We Made That

Gatecrashers

As well as commissioning permanent public realm and re-branding art works, regeneration companies routinely hire Community Artists for targeted direct contact with communities where regeneration plans are afoot. Artists are brought in to aid goodwill, engender trust, involve people, and mediate change, as much as to make art. The kind of art that might change perceptions of an area, adorn the pages of an annual report, be used in a Public Inquiry or add value to property development. Artist’s residencies on regeneration projects have documented environments destined for destruction, used demolition spoil for building artwork, and collected The Hopes of a neighbourhood. The Fears though? Not so much. The creative agenda for Community Art projects funded by the regenerist will likely differ from that of the local artists or residents. One is primarily concerned with promoting a Promised Land, the other is focused on surviving the external investment, and the social cleansing or gentrification that might come with it.

The task of shining a light on the displacement and dismay of the people designed out of post-demolition development is not going to be supported by the developers and regeneration officials. Such visions run contrary to the interests of the development partnerships. By chance, I joined one of many communities destined for demolition in 2004, when my home and neighbourhood in Liverpool were scheduled for destruction. I translated my experience as a piece of human spoil into an art work that was appreciated by the local community and others like it. It was reviewed in the art press, covered in the academic press and was toured in a North of England textile exhibition. The work Nothing Is Private - a net curtain with audience activated security lighting was shown and promoted as part of Liverpool Independents Biennial in 2006. So it straddled many communities and resonated in multiple contexts. It was shown in the front window of my home. I live over the road from Granby in an area similarly blighted by failed regeneration schemes and where another grassroots campaign has succeeded in rescuing homes from the bulldozers.

When my home and studio in Liverpool’s Welsh Streets was threatened with demolition in a regeneration area, the Compulsory Purchase Orders did actually come with the sweetener of an official artist-in-residence, Moira Kenny, who came and worked in an empty house in Powis Street for a number of weeks in June 2006. The residency, funded by the local Housing Market Renewal (HMR) company New Heartlands and their partners Plus Dane, took place in an empty corner shop on the contested site. Applications for the post were filtered. I was forbidden from tendering for the official Welsh Streets residency, despite being a Welsh Streets resident and an artist. As secretary and spokesperson for the local campaign group seeking alternatives to demolition, I had a national media profile, my opinions were known, and the protagonists of the scheme presumably needed to prevent me from articulating dissent amongst a local audience. In protest, a reputable local Community Art group refused to apply for it themselves as a response to my exclusion. So they filtered themselves out in solidarity.

A closed tender process selected an artist from outside the area, but inside the arts community, who came and made artwork in Powis St. I showed my work concurrently with her official Welsh Streets residency work as part of Liverpool Independents Biennial 2006. I suppose I effectively infiltrated the programme of creative work visible in the district, made a local dimension available and overcame the ban by simply being a) a resident and b) an artist. The work - the net curtain - received critical acclaim expounding the loss of privacy and personal autonomy faced by the little people when confronted with big plans. Its performative aspect (the work exposed the household to the street by lighting them) was as uncomfortable for the viewer as it was for the viewed. Rather than sit by and become the invisible Welsh Streets resident artist passed over by powerful external interests, I created a piece that engineered super visibility. Without a doubt I was emboldened by the support of my community. The Nothing is Private net was made and toured as part of the Mechanical Drawing exhibition produced by the Embroidery Department at Manchester Metropolitan University. So it was enabled by another community: the embroiderers, textile makers, lace workers and academics in the North West who view me as a radical textile artist, and a bona fide member of their community. So they visited too, traveling to the Welsh Streets mostly from the North. I put out a visitor’s book and people wrote in it, thus becoming part of the archive of commentary about the streets, the houses. A new dimension was added to the cultural tourism package that Liverpool is so proud of: the ghetto tourism of the tinned-up terraces.

