Behind Gallery Gala 2025: Powering a Decade of Imagination

 

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

SINGAPORE – In 2025, the National Gallery Singapore reaches a defining moment: its 10th anniversary. A decade of daring, of dreaming, and of making art accessible to all. But anniversaries are not just markers of time; they are milestones that demand reflection, vision, and celebration. And in Singapore, few events embody that spirit more powerfully than the Gallery Gala—a biennial beacon of philanthropy and art that has become one of the most anticipated nights on the nation’s cultural calendar.

This year’s edition, themed “A Decade of Imagination,” will take place on 13 September 2025. It promises not just glamour, but purpose: raising the Gallery’s highest fundraising total yet to fuel its mission of building a thoughtful, creative, and inclusive society through art. The funds raised will support blockbuster exhibitions, global collaborations, and programmes designed for seniors, children, and underserved communities—ensuring that art’s transformative power reaches every corner of society.

Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Trade and Industry Gan Kim Yong will grace the evening as Guest of Honour, underscoring the national significance of the event.

Dining Where History Meets Art

For the first time, the Gala will open the exhibition galleries themselves as the dining stage—an unprecedented opportunity for guests to experience art spaces in an entirely new light. Here, long tables will stretch beneath masterpieces, as conversation and creativity intertwine beneath the weight of history.

Adding flavour to the evening, some of Singapore’s most celebrated chefs will craft a once-in-a-lifetime dining experience. Julien Royer of three-Michelin-starred Odette, Damian D’Silva, the “godfather of Singapore Heritage Cuisine,” and legendary Peranakan chef Violet Oon—who will be cooking live—promise a menu as bold and imaginative as the art on the walls.

An Auction for the Ages

The evening will culminate in a Sotheby’s-managed charity auction, featuring rare luxury experiences and 70 exceptional artworks by renowned names such as Yayoi Kusama, Fernando Zóbel, Liu Kang, Heman Chong, and Ronald Ventura.

From private curated tours at the American Museum of Natural History, to stepping into Justin Hurwitz’s recording studio during a live film scoring session, to once-in-a-lifetime Belmond luxury journeys across Europe—this year’s auction blurs the lines between art, experience, and legacy.

But the art is equally compelling. From Sam Lo’s witty cultural reflections to Ruben Pang’s bold explorations of the human condition, the auction celebrates both established masters and fearless contemporary voices who are shaping Southeast Asia’s cultural story.

The Stewards of Imagination

Behind the grandeur of the Gala lies a team of 11 leaders from art, business, philanthropy, and culture who have spent nearly a year shaping its concept and direction:

Aun Koh, Gala Co-chair, emphasizes the spirit of collective passion: “These are all volunteers donating their time, resources, and networks because they believe in the Gallery’s mission. My team and I are indebted to this dynamic and inspiring group of leaders, trendsetters, and catalysts.”

Jazz Chong, also Co-chair, reflects on art’s power: “Art is more than beauty on a wall—it can connect communities, shift perspectives, and inspire change.”

Lee Woon Shiu sees imagination as Singapore’s defining asset: “Our nation’s greatest strength lies in our ability to dream differently and turn visionary ideas into reality.”

Other committee members—including Celeste Basapa, Vir Kotak, Albert Lee, Ho Kheng Lian, Wendy Long, Jason Ong, Willabelle Ong, and Layla Pi—each bring unique perspectives, from celebrating Singapore’s 60th year of independence (SG60) to championing art as both cultural treasure and social equalizer. Their personal auction favourites—from Noor Mahmum’s New Shoes to Willabelle Ong’s own Rolling Sea—reflect the eclectic, deeply personal nature of this year’s offerings.

A Legacy Beyond a Night

The Gallery Gala is not simply an evening of luxury and art; it is a bridge between creativity and community. Proceeds will empower the Gallery to expand its curatorial research, mount international exhibitions, and develop outreach programmes that bring art to those who need it most.

