din ang kain. Baka masira ang diet mo. Sayang ang mga damit mo, Inday, at baka isang araw, hindi na magkasya!
Pero higit sa fashion at pagkain, ang gusto ko sa autumn ay ang paalala nitong mag-slow down.
Living in Tokyo can sometimes be overwhelming. Ang bilis ng buhay dito—trains, work, appointments, deadlines, responsibilities. Kaya kapag dumating ang autumn, I try to slow down a little.
Kahit isang afternoon lang.
Kahit simpleng pagpunta sa park.
Kahit isang coffee habang nakatingin sa mga dahon.
Autumn is also a wonderful time to spend some quiet time by yourself—to sit somewhere peaceful, drink coffee, read a book, meditate, and reflect on your life.
At kung gusto mong lumabas, invite your friends and go hiking. Maraming bundok sa Japan, kaya wala kang excuse!
Huminga ng sariwang hangin.
Mag-ONSEN!
Kumain ng masarap.
Mag-picture.
Maglakad.
At kung hindi puwedeng sumama ang mga kaibigan, go alone!
Because sometimes, you don't need a grand vacation to feel refreshed. You just need to stop for a while and notice the beauty around you.
Huwag mag-aksaya ng oras dahil hindi magtatagal ang autumn.
Sige lang—rampa at pasyal pa more!
Dahil pagdating ng winter, tingnan natin kung makakalabas pa kayo. Definitely, magkukulong na lang sa bahay si Inday dahil sa grabeng lamig!
Kaya ano pa ang hinihintay ninyo?
Rampa na!
Pasyal na!
Enjoy the KOYO!
At habang may kulay pa ang mga dahon, enjoy natin ang bawat sandali.
Dahil tulad ng autumn leaves, hindi rin naman permanente ang lahat.
Nagbabago ang kulay. Nalalagas ang mga dahon. Lumilipas ang season.
At pagkatapos, may panibagong tagsibol na darating.
Change is beautiful.
Go, AKI!
"Kapag Nagalit si Mother Nature…"
"Kapag Nagalit si Mother Nature…"
Floods, Heavy Rain, Earthquakes—and How Filipinos and Japanese Cope
Floods, Heavy Rain, Earthquakes—and How Filipinos and Japanese Cope
There are many things Filipinos and Japanese have in common. We both love rice, we both know what a typhoon is, and we both understand that Mother Nature does not send an announcement before making her presence felt.
The Philippines and Japan regularly experience natural hazards. The Philippines has typhoons, heavy rains, floods, landslides, storm surges, and earthquakes. Japan has its share of typhoons, tsunamis, torrential rain, floods, landslides, and frequent earthquakes, being located along the Pacific Ring of Fire.
In other words, if natural disasters had frequent-flyer programs, Filipinos and Japanese would probably be platinum members.
But living with disasters has taught both countries something important: you cannot always stop nature, but you can prepare for it.
When the Rain Won’t Stop
When the Rain Won’t Stop
Filipinos have many names for rain.
There is ambon, the gentle rain that makes you want coffee.
There is malakas na ulan, when you look outside and say, “Kaya pa naman.”
And then there is the rain that makes you ask, “Bakit parang swimming pool na ang kalsada?”
Heavy rainfall can quickly cause flooding, particularly in low-lying and urban areas. PAGASA monitors rainfall, rivers, floods, and other weather hazards and regularly issues warnings to help communities prepare.
Of course, Filipinos have their own way of dealing with bad weather. The moment the rain becomes serious, the neighborhood group chat comes alive:
“Baha na sa kanto!”
“Ingat kayo!”
“May kuryente pa ba?”
And eventually:
“May kape ba kayo diyan?”
Humor helps us cope, but floods are no laughing matter. Floodwater can rise rapidly, become contaminated, and make roads and bridges dangerous. The safest rule is simple: listen to official warnings, avoid dangerous floodwater, and move to safer or higher ground when necessary.
Japan offers another lesson in disaster preparedness.
Earthquake drills are familiar to Japanese schoolchildren. Emergency kits, evacuation procedures, hazard maps, public warnings, and disaster education are part of everyday life.
For a Filipino visiting Japan, an earthquake can be a frightening experience. But Japanese people generally know what they are expected to do because they have practiced it.
In the Philippines, when the ground shakes, the conversation might go something like this:
“Lindol!”
