Taboan Creative Market reminds us that artists deserve more

We celebrate our young artists, but are we actually prepared to support them? We praise their creativity, share their work on social media, invite them to exhibitions, and proudly present them as proof of Iloilo’s vibrant cultural scene. Yet when it comes to funding their projects, paying them fairly for their labor, protecting their intellectual property, and providing the resources they need to build sustainable careers, our enthusiasm often falls short. We love the idea of a city filled with artists, but are we willing to invest in the people who make that city creative? Or do we simply enjoy the cultural prestige of having talented young people among us without taking responsibility for helping them grow, thrive, and earn a living from their craft?

I was reminded of these questions during Taboan Creative Market, held from October 9 to 11, 2026, at The Shops at Atria Event Center and Thrive Art Gallery in Mandurriao, Iloilo City, as part of Design Week Philippines 2026. Beyond the products, artworks, and creative exchanges, the gathering demonstrated what can happen when artists are given a platform to introduce their work, meet potential audiences, and connect with fellow creatives. The Kamustahanay Talk Series, organized by Thrive Art Projects in partnership with the Design Center of the Philippines, also brought intellectual property rights into the conversation. Featuring Marianne T. Bebit of the Intellectual Property Office of the Philippines, the discussion emphasized the importance of copyright protection, ownership, licensing, and the economic value of original creative work. For me, however, the significance of this conversation extends far beyond a three-day creative market. It challenges our universities, schools, cultural institutions, local government, and private sector to examine how seriously we take the rights and livelihoods of the artists we claim to support.

We cannot keep celebrating artists while making it difficult for them to earn a living.

There is a troubling contradiction in the way we treat creative work in the Philippines. We tell young people to pursue their passions, develop their talents, and contribute to culture, but we rarely explain how they can protect their work, negotiate fair compensation, or establish themselves professionally. We expect them to produce beautiful illustrations, compelling photographs, original designs, poems, films, and other creative outputs, often with limited resources. We display these works when they serve our institutional interests, but we do not always ask whether the creators have consented to their use or whether the terms are fair. We tell them that exposure is valuable, as though exposure can pay for art materials, software subscriptions, printing, transportation, studio rent, or the hours spent developing a project. Exposure may introduce an artist to an audience, but it is not a substitute for payment. Recognition matters, but recognition alone cannot sustain a creative practice.

I find this particularly important in Iloilo, where the growth of the local creative community offers genuine opportunities for cultural development. Our artists contribute to how the city understands itself and how others experience it. They produce images, objects, stories, performances, and designs that interpret our history, transform our traditions, and imagine possibilities beyond familiar representations of regional identity. Their work can contribute to tourism, education, publishing, design, heritage interpretation, and the broader creative economy. Yet we cannot reasonably expect these contributions to flourish if artists are left to shoulder the financial risks of their work while institutions and businesses benefit from the cultural value they produce. If we want Iloilo to become a stronger creative center, we must stop treating artists as decorative additions to economic development and start recognizing them as workers, professionals, entrepreneurs, and intellectual property owners.

The issue of copyright makes this responsibility even more urgent. Under Republic Act No. 8293, or the Intellectual Property Code of the Philippines, copyright protection generally arises automatically when an original literary or artistic work is created and expressed in a tangible form. Creators do not ordinarily need to register their work to obtain copyright protection, although documentation and registration-related services may help establish evidence of ownership in certain circumstances. The law recognizes economic rights and moral rights, subject to its provisions and limitations. Economic rights concern the ways a work may be reproduced, distributed, adapted, or otherwise used commercially. Moral rights protect interests such as attribution and the integrity of a work. Understanding these distinctions matters because an artist’s work is not simply an attractive object that anyone may reproduce, circulate, modify, or monetize whenever convenient.

However, knowing that copyright exists is not the same as knowing how to exercise it. A young illustrator may understand that a drawing belongs to its creator but may not know how to grant a business permission to reproduce it on packaging. A student photographer may not realize that allowing a university organization to post a photograph on social media does not automatically mean granting unlimited permission for every future commercial use. An emerging writer may submit an original essay to a competition without examining the conditions governing publication and subsequent reuse. A filmmaker may agree to screen a student production at a school event without considering whether the organizers intend to upload it permanently or distribute it elsewhere. These situations require more than reminders to acknowledge an artist. They require a working understanding of ownership, consent, licensing, attribution, and the scope of permission being granted.

Our classrooms may be producing talented artists who are not being taught how to defend their rights.

