THE CITY SEEKS TO NOURISH ITSELF - REFLECTIONS ON THE SUMMER LISTENING PROGRAMME 2025

Something To Aim For is a charity that leads with care. Our starting point is to deeply listen to the experience of those facing barriers, uncertain futures and a dwindling sense of belonging in the industry. The questions that are raised from listening to the community for a long time are often difficult, complex, and societal. As Programme Development Lead, I wanted to create a way for us to listen with a clear focus and present what had been learned in digestible ways. It led to showcasing the tenacity of the community and their grassroots methods of making sure culture stays at the centre of Manchester life.

So I launched the Summer Listening Programme 2025, bringing together a cohort of Manchester-based artists to explore, listen, and in-turn put words to the issues and pose thoughtful critique to the status quo. By choosing Queer and Live Performance, Visual and Live Arts, Grassroots Music, and Animation, to be covered by our “Listeners”, there was a breadth of different disciplines, yet all with similarities in their career paths due to the state of the sector. It doesn’t feel too much of a stretch, that an artist working in drag, music, animation, or visual arts can all begin as a solo endeavour with a small set of tools, even by presenting their early journey via Instagram or TikTok. After this the biggest question lands - where, when, and how to present the work to your artistic peers. 

The norm is a continuous artistic cycle where a new project is presented at a festival, a showcase, a corner of a pub - usually part of a wider lineup. These money draining endeavours are always in the hopes of getting the dreaded word of ‘exposure’, the promise that someone will ‘buy my project’ or ‘buy me as a maker of projects’. A call into the void of, “Please help me become sustainable doing what I love,” which is clearly accompanied by the whisper, “I don’t know how much longer I can stay in this cycle.” 

A sustainable career looks different in each of these disciplines. Queer live performance is mostly locked into a niche arena of queer hubs of cities or Fringe Festivals with a rare breakout artist or team gaining a level of fame and mainstream notoriety. While in visual arts, music and animation the completed artwork is a physical artefact and can be shared, presented, screened, toured, even hosted on websites - a body of work that can be searched for and discovered later.

A major part of Something To Aim For’s work and future goals as a charity is to understand more about why these gaps in a typical career journey exist and where attention can be given to bridge them. We know that currently these gaps are filled with the many different tools of privilege which can present as nepotism, wealth that provides invaluable time to dedicate to practice, no consequence to repeated failure, and high quality learning opportunities, education and networks. The winners of the arts career race, gleefully shouting back across the gap the cold comfort of a meritocracy myth. 

So here is where our Listeners Billie, Jason, Dani and Neil discovered - a not unique to - but a particularly Mancunian sensibility around the importance of community. Many performance platforming events, ad-hoc gallery spaces, and screening opportunities all happen in such spontaneous ways. The appetite for community enrichment is shown by the small venues that regularly provide free space and the legion of community volunteers that will run the projects. Meanwhile, more and more a rejection of the fame-based artistic career cycle is encouraged. Less pointing towards the distant shore of difficult funder applications to become sustainable, less a desperate journey to fame, especially if the community are being served and the artist properly paid in a grassroots way.

This summer I took on the role of Listener for Theatre. The Greater Manchester Fringe Festival gave an insight into how early theatre is supported. Although theatre often starts with writing, it quickly needs a semblance of a team and space to envision it. This leads theatre productions down the route of needing to try and find seed funding, rehearsal space, and scratch night platform opportunities. This level of entrepreneurship means that theatre practitioners become business people much sooner than other art forms especially if they endeavour to pay actors and calculate box office returns. The career journey leads in a direct manner towards needing clever ways of fundraising and self-funding, until a strong case can be made towards the Arts Council England (ACE). As the Hodge Report highlighted, there is a wish from the community to have less bureaucracy and long decision timelines required to gain smaller amounts of funding. It can prove to be a full time job attempting to gain ACE or a patchwork of smaller funding opportunities. Often this only feels worthwhile or becomes desperately necessary once the project is already in motion, leaving a serious financial risk around the project when completion is attempted in the event of a rejection from ACE.

In 2025, the Manchester Fringe and Edinburgh Fringe Festival are still both arenas where theatre-makers attempt that big leap into recognition. Manchester Fringe manages to maintain an environment where a very new piece of work needing a testing ground can be staged to much less financial risk and warmer more open audiences. Edinburgh, even with the Keep It Fringe funding, has for a long time been an environment that necessitates you bring your most polished, impactful, audience challenging or genre-focused work, lest you prepare to drown in a sea of not always fair commentary around your work - judging it half-baked or too green. This with the recent announcement of a large reduction in the Keep It Fringe fund overall, which was mostly a bandage over the unsustainable nature of the Edinburgh Fringe but the number of registrations continues to rise. The risk of entering into the wild west that is the Ed Fringe is financial in the first instance but compounded by the difficulty in building community, joining networks or being able to have any kind of artistic growth. Attendees must focus every waking hour on audience numbers, producer chats or reviews - lack of any one of these three is abject failure. Networking with peers that you don’t already know is almost impossible, but I’d like to imagine an Ed Fringe where widespread supportive mentoring can occur between veteran and newbie attendees. Unfortunately, the feeling of being up against stiff competition permeates everything.