“Talaga?”
“Lindol nga!”
Then somebody checks Facebook.
Then the family group chat.
Then someone asks:
“Saan ang epicenter?”
There is nothing wrong with checking the news—but ideally, we should know what to do before we start checking our phones.
Earthquakes are a reminder that preparation is not something we should begin after the disaster starts. Know where to go, how to protect yourself, what emergency supplies you need, and how your family will communicate if phone lines are unavailable.
If there is one Filipino quality that shines during disasters, it is bayanihan.
After a typhoon or flood, neighbors help neighbors. People share food and water. Volunteers rescue stranded families. Someone lends a generator; another brings medicine; someone else somehow has a boat.
And there is always that one person who has everything:
“May flashlight ako.”
“May power bank ako.”
“May lubid ako.”
“May extra batteries ako.”
At this point, you wonder whether this person has been preparing for the apocalypse since 1997.
But that resourcefulness is valuable. In a disaster, community cooperation can make an enormous difference.
Japan's strength is often seen in its systems, discipline, preparedness, and infrastructure. The Filipino strength is our bayanihan, creativity, and ability to improvise. Perhaps we should learn from both.
Disasters are not uniquely Filipino or Japanese. Floods, extreme rainfall, earthquakes, storms, wildfires, heat waves, and other hazards affect communities around the world.
What differs is how prepared people are—and how quickly they can respond. Japan reminds us that preparedness should be part of everyday life. The Philippines reminds us that even when things go wrong, people can remain compassionate, resourceful, and hopeful.
So perhaps the best formula is:
Prepare like the Japanese.
Help like the Filipinos.
Stay calm like somebody who has already read the emergency instructions.
And keep that emergency kit ready.
Because when the rain starts falling, the river starts rising, or the ground starts moving, the best time to ask, “Ano ang gagawin natin?” is not when it is already happening. It is before.
And after all the preparations are done, there is nothing wrong with a little Filipino humor.
Maghanda tayo—pero huwag mawalan ng pag-asa.
Nature may surprise us.
Bayanihan will always be our answer.
July - August 2026
Two Hours Was Not Enough: My Unexpected Business Japanese Adventure
Today, I went back to a familiar place — the same building where, many years ago, I sat as a student struggling with business Japanese. Back then, I was the one holding a notebook, trying to understand difficult grammar, memorizing new vocabulary, and wondering if my Japanese would ever become good enough.
Funny how life works. Today, I was standing at the front of the classroom instead.
I was invited to give a Business Japanese lecture and share my journey — how I studied Japanese, my work experiences, my struggles living in Japan, and all the small victories and challenges along the way.
Looking at the students sitting in front of me, I saw my younger self. The same curiosity, the same dreams, and maybe the same nervous feeling of “Can I really make it in Japan?”
I was given two hours to talk.
Two hours sounds like a lot… until you start talking about your life in Japan. Apparently, 40 years of stories cannot fit into 120 minutes!
The students listened so carefully. They asked questions, laughed, and wanted to know more. When the two-hour mark arrived, I thought, “Okay, time’s up. My job is done.”
But the students had a different idea.
They had more questions.
And more questions.
And even more questions.
They continued talking with me after the lecture, and honestly, they looked like they were not planning to let me escape. I felt like a celebrity being followed by fans — except instead of asking for autographs, they were asking about Japanese grammar, job hunting, life in Tokyo, and how to survive the mysterious world of Japanese culture!
Unfortunately, I had another class waiting for me one hour away, so I had to say goodbye. But even that did not end the conversation. As I walked to the train station, some students walked with me, continuing to listen and ask questions.
Then came the funniest part.
I finally sat down inside the train, thinking, “Finally, I can rest!”
But my mind was still full of their smiles and enthusiasm.
I realized something: years ago, I was the student walking behind someone who inspired me. Today, I became that person walking ahead, sharing stories that might help someone else continue their journey.
Japan has given me many challenges, but it has also given me many beautiful moments like this.
I hope these students continue chasing their dreams, making mistakes, learning Japanese one word at a time, and creating their own stories in Tokyo.
And maybe someday, many years from now, one of them will stand in front of another classroom and think:
“Wait a minute… I used to be that student too.”