This is where our universities in Iloilo must become part of the conversation. Institutions such as the University of the Philippines Visayas, West Visayas State University, Central Philippine University, the University of San Agustin, and other colleges offering programs related to communication, literature, design, multimedia, and the arts have an opportunity to strengthen copyright literacy across their academic communities. This is not an accusation that these institutions do nothing to protect students. Rather, it is a challenge to examine whether intellectual property education and institutional policies are keeping pace with the realities of contemporary creative work.

A university classroom is often where a young creator first develops a substantial body of work. Students write stories, translate texts, produce films, create illustrations, photograph communities, design posters, compose music, and develop digital projects. Their outputs may begin as academic requirements, but some will eventually become the foundation of professional portfolios, publications, exhibitions, businesses, and careers. The distinction between a classroom exercise and professional creative work is therefore not always as clear as institutions might assume. A student project can acquire value beyond the semester in which it was produced. When that happens, the student should not be left uncertain about ownership, permission, or the terms under which the work may be used.

Consider how easily an institution might reproduce a student’s artwork in an annual report, use a photograph in a promotional campaign, circulate a video in an official presentation, or publish a poem in a commemorative booklet. Some uses may be covered by an existing agreement, a valid institutional policy, or another applicable legal basis. Others may require additional permission. The point is not that universities should be prohibited from using student work. Universities should be encouraged to showcase excellent student work, support emerging creators, and provide opportunities for public recognition. But these activities must be guided by transparent rules, meaningful consent, and a clear understanding of the rights involved. Educational institutions should not become places where students unknowingly surrender control over their creations simply because they are eager to fulfill academic requirements or please their professors.

Universities should examine their submission forms, competition guidelines, exhibition agreements, publication policies, and student organization practices. If a student submits an illustration for a class requirement, does that submission authorize its use in a commercial campaign? If a university wants to include a student’s film in a public exhibition, has the student been informed about how the film will be screened and distributed? If a student writes an essay for a campus publication, are the publication rights clearly explained? If a work is produced through a funded project, have the relevant ownership and licensing arrangements been established in advance? These questions are manageable when institutions take them seriously. They become sources of conflict when everyone assumes that permission is unnecessary or that institutional authority automatically overrides the rights of individual creators.

Copyright literacy should therefore be integrated into programs where students regularly create original work. Students in creative writing, literature, translation, fine arts, architecture, communication, film, multimedia studies, music, and design should learn how intellectual property affects their future professions. They should understand that crediting a source is not always enough to authorize its use, that copyright has limitations and exceptions, and that licensing can provide a practical way to grant permission under agreed conditions. They should also learn how to document their work, communicate with clients, read contracts, establish usage terms, and seek professional advice when disputes arise. These lessons need not turn every classroom into a law lecture. They can be incorporated into existing courses through realistic scenarios, practical exercises, and discussions of the ethical responsibilities that accompany creative practice.

Faculty members also need support. Teachers cannot effectively guide students through copyright questions if they themselves have little opportunity to understand the relevant principles. Universities could offer regular orientations with intellectual property specialists, develop accessible institutional guidelines, and establish referral mechanisms for students and faculty members who need assistance. Partnerships with the Intellectual Property Office of the Philippines could help make these initiatives more practical. The objective should be to build an academic environment where intellectual property is understood as part of responsible creative production rather than as an obscure legal concern that becomes relevant only after a work has been misused.

We must also be careful not to confuse academic freedom and educational access with unrestricted use of other people’s work. Teachers need to use texts, photographs, films, music, and illustrations in their lessons, and copyright law recognizes certain limitations and exceptions for appropriate purposes. But the existence of educational exceptions does not mean that every reproduction, online upload, public distribution, or commercial use is automatically lawful. The circumstances matter. Universities should help educators distinguish between legitimate educational use and practices that may require permission or licensing. At the same time, creators must recognize their own responsibilities when using existing materials. Respecting copyright is not simply about protecting ourselves from exploitation. It is also about refusing to exploit the labor of others.

This responsibility becomes particularly complicated in the digital environment, where images and texts can be copied within seconds and circulated far beyond their original audience. Young artists often share their work online to build visibility, attract clients, and connect with potential collaborators. That visibility is valuable, but it also exposes their work to unauthorized reproduction and misuse. A photograph can be downloaded and reposted without credit. An illustration can appear on merchandise without the artist’s knowledge. A design can be copied by someone with greater financial resources and a larger market. The original creator may then find it difficult to challenge the misuse, especially when the other party has better access to legal assistance or commercial networks.

