The 2026 iteration of Art Fair Philippines was a masterclass in creative resilience, though perhaps not in the way the organizers intended. Spanning multiple floors of a converted office building in Circuit Makati, the fair presented a collection of works that felt genuinely urgent and world-class. From the visceral human forms of Blic to the explosive, narratively dense canvases of Yeo Kaa, the signal of the Philippine art scene has never been stronger. However, that signal had to fight through a staggering amount of architectural noise and a layout that felt like 168 for canvases.
In Between Jobs
The central tension of this year’s fair lay in the friction between the art’s ambition and a culture that still treats creativity as a low-priority guest. We are witnessing a premier regional event in a state of flux, trapped between its scrappy carpark roots and a future of purpose-built museum spaces that seem permanently underway. While the talent on display demanded a cathedral’s silence and scale, the reality of the converted office space offered narrow corridors and the persistent hum of vertical congestion. It was a reminder that in our own capital, art is still relegated to the borrowed corners of corporate developments rather than being given a place of primary importance.
An Identity Crisis
To understand the frustration of 2026, one has to look at the fair’s long-standing residency at The Link Carpark. Let’s be clear: the carpark was never the correct venue. It was dark, the ceilings were already punishingly low, and the logistics were a nightmare. But for all its flaws, Art Fair The Link had an identity. Its industrial grit felt like a deliberate choice, a raw, urban backdrop that leaned into the underground spirit of Manila’s contemporary scene. And sometimes, as in the case of Jade Suayan’s 2023 Secret Fresh build out, it aligned to the aesthetic. In 2025, the fair did move to a new venue in Ayala Triangle Gardens for one year, and it was broadly considered a good change.
Cubicle Culture
The move to a converted office building, however, replaced that grit with a sterile, soul-crushing negative energy of vinyl tile and middle management. There is a specific psychological weight to an office space; it is a site of spreadsheets and deadlines and no one really wants to spend their weekend there. It’s a bad frame for almost any artwork.
Waiting For A Promotion
We see this friction in the fair’s most essential highlights. From the visceral chapel installations of Max Balatbat that demanded room to scream, to the durational intensity of the performance artist like Pitchapa Wangprasertkul, who sat for hours inside a transparent cube with a laptop. It perfectly captured the feeling of being locked into a place of work emotionally, psychologically, and in this space? Very much physically.
This infrastructure deficit is a local tragedy. While global neighbors like Qatar, Abu-Dhabi and Hong Kong subsidize their arts festivals as essential tourism drivers, investing billions into purpose-built districts, we continue to force our masterpieces into whatever mall annex or office floor is available. It is telling that one of the biggest flexes for Filipino contemporary art often happens in Singapore, where our young talent is pulled into their national museums and state-run galleries. They have the stage even though we have the talent.
Ultimately, Art Fair Philippines 2026 proved that building a great art fair is not easy. But in a city as large as Metro Manila, we have to ask the question: was there really nothing better anywhere that matches the importance that our art deserves? As we are left waiting for the infrastructure to finally catch up with the imagination of our artists, we have to hope that Art Fair Philippines can dream up a better solution for next year.