Jeepney Press
YOMU
YOMU
EDITORIAL
by Dennis Sun
May - June 2026
BEBELITA TAKAYASU: Ang Sumo Mama (originally published in 2013 in Jeepney Press)
Hindi biro ang magpalaki ng anak. At mas lalong hindi biro ang magpalaki ng anak dito sa Japan. Sa Pinas kasi, kahit sabihin mo pang dosena ang anak ng isang pamilya, parang nakakaraos pa rin si nanay at tatay. Siguro dahil may taga-alaga, taga-luto, taga-linis, taga-laba, taga-bantay, taga-pakyaw ng problema. At kung walang “taga,” meron namang “maki”: maki-kain, maki-tulog, maki-laba, maki-iyak at minsan pati maki-utang.
Pero dito sa Japan? Isang anak pa lang, parang apat na agad sa hirap at gastos. Kahit may kaya ka sa buhay, hindi ibig sabihin may katulong ka. Dito, si nanay ang all-in-one package: yaya, driver, cook, teacher, nurse, therapist, referee, at minsan stuntwoman pa. Tingnan mo si Mama Olive habang nagbibisikleta — tatlong anak ang naka-angkas! Hindi ko alam kung nanay ba siya o auditioning para sa Cirque du Soleil. Isang maling preno lang, pwede nang maging action movie.
Gusto kong ipakilala sa inyo ang isang Pilipinang taga-Ibaraki — si Bebelita Takayasu, na kilala bilang “Sumo Mama” dahil ang kanyang anak ay isa nang sikat na sumo wrestler sa Japan. Plano ko sanang interbyuhin mismo ang anak niya, pero alam naman natin, hindi basta-basta malapitan ang mga sumo wrestler. Mas mahirap pa silang lapitan kaysa immigration officer na walang tulog.
Buti na lang, very available si Mama Bebelita. Sa totoo lang, celebrity na rin siya sa mga sumo events. Kaya naisip ko: bakit hindi ang nanay mismo ang tanungin? Baka sakaling malaman natin kung paano magpalaki ng isang higanteng sumo wrestler — at higit sa lahat, kung paano mabuhay nang hindi sumusuko.
Nagkita kami isang gabi sa Burger King sa Roppongi, Tokyo. Kasama niya ang kanyang BFF na si Ningning Tomiyama, presidente ng fans club ng kanyang anak. Akala ko simpleng interview lang. Hindi pala. Tatlong oras kaming nagkuwentuhan at para akong nanood ng teleseryeng walang commercial break.
Sa kalagitnaan ng kwento, iyak kami nang iyak ni Ningning. Mabuti na lang unlimited ang tissue sa Burger King. Naka-ilang balik na ako sa CR, naka-apat na hot coffee, pero hindi pa rin tapos ang drama. Ang buhay ni Bebelita? Hindi lang pang-MMK. Pang Netflix limited series na may 10 seasons at reunion special.
Narito ang ilan sa mga kuwento mula sa makulay, magulo, masakit, pero nakakabilib na buhay ni Bebelita Takayasu.
“Pinanganak ako na hindi kasal ang parents ko dahil menor de edad pa sila noon. Against ang mga kapatid ng nanay ko sa relasyon nila. Hanggang ngayon, hindi ko pa nakita ang tatay ko. Lola at nanay ko ang nagpalaki sa akin.”
“Hindi ko kilala ang tatay ko. Sabi lang ni nanay, nalunod daw siya sa sabaw. Hanggang ngayon, hindi ko alam kung literal ba iyon o expression lang. Wala man lang akong nakitang picture niya kaya hindi ko ma-imagine ang mukha niya.”
“I was born in Davao, lumaki sa Bohol at Cebu. Pero kahit saan kami mapunta, dala namin ang hirap ng buhay.”
“Noong bata pa ako, maganda ang buhay namin. Marami akong damit at laruan. Pero nang mag-asawa ulit si nanay, naghirap kami. Mangingisda lang ang stepfather ko. Mabait siya pero hindi ko siya matawag na tatay noon.”
“Ang unang beses na tinawag ko siyang ‘Tay’ ay noong araw ng kasal ko. Sinabi ko, ‘Tay, kain na tayo.’ Umiyak siya. Doon ko lang na-realize kung gaano niya ako kamahal.”
Pumunta si Bebelita sa Maynila para maghanap ng trabaho. Akala niya canteen work ang mapapasukan niya. Pero parang pelikula, biglang nagbago ang eksena.
