Do we even care if the public understands our art?
This is the question that kept running through my mind as I walked out of the Art for Everyone exhibit at a big mall here in Iloilo City. I couldn’t help but ask myself, does the public really understand us? Do they get what we, as artists, cultural workers, and advocates, are trying

By Noel Galon de Leon
By Noel Galon de Leon
This is the question that kept running through my mind as I walked out of the Art for Everyone exhibit at a big mall here in Iloilo City. I couldn’t help but ask myself, does the public really understand us? Do they get what we, as artists, cultural workers, and advocates, are trying to say when we talk about art and its meaning? When we put up exhibitions like this in public spaces, do people really see what we’re trying to share? I don’t plan to answer this question directly. Instead, I just want to share some personal thoughts on the state of local art and the art initiatives here in Iloilo. These reflections have been lingering in my head these past few days, as the rains keep pouring, and the floods come over and over, sometimes even higher than a grown man.
For context, Art for Everyone is a nationwide project organized annually by a commercial mall chain. Here in Iloilo, this is, I believe, the second year it has been held. The concept is simple, invite local Ilonggo artists to submit their works for a group exhibition within the mall, running for roughly two weeks. At first glance, the gesture appears generous. Accommodating as many artists as possible seems like a commendable and inclusive move. However, my experience visiting the exhibition gave me pause. It seemed, upon closer inspection, that the organizers were far more concerned with quantity than with creating a meaningful and thoughtful space for the art. The result was an exhibition area that felt cramped and overcrowded. Artworks were practically stacked on top of one another, squeezed into limited spaces within two wings of the mall for the sake of visibility.
What happens when art is treated this way? Instead of fostering genuine appreciation or offering an experiential encounter with art, the immediate reaction of many visitors was simply to marvel at the sheer number of artworks crammed into the space. The very purpose of an exhibition, to introduce the public to art, to introduce artists to the public, and to communicate meaning through creative expression seemed diminished, overshadowed by logistical concerns. In such conditions, how can we expect audiences to engage meaningfully with the works? How can artists hope to connect with viewers in any profound way when their work is reduced to wallpaper in a consumer space?
And yet, despite the chaotic and almost transactional nature of the setup, there were works that stood out. These works resonated precisely because they maintained a clear and urgent connection to contemporary social realities. One notable example was the contribution from Kikik Kollektive, which aligned itself with the “Atin ang Kinse” campaign. This movement responds to the threats posed by commercial fishing to coastal communities. Their works used the exhibit as a platform to amplify the voices of fisherfolk, shedding light on pressing issues like food security, marine sustainability, and the cultural, ecological, and economic significance of our coastal ways of life. This is the kind of art that moves beyond decoration. This is art as advocacy, art as consciousness-raising, art as resistance.
Frankly, this is precisely the kind of engagement I expect and hope for from public art exhibitions, especially those situated in places where the possibility for influencing people and educating broader audiences is so great. However, I also recognize that not all exhibitions are capable of carrying this weight, especially when the primary intention leans more towards commercial interests than towards public enlightenment. I am not naïve. I understand the need to sustain livelihoods, and I am not inherently against the idea of artists earning from their work. In fact, artists should be able to earn. But isn’t it also worth asking, beyond profit, what greater purpose do we serve through our participation in such exhibitions? Shouldn’t we also be striving to harness our artistic skills and platforms for more meaningful causes, to open people’s eyes, to provoke thought, to stir action, especially when our society remains entrenched in poverty, unemployment, corruption, and countless other injustices?
Sadly, this seems too much to expect from an initiative like Art for Everyone. If this had been their aim from the start, the structure of the exhibition would have reflected that intention. In my view, if this mall truly wants its initiative to have substance beyond superficial inclusion, they should consider hiring a professional art agent or a curator whose expertise lies not just in promoting and selling artworks but in fostering meaningful engagement between art and its audiences. Without such thoughtful curation, it is hard to imagine how emerging artists, those who are only just beginning to share their work publicly can find this experience anything but disheartening. I am certain that many will leave this exhibition with nothing to show for it but disappointment. And that, to me, is a failure of responsibility on the part of the organizers. We cannot keep offering young artists empty stages masquerading as opportunities.
At the end of the day, we must ask ourselves again, when we talk about art, when we place it before the public, do they truly understand us? Or are we simply reinforcing the idea that art is just another product to be bought and sold, to fill up wall space, to satisfy a quota? If we want to claim otherwise, then we must do better. We must demand better. Art deserves more. Artists deserve more. And frankly, the public deserves more.
Until we treat art as something more than spectacle, as something deeply intertwined with our social, cultural, and political realities, we cannot expect the public to understand its true power. And we cannot fault them for failing to see what we ourselves have failed to show them with conviction.
***
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.
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