The impermanence of meaning, or simply hot air?

I have never been a fan of existentialism as an ideology. I think it overrates individualism, and my belief is that if indeed our present universe is characterized by impermanence, then we might as well sit on the corner and wait for what time and its passing have in store for us. Or better yet, let us all just perish, if nothing more profound and lasting can be made of our miserable lives. Thus, I had mixed feelings as I made my way to the Gateway Mall in Cubao for the opening of the art exhibit Hot Air Balloon. Curator Enrico Manlapaz quotes French poet Arthur Rimbaud in his exhibition notes: “What will become of the world when you leave? No matter what happens, no trace of now will remain." It sounded off my alarm; nothing could be more existentialist than that. The three-week exhibit Hot Air Balloon featured artworks, all paintings save for a piece of sculpture, by six Fine Arts students from the Technological University of the Philippines (TUP) and the Far Eastern University (FEU). Their ages range from 18 to 25 and all are avid fans of pop artist Adam Young, according to Manlapaz. “The original title was Escape from Reality, but (Manlapaz) gave it a new title. It was just for kicks. We didn't want to be too deep. We just wanted to be cute," 23-year-old Erick Villaruz, an advertising arts major from TUP and one of the featured artists, quipped in Filipino without hesitation. Admittedly, having conducted interviews since my college days, it caught me off-guard, that bluntness which will either leave you reeling in wonder at the sheer brilliance of the remark, or waiting for a more substantial rejoinder. The exhibit opened, albeit will all six artists yet to be completed, with cocktails past 6 p.m. on April 12. Let me declare at the onset: The image of a nun being served what seemed an orange juice mixed with White Castle whiskey (yes, White Castle) was way more powerful than all the exhibit's artworks combined. Diverse styles, disparate views Going around Sining Kamalig, the exhibit’s venue, one is sure to be confronted by styles as diverse (I am tempted to call it post-modern) as the food served during cocktails. Mounted on the wall facing the entrance are three pieces of artwork collectively titled Dreamscape by eighteen-year-old TUP student Kevin Cerda. The work depicts, on the first frame, a child in whose thoughts run phrasal expressions of angst and regret at something never made clear. On the second frame appears a black horned sheep, supposedly to signify bad dreams. according to Cerda. On the third there's a baby with oversized headphones and shades, kept afloat by a bunch of red balloons.

Still another colorful collection by eighteen-year old Ivan Elpa, also from TUP, includes what appear as headshots of four women each bearing childish images of a lollipop, cotton candy, paper windmill and a bubblegum. What unites the collection, and I am still trying to negotiate in my mind what that particular element is supposed to mean, are droplets of varying colors appearing throughout each of the pieces. Radically deviating in style as compared to the other artists are the works of 20-year old Gene Paul Martin from FEU, who had on exhibit a collection of three pieces. They portrayed oversized heads of individuals, each confronted by his or her own predicament, in bare hues of brown, black and red. Unimaginatively titled Solo 1, 2 and 3, Martin explains that each painting depicts specific moments in his life: a flooded house, a spurned romantic pursuit and a stray cat he impulsively brought home. One notable piece of art came from 25-year-old Jacob Lindo of FEU. Consistent with the exhibit’s existentialist mood, his works included a black and white oil-on-canvas rendition of a mushroom cloud reminiscent of the atomic bombings in Nagasaki in Japan in 1945. There was, however, the word ‘Viva Nihilismo!’ splashed across the piece, leading one to conclude that subtlety is not one of the best features of these artists. Next to the painting are three small acrylic plasters of deformed human busts, supposedly the aftermath of massive destruction. “I wanted to do something about destruction, nihilism, (going) back to zero. At the same time I also wanted to portray the power struggles behind these destructive events," Lindo says. I thought, there you go - at least there is one artist here who wanted to make sense, regardless of whether he was successful at the attempt or not. The rest are mere headshots emphasizing differing facial expressions, details of the eyes or external elements, such as a helmet or an apple, as appropriated in each work to enhance, or even confuse, whatever message it wanted to impart. Looking at the artworks, one is given the impression that majority are attempts, however lame, at Andy Warhol-type pop art. That elusive meaning and context All of the 20 or so pieces are on sale, says Villaruz. The prices range from P2,800 to as much as P45,000. Paintings that will not get sold during the exhibit, mostly oil on canvas, will remain on sale with Sining Kamalig for six months. Unlike the gregarious artists who willingly answered questions with much haste and less thought, Manlapaz was the more reserved, perhaps snobbish, type. “Everything I have to say is already stated in my exhibition notes," he retorted when interviewed. A self-proclaimed Buddhist and existentialist, he admits that he is not much into social realism so he prefers works that don’t have much to say except “We are here to tell you what we want!" and “We just wanna be cute!" Yes, those are from his notes as well. Manlapaz explains that when he checked the artists’ portfolio, he saw in their works “narratives of how we came about." For an exhibit that claims it shuns profundity and intellectual discourse, his statements appear in disjunction with its overall theme. “Beneath all this seeming superficiality is the underlying concept of impermanence, of the transitory nature of everything in existence: that nothing remains when time moves on. Beyond flirtation, these artists are here presenting shifts in mindsets, where a mere change in viewing angle can really mean a turnabout, or even a distortion, of meanings and contexts," Manlapaz wrote in his exhibition notes. The author is dead, however, and he might as well have died with the painter, for the painter will never be perpetually beside his works to give them sense, and even more so, to justify his motivations. This is as post-modern as it gets: regardless of the disparate symbols with which we choose to signify our lives, at the end of the day they are supposed to coherently and universally mean something. At their worst, the artworks looked like plates done in haste to meet a school requirement. At their best, they are misguided pieces that may actually have something to say; the problem is, the artists don’t know how to say it. This is about meanings and contexts, the curator declares. So what are the artworks, in their totality, in the context of existentialist thought that it propounds, supposed to mean? In what context, however differing, are we supposed to appreciate them and grasp the truths they so want to peddle? To quote one of the artists’ ready answer to almost any question, “Wala lang." - YA, GMANews.TV