IT WAS one of those leisure days that John Orola invited me to go tripping along the periphery of Bacolod City. The big surprise was to visit the Glass Museum of Tomas Casiano now known as Tomiko. A good friend of John, Tomiko opens his glass menagerie only when he was around. What a blessing he was!
Tomiko, a floral designer, has been living in West L.A. for over 30 years and has been hobnobbing with the rich and famous ladies who want no one else to decorate their homes with blooms but Tomiko.
He ushered us to the second floor, the balcony of which had cascading waters dripping down to the lower floor. Tomiko says that the balcony doubles as a ramp or a stage for some shows. Quite ingenious!
Then he opens the lock doors and voila! Glasses in all sizes and shapes overwhelm us. Tomiko loves Depression glasses and has been collecting them over the years. What are Depression glasses? Depression glass is clear or colored translucent glassware that was distributed free, or at low cost, in the United States and Canada around the time of the Great Depression (1904-1940.)
Food manufacturers and distributors then would put a piece of glassware in boxes of food, as an incentive to purchase. Movie theaters and businesses would hand out a piece simply for coming in the door. Most of this glassware was made in the Ohio River Valley of the United States, where access to raw materials and power made manufacturing inexpensive.
More than 20 manufacturers made more than 100 patterns, and entire dinner sets were made in some patterns. Common colors are clear (crystal), pink, pale blue, green, and amber which we all find in Tomiko’s museum. The lesser common colors such as yellow (canary), ultramarine, jadeite (opaque pale green), delphite (opaque pale blue), cobalt blue, red (ruby and royal ruby), black, amethyst, monax, and white (milk glass) were likewise showcased.
Tomiko was so proud to show me a book featuring some pieces which he owned. Depression glass has been highly collectible in the onset of the 1960s. Today, however, Depression glass is a scarcity in the open market. Rare pieces may sell for several hundred dollars.
I have seen some Depression pieces in my great grandmother’s house, the Balay Ni Tana Dicang. I thought they were art deco pieces. Now, my information is more accurate.
Tomas Casiano, as earlier said, is a floral designer who would look for vases for his flowers. He developed a penchant for Depression glasses. He would ship home some of these glasses home until his return last 2012 to find that he had altogether 66 boxes.
As these glasses deserved to be showcased, he decided to build a museum to highlight them. He calls his museum Laguerta. According to Nonong Tan, laguerta is an ancestral slang coined from the Spanish word “huerta” meaning orchard or garden market.
In the days of yore, in his hometown Sum-ag, where everyone is practically a relative, it was commonplace for people to share cooked meals with friends and neighbors. When one lacks an ingredient, all you need was to send someone to your friendly neighbor to borrow and get some. People’s backyards always had something someone would need and the expression was “just get some from the backyard” or as old folks would say “kuha lang didto sa laguerta.” In exchange, when the sud-an (viand) is cooked, a bowl or plate is delivered back to the accommodating neighbor in the spirit of sharing.
Tomiko would like to give patrons the experience of age-old traditions in the community of Sum-ag. Laguerta, aside from the glass museum, aims to create a venue where people can gather and share not only food but ideas, talents, skills, services and more.
As we bid goodbye to Tomiko, he was on his way to church where he was helping out with some projects. I truly admire people who never tire of sharing and giving. For one who has been blest, indeed much is expected and Tomiko has been generous with his time and treasure!