Parallax, A Trace
Rhaz Oriente

“The trace is not a presence but is rather thesimulacrum of a presence that dislocates, displaces, and refers beyond itself.The trace has, properly speaking, no place, for effacement belongs to the verystructure of the trace.”

– Jacques Derrida

          Inthe foreword of Doreen G. Fernandez’s book, TIKIM: Essays on Philippine Foodand Culture, she has relinquished to the inherent power that a singularobject holds, leaving food without adjectives for the reader to render theirown intangible and unspeakable remembrance of what it truly exemplifies. We arethus tethered to a certain memory that a particular word evokes, triggering acascade of visual, auditory, olfactory, and particularly gustatory cues that wehave long since been experiencing. This act of translation of object to word tothought to perception has thus created fractals that dissipate into the ether,only to materialize when the object is again interacted with.

For years,philosophers have grappled with the inadequacy of the written language to properlycommunicate the essence of any object. If one is provided with words like liwanag,光 , kahayag, lumiere, or luz, they can transcribethese words into a notion of the same object: light. Everyone has some capacityto comprehend it, as everyone has experienced light in one form or another.Unfortunately, none of these words are able to totally encapsulate what theobject may truly and utterly behold. We are merely forming ways to approach it.

            In comes Rhaz Oriente’s current exhibition,“Parallax, A Trace”. We see a letter, with its contents purposefully hiddenfrom this narrator, encased in an acrylic box. It is reachable only throughsight but not by touch. The letter’s shadow is seen fallen and crystalized onthe floor beneath it as if echoing and providing itself a tangible object forpeople who are deprived of one sense from its encapsulated counterpart. Butwithin its translation as an object to be held, the words enclosed in thecrystallized letter are withheld from the viewer’s sense of sight. These worksare relational, a seeming ode to the Derridean notion of Différance.These two works are in technicality the same but are sensually different.

Orientethus furthers this current philosophy in her works by challenging what iscapable through the behavior of light. Three lightboxes that seem to abstractmuted forms of luminescence are hung in parallel to each other. Next to it,textured prints on transparent surfaces compound images that mutate dependingon the position of the viewer. These works explore a certain relativism in theways light is transmitted to our eyes and processed in our minds. They evoke asense of blur and distortion, offering a warped sense of truth.

           Inthe accompanying video-format work, she wills a certain stillness that’s commonin the mundane. Saffron-colored pollen envelop concrete steps. Beams passthrough the leaves and branches, casting both a hazy glare and dark outlines. Thefloor seemingly bends when it meets the glass cup. It is in these moments, seenin slow and delicate transition, that Oriente admits to the softness in thebathing light we’ve long taken for granted. It gently opens to you, enrobes youin it, and provides an unnerving solace.

Throughoutthe exhibit, she allows the viewer to formulate and take with them anindescribable remnant that we can glean from. It’s subtle, it’s quiet, and it’sdisturbingly ephemeral. Unlike her previous works where light behavesunabashedly, either bouncing off sharply against reflective surfaces orprojecting brazenly multihued and chaotic, we now perceive her preferred mediumin these artworks as somber and faint. It is a reminder that any material canbe seen as soft. One only has to view it in a certain way.

In“Parallax, A Trace” Oriente continues her exploration of light as subject,ultimately arriving at a solemn relativism in her current set of works. Sheparallels the intangibility and ubiquity of illumination in art—being apredominantly visual form—with the frailty of memory. This crucial aspect inher pieces navigates through acrylic glass and photocopier ink on tracing paper,contorting itself through these diaphanous materials and onto seemingly hazycanvases. Light thus has access to areas we can only visualize as if it is theonly thing that concedes memory’s power to construct its contents.

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