“Nakakita sa akin ang secretary ng isang opisyal at binigyan ako ng trabaho kahit hindi ako marunong mag-type. Binigyan nila ako ng Olympia typewriter at sabi nila, ‘Masasanay ka rin.’ Kaya habang nagta-type ako nang parang nag-aaway ang daliri ko at keyboard, natuto rin ako.”
Doon niya unang nakahalubilo ang mga abogado, opisyal at professionals. Isang probinsyanang babae na walang koneksyon, pero merong lakas ng loob.
At doon din dumating si Mr. Takayasu.
“Naligaw siya dahil maling ministry ang napuntahan niya. Imbes na Tourism, napunta siya sa Labor Office. Dahil marunong ako ng konting Japanese galing sa dictionary, ako ang pinatawag para kumausap sa kanya.”
Imagine mo: isang Hapon na naligaw, isang Filipina na nag-aaral ng Japanese sa diksyunaryo, tapos doon nagsimula ang love story. Kung hindi nagkamali ang taxi driver, baka walang sumo superstar ngayon.
“Makulit si Mr. Takayasu. Kinuha niya address ko sa guard at bigla siyang bumisita sa bahay. Shocked ang mga kapitbahay namin kasi first time nilang makakita ng Hapon.”
Niligawan siya nito nang matagal. Pinadalhan ng pera buwan-buwan. Tinulungan ang pamilya niya. Nakapagpatayo pa siya ng bahay para sa kanyang nanay.
“Ayaw ko talaga noong una. Hindi ko siya mahal. Pero sabi ng mga tiyahin ko, isipin ko ang future ko.”
Sa araw ng kasal niya sa Davao, umiiyak siya sa harap ng rebulto ng Virgin Mary.
“Hindi ako makakain. Laging sumasakit ang tiyan ko. Iniisip ko kung tama ba itong gagawin ko.”
Pero itinuloy niya ang kasal. At doon nagsimula ang panibagong kabanata ng kanyang buhay sa Japan.
Pagdating sa Japan noong 1987, nagtayo siya ng Philippine store sa Saitama.
“Magaling ako sa PR. Sa mga istasyon ako tumatambay at kinakausap ko ang mga Pinoy na dumadaan. Unti-unting lumaki ang negosyo.”
Lumago ang business nila. Nagkaroon pa ng restaurant at branches sa Ibaraki. Pero habang lumalaki ang negosyo, lumalaki rin ang responsibilidad.
“Minsan tatlo o apat na oras lang ang tulog ko.”
At dumating din ang pagbagsak.
Humina ang negosyo nang bumaba ang bilang ng entertainers na pumupunta sa Japan. Nahirapan sila sa pera. May mga panahong napuputulan sila ng kuryente.
“Kulang ang pera para pag-aralin ang mga anak.”
Doon pumasok sa eksena si Akira — ang anak niyang magiging sumo wrestler.
“Sinabihan siya ng teacher niya na bagay siya sa sumo. Dinala namin siya sa sumo stable. Nagustuhan agad siya ng stable master.”
Mula 15 years old, nagsimula si Akira sa matinding training.
“Maraming beses niyang gustong sumuko. Minsan umiiyak siya sa telepono. Minsan nasasaktan siya. Pero wala akong magawa kundi palakasin ang loob niya.”
Unti-unti, umakyat ang kanyang ranggo.
“Ngayon, professional sumo wrestler na siya. Hindi na siya ang batang umiiyak sa training. May assistants na siya ngayon. Hindi na siya naglalaba.”
Habang sumisikat ang anak niya, may isang tanong na bumalik sa buhay ni Bebelita:
“Sino ang tatay mo?”
“At dahil doon, sinabi ni Akira: ‘Hanapin mo ang lolo ko.’”
At parang eksena ulit sa teleserye, Facebook ang naging tulay.
“Tinype ko ang pangalan niya. Ang daming lumabas. Isa-isa kong minessage.”
Hanggang sa nakita niya ito.
“May sarili na pala siyang pamilya at nasa Canada na siya. Nang una ko siyang nakausap sa telepono, hindi ko alam kung magagalit ako o matutuwa.”
Pagkaraan ng 49 years, natagpuan niya rin ang kanyang ama.
“At naisip ko… cool pala ang daddy ko.”