We should not respond to this problem by telling artists to stop sharing their work. That would be an unreasonable demand in a world where digital visibility is an important part of creative practice. Instead, we should equip them with the knowledge and institutional support needed to make informed decisions. Universities can teach students to preserve drafts and records of creation, use clear licensing terms when appropriate, and understand the implications of contracts and online publishing. Cultural organizations can provide access to introductory legal guidance. Government agencies can continue improving public awareness of intellectual property rights. Creative communities can share information about fair practices and help emerging artists recognize potentially exploitative arrangements.

Yet even a strong copyright framework cannot solve every problem facing young artists. Legal protection does not automatically create a market for their work, guarantee a paid commission, or provide the resources necessary to produce an ambitious project. This brings us to another question that Iloilo must confront. What good is it to teach young artists that their work has value if the institutions around them are unwilling to pay for it?

Trust our young artists with real opportunities, not just applause.

The creative potential visible at Taboan Creative Market should encourage us to think beyond occasional events. A three-day market can introduce artists to buyers, but it cannot independently provide the long-term support needed to develop an entire generation of creative professionals. Exhibitions can create visibility, but artists also need opportunities to produce new work, improve their skills, experiment with unfamiliar forms, and establish relationships with clients and institutions. Workshops can provide knowledge, but that knowledge becomes far more useful when participants have access to materials, funding, mentorship, and actual projects where they can apply what they have learned.

Iloilo’s local government, universities, businesses, publishers, galleries, and cultural organizations should consider establishing more sustained support mechanisms for emerging artists. These could include small production grants, paid commissions, student fellowships, community exhibitions, collaborative research projects, and creative entrepreneurship programs. Universities could allocate funding for student-led publications, short films, exhibitions, and design projects. Local businesses could commission original work from emerging artists instead of relying exclusively on generic promotional materials. Cultural institutions could invite young creators to reinterpret local history and heritage through illustrations, installations, publications, digital media, and other contemporary forms.

The amounts involved do not always need to be enormous. A modest grant can help a young illustrator produce a portfolio, a photographer document a community, a writer print a zine, or a group of students mount an exhibition. A paid commission can provide income and professional experience while allowing a local organization to benefit from original work. A university partnership can provide access to equipment, venues, mentors, and audiences that emerging artists might otherwise struggle to reach. What matters is that support should be accessible, fairly administered, and connected to a genuine commitment to creative development.

I would particularly like to see our universities treat student creativity as an asset worth cultivating rather than merely a requirement to be assessed. A literary journal should not exist only because a course needs a final output. A student exhibition should not be mounted only to satisfy an academic calendar. A film screening should not be organized merely to showcase the completion of a class project. These activities can become meaningful professional opportunities when students receive proper mentorship, production support, access to audiences, and clear information about their rights. Universities are uniquely positioned to connect young artists with researchers, cultural workers, businesses, publishers, government agencies, and community organizations. They should use that position to help students move from experimentation to sustained creative practice.

Of course, investing in young artists does not mean providing funds without accountability or assuming that every project will succeed. Creative work involves experimentation, and experimentation inevitably includes failure. Some projects will attract audiences while others will not. Some ideas will need substantial revision before they become viable. Institutions should establish transparent selection criteria, reasonable reporting requirements, and opportunities for feedback. But they must also accept that not every valuable cultural project can be measured through immediate profit or audience numbers. Research, experimentation, community engagement, and artistic development can produce benefits that become visible only over time. If our funding systems support only projects that are already commercially successful, we will disadvantage precisely the emerging artists who need support to develop their practice.

There is also a question of fairness. Young artists should not be expected to work for free simply because an opportunity is described as prestigious, educational, or culturally significant. There may be circumstances in which voluntary participation or unpaid collaboration is reasonable, particularly when the arrangement is genuinely voluntary and the expectations are transparent. But institutions should not use the language of passion, advocacy, community, or exposure to disguise the routine absence of compensation. When an organization has a budget for an event, it should consider whether that budget adequately recognizes the artists whose work makes the event possible. When a business benefits commercially from an artist’s design, it should be prepared to negotiate fair terms. When a public institution commissions creative work, it should establish a clear agreement covering payment, ownership, permitted uses, and other relevant conditions.

This is not an argument against collaboration. It is an argument for collaboration built on respect. Creative communities become stronger when artists, institutions, and businesses understand what each party contributes and what each party can reasonably expect in return. Fair agreements do not weaken cultural partnerships. They make those partnerships more sustainable.

