Artist Silke Lapina. Photo courtesy of Silke Lapina
She explores art, identity, and spirituality through her mother tongue.
In Berlin’s Friedrichshain, Silke Lapina’s flat is more than a home—it’s a sanctuary for her gathered stories and fragments of her soul. Mirrors etched with poetry, pop lyrics, and scripture invite reflection, revealing the depth of her connection to her Filipino roots.
While this author met the German-Filipino visual artist in Berlin, Lapina grew up in a small town near Hamburg in Germany, where her bicultural upbringing taught her that “there are many worlds within one world.” This understanding fueled an interest in diverse belief systems and their expressions within a secularized context. After a year of backpacking, she studied Culture and Social Anthropology for her Bachelor’s at the University of Vienna and later earned a Master’s in Religion and Culture at Humboldt University in Berlin. Alongside her studies, she pursued art, exhibiting across Europe and working as a photographer in music and fashion.
Her art has evolved from photography to include hand-engraved mirrors, textile installations, gilded canvases, as well as sound (she recently was part of the Sibol exhibition held at Metropolitan Museum of Manila, where she reinterpreted a Mark O. Justiniani painting). To her, it’s more than just art, it’s a spiritual practice. “It’s a deeply meditative process rooted in my love for spiritual exercises and hours spent in a Carmelite monasteries close to Berlin,” she explains. She has also collaborated with religious movements, exploring how traditions can adapt in the modern world in a progressive way.
Reconnecting with her Filipino heritage, especially through language, has become a cornerstone of Lapina’s work. Filipino, the national language of the Philippines, is a combination of Austronesian roots, Spanish influences, and modern linguistic evolution, holding a unique warmth and rhythm that resonates with her. “Tagalog always felt like love and home to me, but also something hidden and unspoken,” she recalls. Her mother taught her Tagalog in secret, an unconventional choice in the 1990s when assimilation was prioritized over maintaining native languages. “I understand why many Filipino parents in the diaspora choose not to teach their children Tagalog,” she says. “There’s pressure to fit in. But it’s such a shame because learning multiple languages is a gift. For me, the patterns and emotions of Tagalog were always deep in my system, so reconnecting with it now feels intuitive.”
Lapina’s work now integrates Filipino texts from poetry, folk stories, or literature, exploring how language carries culture, memory, and spirituality. “Reciting Tagalog poetry or even queer theology feels transformative,” she says. “It’s not just about learning the language—it’s about embodying it, engraving its essence into my body, like a tattoo.”
A dual heritage has also shaped her identity and perspective on art. Her German father, a seaman, had an unexpected familiarity with Filipino culture from his colleagues. “He even knew of José Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere before meeting my mother,” she shares. Reading Rizal’s work, Lapina discovered the deep connections between Filipino and German cultures. “Rizal’s references to German literature are everywhere,” she says. A powerful moment came when she read the novel’s final scene, where Basilio faces his mother’s death on Christmas Eve. “My father passed away on Christmas Eve, too.” That connection gave her goosebumps.
Lapina’s exploration of spirituality is informed by her experiences growing up in Germany, where she was drawn to the interplay of belief and culture. Inspired by medieval mystic Meister Eckhart and monastic traditions of hand-inscribed manuscripts, she finds engraving a meditative practice. “It’s like Lectio Divina, where monks reflect on sacred texts—but instead of scripture, I work with words from pop culture, poetry, and even Filipino literature,” she explains. Her ongoing series, Urban Prayers, transforms mirrors into modern altars, prompting viewers to engage in introspection. “When people read the text, they see their reflection. It’s about questioning which words hold meaning in our lives,” she says.
Art extends beyond individual expression; it’s a way to bridge communities and beliefs. Lapina is currently organizing a discussion on different expressions of spirituality today, inviting queer-affirming spaces like Manila’s Open Table Metropolitan Community Church and Filipino folk spirituality expert Carl Cervantes. “The Philippines has so much to offer in terms of spiritual exploration,” she says. “I hope to bring these narratives into my series and invite others to see the sacred in the everyday.”
The influence of two cultures is evident in her artistic voice. “I’m not half German and half Filipino—I’m fully both,” she asserts. “I prefer to say I’m double. That multidimensionality fuels my work, allowing me to embrace tradition while pushing boundaries.” Lapina’s father’s fascination with the Philippines and her mother’s determination to teach her Tagalog shaped a perspective that sees the interconnectedness of cultures and identities. “We’re all shaped by multiple narratives,” she says. “But it’s how we bring them together that makes us whole.”
Silke Lapina’s schedule in Manila includes the Intersections Art Summit Philippines x Thailand (February 7–9, 2025), Art Fair Philippines (February 21–23, 2025), the opening of a group exhibition at Gravity Art Space on February 21, 2025, and a solo exhibition in March 2025. Through her mirrors, she explores self-reflection, personal stories, and cultural connections. Her work weaves together her Filipino and German roots, offering a powerful reminder of art’s ability to bridge worlds and inspire healing.
