Cultural renaissance in Bohol, Cebu, and Iloilo
Something extraordinary is happening in the Visayas. While Manila’s art scene grapples with what critics call a “quarter-life crisis,” provincial cities across Bohol, Cebu, and Iloilo are experiencing a cultural resurgence so vibrant and economically galvanizing that it demands the capital’s attention.
Iloilo City boosted its festival budget to P50 million in 2025, channeling funds through the Iloilo Festivals Foundation to support Dinagyang and other cultural events. Mayor Jerry Treñas noted that during the seven-day Dinagyang celebration, the city’s power demand jumped by four megawatts daily—a tangible metric of economic surge driven purely by culture.
In Bohol, the 2025 Sandugo Festival reached historic proportions, with 12 contingents competing for the highest prizes in festival history. But the real prize was something less quantifiable. When a 20-year-old dancer from Loboc says his performance was about showing the world “who we are—and how much we love our culture,” you’re witnessing cultural production that money cannot manufacture but must support.
Bohol’s cultural momentum extends beyond spectacle. The United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (Unesco) recently recognized the province’s traditional practice of making Asin Tibuok, inscribing it on the List of Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH) in Need of Urgent Safeguarding. This artisanal sea salt, produced through a centuries-old process, had nearly vanished—only a handful of families in Albuquerque still practice the craft. The distinction makes Asin Tibuok the first Philippine traditional food process included in any Unesco ICH list.
Cebu, already a Unesco Creative City of Design, unveiled its “grand cultural trifecta” in 2025: the Visayas Art Fair, Bodega Design Caravan, and Blue Mango Awards. The Visayas Art Fair attracted artists from across the Philippines and South Korea.
The Tubô Cebu Art Fair offered a different model—one rooted in memory and mentorship, celebrating Martino Abellana and emphasizing direct artist-to-buyer transactions. This is cultural economics understood at the human scale, where festivals and fairs aren’t just spectacles but ecosystems.
Contrast this with Manila’s current predicament. The capital retains its galleries and Art Fair Philippines, yet observers describe “novelty fatigue” and a scene increasingly disconnected from the participatory energy animating the provinces. Industry voices acknowledge high barriers to entry for young artists and concentration of opportunities within Metro Manila.
What the Visayan cities understand—and what Manila has partially forgotten—is that culture cannot survive on prestige alone. It requires infrastructure, participation, ritual, and the belief that art and heritage belong to everyone. Bohol’s Center for Culture and Arts Development head Emerson Pinos noted that Sandugo connects Boholanos to their roots. This isn’t nostalgia—it’s the active construction of identity through shared experience.
The economic dimension cannot be ignored. Dinagyang attracts between 1 and 2 million people during its weekend celebration. These festivals generate hospitality revenue, employment for performers and artisans, and global visibility. They’re deliberate investments in regional identity that yield measurable returns.
Manila’s art scene isn’t broken, but it’s operating at a different frequency, one that sometimes seems audible only to those already inside the room. The capital hosts world-class exhibitions and international partnerships, but sophistication alone doesn’t create the cultural momentum now driving Visayan cities.
The lesson for Manila is not to abandon its cosmopolitan ambitions—these remain vital. Rather, it is to remember that culture thrives when it’s both excellent and accessible, when it invites mass participation without sacrificing artistic integrity. The Visayan model succeeds because it balances spectacle with substance, tourism with authenticity, competition with community.
The Visayan cultural renaissance isn’t happening despite the provinces’ distance from the capital—it’s happening, in part, because of it. This is the moment for Manila to recognize that the cultural center of gravity in the Philippines is shifting into a more distributed model where provincial cities assert their own creative authority. The question is whether it will learn from the regions it once thought it was teaching, whether it can rediscover the communal energy that these festivals now embody so powerfully.
The renaissance is here. It’s loud, colorful, participatory, and economically vibrant. Manila would do well not just to observe, but to learn, adapt, and remember what it means when culture belongs to everyone.
—————-
Lucell Larawan is a cultural advocate, columnist, and visual artist. A recipient of NCCA research and book publication grants, he is currently completing “Shaping Masterpieces: The Journeys of Bohol’s Premier Artists.” He chairs the committee on visual arts of the Bohol Arts and Cultural Heritage (BACH) Council.
