PHASE FIVE

THE STATUE WHO BREATHES

I had never felt isolated in my whole life.

The Suite le Passion caused it.

I hated staying here, but I preferred being here rather than staying at home. Because the former was better, and the latter was the last option. A journey would end at the last option that's why I had been trying my best not to go home as intended.

Why did I even bother going home anyway? Para saan—para ipamukha sa sarili ko na hinding-hindi nila tatanggapin ang disiplinang pinili ko ngayon?

Bakit? Dahil gusto nilang sila lang ang magdidikta no'n? Sila lang ang gagawa ng landas na matagal ko nang ginagawa para sa sarili? Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit gusto nilang sila ang magpagalaw ng paa ko upang maglakad.

Wala akong kadena sa leeg. Wala ring kulyar na nagdidikta kung kanino ako nagmamay-ari.

Walang mataas na tao na nagpagagalaw sa 'kin. Wala ring amo na sinusunod.

Walang nakalagay sa leeg ko.

Tapos.

Ngunit kung makaakto sila ay kinakadena ako.

Bakit? Dahil hindi ko sinusunod ang gusto nila?

They would be fool into thinking that I followed what they wanted because I wanted validation.

They were wrong.

I had been following what they wanted under my naïve desire for guidance. That's all a child ever wanted—guidance and material things—accessories that made them feel that they were in the right direction.

I do not bother myself whether they wanted to praise me or not—whether I was considered a prodigy or not. All that ever guided me weren't words—they were prizes, materialistic things.

If I did the right thing, I would receive what I wanted. It was a system of rewards and I treated it as guidance. Why won't I if it's the only thing that made me feel guided?

So, why do they go around acting as if I was pursuing sculpting for the sake of validation? Kung iyon ang pinupunto ko, hindi ko na sana sinunod pa 'to dahil alam ko ang nangyari kay Ophelia. Ibang disiplina sana ang kinuha ko dahil alam ko kung ano ang patutunguhan nito.

I am deaf, but I was not numb.

I squinted my eyes when a group of students entered the area. I followed where they were headed until my eyes saw Lavien sitting at a luxurious white cushion chair.

She was busy drawing croquis on her sketchbook. The unfamiliarity strengthened and proved that she was out of her chosen discipline anymore.

She bid goodbye in hopes of never looking back.

Hopes.

I looked away when I felt a pain in my chest.

I gripped my bag tightly, sighed, and looked at the high ceiling that had a Renaissance painting. I felt frustrated when my stare shifted to the white crystal lights.

The French-inspired interior didn't seep into me. Nahihirapan na akong maki-isa sa pakiramdam na ibinibigay nila. Parang may nakaharang na babasaging pinto—hindi mapapansin hanggang sa makarating sa harapan nito.

Erasing the path before it could be treaded.

Of course, the Suite le Passion was a recreational hall dedicated to students who wanted to do whatever they wanted to do. It was a nice place to spark inspiration and a perfect place for the people who were guided with their passion.

But for a directionless person like me, it was just enough to, at least, guide me and spark a bit of inspiration.

I still had a little bit inside of me, I thought.

But what if this was one of those cruel incidences where a place decided to deceit me into thinking that I have what I don't?

Had I forgotten that I'm not one of those who were meant to stay at this place? I was staying at a place that I'm not supposed to litter in. Of course, whatever I was experiencing was an illusion—a side-effect for those who were not meant to be here.

Or, if one failed to realize, then be bothered to feel like an outsider—a stranger, which was better? Iyong habang naghihintay ng masasakyan, ako ang estranghero na dumaraan—walang pakialam kung maririnig ang importanteng detalye ng pag-uusapan.

Sino nga ba naman ako para pahalagahan? Dumadaan lang naman ako; walang patutunguhan.

It was cruel of me to stay in this directed place, so I stood up and left.

The Suite le Passion had a nice design, but it was not designed for me.

✦

My desire to be directed led me to one of my classes—a sculpture class.

I was reminded, again, of why I was at the Suite earlier.

