The Ease In Paper And The Age-Old Story Of Taking Things For Granted

There is comfort in paper as a medium. It never overwhelms.

The portable nature of paper as material caters to spontaneity and impulse. Its accessibility is economically forgiving to mistakes, but its throwaway characteristic often dims the way one assesses its worth. Paper’s longevity as a medium has long been questioned ever since art was conjoined with a corresponding monetary value; its fragility, its sensitivity, its need for delicate handling deems it inferior to its counterparts, but how many lifetimes of persistence is considered long enough for paper to be found otherwise?

One cannot deny, however, the ease found in paper – its mediocrity, its blankness, its lightness knows no complaint. Perhaps one could find in paper the ease that used to be in our lives or at least a semblance of it.

In Cold Comfort For Change, Is Jumalon, Doktor Karayom, Jojo Legaspi take on paper with such familiarity as if the hand moved before the thought was conceived. Elmer Borlongan, Johanna Helmuth, Lao Lianben inhabit paper as a demesne they have effortlessly laid claim to. Calubayan, true to his practice, takes paper as a tool to archive his perspective of the world as a biographical documentation.

In this exhibition, these artists glide through and bask in the ease paper offers. With the present collective awareness of how times have changed and the collective anxiety it continuously nurses, there is consolation in the act of approaching paper directly, impulsively, not for the usual act of making studies or note-taking, but with finality as a concretization of thoughts.

Paper as a stage to let the spontaneity left unpracticed due to the current restraints the time poses loose, however, is a stopgap, a bittersweet gesture to appease one’s yearning for the former days of the unplanned and the devil-may-care sprees. With every present moment spent on careful planning and preparation necessary for even the smallest of movement, there is a silent admission to one’s self. That maybe a lot of things were taken for granted, that maybe the freedom and nonchalance we used to wear around our necks, more than privilege, are really luxuries. On top of these, maybe what we truly took for granted was the sense of control we had over our lives, and now we are struggling to take it back. The more control one has, the more one can wallow in episodes without it, so we begin reclaiming control by trying to give in to our impulses as much as what is realistically allowable.

Paper, as previously established, caters to spontaneity and impulse. It is adaptable; it is submissive. It is a suitable, if not the best, material to initiate the attempt to reclaim the control one has lost with.

As one experiences the loss of a sense of control, one’s sense of self relatively dwindles. Taking this into account, Cold Comfort For Change expands to being an act of grounding, of defining footing, of orienting one’s self to one’s present to serve as a guide as to where to proceed, when to proceed, for as much as one wants to mourn the things one has lost, marinating in the memory of the bygone days would just be another story of taking things for granted – the things in the now.

It is not just chasing what used to be, taking back control, taking back a sense of self. It is also taking the reins and embracing change. One may think that to remain in inertia could be a choice, but change comes in assertive waves, continually unraveling itself in front of your person that you would have no choice but to surrender and be carried by its momentum. All that remains in your power is to cross your fingers with hope for unerring balance.

One may find it ironic how in an act of taking back control one throws caution to the wind, but control is not just dominance. It is also decision making, choosing when and when not to let go. It is accepting outcomes and being prepared for whatever they may be.

This is where being optimistic comes in handy. Optimism is a magnetic force one has a natural affinity to; even an identifying nihilistic could not deny a single brush with an optimistic thought. Finding meaning, one that’s optimistic, is essential for one’s continued existence. With eventual death as a shared terminus of everything borne of life, and the knowledge of that as a face at the back of one’s head religiously whispering reminders of every hour passing, the prospect of every action, every decision bearing sweet fruit is fuel enough for one to endure. For what is one lifetime of persistence if not life fulfilled?

• Marionne Contreras