BETWEEN GEORGIAN WALLS AND FILIPINO HEARTS
I almost didn't know what to expect as I walked up Upper Mount Street that afternoon.
Annabelle Lozada, Chairperson of the Filipino Multicultural Society (FiMuS), and I (Founding President of FiMuS) had been invited alongside fellow community leaders and friends of the Embassy to the Philippine Embassy's culminating event for the Paint Our Hope Art Challenge. As we stepped through those Georgian doors at number 37, something stopped us both before we even reached the room. Standing on easels. Already commanding every inch of the space they occupied.
This was also a historic occasion — the first official reception held by the Philippine Embassy Dublin with the Filipino community as its guests since the Embassy moved to its new residence at the end of 2025. That this milestone was marked not with a formal diplomatic gathering but with art and with artists said everything about the kind of Embassy this would be.
H.E. Ambassador Daniel R. Espiritu welcomed the room with a warmth that immediately set the tone — acknowledging each artist not with formality but with genuine, personal recognition. This was a community being seen. Properly. Fully. On its own terms.
Behind the scenes and very much at the heart of it all was Cultural Officer Ms. Vallesfin — whose vision and dedication had reached into the Filipino community across Ireland and drawn out these stories, these colours, these truths. This was her harvest too.
Moving from easel to easel, I felt the full weight of what was in that room whose lives are shaped by migration, sacrifice, reinvention, and an unshakeable pride in who they are. Each one donated their painting to the Embassy that day — a permanent gift to the Philippine government and to every person who would ever walk through those doors after them.
And that is no small thing. Because those doors open to more than just our community. They open to diplomats and dignitaries, government officials and business leaders, friends of the Embassy and allies of the Philippines — people who come from every corner of the world, for every kind of reason. And every single one of them will pass these paintings. Will stop, perhaps, in front of a canvas painted by a Filipino nurse, a single mother, a migrant worker, a teacher turned cake artist — and will understand, in a way no diplomatic briefing could ever convey, who Filipinos in Ireland truly are.
That is the quiet power of what these artists gave. Not just to us — but to the world that walks through that Embassy.
Some now hang on the walls. Others stand on easels. All permanently displayed at 37 Upper Mount Street — there now, and long after all of us have moved on to whatever comes next.
We publish this in June 2026, as the Philippines marks 128 years of independence — and the timing feels exactly right. These artists painted the truth of what independence really looks like when it is lived, not just declared. They are not a footnote to that history. They are a living part of it.
As Founding President of the Filipino Multicultural Society, I am often asked what drives the work — what keeps you going, why it matters, what it is all for.
This is what it is all for. For the truth that Filipinos in Ireland are not just passing through, we are building something real, something rooted, something that will outlast any one of us. These artists walked into that Embassy on the thirteenth of March 2026 and gave their work — and something of themselves — permanently to the Philippine government. To say: I was here. I felt this. I made something from it. And I am leaving it for whoever comes after me.
That is the truth. That is courage. Ani ng Sining: Katotohanan at Giting.
And we were there to witness it.
The paintings from the Paint Our Hope Art Challenge are now on permanent display at the Philippine Embassy, 37 Upper Mount Street, Dublin 2. Meet the artists and discover the stories behind each work on the pages that follow.
IN EVERY BRUSHSTROKE, A LONGING. IN EVERY COLOUR, A HOMELAND.
There are artworks you look at. And then some artworks look back at you. "Ani ng Sining: Katotohanan at Giting" by Shery Ann F. Villagracia is the latter.
Based in Dublin 6, Shery Ann poured something deeply personal into this piece — not just her talent, but her heart's quiet ache for home. For the family she left behind. For the Philippines she carries within her, no matter how far the distance.
But grief and love, in the hands of an artist, become something extraordinary.
On her canvas lives an entire nation — vibrant colours and musical notes, singing of creativity, revolutionary figures standing tall with pride, a dove and rising sun whispering of hope, and nature woven through it all as a gentle reminder of what truly matters.