Nanatili nga pala ako sa Suite le Passion upang matulak ang sarili na magseryoso sa disiplina. Umaasa na ang bagay na panghahawakan ay makapagpapatigil sa 'kin at tuluyan nang mahahanap ang pupuntahan.

Hindi ko 'yon nakuha.

Bigo ring makakuha ng rason mula sa lektura.

Kaya nagpakadesperada na lang akong itulak ang sarili na magpatuloy gamit ang sariling kakayahan.

The Head Sculptor started off by introducing what a sculpture was, what it was composed of, and its most important thing—the armature. It was the framework—the one that dictates what form it was supposed to follow. It's very useful when working with clay and plaster.

Clay.

It's clay, not mud, Lael.

Hirap na hirap akong idiin sa sarili ko ang pag-iisip na 'yon.

That's why I busied myself in making a simple armature using the basic form of all—the human body.

But the human form wasn't basic, so why would the instructor refer to it as that?

Was it called basics because it's the usual? Or because it was easy?

Weren't there basics because it was a gateway to a complex form—an "easier" step towards an abstract form? An introduction wasn't supposed to be easy because it dictates the outcome of the journey.

But would an easy start guarantee an easy end? Not all introductions were guaranteed to be like that. Rather than expecting it to have the same outcome, it's better to prepare oneself in the middle where all mistakes occur.

That's why sculptors stop at the middle and leave it like that.

It's not working anymore, they thought.

That's why they'll drop it and move to another project.

It could be considered that staying in the middle was an unwritten taboo. Because if one were to get stuck, they'd be there forever. If not all, then most of the time.

That's why they'll force themselves to continue it with the lack of interest.

That's how sculptors would think.

Napatigil ako sa paghuhulma.

My desperation was starting again and it's forcing me to answer to the make-believe passion that I had wrapped myself in.

Wala nga namang lugar para sa mga taong pinipilit ang sarili nilang pumasok. Bakit mo pa pipilitin kung alam mong hindi na kasya? Dahil kumakapit ka sa pag-asa na may aalis kaya magkaroroon ka ng pwesto upang makapasok?

Paano kung mayroon ngunit hindi talaga kasya? Pero paano kung wala talagang espasyo sa simula pa lang?

Isang estranghero ang makibabagay sa mga lokal na tao. Sino nga naman ang hindi magpapa-alis do'n?

Bumalik ang tingin ko sa luwad na ginagamit panghulma.

It should've been warm since I had been working on it, but why did it feel cold?

Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga at pinilit ang sarili na ipagpatuloy ang ginagawa.

Sculptors don't want to be stuck in the middle.

Right. A make-believe idea to act as if I was one of them.

I worked on the activity and waited for the consultation after the given time.

Ang may katandaan na Head Sculptor ay lumapit na sa pwesto ko pagkatapos analisahin ang gawa ng ibang mga iskultura. Nang makarating sa gilid ko ay binigyan niya ako ng maliit na ngiti.

The old man's smile was warm, but the clay was cold. Or was it the tip of my fingers?

"Ms. Constiñiano, nahanap mo na ba ang pinahahanap ko sa 'yo?"

Pinahahanap?

He was staring at my sculpted clay as I became lost in my thoughts. Tsaka ko lang naalala kung ano ang pinagagawa niya sa 'kin noon.

"I can't find any statue who could breathe," sagot ko.

Wearing his comfortable, knitted sweater, he gave me a reassuring yet questioning look. Tingin ng pag-aalala na muntikan ko nang itrato bilang panliligaw.

The old man was guiding me, but why did I flinch even though I knew that it was his intention?

I think you're the one who's misdirecting yourself, Lael.

"Kahit sa Raison?" the old instructor urged, a comforting smile on his face.

Nangunot ang noo ko. "Raison?"

He sighed. "Isang museum na nagdi-display ng mga gawa ng mga Painting and Sculpture students, hindi ka pa ba nakapupunta ro'n? Makikita mo naman 'yon habang naggagala rito dahil matayog ang tayo ng Raison."

I looked away as I tried to think what it looked like.

There was a blurry figure in my mind.

"The one with a lot of stairs?"

