ArtiBaguio

08/08/2025

Not all strength is loud.
Some of it looks like showing up quietly,
growing slowly,
and blooming anyway,
even through stone.

In the middle of things,
in the in-betweens,
we often forget that becoming isn’t always grand.
Sometimes it’s just this:
a quiet push,
a silent unfolding,
a softness that chooses to stay.

If this season feels slow,
remember,
growth is still happening.
Even here. Even now. 🌸

05/08/2025

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘, 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝! 🥳

Even on cloudy morning,
when the skies barely open,
when the sun is more memory than promise,
there’s quiet beauty in choosing to show up anyway.
In growing where you’re planted,
even if softly, even if slowly.

Not all growth is loud.
Sometimes it arrives in small ways:
in the way you keep going,
in the stillness you begin to honor,
in the parts of yourself you’re finally starting to love.

This bloom reminded me,
you don’t need perfect conditions to unfold.
You just need presence.
A lot of faith.
And the courage to keep reaching for the light,
even when no one’s watching.

This month is for soft growth,
small courage, and unapologetic becoming.

It’s not loud. But it’s real.
And maybe, that’s enough.

🌻 Here’s to August: the season of becoming.

31/07/2025

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚,
𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙, 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚.

I thought July would be sunsets,
but the skies had other plans.
Still, in between the rain,
there were moments I could catch.
And paint. And keep.

Each piece held a hush,
a slow shift, a quiet stretch.
And tonight, the whole sky comes together.

From the warmth of a last light,
to the silence that follows,
to the stillness that holds the dark,
this is what letting go can look like.

One canvas. Five scenes.
A slow unraveling of in-betweens.

Thank you for being part of this little journey.
Takipsilim doesn’t end here,
but at 11:59 on July 31,
the sky feels… just right.
And COMPLETE. ✨

𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚖 | Acrylic on Canvas

26/07/2025

Evenings in Baguio don’t always arrive
with fanfare.

Sometimes they come quietly,
in the slow fading of light,
in the way the wind cools down,
in the hush that settles over the hills.

This photo was taken during that in-between, not quite day, not fully night.
Just that gentle hour where everything feels slower, softer.

No big stories here.
Just a city winding down,
and a sky that knows how to listen. 🌘

23/07/2025

𝘽𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙝𝙤𝙬,
𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜.

There’s a kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty,
it feels alive.
Like the trees are listening.
Like the stars have seen this moment before.

This piece was painted slowly,
as if the darkness had something to say.

Not everything has to be bright to be seen.
Not everything soft is weak.

Some skies speak only to those who slow down long enough
to really hear them. 🌌

𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 | Acrylic on Canvas

19/07/2025

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙧 — 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙢𝙚. 🌒

Evenings in Baguio are quiet,
but in that stillness, something stirs.
Not every day ends with clarity —
some just ask you to sit with the unknown.

This month’s skies come with fewer words,
but more emotion.
We begin again, this time at dusk.

16/07/2025

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙
𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙙.

This sky doesn’t ask for your attention.
It simply appears.
Faint purplish-blue, soft grayish black,
a silence that hums more than it speaks.

It feels like a pause.
Like the whole world is catching its breath.

There’s no more light left to chase.
Just stillness,
and whatever you find inside it.

Some moments aren’t loud.
But they stay with you the longest. 🌑

𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 | Acrylic on Canvas

11/07/2025

𝗜𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴.

The sun peeked out for just a moment,
a soft gold behind the hills,
painting light over rooftops before the clouds
came rushing back in.
The rain returned, the sky turned grey again.
But for that one quiet minute… the city glowed.

It reminded me that even a short burst of light can be enough.
That not everything beautiful has to stay long to be real.
That even fleeting warmth can carry you through a cold morning.

Sometimes, the sky just needs a second to remind you:
“𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.” 🤍

09/07/2025

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚,
𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙.

Some light knows how to stay,
even after the sun slips away.

This sky holds that in-between:
peach-pinkish fading into purplish-blue,
hushed clouds drifting slower,
like the world was learning how to be quiet.

I didn’t want to rush this one.
I painted it gently,
like the moment was still breathing.

There’s still more to tell.
But for now…
we soften. 🌒

𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚎𝚜 | Acrylic on Canvas

05/07/2025

Some skies don’t come to be understood.
They arrive in silence in sweeping clouds and soft streaks of color,
in the hush between daylight and darkness.
And somehow, that’s enough.

Not all evenings ask us to explain ourselves.
Some just ask us to stay awhile.
To look up. To listen.
To be still, even just for a moment.

This one felt like that.
And if you’re reading this, maybe it’s your sign to slow down, too.

Because sometimes, peace doesn’t come
in finding the right answers.
It comes in simply being here. 🌌

05/03/2023

10/07/2021

⚠ ALERT! ⚠

Hi, Hello! Almea Bae here! 🤟🏻

Please be informed that someone hacked my account in Youtube and in Google. If they have send you something suspicious, please don't open and inform me immediately. Thank you very much ! ❤️