Throughout the summer, our Listeners teased out the golden thread connecting all the artforms and the wonderful artists doing their best to make their work sustainable. They discovered a city that seeks to nourish itself culturally and artistically. It goes without saying, practitioners working on grassroots or niche work needs to be funded more with long term timelines. Where a young person can grow up building their confidence and wellbeing with experienced local artists in a non-flashy community arts programme, that is still there a couple of decades later for their own kids to take part. A level of sustainability and security for the value of art at this level should not be an outrageous demand. The grassroots arts ecology is vital for experimentation, low risk care-led creation processes and reflection cycles. Mentorship and sustainability support is the first step towards most artistic careers even for those artists shooting for the stars but many would love to be empowered to remain in their communities - no grander stages needed.

“DON'T WAIT FOR A YES” - MANCHESTER ANIMATION FESTIVAL 2025

November marked the return of the most exciting event of the year for Manchester’s animation scene, the UK’s largest festival of its kind; Manchester Animation Festival (MAF). With feature films showing from across the globe, including Japan, Korea, Australia, Mexico, Canada and United States, and winners qualifying for potential Academy Award and BAFTA nominations, it’d be easy to think this is a festival much larger than the Manchester animation scene itself. But filling HOME, the Anthony Burgess Foundation, Bridgewater Hall, and Manchester Central Library, it’s just as much of a celebration of Mancunian and UK talent, as well as drawing international guests from industry to visit, creating a melting pot and catalyst for the future of animation in our city.  

On the first day of the festival, I visited a few events for Young Animator of the Year held at the Anthony Burgess Foundation. This included a talk by UK-based stop motion animator Laura Tofarides, and a Paths Into Animation panel discussion with Bluezoo’s Francesca Adams, freelancer Will Anderson, and Manchester’s very own Baz Sells, co-founder of studio One6th. Both these talks touched on key topics for budding young animators, such as how to deal with imposter syndrome, and whether animation as a career is worth pursuing in the age of AI. “Animation is about communicating the human experience” suggested Francesca. “There will always be room for humans.” “If it doesn’t have a soul... why care?” added Will. A reassuring message to say the least!

However, the key theme permeating both talks and the wider festival, was the idea of permission. “Don’t wait for a yes,” advised Baz Sells in discussion with festival director Dr Steve Henderson. “There will always be rejection,” when working in the animation industry. “Just start making things,” and work on growing your creative network. Baz explained he initially found it difficult to break into the industry at first after moving to Manchester around ten years ago. He struggled for a couple of years and it wasn’t until he volunteered at Manchester Animation Festival in 2016 that he started to feel like he was building a community of local creatives. In fact, his first commissioned animation work, Squib for Bradford Literature festival was actually the result of his volunteering at MAF 2016, having been passed the work by MAF festival director, Dr Steve Henderson. Nine years later, Baz is now sat as a panellist advising young animators how to enter the industry, with his new short film Two Black Boys in Paradise winning the British Short Film category at this year’s festival. A full circle moment because he didn’t wait for that “yes!”.

Both Francesca and Will echoed similar sentiments. Will explained his journey took a very similar path. He started making work and just putting it out there, instead of waiting for an opportunity or invitation. He managed to gain some attention on the festival circuit with his short film The Making of Longbird, which gave him some belief and confidence. This led to him applying for funding, making further films and gaining traction. Francesca too, while not on the festival circuit, didn’t wait for an invitation. Now working as storyboard artist at Bluezoo, she advised how she originally landed the role by simply emailing them out of the blue asking for a tour of their studio. To her surprise they emailed back quickly telling her to just pop by, so she ended up jumping on a train from her home over 100 miles away and physically and metaphorically got her foot in the door!

These stories of not waiting for permission, creating your own opportunities and how important it is to build a network and community were the most striking. Many animators in the beginning of their careers can feel it’s hard to get that initial break. Expensive university courses, applying to studios where each job description asks for 2 years in an animation studio previously, or asks for knowledge of an ever-growing list of programs, each with a hefty price tag. In an ever more competitive environment, where arts funding has dwindled consistently since 2010, it can seem like an impossible task to get that creative job, or get your film funded. However, in her talk My Animation Journey, Laura Tofarides explained how her first film was made on her living room floor, with rudimentary equipment. When it comes down to it, it’s the making things and being brave enough to share it that's most important, creating your own space, not waiting for someone to invite you in.

