Is a parade float on a flatbed truck art? Can it inspire reflection? Can it heal?

Richard Benipayo, chief designer for the Fourth of July parade's grand champion Filipino community float, says yes, yes and yes.

"A float can change people's perspectives," he said Thursday, taking a break from float assembly in the downtown Office Depot parking lot. He and half a dozen volunteers worked all day, tacking together paintings of Alaska Native women picking berries and strings of paper mache geese into what Benipayo calls "a visual showcase."

"When (parade watchers) see that this float is so diverse, they can see you can work together and believe in something, something that binds them, that holds them together. I think that's what America is all about," he said, his words tumbling out in breathless phrases that carried the sing-song cadence of Tagalog.

Benipayo -- thespian by passion, nurse by training -- is a man obsessed with the transformational power of the Fourth of July float. He's made prize-winning floats for the last five years. Each year, his creations and their symbolism grow more complex. He's a fan of bright colors, casts of dancers and sweeping, global themes.

Last year it was red umbrellas, symbols of inclusion and protection from global warming. This year it was birds, symbols of "freedom of thought and the spread of ideas rising up in the world."

How does he get the ideas?

"You have general vision, 'OK I want to discuss diversity or freedom or democracy' ... it is always connected with motif, symbolism and metaphor," he said. "The thought behind it is the most, I think, dramatic."

He envisioned this year's float for a good 12 months. The totem poles are symbols of diversity because of their many animals, the berry pickers in Alaska and rice terraces of the Philippines were juxtaposed to show the universality of subsistence and the way Filipino-Americans are woven into the history of Alaska. The float was meant to bring unity to a fragmented world, he said.

"I'm just one small voice. Sometimes I won't make a difference, but you actually pay attention to the small things, that's where everything starts," he said.

There isn't a lot of competition among floats in the Fourth of July parade, in part because there isn't much availability among people who drive flatbed trucks. In past years, the Korean-Americans were Benipayo's biggest rivals for the title of grand champion. This year, it was a religious float that depicted Jesus, crucified, on the deck of a battleship.

"This is not a competition, it's about expression, it's about being seen and being able to express your thoughts," Benipayo said.

But, he admitted, winning was nice.

Friday, after the chanting cadets and the motley marching band, the clowns and antique British roadsters, Benipayo's masterpiece came floating down the asphalt.

There were Tlingit button blankets, skin drums, dancers in Filipino dress making delicate gyrations. There were totem poles and rice terraces. And at the helm, a beautiful Filipino queen, her arms swathed in gold lame, made to look like giant outstretched wings.

Spectators clapped and hooted and waved their tiny flags.

Amid the glitter and noise, Benipayo waved from the sunroof of a car. His face had a happy, distracted look, his mind already on next year's plan.

"Once the float rolls down the road," he said. "I am starting to create ideas already."

Find Julia O'Malley online at adn.com/contact/jomalley or call 257-4591.