culture doesn’t stop at the m25
my northern manifesto
The thing that has troubled me most about embarking on an account dedicated to the power of creativity is the feeling I get of being unqualified, disconnected, and isolated from what society considers to be powerful creativity. We are taught that great imagination comes from complete immersion in collective creativity, whether that be art galleries, writing groups, queer spaces, nightclubs, the list is endless. So long as there are like-minded people sharing experiences and creating safe spaces for imagination to come to life, creativity prevails, ideas are formed, and for a brief moment, humanity seems healed. Then it is fact, these spaces can emerge anywhere and creativity does indeed happen everywhere. However, it appears that access to these spaces operates differently. There seems to be a hierarchy of what is deemed worthy of public attention. We are sold a different story of where creativity is allowed to be successful and where people must congregate in order to be truly part of the creative world. London, and the south in general, seem to dominate artistic creation, curation, and make up the audiences of galleries. And we are bereft of northern voices in the publications we read. Issues of funding and access continually reproduce elitism in art and culture, policing what we consider successful or powerful art. It has a lot to do with money, geography, and education.
As an art history graduate and native northerner, I have found my prospects of a creative future entirely limited. I spent my student years forcing myself into a canonical mould of art, having to adapt to alien concepts and interpretations of culture. I seemed to be a plus one at the party, dancing Northern Soul at a disco. There was nothing that really resonated with my own experiences with the people I grew up with and the culture they curated around me. The same can be said about the creative outlets available to me in my hometown of Hull, compared to my student peers, whose childhoods were enmeshed with exhibitions, visiting artists, authors, writers, and all the opportunities that came with it. I felt like they were ahead of me and equipped with the cultural vocabulary that granted them quick access into creative industries. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I already spoke the language of culture. It was simply harder to detect with an accent.
I didn’t learnt the lingo from the White Cube or the pages of Frieze. I learnt it on Tuesday nights at Polar Bear in Hull, where Sesh gave local bands a stage before anyone else would. I learnt it at the Adelphi on a Saturday, where the photography was as good as any gallery show - though your camera rarely escaped the inevitable avalanche of beer once the music started. I am still learning every day from mates in Leeds, Hull, Sheffield, Grimsby. Resourceful, daft, brilliantly gorgeous people who keep making things despite the fact theres rarely any money in it and someones always asking if they’re going to get a “proper job”.
There are artists in Holbeck bringing whole communities together over brews and conversation. There are musicians who’ll play to 20 people like its Glastonbury, then carry their own amps into the van afterwards. There are photographers who can make a rainy bus stop look biblical. There are poets and storytellers up here who could write the back end off Dostoyevsky, but they’ll buy you a pint afterwards and not bang on for 700 pages about existential despair. Misery’s all well and good, Fyodor, but have you ever tried getting the 12:27 Northern Service to Sheffield on a sunny afternoon?
That’s the thing about northern creatives. They don’t wait for permission, or a commission, or someone in London to tell them they’re onto something. They just crack on. They make. They share. They build communities that quietly hold people together, often without making a fuss about it.
And don’t even get me started on the history. It’s true there is nothing stronger than a northern woman and its clear to see why when you look at the female heritage of the north. From Hull’s Headscarf Revolutionaries, Leeds’ Reclaim the Night Marches, Women Against Pit Closures, The Suffragette Movement for god’s sake. These formidable women have inspired countless groups across the north to continue the fight in more ways than one. The Leeds Animation Workshop, a women’s collective set up in 1978 to produce and distribute films on social issues continue to carry the torch of northern feminism through the power of creativity. Craft and textiles continue to push and shove their way into the establishment of British art, beginning with the Women Against Pit Closures and still flourishing through the exhibitions at Sunny Bank Mills. The same can be said for queer history up north where northern queer identities were loud and proud in the face of post-industrialism. The legacy lives on. If there is one thing more powerful than a northern woman, its a northern drag queen. Queer collectives all over the north of England continue to defy London-centric industry barriers, actively building their own pathways and networks of creativity and solidarity.
As for me, I have always wanted to write, but I have always felt underqualified for such a task. I read articles and publications all the time and struggle to establish my own thoughts amongst the elitist jargon that I desperately pay a subscription for in order to feel that little bit connected to the world of culture. Truth be told, it makes me feel more disconnected, it reminds me that I do not have the tools, money, or family lineage to join in the conversation. But this is exactly what the system is designed for. To carve a divide between what is deemed worthy and unworthy of achievement, so long as it aligns with geography and class, so art can remain another allusive tool of capitalism. Well, I am no longer falling for it. This is my attempt at breaking the class ceiling and proving that you don’t need to have a house-share in Clapham and an endless supply of Golden Virginia to be worthy of a meaningful practice.
I would like to create a space dedicated to the absolute wonder that is the north. A pioneering powerhouse of culture that is often eclipsed by the glimmering lights of London. I want to introduce you to my heritage, our heritage, and to my friends and those that inspire them. To demonstrate to the reader that creativity has no bounds, that ability is not determined by pronunciation, and that culture does not stop at the M25.
