Gambal (2025), mixed media installation (wood, acrylic paint, natural rubber, and light), dimensions variable

Gambal is centered around a queer mythology I’ve constructed through a Filipino lens about a shapeshifting creature or being that can seamlessly change form at will. This entity is inspired both by some aspects of Philippine folklore and my own personal narrative of navigating hostile and rigid environments that have required a constant performance of other identities and wearing of other skins in order to survive. In this mythology, the shapeshifter comes from the spirit of the rubber tree, driven away by destructive practices and inhabiting many forms that stand between human and nonhuman while also constantly shedding its pliable skin under moments of stress and tension.

Viewers of the exhibition are able to witness both the different forms of the shapeshifter as well as its stretched pieces of shed skin hovering above the space. On the wall are the amorphous forms of the wooden panels that appear to be referential to the body but are also calligraphic, almost like unique letters of a hidden language telling the shapeshifter’s story, passed down at the risk of being lost and forgotten. Anchored to these solid, defined wooden panels are the elastic sheets of the shapeshifter’s skin, enveloping the upper parts of the space in flexible ways and resulting in a dynamic interplay of material and surface layering above. By being below these pieces of skin-like material, viewers of the exhibition are offered a rare vantage point or glimpse of what it might be like to be the shapeshifter or be in its skin. It is at times a disconcerting visceral experience, imagining the pain and physical strain of an entity trapped in a constant state of performance. But within the relatively dim space, there is light—a source of illumination from motion sensor lights that are strategically placed above areas of the rubber to showcase the resilience of the skin even under tremendous amounts of force from all directions. As the shapeshifter continuously jumps from one form to the next, the light in the exhibition serves as its intangible representation, an elusive spirit—something that cannot be captured, only becoming perceptible in fleeting moments. And in that movement there is a gracefulness, an endurance, an autonomy that is powerful and sacred.

In the overall narrative of this exhibition, the shapeshifter is constantly hiding behind the language it is creating, understanding the significance of concealing or obscuring itself as both a survival mechanism and protective measure against the forces that constantly threaten its existence. As the viewer walks around the space, they see the panels on the walls as both language and figure. But as they reach a certain point in the exhibition, they witness a unique structure standing out among the rest: a sculptural parametric piece with multiple slats attached to a base panel on the wall, forming an emanated depth and dimensionality that appear to be referential to the shapeshifter’s body. As they walk from one side of the piece to the next, they experience a dynamic visual shift not only in form but also in color, with both sides of the slats exhibiting different properties almost akin to that of a lenticular display. And while the base panel appears to be strictly calligraphic, like a symbol or punctuation mark in this mysterious language, the shapes of the slats themselves feel strictly figure-like. Therefore, at this critical point in the exhibition’s narrative—for a brief, salient moment—the distinction between language and figure has started to split or bifurcate, as if the shapeshifter has finally stopped hiding behind the language and emerges as a tangible, materialized form in space. And in that moment there is great vulnerability, an unguardedness, an eventual impulse to rest from its constant performance and consequent state of exhaustion.

Viewers are similarly offered respite through the bean bags that are situated across the floor of the space. These bean bags offer another layer into the viewers’ experience through the sense of touch as they move their bodies and feel the material shifting alongside them. Indeed, the movement of the viewer is a decisive factor in the installation, impacting not only the shapes of the bean bags on the floor but also the configuration of lighting above due to the motion sensor system positioned across the space. Lights illuminate the stretched pieces of rubber from above within any detection of movement and automatically turn off after 20 seconds when no motion is detected. The viewers therefore become an active part of the installation, and the motion sensor system enables an experience defined by moments—concentrated, salient, and intimate—rather than collective, simultaneous, or instantaneous immersion from a standard lighting system. These moments offer spaces for contemplation rather than overstimulation, allowing the viewer to observe acute moments of tension within the durable yet also weathered material stretched above.

And thus, the duality of experience in this exhibition entails witnessing both the extreme resilience of the shapeshifter but also the weathering, woundedness, and weariness from an existence that is bound to only the parameters of survival. Indeed, as the skin becomes pulled and stretched to its absolute limits, one can be left pondering: what is the breaking point? There is an underlying sense of danger in the installation, a feeling of uncertainty that the material could break or snap at any moment. But there is also a sense of disbelief at how these pieces can still be standing, how they can be so intact after so much damage. This exhibition therefore seeks to ultimately examine the various ways that the shapeshifter navigates spaces and environments of constraint, always inhabiting the curious threshold between resilience and precarity, boundless and tethered, and agency and subjection.