A hundred times ajar is an unfinished catalog of debris of various sizes and material, often with layers of paint or fragments of tiles, found and collected during walks and tambay, around buildings and houses, in parking lots and backyards. They are never purposefully searched for; selection depends simply on whether I notice one with sufficient interest and if it is light enough to carry.
I am drawn to common rocks and debris because of how unspectacular they are, perceived as valueless and inert, common to the point of invisibility, but have potential to be loaded with meaning. They can be activated towards violence and destruction, or quietly occur as remnants of built and lived spaces.
What prods the inconsequential gesture of continuing and documenting this collection is how these objects trace and are traces of structures and spaces I cannot name or no longer exist. In keeping, recording, and presenting them, they operate as artifacts of the larger site that is Metro Manila where I have always lived but cannot claim as known, embracing how they do not provide substantial clues or carry any concrete meaning.