They were followed by Heritage tourists, UNESCO walking tours, Jane’s Walk town planners, law and social science departments, urbanists, artists, drama, art and composition students, historians, archivists, architects and journalists, TV crews and animators. All visited the Welsh Streets and as campaign spokesperson I spoke with them all. In 2016, Samson Kambalu filmed in the Welsh Streets for a new commission that was presented as part of Liverpool Biennial 2016. He walks in the footsteps of numerous photographers, among them Mark Loudon & Sandy Volz (commissioned by Welsh Streets Home Group), Rob Bremner, Peter Carr, Peter Haggerty and Ciara Leeming, who included us in her comprehensive photographic journal of the HMR process. Kambalu will join countless press photographers, TV cameramen and bloggers. All welcome, all walking the wasted Welshies, pointing cameras at our homes while we twitch our nets.

And me, I’ve taken thousands of photographs here too, because as campaign spokesperson, I found that a picture speaks a thousand tears. The net curtain Nothing Is Private is a direct action that harnessed art as both a shield and a decoder in a war of information. It can be contextualised among other cultural resistances that re-negotiate imposed narratives. Here the flimsiest, lowliest media articulated the experience of dread and degradation experienced by communities in clearance zones and became a testimony to that experience. It was documented in art and academic publications. Could it have been commissioned by a Community Arts organisation? None that I know of. Community Art tends to avoid controversy. The work toured Northern cities where large-scale demolition was also being un-rolled, by coincidence of economic history and the demise of textile production in the region. The regeneration consortia have a commissioning agenda and PR budget focused on the need to mediate the developer’s aspirations. Anything else the community produces – well, the community will pay for. And pay they did.

After Parties

Cultural output from the broader community followed the net curtain. There was an extraordinary outbreak of unsolicited, unfunded and sometimes un-legal cultural intervention in and around the contested Welsh Streets. Playwrights, community theatre groups, poets, photographers, graffiti mongers, choirs, bands, filmmakers, animators, stitchers, photographers, seed-sowers and yarn bombers passed through the Welsh Streets each leaving a small mark. Mark of respect maybe. To residents each small work marked a small survival. Morale was super-boosted with every contribution. It blew over the road into Granby Four streets, who were, according to them, quite sparked up by the Welsh Streets tin sheet drawings and daffodil planting. They were to go creative in grand style - with paintings and planters that far exceeded our Welshie productions in scale and quality. 

The genius Granby neighbourhood campaigners founded a community market that included music, art, food and stalls. That meant a financial, social and cultural exchange mechanism was operating across two clearance sites, one on either side of Princes Avenue. It was a community, and it was art – but unique, self-directed and un-administered. We (that is, the Welsh Streets Home Group or WSHG) swapped campaign news, traded ideas and ran campaign events on stalls at the Granby Four Streets Market, at carnival, in Toxteth Town Hall, Toxteth TV and in the local shops and chippies. We had received local and national press for years, but nothing glued us together and drew us out and drew us together as well as culture did. A community of supporters had made themselves visible independently, creatively and repeatedly. The media coverage of threatened communities and their homes in the Welsh Streets was un-abated; four TV features supplemented considerable print and radio coverage.

Liverpool Biennial began projects in Anfield and Bootle, both areas stalked by the bulldozers. As the renowned Homebaked Anfield project went from strength to strength, TV foodie Jay Rayner arrived to judge a baking contest. I entered a loaf of bread in the bake off, for which I made special commemorative packaging. It was a throwaway thing. Merchandising survival. The wrapper read ‘RISE UP ANFIELD’ in red and ‘Greetings from the Welsh Streets’ in green. I took a picture and tweeted it. It pinged - appearing in ghost form when Liverpool Football Club used a similar wonky red text to repeat my slogan on a 12 x 24 ft hoarding outside the ground, opposite the Homebaked bakery. So Rise Up left the bread wrapper, travelled via social media and landed on the hoarding of (one of) our famous football club(s). You’re welcome L.F.C.

