During my exploration of paper's movements, I allowed different paper types to respond to wind, gravity, and breath, observing how each behaves in motion through floating, gliding, fluttering,, and tearing.

Tissue paper proved very light, thin, and soft, easily moved by air. When falling, it fell slowly, fluttered, swayed, and spun, easily blown by wind. It would hover or drift before reaching the ground, staying in the air for extended periods.

Cardboard was heavy, thick, stiff, and solid. When falling, it dropped quickly and straight down, barely affected by wind. It fell directly and usually hit the ground with a thud.

Baking paper (parchment paper) was thin but slightly stiff, when falling, it fell at medium speed, sliding or twisting slightly in the air. It could glide or spin a little but didn't flutter like tissue. When affected by wind, it would glide, slide, or twist, not as easily blown as tissue paper but still responsive to air movement.

When I blew on baking paper or newspaper, it was somewhat affected by wind—it could glide, slide, or twist in the air when blown. Not as easy to blow away as tissue paper, but it still moved and could sway or spin depending on wind strength.

When I blew on cardboard, it was hardly affected by wind unless it was very strong. It usually stayed in place or moved only slightly.

According to Pacini-Ketchabaw et al. (2016), engaging with paper involves a rhythmic and repetitive activity, an endless loop of actions like blowing, scattering, gathering, covering, and uncovering, that defies definitive results and instead encourages ongoing change.

Tissue paper: When twisted, it felt very soft, thin, and delicate with almost no resistance. My hand experienced lightness and smoothness. When crumpled, it produced barely audible sounds—soft rustling or almost nothing at all.

When crumpled, it created soft dry crackling sounds, like rustling leaves.

Newspaper: When twisted, it felt soft but slightly rough, thin but stronger than tissue. I could feel friction between my fingers and the paper, with moderate resistance. When crumpled, my hand felt a slight sting as it made soft, dry crackling sounds, like rustling leaves.

Cardboard: When twisted, it felt hard, thick, and rigid, sometimes rough or dry. I needed significant force, and my hand felt considerable resistance and tension. It wouldn't actually twist—instead it would fold or snap. When manipulated, it created loud cracking or popping sounds as it bent or broke.

This sonic exploration shows that materials are understood by what they do, not just by what they are. Ingold (2013), as cited in Pacini-Ketchabaw et al. (2016), mentions that materials reveal themselves through their actions. The sounds were not just byproducts of my movements but the paper’s way of responding, expressing its tension, structure, and interaction with force. Davies (2014), also cited in Pacini-Ketchabaw et al. (2016), explains that this kind of listening opens up new possibilities for knowing and being.

Under indoor lighting, wrapping paper and tissue paper proved thin enough to let light pass through, creating a translucent effect that transformed the quality of illumination. In contrast, newspaper and cardboard completely blocked the light, creating sharp shadows and defined boundaries between lit and unlit areas. When moved to sunlight, some papers, like wrapping paper, reflected the light brilliantly, while indoors, glossy cellophane paper appeared especially bright and sparkly, catching and dispersing light in unexpected ways. This exploration shows that making with paper is not just about creating an object, but about entering a "process of co-becoming" with the material through gesture, rhythm, and flow. According to Ingold (2013, as cited in Pacini-Ketchabaw et al., 2016), making involves an alchemic process of developing a rhythm and feel for the material. The shifting relationships between paper and light revealed how dynamic material encounters can be, as paper invites ongoing, recursive play through "loops of doing and undoing" (Pacini-Ketchabaw et al., 2016).