Giting. Valor. That is the word at the heart of this work — and it is the word that describes Sherry Ann herself. A Filipina living far from home, turning homesickness into heritage, and nostalgia into something the whole world can see and feel.
This is what Filipino art does. It doesn't just decorate a wall. It tells the truth.
TWO FLAGS. TWO BIRDS. ONE EXTRAORDINARY STORY.
Some paintings tell you what they are immediately. "Filipino Hands in Irish Soil" by Daime Panaligan takes its time — and the longer you look, the deeper it pulls you in.
Two nurses stand together, their faces intentionally undefined. Because Daime didn't paint two people. She painted all of us. Every Filipino who packed a life into a suitcase, crossed an ocean, and quietly — without fanfare — made themselves essential to the country that welcomed them.
Sampaguita and shamrock share the same soil. The Philippine sun casts its golden halo over both. Two birds — one in flight, one at rest — tell the whole story of migration in a single glance. The Leaving. The Arrival. The staying.
And behind this breathtaking work stands a woman with a story just as layered as her canvas. A former high school English teacher turned Senior Security Researcher at the Asian Development Bank, protecting diplomats across the world — Daime eventually found her way to Ireland, reinvented herself, fell in love, settled in Waterford, and never once stopped creating. She paints every week. Cards. Canvas. Murals. Because art, for Daime, has always been how she makes sense of the world.
She painted these nurses thinking of every Filipino healthcare worker she has met since arriving in Ireland. Not as heroes on a pedestal — but as everyday people doing extraordinary things. Quietly. Consistently. With care.
This is what it looks like when truth meets valour meets belonging.
PLANTED IN A FOREIGN SOIL. GREW ANYWAY.
There is something quietly revolutionary about Haylin B. Connolly's "Harvest of Strength." It doesn't shout. It isn't in demand. It simply stands — the way a Filipina mother stands — with everything she carries, and still finds a way to bloom.
Surrounded by rice and shamrock side by side. The Dublin skyline rising in the background of a life rebuilt from scratch. No relatives to call. No familiar hands to lean on. Just a woman, her love for her family, and a strength she didn't even know she had — until Ireland asked her to find it.
Haylin is not painting from imagination. She is painting from lived truth. Every grain of rice in this canvas is a sacrifice made quietly. Every shamrock is a day she chose to stay and grow rather than fold. Every brushstroke is proof that Filipino values don't wilt in the cold — they harvest.
She calls it Ani ng Sining — a harvest of resilience. We call it one of the most honest paintings we have seen in a long time.
To every Filipino mother building a life in a country that was never in their original plan — this painting is yours too.
Ina" (two pieces) by Mina Santiago
INA. THE MOST POWERFUL WORD IN ANY LANGUAGE.
Some titles need no explanation. "Ina" is one of them.
Mina Santiago didn't just paint a mother. She painted every mother — the ones who hide their tears behind closed eyes, whose joy spills quietly through a smile, whose dreams bloom like gumamela in full colour around them.
Two canvases. One truth.
In Mina's work, a mother is not a single image — she is a universe. She is the dawn breaking open every morning with quiet resolve. She is the flow of water and the force of wind — soft enough to nurture, strong enough to carry everything. She is colour and light and dignity, all at once.
And Mina paints all of this not from the outside looking in — but from the inside, because she is one. A mother herself, living and loving in Ireland, far from the land that shaped her, yet never far from the values that define her. She creates not just to make art — but to honour every woman who has ever put her family above herself and still found a way to stand tall.
"Na may puso at dignidad." With heart and dignity.
If there was ever a more perfect way to describe both the subject and the artist herself — we haven't found it.
BY CAROLINE RUDDY
SOME HARVESTS TAKE YEARS. AND THEY ARE WORTH EVERY SINGLE ONE.
Not every act of courage announces itself loudly. Some show up quietly — in the form of a woman walking back into a classroom after nearly a decade away and saying: I am still here. And I still have something to give.
Caroline Ruddy is Irish-Filipino, a mother, a teacher, and — as this artwork proves — a woman who understands that every season of life carries its own profound truth.