The full piece originally appeared in the Liverpool Biennial online journal ‘Stages’ #5 titled ‘Community Arts? Learning from the Legacy of Artists’ Social Initiatives’

Unfortunately the studio’s central location turned out to be too good to be true. At the beginning of 2017 the Crown Buildings along with neighbouring Grade II listed properties, the Jerome and Carlisle Buildings, were purchased by developers Signature Living with planning permission granted for a Luxury Hotel to compliment the one they built on the opposite side of the street the year before. A decade on from the European Capital of Culture award, increased investment and redevelopment of the city centre has called for new areas to emerge that allow for start-ups and grassroots initiatives. While this marginalisation of creative spaces from the city’s centre has its negatives, it has also assisted in creating more concentrated creative communities in areas like the Baltic Triangle, where CBS moved to in March 2017.

For CBS the move provided a welcome point of renewal. The new location on Blundell Street in an old dock warehouse had the space needed to house a workshop, enabling sculptural production and picture framing services in-house to create greater financial flexibility independent of public funding. The success of which has been enhanced by the studio’s integration in the local community of the Baltic Triangle and its proximity to a wider range of creative amenities.

As well as larger production space the new location offers a more generous gallery for the exhibition programme. The gallery acts as a space for the directors and studio holders to host a range of artistic projects, curatorial experiments and residency exhibitions. The continued advocacy of artists is the underpinning aim of the gallery’s activity. Artists who have previously exhibited are invited to submit artists’ editions to be sold via an online shop, providing support to the participating artists and the opportunity for people to collect the work of emerging artists.

Around the same time that CBS was founded Rory MacBeth was appointed as the new head of the art school at LJMU. This marked a new outward facing approach to the Fine Art course. Establishing graduate residencies with local artist-led studios as well as points throughout the three years of the course to collaborate and work with local art communities. In its second year at CBS the graduate residency is providing a crucial platform for graduates looking to stay in the city and continue working, contributing to the growth of the artist-led network in the city and further afield. 

The museum bares the name of its (German) founder Jochen Zeitz, one-time CEO of Puma and long-time African art collector. A substantial number of the museum’s items are drawn from Zeitz’s personal collection – reflected in the focus and feel of the museum’s permanent collection. Zeitz, in partnership with the V&A Waterfront management team, brought in UK-based designer Thomas Heatherwick to design the “public museum with a private collection”.  Schemes to encourage local visitors and widen access to art include free entry for under-18s daily as well as free entry for African citizens one day a week, although the international promotion of the museum and tourist-serving site it sits on means the museum instinctively feels beyond local.

A visit to the museum barely a month after opening finds a busy site of tourists and locals alike, staff dealing with teething problems (power cuts – not uncommon given the country’s over-stretched power grid – have restricted some of the works) and a shared excitement. A Capetonian museum guide shows a group of visitors around, stopping in one of the site’s gallery spaces. In between her description of the young artist’s work, the guide also speaks of knowing the artist personally and following her work since their school days. International as its foundations may be, Zeitz-MOCAA is working to bring art closer to home for many in Cape Town.

Melissa Meyer

This conceptual framework for a mapping of Aarhus resulted in an on-going and choreographed, but not planned or scheduled, performance as well as a series of photographs and inscriptions on the posters made by people following the instructions of the work as it guided them through the city. The composition was a way to connect people in different places, sharing information over the walkie-talkie with others on the same channel, but also a way to connect places with places, transferring a mark from one location to another.

Eric Andersen writes about the piece, ‘A city is an instrument that doesn’t always have to play the same phrases. City as Work involved the entire city as an interactive artwork, through which visitors and local population could enjoy quite different urban routes and activities than the common and worn out ones.’

In 2014, a new edition of Andersen’s work was presented as part of the exhibition Aarhus Rapport – Avantgarde as Network (or, the Politics of the  Ultralocal), initiated by curator Lars Bang Larsen and then-director of the Kunsthal Aarhus, Joasia Krysa. The exhibition was developed from the catalogue Århus Rapport, published in 1969 by Aarhus Art Society[1] in an attempt to document a number of happenings, exhibitions and concerts taking place in and around Aarhus during the years 1961-1969.