Iloilo also needs to recognize that young artists are not a homogeneous group. Some have access to university facilities, professional networks, and financial support from their families. Others work with limited equipment, struggle to cover production expenses, or live far from the spaces where exhibitions and markets are organized. Emerging artists from smaller communities may possess considerable talent but lack the connections necessary to reach galleries, publishers, clients, and cultural institutions. A serious investment strategy must therefore consider accessibility. Funding opportunities should be clearly announced, application requirements should be reasonable, and selection processes should be transparent. Support should reach beyond familiar circles and established networks. Otherwise, we risk repeatedly rewarding the people who already have access to opportunities while overlooking those whose work could expand the diversity and vitality of our creative community.

The same principle applies to the representation of regional culture. Iloilo does not need young artists merely to reproduce familiar images of heritage, festivals, and local identity. We also need artists who question inherited narratives, experiment with new forms, address difficult social realities, and imagine alternative futures. Their work may challenge the expectations of audiences or institutions. That is precisely why creative freedom matters. Supporting artists should not mean demanding that they produce only work that is comfortable, commercially attractive, or useful for tourism campaigns. A thriving creative community requires room for disagreement, experimentation, criticism, and artistic independence.

For a city that takes pride in its cultural heritage, this should be an especially important consideration. Heritage is not sustained by preservation alone. It also depends on the ability of new generations to interpret, question, and transform what they inherit. Young artists can bring local histories into contemporary conversations, introduce regional languages and experiences to new audiences, and develop forms of expression that reflect the complexity of life in Western Visayas. Their work deserves support not because every artist will eventually become famous or commercially successful, but because a healthy cultural ecosystem requires the freedom and resources to create.

This is why I see the discussion on intellectual property at Taboan Creative Market as part of a much larger conversation about cultural policy in Iloilo. Protecting copyright, providing creative education, supporting local markets, and funding emerging artists are not separate concerns. They reinforce one another. An artist who understands copyright can negotiate more informed agreements. An artist who receives fair compensation can invest in better work. An artist who has access to mentorship and production resources can develop a stronger portfolio. An artist who finds an audience and a viable market has more opportunities to sustain a creative practice. When these conditions are supported together, creativity becomes more than a temporary display of talent. It becomes a foundation for long-term cultural and economic development.

Our universities can help build this foundation, but they cannot do it alone. Local government must recognize young artists as contributors to the city’s development and provide meaningful opportunities for their participation. Private businesses must recognize that original creative work is not a free resource. Cultural organizations must develop fair and transparent practices. Publishers and galleries must continue creating pathways for emerging voices. Schools must teach students to respect the intellectual property of others while protecting their own. Artists, in turn, should be encouraged to understand their rights, develop professional standards, and build relationships based on mutual respect.

We should also measure our progress by more than the number of events organized or the number of artists featured in publicity materials. We should ask how many young artists receive paid commissions, how many student projects receive production funding, how many universities provide accessible copyright education, and how many creative workers find opportunities to continue developing their practice in Iloilo. These questions would help shift our attention from the visibility of cultural activity to the conditions that make cultural work sustainable.

The challenge is not simply to discover more young artists. They are already here. The challenge is to create an environment in which they can work, experiment, earn, and grow without being forced to leave their communities to find the support they need. If Iloilo wants to strengthen its creative economy, it must do more than attract audiences to markets and exhibitions. It must build relationships, institutions, and funding mechanisms that allow creative work to continue long after the event has ended.

Taboan Creative Market has reminded us that the potential exists. The question is whether we have the courage to act on it. We can continue praising the ingenuity of our young artists while leaving them to navigate copyright, funding, contracts, and professional opportunities on their own. Or we can make a deliberate decision to protect their work, compensate their labor, and provide the resources they need to develop their ideas.

I would rather see Iloilo take the second path. I want our universities to be known not only for producing talented graduates but also for helping those graduates build meaningful creative lives. I want our cultural institutions to be recognized not only for the exhibitions they organize but also for the opportunities they create. I want local businesses to understand that commissioning original work from young artists is not charity but a worthwhile investment in local talent. And I want our public institutions to demonstrate that support for culture means more than celebrating the finished product. It means supporting the people who make that product possible.

Let us stop asking young artists to prove their worth while withholding the opportunities that would allow them to grow. Let us teach them to protect their intellectual property, give them the confidence to negotiate fair terms, and create spaces where their ideas can be developed without fear of exploitation. Let us fund promising projects, commission original work, and build partnerships that treat emerging artists as serious contributors to Iloilo’s future.

A city that values creativity must be willing to pay for it, protect it, and make room for it to challenge us. Otherwise, our praise becomes an empty gesture.

The greatest waste would not be the failure of a young artist’s first project. It would be our collective failure to give that artist a fair chance to try.

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Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and professor at the University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in the Division of Professional Education and at UP High School in Iloilo. He is also the Secretary of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.