Exit Studio’s Youth Ta! Between Burnout and Becoming

By Noel Galon de Leon

In a world that demands constant movement, where youth is expected to be energetic, ambitious, and endlessly productive, Youth Ta! pauses, and listens. This latest group exhibition by Exit Studio doesn’t explode with spectacle; instead, it leans into the quiet fatigue of a generation growing up too fast, yet going nowhere in particular. It captures the subtle ache of burnout, the blur of days that all feel the same, and the heavy question hanging over many young lives: Is this all there is? With unflinching honesty and emotional precision, Youth Ta! gives form to the formless, turning exhaustion into expression, and uncertainty into art. The exhibition launched on May 24, 2025, at Puluy-an Art Space.

Exit Studio wasn’t always Exit Studio. Formed in 2020 amidst the global uncertainties of the pandemic, the collective began as Abay, a group of friends-turned-collaborators who found kinship in creativity. “Abay” means “to accompany”, a fitting name for a group that believed in walking alongside each other’s artistic journeys.

In 2023, the group underwent a rebirth. They rebranded as Exit Studio, inviting fresh members into the fold, bringing with them new energy, ideas, and perspectives. What didn’t change, however, was their core vision: to create vibrant and innovative art that bridges the familiar and the unfamiliar, offering Ilonggos new lenses through which to see their everyday lives.

But it’s not just about the visuals. The murals and gallery pieces they produce are, at their core, tools for sharpening skills, cultivating camaraderie, and sustaining the unspoken therapy of shared creative work. “It’s as much about the friendship as it is about the art,” one member notes. “Maybe even more.”

Youth Ta! is unlike any show Exit Studio has done before. It is not a spectacle. It does not shout. Instead, it hums, low and honest, like the inner monologue of a tired but determined soul. The exhibit captures the contradictions of young adulthood in this era: burnt out but driven, connected but isolated, overwhelmed but somehow underwhelmed.

The works feel personal, almost confessional. “They feel like pages from someone’s diary,” says one visitor. “Except the pages are six feet tall and painted in oil and acrylic.” These pieces are more than artworks they are emotional topographies, mapping the terrain of a generation that’s too young to be this tired, and too tired to pretend otherwise.

The emotional terrain of Youth Ta! is shaped by seven evocative works, each capturing a distinct facet of contemporary youth experience. Child’s Dream by Exequiel John Ampunan (Acrylic on Canvas) presents a portrait of innocence slowly aging beneath invisible burdens, dreamy yet dimmed. In 30 Something by Ronn Bulahan (Oil on Canvas), mid-20s anxiety takes on the weight of 30s expectations, rendered in deliberate, heavy brushstrokes. Thresholds of Tiredness by Kyle Francis Dile (Mixed Media) is a fragmented yet cohesive exploration of fatigue versus function, a visual push-and-pull. Kinno Florentino’s Paralyzed in Paradise (Oil on Canvas, 2022) paints a lush yet suffocating contradiction, capturing the unsettling stillness of being stuck in something seemingly beautiful. Circle of the Unseen by Carl Evans Jover (Oil on Canvas) loops in quiet repetition, evoking the soft monotony of days that blur together. In CATsugi by Sam Oliver Nacion (Acrylic and Oil), brokenness is embraced with playfulness, drawing from the Japanese concept of kintsugi to suggest healing with humor rather than sorrow. Finally, Error 404 by Kristoffer Jan Sobremente (Acrylic on Canvas, 2022) confronts digital alienation, illustrating a raw, pixelated sense of disconnection in an overconnected age. Together, these pieces form a diary of disquiet, a visual reflection of a generation both in motion and in pause.

Exit Studio’s approach is not to romanticize burnout or package melancholy into neat resolutions. Instead, the exhibit leans into the stillness, the waiting room of life. The hallway between what was and what might be. “Burnout isn’t loud here,” their curatorial statement reads. “It lingers quietly.” 

This kind of emotional honesty feels rare, even radical. In a world of polished Instagram reels and hyper-curated feeds, Exit Studio chooses to show the raw take, the sleepless nights, the repeated days, the questions left unanswered.

“Youth Ta!” reminds viewers that feeling lost doesn’t mean you’re broken. Sometimes, staying still is its own kind of resistance. Sometimes, just continuing is heroic.

Exit Studio isn’t stopping at galleries. In the coming months, the group plans to execute a series of large-scale murals throughout San Agustin. These won’t be tucked into exhibit halls; they’ll be right there in the streets, engaging everyday passersby, catching people off-guard on their morning commutes or quiet walks.

“It’s about expanding the conversation,” they say. “About making art something you live with, not just something you visit.”

Each mural will be a chance to leave a piece of Exit Studio behind, not just as art, but as memory, as public reflection, as dialogue.

When asked about the current state of the Ilonggo art scene, Exit Studio doesn’t hold back. “It feels divided—disconnected,” they say. “Egos got in the way.” The art community, once vibrant with shared visions, has started to fray at the edges. Personal conflicts, lack of inclusive platforms, and dwindling collaboration have left many feeling isolated.

And yet, Youth Ta! exists. And that means hope exists too. This show was made possible through solidarity, mentorship from artist Rock Drilon, logistical support from Mr. Condes, and the commitment of the group.

“There’s power in sticking with the people who believe in the same things you do,” says one member. “Support isn’t always loud, but when it’s there, it changes everything.”

What lies ahead for Exit Studio? They envision a future of growth, not in fame, but in depth. “We want each member to continue developing, experimenting, refining,” they explain. “Try new mediums. Take risks. Expand their voice.”

They don’t claim to have all the answers. But they know the questions worth asking. And if Youth Ta! is any indication, Exit Studio will keep carving out honest spaces for those questions, one brushstroke at a time.

Youth Ta! is not the kind of exhibit that ends when you leave the gallery. It lingers. In your thoughts. In your sighs. In the quiet spaces of your own tiredness.

Exit Studio, in their quiet and thoughtful way, offers a powerful reminder: growing up isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about being honest in the in-between.

And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

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Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and educator at University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in both the Division of Professional Education and U.P. High School in Iloilo. He serves as an Executive Council Member of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.