As Dr Eugene Tan, CEO and Director of National Gallery Singapore, puts it:

“A Decade of Imagination reflects our belief that the next ten years demand fresh perspectives. We must reinvent how we connect with evolving audiences while staying true to our mission. This year, we aim to raise a record sum to sustain our role as Singapore’s leading home for art. It is only through generosity that we can continue to champion Southeast Asian art and foster cultural dialogues that enrich lives across our community.”

More Than a Fundraiser

The Gallery Gala has often been likened to Singapore’s own “Met Gala,” but at its core, it is much more than red carpets and dazzling gowns. With the theme “Black Tie Reimagined”, this year’s fashion will be as bold as the art it celebrates—an outward expression of the creativity the Gallery seeks to inspire.

Every donation, every seat, and every auction bid goes directly toward shaping Singapore’s cultural legacy. And with a 250% tax deduction for contributions, the Gala offers not just a moment of celebration but a lasting investment in the nation’s creative future.

A Decade of Imagination

As Singapore celebrates SG60 and the Gallery marks a decade of artistry, imagination becomes more than a theme—it becomes a call to action. The Gallery Gala 2025 is not just about raising funds; it is about raising possibilities, ensuring that art continues to inspire, challenge, and transform lives for generations to come.

Because in the end, imagination is not just what we see in the galleries—it is what we dare to create together.

Karen Davila’s Through-Line: What the Flood Control Furor Reveals About Systemic Weaknesses in Public Works

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

When the flood control controversy crested into the national spotlight this August, Karen Davila’s interviews on ANC’s Headstart did more than extract headlines—they stitched together the anatomy of a system that too often rewards political power over public safety. Through a series of relentless, clear-eyed conversations with the public works chief, congressional investigators, and top officials, Davila surfaced the same pattern in story after story: budget insertions with thin planning, contractors clustered around political patrons, oversight checks that arrive after the deluge, and a procurement regime that allows conflicts to flourish.

This article distills the core insights that emerged from Davila’s reporting—and shows how those insights are now being tested by formal probes and an unprecedented paper trail of projects, contractors, and budget movements.

1) “Follow the money”—and the insertions

In multiple Headstart episodes, Davila pressed Public Works Secretary Manuel Bonoan about the scale and provenance of budget insertions into the DPWH. Bonoan confirmed that enormous sums were added into the agency’s 2025 proposal—figures he described as “surprising”—and acknowledged that these add-ons shape what gets built and where. The interviews helped anchor a crucial point that lawmakers, auditors, and the Palace are now chasing: the way insertions—and who controls them—can distort the national flood strategy. 

The effect is not theoretical. Senate leaders and committee chairs have since moved investigations that frame insertions as the gateway through which under-studied, poorly sited, or duplicative projects entered the pipeline. Davila’s line of questioning put that linkage on-air early and often, long before subpoenas began flying. 

2) A market that clusters contracts around the already-powerful

Davila’s interviews made plain a startling concentration: an official list showed that about 20% of flood control projects—worth roughly ₱100 billion—went to just 15 contractors since 2022. When Davila put this to her guests, the conversation shifted from rumor to record: the Palace itself disclosed the tally and ordered an audit; the DPWH chief said his audit would home in on projects by the top contractors; senators wanted them in the witness chairs. 

This is the contracting ecosystem that Davila kept interrogating: if a handful of firms dominate, what does that do to bid quality, pricing, and project performance? And why are so many flood structures failing where the water meets the wall?

3) “Ghosts” and quality: oversight that arrives too late

When reports of “ghost” projects in Bulacan broke, Davila’s program became a venue where the DPWH chief had to address them directly. He conceded suspected ghosts and promised an audit focused on the biggest contractors. Soon after, the Commission on Audit ordered a fraud audit of flood-control projects in Bulacan covering 2022–2025. Davila’s interviews connected these dots on camera: allegation → agency response → outside audit—exactly the sequence that should kick in, but too often lags until after lives and property are lost. 

4) Conflicts of interest are not edge cases—they’re design flaws

Davila also platformed questions that go beyond a single province: is the rulebook itself inviting conflicts? A case in point that her network reported prominently shows how porous the boundaries can be—a COA commissioner’s spouse reportedly bagging nearly ₱200 million in DPWH flood contracts. Even if technically allowed under certain configurations, Davila’s interviews pushed officials to confront the obvious: perceived conflicts erode public trust, and any audit that ignores them isn’t credible. 