Printed on the inside covers of the original Århus Rapport are a number of photographs from Andersen’s project, contrasted by a black/white topographic map of the city of Aarhus on its outside. In other words, the map and images of specific sites of Aarhus are what holds together the different artistic practices documented inside the Rapport. It is an example of this ‘politics of the ultra-local,’ which curator Lars Bang Larsen pursued through his interrogation into the legacy, impact, and direction of the Aarhus (avant)-garde.

The 2014 exhibition presented a number of re-enactments, original 1960s-works and documentations, as well as new commissions taking the cue from the works and practices listed in the Rapport. All of this was displayed side by side, superimposing actual places and localities mentioned in the Rapport within the exhibition space of the Kunsthal. In this way the exhibition became in the same gesture a spatialisation of the book and a virtual representation of the Aarhus scene of experimentalart of the 1960s.  Moreover, the series  of contemporary responses to the history and figures of the rapport extended its map with new, possible sites to connect with.

In this year of Aarhus as European Capital of Culture, the city is being traversed, mapped, logged and networked again. 2017 also marks the centennial of Aarhus Art Building, now Kunsthal Aarhus, and for this occasion curator Trine Friis Sørensen has developed The Timeshare Project, which reflects contemporary ways to use the building and connect the institution to other institutions and concrete sites across the world. Friis Sørensen invited five international art institutions to visit Aarhus Kunsthal, using a part of the building as their workspace for a week each.  Like a timeshare holiday home, Kunsthal Aarhus will host five international art institutions in the spring of 2017. Each taking turn, they will present week-long curatorial and editorial projects in the Kunsthal’s octagonal exhibition space. Following these five visits, the institutions will produce individual publications, which constitute the project’s second timesharing format. By transporting the reader back to recent, distant or virtual pasts – or into the future, a publication effectively serves as a time machine that grants us access to other moments in time.

In 2017 Kunsthal Aarhus  celebrates its 100th anniversary. Where the Rapport may be seen as an attempt to  consolidate a legacy – and an archive – of the Kunsthal as institution, the Kunsthal of today seems to consider the implications of not being fixed to one particular space and place. By putting together the Århus Rapport, the Art Society of 1847 created an argument for making an institution proper, fusing the building with initiatives and activities. And one may argue, that by taking up this legacy of the Aarhus Rapport anno 2014, the activities of various associations and groups get linked to this particular place, announcing the Kunsthal as the true heir to the so-called Aarhus-garde.

The Timeshare Project may be a look towards the future – at least it transcends the narrow frame of the locale and invites to bridge geographical distances through new formats of sharing time and information. This of course is easier in our world of instant messaging, emailing and file sharing (as opposed to walkie-talkies and analogue photography). Then again, is it possible to get a sense of Aarhus – as particular places, distances, people, particular tastes – without going there? By actually traveling, we can put ourselves in the midst of experiencing something – and the documentation of events and stories told can then be inspiration for some time travelling.   

Anne Kølbæk Iversen

John Akomfrah is a British artist and filmmaker who is known for his engaging multi-layered film compositions, splicing archival footage with beautifully shot footage of his own. His previous films are characterized by themes including migration, memory, identity and race.

For more information, click here.

Hannah Martin

These ambitious plans for Gellerup encouraged people to live their lives in a particular way. These imaginings were, however, stalled by the oil crisis in 1973, making it “far too expensive” for people to live in Gellerup. As a result, the construction of the estate stopped short of the original scheme to house 15,000, eventually reduced down to provision for around 7,000 residents. As an alternative, people opted for cheap bank loans to build their own homes away from Gellerup. “At that time, this created the biggest area for parcelhuskvarter (suburbs) - little family houses with gardens and fences”.

As a result of this shift, many flats on the estate were left empty. “Gellerup had only been finished for a few years…what was built up to be a grand project was already declining”. The demographic of the estate “tended to be people who were not money strong”, Anne explains.

