JOHN MANILA

I grew up in Calamba, Laguna, a lakeside town in the Philippines known for its water and memory. The shore was always close, and I think being near it made me more observant and at ease. At the same time, Calamba carried the presence of José Rizal, our national hero and who was born there.
His name came up often, usually tied to ideas of struggle and change. Those conversations stayed with me. They made me look twice at things, not only for what is visible, but for the quiet stories people carry around.

When I later moved to Toronto, those lessons followed. Photography became the way I tried to speak, to point at the details others might overlook.

What keeps me drawn to portraits is how layered people are. Some of those layers you see right away, others stay hidden until the right moment. My aim is not only to take a picture but to catch something that feels harder to name. Maybe it is strength. Maybe it is doubt. Sometimes it is both at once.

To me, portraits should tell stories, even after you look away. That belief comes from where I started, a place where beauty and unrest lived side by side. I try to let that dual view guide my lens, showing what is on the surface while leaving room for what stays unspoken.

Photography is more than collecting faces. It is a way of holding on to stories and roots. It is a reminder that every person carries something worth keeping.