Relatedly, Headstart guests floated reforms that Davila quickly hammered down to specifics: prohibiting lawmakers and their relatives from owning or fronting contractors that bid on public works; tightening beneficial ownership disclosures; and closing “license-renting” loopholes that let small operators borrow big accreditations to win—and botch—large jobs. 

5) Strategy drift: projects without a master plan

Davila repeatedly returned to first principles: where is the countrywide flood master plan that aligns spending with hydrology, urbanization, and climate projections? Her interviews with senators and the DPWH chief underscored that without a published, data-backed blueprint—one that survives election cycles—money will chase politics, not watersheds. Lawmakers have since echoed that critique, questioning the mismatch between flood-prone areas and where money actually went. 

6) The Karen Davila method: make power explain itself—on record

If there’s a signature to Davila’s work in this saga, it’s that she collapses the distance between “everyone knows” and “someone responsible just said it, on air.” Consider this run of outcomes shaped by her interviews and the reporting orbiting them:

Admission of anomalous patterns: DPWH’s on-air commitments to focus audits on the top contractors. 

Public release momentum: After Palace disclosures on contractor concentration, Davila’s follow-up segments kept pressure on agencies to publish lists, maps, and project statuses. 

Legislative traction: Senate Blue Ribbon and House committees framing probes around themes Davila ventilated—insertions, monopolies, and conflicts—rather than scattered paperwork disputes. 

That approach doesn’t “solve” corruption. But it changes the cost of silence. Once an official has said, on tape, that an audit is underway, the absence of a report becomes a story of its own.

What her reporting implies for all DPWH projects

Davila’s flood-control coverage is a mirror for the rest of the public works portfolio. If you can insert billions into flood lines without a defensible master plan, the same rules (and loopholes) likely apply to roads, bridges, and buildings. The signals to watch—across DPWH and beyond—are the ones Davila kept circling back to:

Beneficial ownership transparency

Who really owns the bidding firms? Without a reliable registry and strong enforcement, “fronts” and “license rentals” will keep quality low and prices high. Lawmakers and the DPWH chief have acknowledged gaps here; Davila’s interviews put them on the record to support reforms. 

Insertion discipline and project gating

Any budget augmentation should pass through a published, technical gate: hazard maps, hydrological models, environmental and social safeguards, and maintenance financing. Davila’s exchanges with senators and the DPWH underline the need for fixed, public criteria before a peso moves. 

Independent, real-time oversight

COA’s Bulacan fraud audit is a start, but Davila’s reporting hints at what the public expects next: dashboards that show every project’s location, status, contractor, change orders, and payout schedule—in real time, not a year later. The Palace’s release of contractor concentration figures shows the executive understands the public appetite for transparent data. 

Accountability with names, not abstractions

By repeatedly asking “who benefits?” and “who signs?,” Davila kept the focus on named officials and companies. That’s why Senate subpoenas for the top contractors and televised probes now feel inevitable, not theatrical. 

Where this is headed

The probes are widening, not narrowing. The Blue Ribbon Committee set a motu proprio investigation; the House Public Accounts panel has signaled it will dig into lawmakers’ potential ties to contractors; and DPWH’s internal audit has publicly committed to examine projects tied to the top fifteen firms. Davila’s programming has tracked—and arguably accelerated—each of those moves. 

The biggest unknown is whether promised disclosures harden into rules: a lawful ban on public officials (and their immediate families) holding economic interests in public-works contractors; mandatory beneficial-ownership registries that are cross-checked against bidder rosters; and an insertion regime that forces any add-on projects to pass the same technical screens as the mother budget. Davila’s guests have floated each of these fixes on-air. The country will know reform is real when those ideas show up in statute and in the next General Appropriations Act. 

The value of tough journalism in a season of floods

Karen Davila’s contribution here isn’t just the scoop; it’s the spine. By refusing to accept vague assurances, by pinning officials to verifiable numbers, and by re-centering the conversation on planning, conflict rules, and audit trails, she has turned a sprawling scandal into an agenda the public can follow. That is what accountability journalism looks like: it makes it easier for honest officials to act—and harder for everyone else to hide.