Bahagya siyang natawa. "Oo, hija. Puntahan mo, may makikita kang mga estatwang humihinga."

He then proceeded on telling me what parts of the clay I should work on. I followed mindlessly because it was the thing that I had always needed—guidance.

✦

Following the Head Sculptor's suggestion, I headed to the place that he mentioned.

But I stopped, afraid that I'd disrupt the balance in its own personality.

It had a majestic beauty even from afar which was highlighted by the spotlights placed at the entrance. The soft, amber lights were focused on the black letters displayed at the top of its Ionic columns.

The Raison, the building that had a lot of stairs.

It was the first thing that I noticed because its height led to the entrance of the building.

If I was staying here for the right purpose, I knew I would appreciate it. But as I grew closer, the famous sculptures that acted as guards gave off a gatekeeping feeling for those who were not interested in it.

Nanlalamon at nagsasabing wala akong pwesto sa loob.

I was just traveling, why would they deprive me of it?

I gathered my courage and climbed the flight of the stairs.

There was no use stopping because it would refrain me from reaching my destination. I need to continue walking so I could reach the entrance—a new beginning to another journey that branched from countless doors and directions.

But I was in the middle of countless journeys, and I should've known better to direct myself away from this. However, I had been guided by a bunch of misdirection ever since I was young which meant that this incident wasn't new to me.

That's why I proceeded inside.

After the revolving door, the huge, gold plaque greeted me and made me question if I was still in the right direction. I disregarded the plea and went on skipping the history but drowned myself in the meaning of the museum.

Raison, a French for 'senses'.

With an attempt in pursuing artwork in different forms and showcasing the talents of diverse characters, The Raison Museum aims to exhibit artwork of students under the Painting and Sculpture course.

Senses.

Would this remove the numbness that I'd been feeling?

I turned to the right when the minimalist arrow guided me that the Sculpture section was towards it.

I was unsurprised by the colors that greeted me when I reached the area—they were all white like ivory. But I was unsure if they aimed it to be the same color as statues to achieve unity, or they did it out of the plain decision.

Whatever it was, I am uninterested to know.

I came here for the statues, not the interior design. I shouldn't be swayed by the things that surrounded me.

There were a lot of sculptures around the area which were all spotlighted by a soft and yellowish light. Some of the statues had plaques to display the name of the sculpture and the sculptor, while some had a golden stand with a piece of paper.

Tumigil ako sa harap ng isang iskultura at inikot ang tingin sa kabuoan.

Ophelia
by Michelangelo

Michelangelo Buonarroti sculpted a bust figure of Ophelia? I thought it was only Sarah Bernhardt.

Sinuyod ko ng tingin ang iskulturang nasa harapan at inaalala kung ano ang kaibahan nito mula sa orihinal.

Replicas were created in the thought of imitating the original. However, the Ophelia before me wasn't sculpted to be a replica—it aimed to be an entity of itself.

It was a life-like bust statue of a woman with her head drew sideward. She had a peaceful expression—closed eyes and lips in a thin line—however, the small crease between her eyebrows revealed to me that she was troubled. It was a small detail, but those who were close to the sculpture would be able to identify it.

She had short, flowy hair and her skin was glowing, but those weren't signs that she was breathing—rather, stationary.

Umismid ako.

What makes people stay?

A statue had reasons to stay because they're immobile. But if you're going to use that as a definition for stationary, did that mean that I was a statue, too?

I was immobile as a statue, but I was still able to journey.

However, considering that staying in the middle would make you immobile, it would refrain anyone to move forward—forever stuck in where they were standing at.

If one was deprived of familiarity, they'd opt for connectivity. It was the easiest way to familiarize oneself in a foreign environment. At most, the strongest would be an intimate connection.

So, I leaned in and kissed the marble to feel anything.

I felt nothing.

That's why I drew back and opened my eyes only to see a statue who was able to breathe.

It was not the statue that I kissed, rather, the bronze sculpture that I saw the other day.

And my eyes weren't playing with me when I saw his form from before.

He was a tall man with bronze skin. Gold would be better in describing him, but he was yet to redeem what his real value was. He had a sculpted body—one that could be identified that was sculpted by the finest sculptors themselves who took turns in molding their diversity into a unique identity.