Driving to the Gellerup Museum, Anne discusses how the estate became as culturally diverse as it is today. “In the 1970’s there were quite a lot of Turkish people who came for work, in the 80’s we had a large group from Palestine, and in the 90’s there was a big group from Somalia.” Describing the challenges of socially integrating these diverse groups within the city, Anne notes, “this island became a huge problem because suddenly you had totally other cultures - Denmark is not that big, Aarhus is not that big and it was very difficult to cope with that. It had become a parallel environment”. In the 1970’s, a large student population was drawn to Gellerup to rent large flats cheaply and to be part of the area’s vibrant underground scene. Standing in the living room space of the Gellerup Museum, Anne reflects on the changing appeal of the area: “Gellerup was the hot stuff at the time…now students want to live here again!”

Gellerup Museum itself is a once- empty flat, now preserved as a museum for the estate. Anne describes the museum as a “showroom” which contains the original fit out from the 1970s, and provides a space to curate exhibitions that prompt discussions about Gellerup and the surrounding area.

What of Gellerup today? ‘They want to make it attractive to make people come out and see what is happening here…they are trying to penetrate the area to make it easier to travel in and out of Gellerup and connect it to the rest of Aarhus”. Anne is describing the vision of the current Gellerup Masterplan, which is being implemented over a twenty-year period to be completed in 2030. The plan, led by a collaboration between the housing association Brabrand Boligforening and the City of Aarhus, aims to introduce a mix of different uses to Gellerup including office space, shops and culture to ensure the area does not remain “exclusively residential”. The proposed masterplan has prompted some demolition of the existing housing blocks as well as a considerable amount of retention.

Anne explains the plans have been built up to bring a “big change” to the area, but that scheme has encountered challenges, particularly with the existing residents. When asked about resident reactions to the masterplan, Anne replies, “Curiosity. Hopefulness and despair.” She continues, “’What is this?’ they want to know…many have lots of questions about the change. It can be difficult for those who live within the big changes to see things positively.” 

‘Never Demolish!’

Andreas & Ilka Ruby with Lacaton & Vassal

In the 1960s and 1970s, large-scale housing complexes were built all over the world as a bold solution to satisfy the need for housing. Five decades later they are largely considered as ideologically outdated, urbanistically failed, and ripe for demolition. Against this backdrop ‘Never Demolish’ claims that these projects can have a second life that’s better than their first, through sensible renovation – enlarging the spaces and improving living standards. The exhibition features the spectacular transformation of 530 dwellings across three high-rise buildings of the Cité du Grand Parc in Bordeaux, France designed by the architectural offices of Lacaton & Vassal, Frédéric Druot and Christophe Hutin as a potential model for the social and physical rehabilitation of the mass-housing estates of modernism.

The Never Demolish exhibition, curated by Ilka and Andreas Ruby for the Copenhagen Architecture Festival 2017, presents this project for the first time in Denmark, addressing architects, urban planners, developers, heritage conservationists, and politicians alike. To help facilitate a discussion about the proposal in light of the current Danish housing situation, the exhibition is staged at two different sites: the gallery SPACE10 in Copenhagen and the Gellerup Museum in Aarhus.

The second venue, inside Gellerup Museum aims to view the potential of this transformation in a wider context by placing the exhibition in a similar surrounding to the one in Bordeaux: Gellerup, site of the largest modernist housing development in Denmark.

Built in the 1960s as a solution to growing post-war housing demand, the high-rise complex was conceived to function as a satellite city of Aarhus for middle-class Danish residents. However, the concentration of mono-functional residential estates outside of the city with little urban infrastructure produced a ghettoisation effect, resulting in the social segregation of residents with a predominately migrant background. The ensuing socio-economic issues and the negative image associated with the area prompted the demolition of five blocks in the complex, meaning that 300 dwellings out of 2500 have been already been displaced.

