In the Philippines, much of our collective identity is forged by generations living in close proximity to the dense wilderness that seems to pulse with life, leading us to consider our environment not merely living, but profoundly sentient, malevolent in its unpredictability. While decades have passed in the slow process of familiarization, a specific, uncanny dread persists and still for each turn of the leaf and curve of a bend, a primal unease takes hold. Our jungle’s intimidating lush foliage seemingly impenetrable to the point of being claustrophobic in its vastness.  This unfamiliarity made us intimate with paranoia, that is why we have many words for it in Hiligaynon: kulba for when we are nervous, kakugmat when there is dread, kibang when we are uncomfortable, but most especially mariit, the sense of paranoia associated with the unknown wilderness,  but as we go deeper into the dark cacophony of tangled bamboo, lunok, panyawan, we start to strip the fear of the unknown and wear the armor of our intuition.  

For Paranoia and Wilderness, each artist acts as an explorer traversing the concept of paranoia. As their environment changes, their sense of the unknown becomes more diverse. Now dread lies in suffocating institutions, systemic violence, the sterile silence of hospital rooms, the debilitating chaos of relationships, and the deep, dark recesses of the mind. Each artist with their chosen medium have their own distinct way of manifesting paranoia and turning what is dreadfully unknown to strangely familiar.

Written by Geli Arceño