Key sources for this article include Davila’s Headstart interviews with DPWH Secretary Manuel Bonoan, Senate President Francis Escudero, and House Public Accounts Chair Terry Ridon; as well as reportage and official releases that corroborate the figures and actions cited above. 

Ross Flores Del Rosario: The Relentless Architect of a Citizen-First Media Movement

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

Before “content creator” became a business card, before brand ambassadorships blurred the line between public interest and private gain, there was a Filipino technologist-turned-journalist who decided the country didn’t need another newsroom—it needed a nerve center. That idea grew into Wazzup Pilipinas, and the person who built it—engineer, media founder, community organizer, and environmental advocate—was Ross Flores Del Rosario.

This is not the story of a website; it’s the story of a citizen architecture project: how one founder designed a living platform where culture, accountability, and public service could coexist—and thrive.

The Founder Who Refused to Choose Between Tech and Truth

Ross did not stumble into media. He engineered his way into it.

Trained in Electronics and Communications Engineering at Mapúa, he spent his early career in information and communications technology, including a tour of duty as an ICT officer within the United Nations system. That background matters because it shaped his central conviction: information should reduce friction and expand opportunity. He didn’t see stories as mere narratives; he saw them as systems—inputs, flows, and outcomes that either served people or failed them.

When he launched WazzupPilipinas.com, he wasn’t trying to mimic legacy media. He was building a platform where the median Filipino could find culture and civic engagement in the same scroll. What began as a blog grew into a multi-format, community-led newsroom covering travel and tourism, lifestyle and culture, entrepreneurship and innovation, and—critically—public accountability.

“Pambansang Blog ng Pilipinas” was more than a tagline; it was a thesis statement. The mission: make credible storytelling feel close to home and impossible to ignore.

A Platform That Moves People—and Places

Under the Wazzup Pilipinas banner, Ross turned attention into action. He organized Influencers’ Tours across the province of Rizal—Tanay, Angono, Rodriguez, and beyond—showcasing hometown artisans, makers, and micro-entrepreneurs who rarely make national headlines. It was strategic tourism advocacy: bring credible storytellers to overlooked communities, then let authentic experience do the persuasion.

Travel content wasn’t escapism; it was economic development in plain sight. Each feature functioned as a micro-campaign for local pride, visibility, and livelihood. In Ross’s calculus, a well-told itinerary can be a policy instrument.

Accountability With a Citizen’s Voice

Ross is just as comfortable in the friction of governance as he is in the warmth of culture writing. He has never treated “investigative” as a genre reserved for big mastheads. When documentation is lacking, when government websites are broken or opaque, when rumored irregularities harden into patterns—he pushes. He insists on clarity, he invites whistleblowers and watchdogs into the same conversation, and he disregards the false choice between “positive news” and “hard truth.”

That posture made Wazzup Pilipinas a trusted conduit between citizens and institutions—credible enough for policymakers to listen, independent enough for citizens to trust.

From Hashtag to Hall: Convening People Who Care

In Taguig, Ross convened UMALOHOKAN: Para sa Kaalaman, Kalikasan, at Kinabukasan—a workshop-meets-forum that pulls scholars, creators, environmental groups, and the media into one collaborative space. It’s not a panel for soundbites; it’s an operating room for ideas. The aim: align storytelling with measurable public outcomes, from climate literacy to local sustainability initiatives.

This is where the Ross method becomes visible: curate the room, flatten the hierarchy, and let expertise meet community memory. Then turn the outputs into legible, shareable narratives the public can use.

The Environmental Public Servant—Inside and Outside Media

Ross’s leadership extends beyond the newsroom. He serves as the External Vice President of the Green Party of the Philippines and sits on the board of the Bayanihan Para Sa Kalikasan Movement Inc. Working closely with environmental engineers and advocates, he advances initiatives around energy efficiency, pollution prevention, and circular economy practices—translating technical goals into public-facing campaigns the average Filipino can adopt without a manual.