Taking place in a converted former apartment in one of the high-rise buildings, which now serves as a museum for the community, the exhibition stages a maximum transformation with minimum means. Life -size images of views into and from the winter garden fill the entire walls of the exhibition space. These not only simulate the living spaces in Grand Parc, they also give the impression that the space of the museum extends beyond the physical boundaries of the 4 x 11 metre room. Mirroring the transformation at Grand Parc, the interior of the building is given new value through a process of addition that is characterized by spatial generosity.

This overlay of two contexts – of Bordeaux and Gellerup – attests to the wider spatial and cultural implications that this type of transformation can have, ultimately changing the iconography and cultural image with which these estates are nowadays associated.

‘Never demolish!’ exhibition credits

Transformation of 530 dwellings in Bordeaux by Lacaton & Vassal, Druot, Hutin

Photos by Philippe Ruault

Curated by Ilka & Andreas Ruby

The financial squeeze that followed the war changed the station’s fate, and the line was never electrified as planned, passenger numbers declined and the station eventually closed in 1954. For a time the high-level station was used for freight and rolling stock movements, but in 1958 the tracks on the Alexandra Palace branch were removed, and on the rest of the line in 1971. The route of the line from Finsbury Park to Alexandra Palace  was  preserved and adopted by Haringey Council in 1976, and now it forms Parkland Walk - a public pathway approximately 4km long. Today  the abandoned high-level station at Highgate provides a home for protected species and an is an important green corridor for London’s wildlife, including six different species of bats. 

A tour of the disused Highgate station is one of many Hidden London tours run by London Transport Museum. More information can be found here. 

Katie Frost

With responses from: 

Juliana Engberg (JE) - Programme Director, The Secretariat for the Aarhus 2017 Foundation

Laura Sillars (LS) - Artistic Director at Site Gallery, Sheffield. Previously Programmes Director at FACT, Liverpool during Liverpool ‘08 Capital of Culture

Martin Thim (MT) - Founder, The Coal Bridge project, and organiser, Creativity World Forum

Julian Weyer (JW) - Partner, Architect maa., C.F. Møller

1. Why do you think cities want to be the Capital of Culture?

LS: The short answer is that they’re searching for a ‘trigger’. Of course a shorter answer would be ‘money’. Although honestly, I think these cities are searching for more than cash - rather looking for something to build around which shifts gears, a story that expresses change, to show that that places have transformed. For Liverpool, a constant theme was the desire to puncture holes in stereotypes that were pretty entrenched nationally about who and what it was as a city. That the 2008 Capital of Culture was a huge success there is now part of its history. The European Capital of Culture status then operates as an external frame of reference, a benchmark and an indicator that the place has got it together. That’s when the money comes in because investors and speculators have evidence that there will be a return on their investment and so you get a snowball effect. This might sound like a cynical narrative of why this status matters, but this is not my view. The experimental culture that my professional life has been concerned with absolutely benefits from a place shifting gear. To be successful, there needs to be an authentic set of links made between ambitious new forms of cultural production and the indigenous cultures embedded into the values of the every day lives of citizens and residents.

JE: Aarhus is a city that thinks very carefully about its growth and has a great pride in its unique, youthful and clever DNA. It wants to grow well, better, sustainably and smarter, and bidding for the opportunity to be the European Capital of Culture gave a focus for these ambitions. It’s also a city that has a big spirit and generous heart and one of the most inspiring decisions Aarhus made when constructing their bid, was to invite the entire mid-Denmark region to join in, which it did. Undoubtedly in going for the title there was a hope that this would bring attention to the city and region. And it does of course, and with that comes very many opportunities for enhanced business, tourism capture and a kind of civic pride that cannot be measured but is tangibly felt.

MT: Aarhus is part of a global tendency that you could call ‘the second city phenomena’ and in recent years Aarhus has really risen and grown its own identity. I think that it was very natural that Aarhus would make the bid as part of this development and also that we won, because Aarhus is really the rising star in the north right now, so the timing is perfect.