The same advice was shared at all levels of the festival, even in conversation with 5-time Academy Award nominated animation studio Cartoon Saloon, winners of this year’s Fellowship Award. Founders Tomm Moore, Nora Twomey and Paul Young alongside festival director Dr Steve Henderson, led us through some of the studios key moments, from starting out around a kitchen table in Kilkenny in 1999 to having to borrow cigarettes at the Academy Awards to engineer a “chance” meeting outside with animation master Miyazaki!

They told of starting their studio in their final year of college, and despite their first feature film The Secret of Kells not starting production until 2005, they began working on the trailer and initial script as early as 1999 without any initial funding. While taking on commercial work to keep the studio afloat, they also worked on the animated short film From Darkness, directed by Nora which they took out to festivals in 2002. It was at Cartoon Movie in Berlin where they met Didier Brunner, a producer of The Triplets of Belleville who agreed to help them produce the movie, and by October 2005 they’d secured funding.

Since then, Cartoon Saloon have created numerous feature films, short films and TV shows and continued to visit festivals all over the world. They’ve visited Manchester Animation Festival multiple times to show new films as well as hold talks, and this year take home the fellowship award for their outstanding contribution to animation. A long way from their initial conception at a kitchen table in 1999.

“Don’t wait for a yes” was very much the lasting message from Manchester Animation Festival for me. All these films, whether they be international feature films, or student shorts started out with an idea that someone was brave enough to bring to fruition, and even braver to share with the world. It's important to note that, while Manchester Animation Festival is one of the biggest dates in the Manchester animation scene’s calendar; there are bi-monthly events such as Motion North and Animates MCR. Motion North brings together the motion design community of the North West at Band on the Wall and Animates MCR hold social events throughout the year for animation enthusiasts or professionals alike. Both continue to provide year-round opportunities for Manchester’s thriving animation scene to grow. Events like Manchester Animation Festival not only inspire budding animators in the city and beyond, but create an opportunity to extend your network and community to other animation lovers and industry leaders whether they be local or from further afield.

THE MUSIC CITY - GRASSROOTS LIVE MUSIC IN MANCHESTER

Manchester and music go hand in hand, with discussions about the city invariably mentioning its musical impact on the world. It’s the second largest live music economy in the UK[1], with 215 live music venues offering something every night of the week in different corners of the city. You can see smaller bands in the Northern Quarter, cutting their teeth and honing their craft, sing along at the party in Albert Schloss, catch DJs and experimental music at The White Hotel, or see a global phenomenon packing out Co-Op Live. During summer there’s always a diverse festival offering, including Sounds From The Other City, Manchester Psych Fest, Manchester Folk Festival, Manchester Jazz Festival, Parklife and Heaton Park summer concerts, just to name a few. For all of this undeniable activity, many questions remain. Do the grassroots musicians, promoters and venues, who make up the backbone of Manchester music culture, feel supported? Is what they are doing sustainable? Are they part of the conversation? Does the grassroots music scene know we have a ‘Greater Manchester Music Commission’? How do they feel about the Beyond The Music festival/conference? Do they feel the benefit of the £1 Co-op Live ticket levy that Music Venues Trust use to support small music venues and artists?

These conversations are just snippets gathered from the Manchester grassroots music scene. I also caveat this whole piece with the fact I usually focus on seeing bands; the city naturally has a diverse musical offering beyond this. However, these chats are definitely reflective of what I hear when speaking to musicians, promoters and venue owners from various musical communities across the city. I’ve been part of the Manchester music scene for just over fifteen years and have been going to gigs regularly during that time. I’ve been excited to see new venues open, new festivals pop up, promoters grow and create such special scenes, new bands find meteoric fame. I can’t think of a better UK city to see all your favourite acts in such a manageable way. Manchester is almost always included on European/Worldwide tours, the venues are all easy to get to, and they have the capacity to host any act at any level. 

A hub of the Manchester music scene is The Peer Hat, located just behind Stevenson’s Square. It puts on a huge array of music and was recently shouted out in i-d magazine by TTSSFU, “We go to this place called Peer Hat. That place is wild. Everyone you know goes in, and you see them come out in a different form.” When watching a night of DIY punk, put on by local promoters ‘Taste Supreme’, the night featured a mixture of bands from across the UK. Nobody was refused entry due to lack of funds, showing the generous spirit of these events, where the promoters are often lucky if they break even. When speaking to one of the bands before the gig, I asked about the £1 ticket levy at Co-Op Live. They felt it’s the least Co-Op Live could do and that they’d just love to see it translate to a decent house drum kit in the local venues. Many musicians are no strangers to the practical difficulties of getting their gear to venues. They agree how much easier it would be if venues had a well maintained backline, with one saying, “If I saw a sticker on a drum kit saying provided by Manchester City Council, I might start to think they actually care about grassroots music.”