Sa dami ng unos na dinaanan ni Bebelita — kahirapan, pagod, pagkalito, sakripisyo, at luha — nanatili siyang matatag. Isa siyang nanay na hindi sumuko kahit paulit-ulit siyang sinusubok ng buhay.
At siguro, iyon talaga ang tunay na sikreto ng isang “Sumo Mama.”
Hindi lang pagpapalaki ng malalaking anak.
Kundi pagpapalaki ng napakalaking tibay ng loob.
Gaijin, Fees, and Tourist Crowds:
A Short Love Letter (with Side Eye) to Japan
There is a moment in Japan when you realize you are no longer a tourist but not quite local either. It usually happens at immigration. You are holding a number, documents stacked like a thesis, and then:
“Application fee has increased.”
Again.
You smile. Of course. This is Japan. Shouganai ne.
But inside: Aray ko po… bakit naman ganon?
The Tourist Boom
Japan is booming. From Tokyo crossings to Kyoto alleys, it feels like the whole world has arrived, camera ready and matcha fueled.
Good for the economy? Absolutely.
But while tourists enjoy tax free shopping and short stays, foreign residents are quietly dealing with rising visa fees, renewals, and the same mountain of paperwork, just more expensive now.
Parang gym. Mas mahal, ikaw pa rin ang pagod.
Resident Reality
Living here means learning the rules, sorting your garbage like a pro, and mastering the polite smile. But renewal season reminds you: you are still “foreign” on paper.
Forms. Fees. Photos with no smiling. Dame desu yo.
And just when you get used to it, the price goes up.
No drama. Just… updated.
Very Japanese. Yappari.
The Quiet Irony
Tourists come and go. Residents stay, pay taxes, build lives.
Yet when systems feel stretched, longer lines, higher fees, it sometimes feels like residents carry more of the weight.
Medyo unfair? Konti lang… pero ramdam. Chotto ne.
Still, We Stay
We joke about paperwork like it is a sport. We celebrate when we get upgrades. We laugh, because what else?
Because despite the crowds and the costs, life here still works:
Trains mostly on time.
Safe streets.
Seasons that feel like poetry.
And a simple otsukaresama desu can still make your day.
A Small Wish
As Japan welcomes more of the world, here is a quiet hope:
That those who stay, who build lives here, are seen a little more too.
Hindi naman demanding. Maybe just… fewer surprises at the payment counter?
Konting loyalty discount naman. Onegaishimasu.
And Still…
At the end of the day, we are still here.
Medyo mahal. Medyo masikip. Pero mahal pa rin natin.
Because somewhere between the forms, the fees, and the endless lines, Japan has a way of keeping us. Hindi man tayo turista, hindi rin ganap na local, pero nandito pa rin.
And honestly, that in between space?
Medyo complicated… pero medyo home na rin.
Now excuse me… I should probably check my residence card. Just in case.
Jeepney Press
YOMU
YOMU
EDITORIAL
by Dennis Sun
March - April 2026
Homecoming in Full Color: Four Decades of Creativity, Revisited
At the end of January, I embarked on what would become my longest stay in the Philippines in recent memory—returning to my hometown of Angeles City not for a brief visit, but for a month and a half. In the past, my trips would last no more than ten days, carefully squeezed between commitments. This time, however, the occasion called for something more expansive, more deliberate.
The reason was both personal and professional: a grand homecoming exhibition titled Words, Colors and Beyond: My 40-Year Creative Journey in Japan, held at The Clark Museum from February 13 to March 8. It was not simply another show—it was a milestone. Naturally, preparation began weeks in advance. One does not assemble four decades of creative work overnight. These pieces, after all, are not just artworks—they are fragments of a life lived, mostly in Japan, each carrying its own quiet history.
In total, I presented more than a hundred works—an expansive collection that went beyond art and painting to include design, writing, and journalistic works produced over the years. Together, they formed an immersive retrospective of my creative journey, reflecting not only visual expression but also a lifelong engagement with storytelling in its many forms. If it felt like a museum takeover, perhaps it was, at least for a fleeting moment. The opening reception reflected that energy: nearly a hundred guests filled the space, creating an atmosphere that was equal parts celebration and reunion. For one afternoon, I found myself in high spirits—grateful, slightly overwhelmed, and quietly amused by the unexpected brush with a “main character” moment.