JW: While each city might have individual reasons and ideas for aspiring to the title, they probably also share the ambition to attract investment, development and ultimately to be able to decide their own fates. Cities see themselves more and more competing with other cities, both national and internationally, in what almost resembles a pre-modern race for resources. In Aarhus’s case, it certainly has been a factor that Aarhus is constantly in competition with (or rather: has long been eclipsed by) the Danish capital, Copenhagen, and has long felt that it deserved more international recognition, and a bigger share of national investments. But the actual timing coincided with a sense of the city undergoing a profound transformation: Aarhus is currently changing faster than it has for the last 70-80 years. Typically these developments happen in leaps, and what is currently happening is similar in scale to the transformation in the early 1930’s when the university was established and the city began the ongoing transformation from an industrial port city to a regional hub and knowledge city. So the bid is very much a quest for balance, to acknowledge that Aarhus’s role in the future will be greater and that this will change the way the country is perceived.

2. What do you see as the key outcomes of the Capital of Culture title?

JW: In my view this has varied greatly for the individual cities in the past – looking back at Copenhagen’s 1996 title, there is now clearly a before and after: the year marked the definite departure from Copenhagen’s grim, post-industrial era to become what has now been named the world’s most ‘liveable city’, a quite radical transformation in a short time. But I believe this was only possible because the city was on the cusp of this transformation anyhow, and that the most successful capitals of culture (i.e. where the outcomes last after the spotlight has gone elsewhere) were those where the timing was right, and the title boosted the already imminent changes – both in physical and immaterial qualities such as reputation and self-esteem. In that way, maybe the key outcomes of the title is in the process of the application itself (before the actual year of holding the title), because it is here that cities have the opportunity to re-formulate their goals and ambitions, and where awareness of their own potential can become clear.

JE: Unlike many ECOCs, Aarhus 2017 has not embarked on infrastructural projects. In many ways we are fortunate that the city of Aarhus and several of the other municipalities decided to create new infrastructure anyway. Aarhus was ready to roll! Instead, our year has put emphasis on projects and creating opportunities for organisations to make dream works, think large and think long. Make contacts, networks and new works that have brought the local practitioners together with international peers to ensure a greater cross-pollination of ideas, approaches and outcomes. This creates a more sustainable system of cultural delivery.

MT: I actually don’t think that you can bid for or truly claim the Capital title if your city has not already taken significant steps towards a strong cultural infrastructure, both mentally and physically. People living here, businesses operating here, the city and region have really started to work together in so many new ways. The ‘silos’ have been torn down just a bit and new collaborations and adventures and being born. This will have a huge impact in the coming years I’m sure.

LS: I moved to Liverpool to work at Tate Liverpool in 2004 and stayed in the city until 2010 having then moved to FACT. When I first arrived you had to trek across a cold, somewhat abandoned field, take your chances across a dual carriageway to get from the city centre to the Albert Dock. By the time I left, this whole area was developed with a pedestrian walkway through boulevards of restaurants and hotels and across a pedestrian-prioritised crossing linking the whole riverside complex and the city centre. There were plenty of capital projects which site the ECOC title as their trigger but the artistic strategy was all about events, experiences and moments which brought people together. For a cultural worker in the city, the outcomes were felt in the lived reality of the city becoming a much better place to live and work. Additionally, ambitions were unalterably raised.

3. Who does the Capital of Culture title impact?

JW: Ideally, it would impact everyone. Now, from a Danish perspective of the social collective, when we say “everyone” we truly hope for including everyone, so that of course is extremely difficult to live up to. The truth is of course that almost everyone is affected somehow, but in very different ways – some find their pride asserted, some get more business, some get to dream and some get to complain more. I find that most people actually do like the idea of Aarhus 2017, and because the city’s evolution is so clearly evident, it is not hard to create a positive vibe around the event. A more ambitious part of Aarhus’ bid, however, was to extend the title beyond the city itself, including the entire region of central Jutland, and therein also a number of former ‘rival-cities’. This was a clever move, aiming to both create a stronger regional cohesion by declaring the end of rivalry, and at the same time gain more momentum in relation to the capital region. It remains to be seen whether citizens outside of Aarhus feel the same level of involvement in the Capital of Culture.