This summer saw many Manchester musicians do benefit gigs for Medical Aid for Palestine. One of the city’s breakthrough acts, Westside Cowboy, have put on regular gigs under the banner ‘No Band Is An Island’. Bands also pulled out from MIF’s Festival this summer due to Aviva’s ties to insuring Israel weapon manufacturers. This is concurrent with the global trend of artists pulling their music off Spotify, restricting streaming in Israel and speaking out against the ongoing genocide, culminating with the ‘Together for Palestine’ concert at Wembley Stadium at the end of summer. 

Manchester’s recent successes focus on its ability to build housing and offices quickly, but this has come at a high cost. The creative energy that once filled its old factories, providing affordable studios that helped drive the city’s cultural and economic boom, has now led to their redevelopment, leaving few places for musicians to work and create. In recent years, we’ve seen Marlsbro House bought by Boohoo, kicking hundreds of musicians out in the process, who had previously used the building as studio space for over a decade. We’ve seen musicians forced out of Brunswick Mill studios to make way for developers, and having to relocate to Salford Crescent after nearly two decades in the Mill. These seismic shifts in the city’s fabric are felt as a huge loss for many local musicians. There are alternatives, like ‘hire by the hour’ spaces, but these often feel soulless and lack the community spirit built over years in studios. Luckily, there are brilliant charities like the John Hall Foundation, which offer free rehearsal spaces for bands, but they are unable to help everyone. If you speak to most musicians, they just want a place that feels like their own to store their gear, nothing fancy, just somewhere to make loud noise. 

I spoke to Liam, the drummer in Chemtrails, a Manchester DIY punk band who regularly tour Europe. He highlighted the difference between playing in the UK and the rest of Europe. Liam feels that it’s generally obvious European promoters have more money to spend and seem better supported by local authorities and funding models, allowing them to better look after the bands, ensuring they are paid, fed, and have accommodation. He reflected that it sometimes seems a shame for Manchester to lean so heavily on its past musical heritage when there is so much going on right now. I can relate to that point. My fear is that Manchester could become a theme park of its former self, culturally trading on nostalgia instead of nurturing what’s happening now, and what could come next. There’s a closed circuit of bigger British indie bands who take smaller carbon copies of themselves on tour, giving them exposure but doing little to move the culture forward or reflect what’s really going on. Liam also spoke about the difficulties of keeping a band afloat. Even though one of the band’s latest songs was featured in EA’s Skate video game, one of the most highly anticipated games of 2025, the money from that immediately got sunk into paying for their new album. He also shared how they are lucky as a band to all have full-time flexible jobs, which helps pay for recordings, merchandise and a touring van. But not all bands, especially those starting out, have that.   

Max Neville is a recent Salford university graduate who set up Broken Knees Promotion, originally for a university module. Now, over a year later, Broken Knees Promotion is still putting on an array of music ranging from grunge to hardcore. Max is a musician and producer himself. When asked what he feels he’s got out of Broken Knees, he said how he feels more connected to bands on the scene and that it has led to multiple professional opportunities for himself to record, produce and play live. In terms of funding opportunities to help them out, Max noted that the only resource they know of is PRS, saying that, “People say there are loads of funding opportunities out there, but it’s difficult to know where to start,” but also expressing, “I’d know exactly how much money I’d need and what it’s for.” When asked what would help them most, Max highlighted funding towards venue hire, which would allow him to create a better deal for the artists. Finally, I asked Max how they find working within the grassroots Manchester scene. He spoke of his love for Manchester and how it has, “everything you could want for music”, but there’s also the difficulty of getting people to shows in the first place, “Small promoters are practically begging people to come out and support the music,” hinting at the impacts of the cost of living crisis. 

Generally speaking, not many musicians I spoke to after any gig I went to this summer knew of the Greater Manchester Music Commission. Those who had heard of it were only aware because they knew people on it, but even they were generally unsure of what the Commission does. As for the Beyond The Music festival/conference, many saw the ticket price and scoffed, with a few attending smaller gigs that evening within the city related to the conference, but said it felt generally disconnected to the actual Manchester music culture. 