However, the sculpture's expression was an emotion that was his. It wasn't molded by the sculptors nor dictated by the interns. It was the sculpture's—his own breathing, his own notion, and his own sentiments.

The man before me was bronze, but his value was higher than gold.

As if the lights were guiding me towards an unlit path, I realized that I had founded what I was searching for.

A sculpture that breathes.

"Bakit mo hinahalikan ang bato?"

They were right—an inanimate object breathes because the anger in his eyes was a strong clue that he had emotions for himself. To own his feelings and to never let anyone tamper with them.

To be in heat in one's emotions, and to be destroyed by it—it was the definition of life.

But it was short-lived. Shorter than the emotion in his eyes that once made me believe he had his emotions to himself.

Itinago niya ulit sa tanso niyang pigura.

The sculpture was dead again.

"You looked like a sculpture," pagbabalewala ko sa galit niya.

My words enraged the dead man that's why he stepped forward, the weight of his stare on me. They attempted to crush me and prove that he was alive and that he was better than his emotions. But before he became a man in existence, he was an emotion birthed into a vessel.

An existence waited to be molded. A sculpture prompted to be displayed.

The clenched jaw was to make his anger evident, but what would be more than enough rage for someone who had been living with it?

"Bakit mo hinalikan ang gawa ko?" His words seethed anger and hostility, but I was too deaf to listen to his tone—I could only hear his words. It enlivened the sculpture which proved that he could speak for himself.

He was alive again.

"Can I kiss the sculptor, instead?" I watched another wave of anger wrapping around him. "If you're against me kissing your sculpture, then may I kiss the sculptor instead? Pareho rin naman kayong bato sa paningin ko."

His jaw clenched followed by his rapid breathing.

I stared at him, amused with the things that he had been showing.

I was unaware that a sculpture could have emotions like this—that was surprising. That's why I pushed him more so I could have a grasp of his limits.

"A sculptor does not have the heart to talk that way," giit niya, pinaniningkitan ako ng mata.

I continued caressing Ophelia the Sculpture's cheeks. My hand couldn't fight against its coldness.

"I didn't say that I had my heart in sculpting," I answered, my eyes trained on the marble sculpture.

"Bakit ka nandito?" balik niya, iritable. "Stop caressing the sculpture. Hindi ka ba marunong magbasa?"

Nanatili ang tingin ko sa mata ng iskultura.

Their iris had no color to symbolize that she was alive. Her cheeks weren't rushed with blood, nor her hair and skin had a sense of pigment. Her hair was white which represented the lapse of time, and it was all in conclusion.

"She's really dead," I commented; it enraged the bronze more.

Bahagya akong natawa at umatras, binibigyan ng espasyo ang mga iskultura upang huminga.

How could they even breathe if they were rock hard and cold?

I snickered and pitifully looked at the dead before me.

"I have nothing against the statue because I like how it looked, but I couldn't feel anything." Tiningnan ko ang pangalang nakaukit sa baba. "Michelangelo, wasn't it?"

Nilingon ko siya. Ang pagbanggit ko sa pangalan ay nagpa-igting lalo ng panga niya.

Were you a replica? I would like to ask.

I fought his stare.

"That name... you're not Buonarroti?"

Nakipagtitigan siya sa 'kin, hindi umiimik. Nilalabanan ang emosyon upang ipamukha na siya lamang ang natatanging tao na pwedeng magdikta ng mga 'yon.

Magkasalubong ang makakapal na kilay at ang ugat sa braso ay nagpapakita na, ramdam kong malapit na niyang maabot ang dulo ng galit niya.

But I won't let this fragile sculpture burst into ashes. I had been enjoying looking at it, and for me to destroy the markings in my journey would guarantee a loss.

That's why I dropped it to let him breathe.

"I see. That's why you looked more of a sculpture rather than a sculptor."

Umismid ako at tumalikod, hindi na hinihintay pa ang sunond niyang sasabihin.

A sculpture that breathes, and a sculptor that doesn't.

How ironic.