“Art is everywhere” is a line that many people say but rarely believe. It sounds poetic, yet when talking about careers, income, and stability, the statement suddenly feels unrealistic. In a society that values practicality above all else, art is often seen as secondary and impractical, admired from a distance but questioned when chosen as a life path.

Growing up in a culture where success is measured by job titles and monthly income, choosing art often feels like choosing uncertainty. For many, the phrase “walang pera sa art” becomes more than an opinion. It becomes a warning, a limitation, and sometimes, a reason to abandon a dream altogether.

Dreams shaped by other people’s opinions

(Booksmart (2019))

As I entered college, I carried with me a passion that had been growing since childhood, a dream I nurtured quietly, hoping it would one day matter. That dream found a home when I was accepted into the University of Santo Tomas, College of Fine Arts and Design.

While I found a place for my passion to grow, some of my classmates spoke instead of their “TOTGA” courses, the programs they once wanted but never pursued, like fashion design, multimedia arts, or film. These were not casual preferences but genuine dreams set aside, not because of a lack of ability, but out of fear, discouragement, or the weight of other people’s opinions.

I saw the same reality in someone close to me. My ex chose to pursue information technology over his true passion for multimedia arts, discouraged by a family that believed art careers were unstable and unprofitable.

His story stayed with me because it reflected a pattern I kept seeing. Creative dreams are so often reshaped or abandoned, not through failure, but through fear, disguised as practicality. “Walang pera sa art,” when repeatedly heard, begins to feel like the truth. It makes artistic passions fall apart, teaching us to doubt the value of what we love.

Just how many dreams are rewritten to meet other people’s expectations?

Before university, my parents advised me to choose a “good” and “secure” course. My mother suggested medical-related programs, while my father recommended engineering fields, both influenced by their professional backgrounds. Their advice came from care and logic, yet it added another layer of doubt.

I kept asking myself a difficult but necessary question: Is this something I want to do for the rest of my life? Choosing a college course often feels irreversible. It shapes your daily routine, your future work, and the life you will build. I found myself wondering whether I would still find fulfillment in this path, even after years of repetition, without resentment or regret.

How art became labeled as an unstable career

(Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019))

Coming from the arts and design strand in senior high school, I saw firsthand how creative disciplines were often excluded from being considered “academic,” despite the heavy workload, endless plates, and unforgiving deadlines.

There was an unspoken belief that what we were doing was less serious, even when it demanded both mental discipline and emotional resilience.

In my experience, this belief is deeply rooted in societal and cultural values that prioritize practicality. Certain professions are immediately associated with success. Doctors, engineers, and lawyers are respected not only for their contributions but also for the familiarity and predictability of their career paths. People understand where they work, how they earn, and what their future might look like.

In contrast, when someone says they are pursuing art, questions like “Is there a job in that?” or “Is it practical?” are asked almost automatically. Art is often perceived as something anyone can do, something driven purely by talent rather than skill, training, or discipline. It is often seen as less valuable because its impact is not always immediate or easily measured.

Traditional professions usually offer fixed salaries, clear job descriptions, and structured institutions. There is comfort in knowing exactly where one will work and how much one will earn.

Art, on the other hand, is often associated with freelance work, project-based opportunities, and uncertain income. Many assume that artists only earn when commissioned and that without constant projects, there is no income at all.

What people often forget is that unstable does not mean worthless. It only means that art follows a different system of earning and working.

The unseen side of creative work

(Death On the Nile (2022))

What many overlook is that art goes far beyond passion or raw talent. It is built on rigorous skill, dedicated training, and problem-solving. Creative work demands research, thoughtful planning, and a deep understanding of how people think and feel. Artists and designers don’t just create to make things look good. They create to make things work, communicate clearly, and enhance the quality of everyday life.

Art exists everywhere. It is present in the spaces we live in, the clothes we wear, the products we rely on, and even the advertisements that influence our decisions.

The environments that influence our mood and comfort are meticulously designed, yet because art blends so naturally into daily life, its value is often taken for granted. They benefit from the creativity and intention that make their experiences effortless and enriching without realizing how much effort and thought went into the design.

While working for my bachelor’s degree, I am already earning as an artist. This is because we constantly need design around us. Logos, layouts, houses, stores, and visual identities all require creative work. Art is what attracts people, communicates meaning, and creates connection.

Nothing we use, wear, or live in exists without design. This is the reality many people fail to recognize. The problem lies in how success is defined. If success is measured only by fixed salaries and predictable careers, art will always seem inferior. But if success includes fulfillment, influence, and long-term relevance, then art clearly holds value and has always done so.

As a student in a creative field, I continue to face criticism about the course I chose. There are doubts, unsolicited advice, and constant reminders about practicality and stability. Still, I refuse to let these voices define my path. I chose this field because it is what I love and what I see myself committing to in the future.

Do not abandon your art just because others cannot imagine a future in it.

Choosing art, then, is not a rejection of practicality, but a redefinition of it. It is choosing fulfillment alongside responsibility, and creativity alongside skill. In a world that constantly benefits from design yet continues to question its legitimacy, pursuing art becomes both a personal commitment and a quiet form of resistance.

Art has always held value. The problem has never been the absence of money in art, but the reluctance to recognize the systems, labor, and meaning that make it indispensable.