It’s still an undeniably exciting time to live in the city, but it’s obvious talking to bands, promoters and music venues that if we’re serious about the importance of music in Manchester, we need to step up and support it. Musicians don’t traditionally go and seek out funding and help. They’re often artists who submit to the ‘labour of love’ financial model, but incremental actions can help everyone out. YES Manchester announced their ‘Support The Supports’ initiative that provides a £1 discount on drinks while support acts are playing. This isn’t feasible for all venues, but it’s got the right kind of spirit. Manchester proudly defines itself as a music-loving city built upon the foundational voices of socialism, feminism, and progress. We need to safeguard those ideals as the city rapidly changes shape under the forces of private investment. One way of doing this is to invest in culture on a grassroots level: more affordable rehearsal rooms; investment into music gear for small venues; easily accessible funding pots which small promoters are actively told about; taking inspiration from what our European neighbours are doing right, and so much more. Forever over-quoted but forever shrewd, our Tony Wilson stated his intention on Hacienda’s membership form: ‘To restore a sense of place’. I believe we need to work harder to nurture this sense of place before we lose what we’ve got.

[1] https://www.musiccitiesnetwork.com/knowledge-management-1/manchester-music-economy-report

ATTEMPTING A SNAPSHOT - VISUAL AND LIVE ARTS IN MANCHESTER

Any attempt to describe the arts scene in Greater Manchester will always include blind spots and omissions, so foreground the process of this attempt as a ‘snapshot’. I’m writing as an artist and freelancer, who is not only new to calling themselves an artist but also hasn’t had a straightforward trajectory of coming up through institutions like an art school or having studio space. However, being new to the scene can perhaps present an interesting opportunity. Here are the things that have appeared on my radar in 2025 through going to openings, meeting other artists, and generally coming to arts in Greater Manchester (GM) with few preconceptions and little insider experience. The starting point of my snapshot of the scene is centred on the place I call home - Manchester borough - but also includes events and art spaces in the neighbouring cities of Salford and Stockport.  

Where is the art happening? 

Openings and events are mostly taking place in studio spaces, with a small but growing scene of commercial galleries and spaces. Many of the studios are well-established: AWOL studios in central Manchester, Paradise Works and Islington Mill in Salford, 1853 Mill in Oldham, and Bankley Studios in Levenshulme for example. All are housed in the ex-mills, works and warehouses that come to mind when one thinks of the industrial landscape of Manchester. An outlier in geography, in the less gentrified East of the city, there is Rogue studios, a converted Victorian school, whilst Longsight Art Space in the South East of the city is a community and exhibition space in a historic converted Cooperative Wholesale building. Many of these are not just working studios but are significant parts of the ecosystem of visual arts in the city. In the last year, AWOL, Paradise Works and Bankley Studios have run open calls or art prizes which attract local artists to apply to and visit the subsequent exhibitions. These studio spaces then serve as entry points into Manchester’s art scene, as well as the working spaces where studio holders make their work. 

The existing studios cluster around central Manchester because they are survivors of an early phase of Manchester’ art scene in which affordable spaces were more commonly available - it feels less likely today that new studio space could be found in the heart of Manchester due to increasing rents. Whilst many of the spaces in Manchester feel like legacy institutions, Stockport is seen increasingly as an artistic and cultural destination where new venues and possibilities are more possible. A significant new part of the GM arts scene is PINK in Stockport. PINK moved into a converted 1960s office block in Stockport city centre in 2023, having previously been based in central Manchester. Now well-established in Stockport, PINK’s huge multi-levelled studio and exhibition space is led by the curator Katy Morison. In the past few months alone, I’ve visited PINK to see a varied programme of art, all produced to an incredibly high standard: a full evening programme of performance art and happenings curated by the artists Rowland Hill and Darren Nixon, multi-disciplinary work that centres on ceramics by artist Pippa Eason, as well as an exhibition of large-format photography by Lewis David Oldham. 

In addition to studios as the centre-points of the GM arts scene, a number of more commercial spaces stand out. In central Manchester, SeeSaw is a co-working space and cafe that hosts rotating exhibitions by local artists and collective in its cafe space, with an additional exhibition space in the basement of the converted warehouse it calls home – and was previously home to PINK, before its move to Stockport. The Smolensk Gallery is a commercial art gallery in the more upmarket district of Spinningfields, Central Manchester which has called Manchester home since 2020, describing itself as: ‘Irreverent. Independent. Unapologetically Northern’. Alongside this more established and high-end commercial gallery there have emerged in recent years a number of commercial gallery spaces in the Northern Quarter of the Manchester city centre: the event and art space Texture, Saan1 art gallery and an even newer arrival, the art gallery Black Redstart. 