It’s a rare feedback loop: advocacy informs coverage; coverage powers advocacy. The effect is compounding.

A Seat at International Tables

Wazzup Pilipinas isn’t insular. Ross has represented the platform in high-level forums such as the Asian Development Bank’s Business Opportunities Fair, bringing community media into the same rooms where development finance, procurement policy, and private-sector commitments are negotiated. He understands that large-scale change requires public pressure and institutional fluency. His fluency is earned—by years of doing the reading, asking the right questions, then explaining the answers in public, in language people recognize.

International recognition followed— including honors for community impact that validated what his audiences already knew: Wazzup Pilipinas is both mirror and megaphone.

The Editor’s Ethic: Stories You Can Stand On

Ross rejects the lazy economy of outrage. He and his contributors write with a readable intensity—curious, unafraid, never gratuitous. The editorial discipline is clear:

Credibility over virality. Facts first, framing next, amplification last.

Community proximity. If a story doesn’t matter to a neighborhood, a classroom, a farmer, or a commuter, it isn’t finished yet.

Transparency as a habit. Corrections aren’t embarrassing; they’re a covenant with the reader.

The result is a brand of journalism that feels personal without being performative, rigorous without being remote.

Building Coalitions, Not Just Audiences

Ross’s superpower is coalition-building. He can host a fashion runway one day—spotlighting Filipino designers poised for global stages—then pivot to a flood-control data hunt the next, pushing agencies toward clearer reporting and better public tools. He can profile a chef, convene a student film circle, or dissect a municipal procurement trail—and each piece still reads like Wazzup Pilipinas because the common denominator is service to the reader.

Followers are easy to count; coalitions are easy to feel. You’ll know you’re in one when your city becomes easier to navigate because of a story you read, a hotline you learned, or a local brand you discovered and supported.

A Founder From Pasig, Thinking Nationally

Based in Pasig, Ross builds like a neighbor and plans like a national strategist. He has turned city-level concerns—transport, flooding, waste, public information—into stories with national resonance. He insists that local governance is not “small” governance; it is the proving ground where policy either works or breaks. When it breaks, he names the fracture. When it works, he explains why—so it can be replicated elsewhere.

Media as Infrastructure

Ask Ross what Wazzup Pilipinas “does” and he’ll point to infrastructure, not just influence. The site functions as:

A discovery engine for travelers, creators, and SMEs that need reach.

A transparency tool that translates bureaucratic knots into readable threads.

A civic stage where citizens, scholars, and officials can be in public together—accountably.

That’s infrastructure. It’s the scaffolding through which a country gets smarter about itself.

What Comes Next

The future Ross is building is resolutely collaborative: creators with backbone, citizens with tools, officials with candor, and businesses with conscience. Expect more convenings like UMALOHOKAN, deeper partnerships with environmental and civic organizations, and sharper, more accessible reporting on the systems that define everyday life—from climate resilience and public health to education, transport, and digital governance.

The Wazzup Pilipinas founder isn’t chasing a moment. He is compounding a mission.

Why Ross Flores Del Rosario Matters Now

Because the Philippines is in a season that punishes indifference and rewards clarity. Because every barangay needs better data and brighter stories. Because audiences are done with either–or: they want beauty and bravery, culture and consequence, leisure and literacy.

Ross Flores Del Rosario—and the platform he built—proves that these things can live in the same place. Not by accident. By design.

Fast Facts

Founder: Wazzup Pilipinas (community-first digital media platform)

Advocacy Roles: External Vice President, Green Party of the Philippines; Board Member, Bayanihan Para Sa Kalikasan Movement Inc.

Civic Convenor: Organizer of UMALOHOKAN: Para sa Kaalaman, Kalikasan, at Kinabukasan (Taguig)

Tourism Champion: Led influencers’ tours across Rizal municipalities to boost grassroots tourism and creative economies

International Engagements: Represented Wazzup Pilipinas at development and business forums, including the Asian Development Bank’s BOF

Core Ethic: Credibility, community proximity, transparency—media that serves as public infrastructure.