For almost ten years, she poured herself completely into her family. No applause. No recognition. Just the deep, unglamorous, irreplaceable work of building a home and raising children across two cultures. And then, when the time was right, she walked back into the world — not as someone who had been away, but as someone who had been quietly preparing.
She returned to teaching with Katotohanan — the truth of who she is, where she comes from, and the heritage she carries with pride into every classroom. And it took every ounce of Giting — that quiet, fierce bravery — to reclaim a professional identity she had placed on hold out of love.
Now she shares that creative spark with her Irish students every single day. Not just as an art teacher. But as living proof that there is dignity in every season. That stepping away is not the same as giving up. That authenticity is not just a value — it is the most powerful lesson anyone can ever teach.
Caroline didn't just return to the classroom. She harvested everything she had become.
SHE CAME WITH A DREAM. SHE STAYED WITH A STRENGTH NO ONE COULD HAVE PREPARED HER FOR.
Read this one slowly. Because Geraldine Reorizo's story — and her painting "Mithi" — deserves every single word.
Ten years ago, Geraldine arrived in Ireland heavily pregnant, with a three-year-old in tow, leaving behind a career and a comfortable life in Southeast Asia. She came not for herself — but for love. For family. For the hope that a new country might mend what was broken.
Two years later, she was a single mother. No career. Almost homeless. Two young children. A foreign country. And the kind of silence that falls when everything you planned falls apart.
But here is what Geraldine knew — even in her darkest moments — that being Filipino is not just a nationality. It is a backbone.
"Pagsubok ka lang. Pilipino ako."
She picked up the pieces. Slowly. Quietly. Stubbornly. The university lecturer reinvented herself as a cake artist — because art, in every form it takes, has always been her refuge, her comfort, and her way back to herself.
And now? She has her own home. Her children. Her craft. Her peace. Her mithi — finally, fully, gloriously within reach.
"Magandang buhay, kaligayahan at kapayapaan."
A beautiful life. Happiness. Peace.
She didn't just survive Ireland. She made it her second home. And she did it the only way a true Filipina knows how — with heart, with grit, and with art that tells the truth even when the truth is hard.
"Pagsubok ka lang. Pinay ako."
THEY LEFT HOME TO HOLD EVERYTHING TOGETHER.
There are paintings that make you stop mid-scroll. "Pillars of the Pearl (Haligi ng Perlas)" by Jessmer Dela Cruz Abing is one of them.
Jessmer's story is one many Filipinos will recognise. He came from Saudi Arabia, made his way to Ireland, and built a new life — and when he did, his wife followed, over a year ago, choosing love and a shared future over the comfort of the familiar. Two people. One leap of faith. Together.
And now, in a moment that feels almost poetic, both husband and wife stand as fellow competitors in this very art challenge — two artists under one roof, channeling their journey, their culture, and their heart onto canvas side by side.
Look closely at Jessmer's canvas. The figures are not background details. They are paintings. Nurses. Labourers. Workers of every kind — standing tall, shoulders bearing the weight of a nation, arms quietly holding up the stars and sun of the Philippine flag.
And behind them? The colours of Ireland. Not as a contrast — but as a shared space. A testament to the journey taken, the host country embraced, and the unity quietly built between two nations through the lives of ordinary people doing extraordinary things every single day.
He dedicated this work to every Filipino migrant worker in Ireland and across the world. The ones who wake up early, work hard, send money home, miss birthdays, and still — still — carry the pride of the Philippines wherever they go.
He didn't paint heroes. He painted the truth. And sometimes, the truth is the most powerful art of all.
PROUD PINAY — AND EVERY BIT OF THAT TITLE IS EARNED.
When Cherry Leay Sumugat picks up a brush, she doesn't just paint a picture. She paints a life. Based in Dublin for just nine months, Cherry is no stranger to starting over — and to rising. Since 2007, this Filipina trailblazer has led international teams across Dubai, China, and now Ireland, managing talents from Spain, Brazil, Germany, Jordan, Kyrgyzstan, Morocco, Turkey and beyond — often as the only Filipino in the room.