Aesthetics and approaches in Manchester scenes

An attempt to present even a general summary of artistic trends within the Manchester art scene is bound to struggle, given that the work produced is incredibly diverse in terms of media, content and approaches. However, there are some themes which I find particularly interesting in respect to the artistic ecosystem of the Greater Manchester area: themes centring on ideas of ‘place’, artistic and curatorial approaches premised on ‘community’ and finally work which broadly plays on ideas of ‘utopia’/’dystopia’. 

Place

Paradise Up North, at Paradise Works in Salford, curated by Jessia Bennet, was an exhibition which came from an open call, describing itself as a ‘celebration, interrogation, and reimagining of Northern identity’. I found that it opened up ideas of thinking about Northern identity in ways that were playful and self-aware whilst also deploying a sense of humour in tackling imagery of the North as industrial, gritty, and working-class. The puncturing of cliché felt smart and considered. Subversive in its playfulness, the exhibition also included art which felt intimate, utopian, queer, and introduced a rich and varied sense of ‘place’. This idea of place was also addressed in another exhibition in the following month by the Division of Labour gallery, also resident at Paradise Works. The show ‘Village Greens, Hillsides and Conurbations’ included works such as sketchbooks from journeys around northern towns by artist John-Paul Brown, contemporary traditional landscape painting from Lewis Graham as well as work by Angelina May Davies which seemed to work in a dream-like mode that felt inspired by both surrealism and pop art. In both exhibitions it felt like the sense of ‘place’ - so often a topic of cultural interrogation in discussions about the North - was addressed in ways which presented an exciting sense of possibility and diversity of experience. 

Collaborative approaches and community

In August, I caught the exhibition Femininity as Subject at Manchester Metropolitan’s Grosvenor art school site, a project of curator Beatrice Jane Penny. The exhibition’s starting point was ideas of femininity, which grew out of a drive to respond to the reactionary turn in contemporary British politics, as represented by the April 2025 Supreme Court Ruling on gender. Featuring seven artists working in different disciplines, it too was a highly diverse collection of work, but what was particularly interesting was the processes which went into the creation of the exhibition. Jane Penny discussed this as a ‘collaborative approach’ taken between curator and artists, with much of the work emerging out of creative prompts as part of artistic workshops. This collaborative approach fostered what Jane Penny calls: ‘a sense of community during the stages of production … creating a safe environment for artists to express their evolving responses as the exhibition progressed’. It’s this drive towards collaboration and the creation of community which feels a significant part of Manchester’s art scene. It could be that the size of the GM scene allows artists to easily connect, opening up opportunities for collaboration and developing a sense of community. In light of this, it’s unsurprising that Manchester’s scene is home to a number of artist collectives and collaborative projects. Even in exhibitions which are not explicitly ‘group’ shows - such as Pippa Eason’s ‘Four-Fold Reverie’ at PINK - the work which was largely sculpture was supplemented by collaboration with stage and space designers, musicians and film artists. On the point of collaboration and community, Eason’s fellow PINK studio holder artist Rowland Hill told me in an interview:

“There’s a sense of mutual support and people are generally up for collaborating, for showing up and giving something a go.”

— Rowland Hill

Political responses: dystopias and utopias

Most work I’ve encountered in the past year can be said in some way to interrogate and respond to the political landscape in a myriad of ways, including work that is more opaque or uses tones of irony or even nihilism. This was on display in the exhibition We Coulda Had Blue Skies by Evita Ziemele at Rogue Studios. Ziemele’s work - which comprises painting, sculpture and printwork - utilises imagery such as Hello Kitty, Mickey Mouse and the Pink Panther alongside mannequin-like bodies in ways which feels absurd and unsettling: ‘sardonic expressions of a pessimistic discontent’ in Ziemele’s exhibition text. The play with mass-media imagery in surrealist and often dark tones also appeared in the paintings by artist 4J3B at BlackRedStart gallery in their show ‘Is This A Dream?’. Responses to our current political landscape then seem to include both the dystopian (I think here about the end sentence of Ziemele’s exhibition notes, ‘the future could have been great … but we’ve fucked it’) through to potential utopias, for example, through the solo touring show by artist Sarah Al-Sarraj ‘Limbs of the Lunar Disk’ at the Longsight Art Space. Her representational painting work suggests alternative worlds and ways of being in the hope of answering the question suggested in the copy for the exhibition: ‘how do we create intergenerational justice for those yet to come?’. 

Trends and tendencies:

The arts scene in Greater Manchester feels like it’s thriving - the range of media, styles and approaches on show seem indicative of a healthy and exciting scene in which well-established studio spaces play a significant role. With studios being a major point of interaction between artists, there’s a sense of collaboration and community. In particular, the quality of work exhibited is striking, with events at PINK studios in Stockport showcasing work that is experimental, bolder - open to taking risks. In the words of artist and PINK studio holder Rowland Hill: ‘PINK allows for … amorphous, ambitious, boundary pushing activity’ in a way which feels extremely precious within the GM arts scene.