MT: I have lived in Aarhus for 40 years and I’ve never experienced the kind of engagement and amount of different cultural offers as we have seen this and the last couple of years. At the same time, when you are literally standing in the middle of it all, it’s a bit hard to tell whether or not it has reached far enough. There has been some critique especially when it comes to the diversity of (rhythmic) music and whether enough is being done to involve projects and initiatives from our talented youth and the city’s entrepreneurs. On the other hand, the music scene in Aarhus is growing on its own with Northside, Spot, new venues like Tape, Godsbanen and the south habour and acts/exports like Liss, Karl William, Lydmor, Bæst etc. A lot of new players are popping up and creating great projects like Aarhus Volume, Square Space, Kulturentreprenør, Jakob Bjørn Galleri etc. However, I don’t see our city ‘breeding’ a lot of very interesting visual artists and maybe this could have been a focus area for the Capital of Culture. Or perhaps we will see the outcome in a few years time.

4. For you, what is the ideal legacy of the Capital of Culture title?

JW: I would say that the most important outcome would be a collective new vision for what our city can be, a shared idea. Momentary fame or assertion of coolness is fine, but for the title to have that lasting impact it must coincide with a change in our thinking. Especially in the case of Aarhus, I would personally hope that it also marks a change in national thinking: Denmark has for a long time failed to acknowledge the fact that it becomes more and more bipolar, with the greater Aarhus region numerically matching the Copenhagen capital region. Yet politically this has simply been ignored, and as a result the entire Danish infrastructure and investment strategy is skewed – hopefully, the exposure of Aarhus 2017 can help correct this in a longer-term perspective.

JE: Ideally, the legacy will be that organisations will start planning for the next five years and put in place the next opportunities to capitalise on the new audiences that have been captured. That the networks that have been created are sustained and grow. That people are more prepared to experiment and take risks and that the generations to come have enhanced capacity. That the region understands and grasps the cultural tourism potential we have demonstrated works if you cooperate and have fantastic projects that join the dots. That the creative industries produce the next Nordic Noir product. That the ingenuity of our Region is embraced and celebrated the world over… oh, and that more people visit and fall in love with Aarhus and the Region, because frankly, what’s not to love?!

5. Are there alternatives to the Capital of Culture approach?

JW: Yes, of course – I see the title itself as merely a manifestation of results that have already been achieved, or are in the making. The title itself doesn’t bring change, so as a reward it points to the successful implementation of such ‘other mechanisms’, especially in cities like Aarhus that are not primary cultural monuments. Today, for example, Aarhus is also a landmark city of architecture and design, with a unique cluster of educational facilities and professional practices that far exceed what could be expected from any comparable town – in terms of size, and in terms of global success and reputation. The city is working actively to implement an architectural policy and make this cluster of design firms an integral part of the identity of Aarhus.

LS: Perhaps there are broad-brush civic alternatives such as the Olympics or a major sports event, but the European Capital of Culture status is quite unique. Models that build infrastructure are clear alternative ways of doing things but to really change external opinions you need a shock factor followed up by visible, tangible and believable change.

JE: Of course you do not need a title to invest in culture…but it helps! The scheme and the title, which is so clever really, provides a frame of reference and joins you to a legacy of cities eager to meet and share knowledge. The European Capital of Culture is a strong and trusted brand and to have the title means you have been rigorously assessed as being a worthy and inspiring participant in the scheme. Importantly, and this is the genius of the idea, in bidding for the title, a city starts to invest in itselfand starts to believe in itself. Being an ECOC is a fantastic opportunity to reflect on what strengths you have as a place and culture and to enhance these attributes. You do not need a title, but it is a very strong incentive for politicians to direct funds to culture. If our ECOC is anything to go by, it pays back manifold. Culture is a hidden treasure in most cities, and the title helps to bring it to the surface.