Culture of Free

By Noel Galon de Leon

In cities like Iloilo, many still see art as a pastime, not a profession. People expect it to be free or cheap, dismissing it as “just expression” or “not a necessity.” This shallow view strips artists of dignity and reduces their work to decoration. Art is not a luxury; it is labor, livelihood, and identity. Every painting, performance, or design takes time, skill, and sacrifice just like any other form of work.

If people and institutions benefit from art, then artists deserve fair compensation, especially in government projects that love to flaunt creativity but hesitate to fund it properly. A city that can build bridges and monuments should also be able to pay its artists decently. Exposure does not pay rent, and applause cannot buy food. Yet society continues to treat creative labor as optional, less legitimate, and less respectable.

What is most disheartening is that even within artistic communities, some organizers profit from the work of fellow artists yet fail to compensate them fairly. This internal exploitation mirrors the larger problem: the systematic undervaluation of art as labor.

This devaluation harms not only artists but the community itself. When people grow accustomed to free art, the local creative economy collapses. Artists lose motivation, quality deteriorates, and young talents become disillusioned. Art then becomes disposable, reduced to a social media backdrop rather than a lasting cultural contribution. In a city like Iloilo, rich in heritage and artistry, it is deeply troubling to see culture commodified and stripped of substance. Cultural pride becomes hollow when it is not supported by tangible respect for the creators who make it visible.

That is why community organizers who insist on compensating artists, however modestly, deserve recognition. There is nothing wrong with charging a small fee for local film screenings, placing a donation box at an art exhibit, or offering artists even minimal payment to cover their transportation or electricity bills. These gestures affirm that art has value and that labor deserves respect.

Art is a product of intellect, discipline, and emotion. A painter spends days or weeks on a single piece, a musician devotes years to mastery, and a dancer sacrifices physical energy to bring meaning to an audience. Every stroke, note, and movement carries value. To pay even a small amount is not a mere transaction; it is an acknowledgment of human effort. Ironically, while Filipinos are known for warmth and respect, these values often vanish when it comes to artists.

From a critical standpoint, the refusal to pay for art is a modern form of exploitation. It sends a message that says, “I admire your work, but not enough to honor it.” This perpetuates a cultural hierarchy where only the privileged can afford to pursue art, while those without resources are forced to abandon their craft for survival. The issue is not simply economic; it is moral and cultural. Paying artists sustains both their livelihood and the collective identity of a people.

Initiatives in Iloilo, such as art markets and small exhibitions with entrance fees, are steps in the right direction, but they remain insufficient without public awareness. Education about the value of art must begin early, in schools and communities. Students must learn that art is not a mere extracurricular pastime but an essential component of national development, as vital as science or business. A nation that neglects its artists is a nation that abandons its soul.

This is not about greed or elitism. It is about respect. Artists should not have to beg for recognition or survival. Art has value, and value must be acknowledged materially. If people can spend freely on imported entertainment, luxury goods, or coffee trends, they can certainly afford to support local creators. Respect does not require wealth, only awareness. Even a small payment, offered sincerely, helps keep art alive.

Every mural in Iloilo, every local band performance, every cultural dance carries a voice, the voice of a city with soul. But that soul fades when the hands that create are left unpaid. Art is not free because culture is not free. If we continue to treat it as such, we risk erasing our own identity. To pay for art is not merely to spend; it is to sustain the lifeblood of our culture. When art dies in the name of “free,” we lose not only creativity but also our humanity.

It is time to teach the public to respect our artists and to understand the true worth of their work. We must not allow government institutions or private organizations to exploit art projects while denying artists the compensation they deserve. Art is a form of soft power, a force that shapes how cities define themselves in public spaces. When art cannot sustain its own makers, it is our duty to let the art itself speak.