However, the case of Stockport is a particular one worth drawing attention to. At present there’s a certain ‘buzz’ around Stockport’s arts scene, thanks in part to the described work at PINK. However, this buzz is also in no small part thanks to a deliberate and concerted effort of Stockport Council planners and development officers. Encouraging arts investment is seen as a part of commercial development of the area, not merely a good in itself. Whilst council support and encouragement of the arts it to be welcomed at a time when making art feels like an increasingly precarious and privileged activity, under our current climate it raises questions of how this support affects what art is made, how it is made, and who it is made for.

Commercialisation and financial precarity linger around the edges of the arts scene in Manchester and are often topics of discussion. Whilst the existing studio spaces are focus points of opportunity and collaboration, there is a sense of their precarity too. Central Manchester is a hugely desirable location with rents to match it, making it more challenging to hold events which are less commercial. It is perhaps no accident that the most interesting and enjoyable work, in my opinion, has been that in Salford and in Stockport. Increasingly, galleries and studies have to make commercial decisions that detract from the kind of long-term nurturing of artists and bold risk-taking that is vital in an organic and experimental arts scene. 

Whilst the emergence of the small and very new commercial galleries in the centre of Manchester are to be welcomed and suggest a potential positive trend, their longer-term financial viability remains to be seen. It’s likely that the commercial pressures of the environment will drive a push towards what curator Beatrice Jane Penny described as, “finished, polished works”, instead of art which is process-driven, messy, and able to take risks. 

There is a hope amongst many in the arts scene here in GM that increasing council interest in the ‘health’ of the arts ecosystem can help to sustain the venues where art work is made and exhibited. However, I have concerns that this is rarely more than thinking of our arts scene in ‘survival’ mode against the pricing out of artists and art spaces. In practice, this will see existing arts spaces being largely protected, whilst being subject to increasingly commercial pressures. I’m struck by the answer given by Rowland Hill when asked, are you optimistic for the future of the arts scene here in Greater Manchester?  

“What’s missing is the willingness to create conditions for something new to happen now. If affordable spaces were prioritised and artists were trusted to generate momentum, this would inevitably create more potential for change and social, political and artistic momentum of all kinds — which I remain cautiously hopeful for. Until then, Manchester risks becoming a museum of itself.”

— Rowland Hill

The incredibly rich and varied art scene in Manchester does give me cause to be ‘cautiously hopeful’, whilst the pressures placed on it by a rapidly changing commercialisation of the city create a sense of precarity in Manchester itself. A future ‘snapshot’ of the arts scene may find that it is only outside of central Manchester that bolder, more DIY-oriented, and experimental work can happen.

“HOW DO I F*CK WITH THE EDGES?” – QUEER LIVE PERFORMANCE IN MANCHESTER

Tasked with exploring the landscape for queer live performance in Manchester, this project took me from the basements of Canal Street to a 1700 seat theatre. Despite the huge variety in tone and scale, there were some common themes in the work I saw. Every piece was interested in inheritance and legacy (whether paying homage to ancestry, activist heroes, or Princess Diana), and many celebrated transformation and the joy of creating yourself. But what I found most interesting was the form of the work, and what this meant for how it was made, platformed and received. 

SAUNIGA from Queer Indigenous Art Collective FAFSWAG established many of the questions that would guide my listening. Firstly: what are the opportunities and challenges of making work that is formally queer, resisting traditional categories and binaries? Staged at HOME as part of MIF, SAUNIGA is not a “show” but a cultural ceremony exploring land, nature, and Samoan heritage. During a Q&A, Creative Director Pati Tyrrell spoke about the “fa’afafine” (third gender) quality of the piece. There is a direct link between the interdisciplinary, fluid nature of the work and the artists’ identities, resulting in a unique, striking experience for audiences. 

But making art that is not immediately ‘legible’ to venues/programmers comes with certain challenges. FAFSWAG described the discomfort of taking traditions from outside the Western cultural framework and presenting them within that framework. They were acutely aware that in staging SAUNIGA at HOME, they would be engaging with staff and audiences who knew nothing about Samoan culture. On this, one artist said, “we are the embodiment of the rub. Sometimes it’s a nice rub, sometimes it’s abrasive.” There are opportunities for playful subversion in presenting queer work in mainstream institutions, but there will also be frustrations and compromises.