What made the exhibition especially meaningful was the return of these works to where it all began. Though created abroad over nearly 40 years, they found their way back home—closing a circle I hadn’t fully realized was still open. There is something profoundly grounding about seeing one’s life work appreciated in the very place that shaped its beginnings.
Beyond the exhibition itself, I also had the opportunity to give back to the community by conducting weekly art workshops and lectures. These sessions became meaningful exchanges—less about instruction and more about connection, dialogue, and shared creativity. In many ways, they were as fulfilling as the exhibition, reminding me that art does not only live on walls, but in conversations, in classrooms, and in the curiosity of others.
My sincere thanks go to the Clark Museum and the Clark Development Corporation for providing not just a venue, but a platform for this full-circle experience. Their support made it possible to present not only art, but a narrative—one that continues to evolve across disciplines and mediums.
Equally memorable were the people. Reconnecting with old friends—some unchanged despite the passage of decades—was a reminder of how time can stretch yet still hold. At the same time, meeting new faces who engaged with my work brought a renewed sense of purpose. Art, after all, is a conversation, and this exhibition offered many voices to listen to.
To everyone who came, maraming salamat. Your presence meant more than I can fully articulate. And to those who went a step further—supporting by collecting artworks, or even bringing home tote bags and t-shirts—thank you for carrying a piece of this journey with you. That kind of support goes beyond appreciation; it becomes part of the story itself.
In the end, what started as a “long vacation” turned into a full-blown life highlight—part reunion, part retrospective, and part cardio workout from carrying over a hundred artworks. If this is what coming home looks like after 40 years, I might need to do it more often… just maybe with fewer canvases next time.
Jeepney Press
YOMU
YOMU
EDITORIAL
by Dennis Sun
January - February 2026
Small Wonders, Timeless Pieces: A Homecoming Christmas Art Exhibition and more
Coming home is always special—but coming home with art, stories, and memories makes it even more meaningful. Last December, my Christmas art exhibition Small Wonders, Timeless Pieces became part of the festive activities at Clark Cityfront Mall, turning the season into a celebration of creativity, friendship, and reconnection.
The exhibition was intimate in scale but rich in sentiment. Set against the warmth and sparkle of the Christmas season, the show brought together small works that carry timeless emotions—pieces created over the years, each with its own quiet story. It was deeply fulfilling to see people pause, smile, and reflect while engaging with the artworks, many of them sharing their own memories inspired by what they saw.
What made the exhibition truly unforgettable was the people. It was a great joy to reunite with old friends and, quite surprisingly, former students from my days teaching Humanities at a university in Angeles City. Some I hardly recognized at first—time has a way of reshaping faces—but hearing about their journeys and accomplishments filled me with pride and gratitude. Seeing how far they have gone, both professionally and personally, was one of the most rewarding moments of the homecoming.
Small Wonders, Timeless Pieces also served as a gentle prelude to something much bigger. This Christmas exhibition marked the opening chapter of my upcoming major show in February at the Clark Exhibition Hall, titled: DENNIS SUN: Words, Color & Beyond — A 40-Year Creative Journey in the Land of the Rising Sun.
The February exhibition will present a broader and deeper look into my four decades of creative work in Japan. It will feature a wide-ranging collection—from graphic design, illustrations, and cartoons to editorial writings and paintings—tracing the evolution of my artistic voice across cultures, mediums, and time.
As the year ended with Small Wonders, Timeless Pieces, I was reminded that even the smallest works can carry lasting meaning, especially when shared during the season of giving. This Christmas homecoming was not just an exhibition—it was a heartfelt reunion, a celebration of growth, and a bridge leading toward the next chapter of my creative journey. As the Christmas season gently closed, it also opened the door to the New Year—with the promise of a grand exhibition ahead.
While in the Philippines, I was also honored to be invited— for the first time— to serve as a judge at the world-famous Giant Lantern Festival in San Fernando, as well as a judge at the Lantern Parade in Magalang. Experiencing these iconic Christmas traditions from the perspective of a judge was both thrilling and deeply meaningful. It was a joyful immersion into Kapampangan culture, allowing me to rediscover, learn more, and reconnect with my own roots.
Truly, it was a Christmas filled with art, light, and heritage—one that made coming home all the more unforgettable, and set the tone for an inspiring New Year ahead.
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