And yet, she never lost herself. Not her identity. Not her heart. Not her pride in where she came from.
"Proud Pinay" is all of that — poured onto canvas. A celebration of the courage, resilience, and quiet strength of Filipino women who lead with both power and compassion, who cross oceans not just to survive but to thrive and inspire.
Cherry calls herself an amateur painter. But there is nothing amateur about the story she carries — or the way she tells it.
This one is for every Filipina who has ever walked into a room full of strangers and made it her own.
PUSONG PINOY. A HEART THAT CREATES. A CULTURE THAT ENDURES.
Some truths don't need translation. Noel Arguelles knows this — and "Pusong Pinoy" proves it.
At the heart of this work beats something every Filipino recognises instantly — that innate, unstoppable creativity that has always defined who we are. Not taught. Not performed. Simply lived. Through dance, through song, through weaving, carving, and painting — the Filipino soul has always expressed itself boldly and beautifully.
But Noel goes deeper than celebration. He anchors his pride in one of the most powerful symbols of Filipino artistry the world has ever known — Apo Whang-od. The legendary mambabatok of the Kalinga people. A living testament to what it means to carry your culture in your very skin, to practise your craft across a lifetime, and to become — without ever seeking it — a gift to the entire world.
For Noel, "Pusong Pinoy" is not just a painting. It is a declaration. That Filipino creativity is not a trend. It is not a moment. It is a harvest — of truth, of courage, of a people who have always known how to turn their stories into something eternal.
He painted with pride. And it shows.
HE HAD NO TOYS. SO HE CREATED A WORLD.
There are origin stories. And then there is Jeno Malana's.
Jeno didn't grow up with brushes and canvases. He grew up with scraps. Discarded paper. Old cartons. Paper bags. Letter cuttings. The things the world throws away — he turned into windows to a future he dared to imagine. A dream house sketched in pencil. A life drawn into existence from nothing.
From crayons to charcoal to acrylic. From a child filling silence with colour to an artist standing before the world with his truth fully formed. Every stage of that journey lives inside "Sining ang Nagpalakas" — layered, textured, and deeply, unmistakably real.
At the heart of this canvas sits the Ibong Adarna — that beloved Filipino symbol of healing, hope, and the courage to endure. Because Jeno knows what endurance looks like. He has lived it. He is still living it.
Because behind this extraordinary painting is an extraordinary grief. Just months ago, Jeno lost his Mama to cancer. The woman who was the reason behind everything he is and everything he creates. She planted in him the love of family, the gift of perseverance, and a quiet strength that no hardship could ever take away.
This painting holds his childhood, his truth, his grief, and his gratitude — all at once. It is the most honest thing a person can offer the world.
Sining ang nagpalakas. Art made him strong. And this painting will make you feel it.
WE CROSSED THE OCEAN. BUT WE NEVER LEFT THE LIGHT BEHIND.
If you have ever stood at the edge of something unfamiliar and wondered whether the person you were back home would survive the crossing — Ana Lumibao painted that feeling. And she made it beautiful.
"Tawid Dagat: The Light We Carry" does something no map could ever do. It places a vibrant Filipino parol — that most tender symbol of faith and light — atop the iconic Poolbeg Lighthouse standing tall in Dublin Bay. Two worlds. One image. One profound and quiet truth.
The lighthouse says: you are here now. The parol says: but you never really left.
Ana didn't just create art. She created a landmark for the Filipino soul in Ireland. A reminder that the bravery it takes to cross vast oceans doesn't erase who you are — it illuminates it. That Filipino culture, faith, and identity are not things we leave behind at the departure gate. They are the very light that guides us through unfamiliar waters and keeps us whole.
In a single canvas, she captured what thousands of Filipinos in Ireland feel but rarely find the words for. The truth of migration. The valour of holding on. The grace of carrying your culture like a lantern — across every ocean, into every new beginning. 🇵🇭🇮🇪
The light we carry never dims.
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