I found examples of this ‘rub’ (both nice and abrasive) to varying degrees in other places. The performers of the Miss Chief Cabaret at Festival Square, for instance, were given the theme of “Manchester” by MIF. Faced with a playlist of white men, they presented tongue-in-cheek Oasis covers, which felt especially pointed given the real deal were performing on the same night, and host Banksie joked their fans might “punch you in the face and steal your wig.” Although light-hearted, this quip felt indicative of the friction the artists might experience in being celebrated as performers but subject to hostility as queer and trans+ people day-to-day. Being platformed by large cultural institutions can give queer artists opportunity to challenge the status quo, or even reach audiences who perhaps most need to hear them. But it also asks them to navigate certain limitations or preconceptions, which can pose a risk both in terms of wellbeing and professional development.

I spoke to local interdisciplinary artist mandla about taking mandla’s show as british as a watermelon to the Edinburgh International Festival in 2022. It received a spectrum of reviews, from two to five stars. Critics were divided over whether it was live art or theatre, and the lack of familiarity with reading queer experimental work was compounded by a lack of familiarity with the intersectional experiences informing it. “I don’t set out to make overtly political work,” mandla told me, “but I’m talking about colonialism,” so the work becomes politicised automatically. mandla is currently developing a new piece exploring the relationship between colonialism, language, and queerness, and is having to think carefully about how and where to position it. As venues become more risk averse in platforming ‘political’ work, there are greater barriers for those whose art is seen as such by default. 

Bolstered by a loyal community of artists and audiences, the ‘rub’ is perhaps less abrasive in smaller, grassroots, and/or non-theatre spaces. For example, on the night I attended Canal Street Kings at The Brewers, overtly political work was platformed alongside outright silliness, experienced performers alongside newcomers, and there was a raffle with prizes including a donated piece from a local queer artist. Whilst the newcomers were only paid “ten pounds and a can of Vimto,” this is clearly a valuable platform for artists to find community and test material in a welcoming, low-risk environment. 

The informality of such events can make them accessible (your first performance could be just an Instagram DM away), but there are caveats. A drag queen I spoke to elsewhere summed it up by saying, “there’s no HR.” Given the sway of individual personalities, a fallout with a host can mean losing a regular gig. Whilst Equity has a drag network, those starting out are unlikely to be aware of existing support structures when things go awry. And though grassroots, DIY and smaller club/cabaret venues might be more financially accessible, they are often inaccessible in other ways (e.g., no step-free access, late starts/finishes and the prevalence of alcohol.) 

Social Experiment from Word of Warning is perhaps a more formalised early-career opportunity – a live art gathering at Contact Theatre which Programme Manager John Franklin-Johnston says regularly attracts queer artists. Such as Ben Hodge, who gave a one-to-one performance, sitting down with me on a ‘date’ to discuss fatness. Artists are paid an honorarium and there are structures in place to promote career progression. For example, an artist testing material at Social Experiment may later be commissioned as part of their Emergency Festival. And, at the other end, they release a newsletter to publicise and build audiences for future work.  

This focus on progression and connecting audience with talent development feels important. If Canal Street Kings’ open mic represents one end of the queer live performance spectrum, then my final show, The Diana Mixtape, represents the other: five high-profile drag queens on the Lowry’s biggest stage. But what exists between the two? Several artists I spoke to lamented the lack of midscale opportunities in Manchester. The Diana Mixtape represents commercial success in one style of drag, but what does career progression look like for other queer and experimental artists? What spaces exist for them to upscale? And what ‘rubs’ might they encounter in doing so? 

As a playwright, when creating work informed by my own queerness, I’m aware that my whiteness, class, and non-disabled status go a long way to protect me from any potential ‘rub.’ Which is to state the obvious and say underrepresented queer artists might encounter less ‘abrasiveness’ if the creative industries were generally more accessible, secure, and diverse.  But small things can also make a difference. For example, having a clear and consistent point of contact for wellbeing (with an eye to the safety of queer artists not only in making work but e.g., in using public transport to/from rehearsal, or being platformed on social media); a venue asking if there is a difference between the pronouns artists wish to use internally and externally; and using a starter form to create space to discretely flag any pre-emptive concerns about e.g., questions that might be asked during marketing/publicity. Again, at risk of stating the obvious, I have felt most supported when I am met as an individual, with no assumptions made about my identity, nor my comfortability with discussing it outside the context of the work itself. 

Ultimately, in reflecting on this project as a whole, I returned to something FAFSWAG Producer Elyssia Wilson-Heti said during their Q&A. Surviving and progressing when making work as a queer artist – particularly for those with intersecting marginalised identities - can mean working with but testing the limits of established cultural institutions, traditions, and practises. “Ask: where are the edges? How do I fuck with the edges?”