Urban Research & PracticeVol. 2, No. 1, March 2009, 36–52

ISSN 1753-5069 print/ISSN 1753-5077 online© 2009 Taylor & FrancisDOI: 10.1080/17535060902727041http://www.informaworld.com

RURP1753-50691753-5077Urban Research & Practice, Vol. 2, No. 1, January 2009: pp. 1–23Urban Research & PracticeHow underground culture is changing ParisUrban Research and PracticeE. VivantElsa Vivant*

French Institute of Urban Planning, Université Paris 8, Paris, France

Off artistic spaces, such as artistic squats, techno traveller’s party places and under-ground circuses, are flourishing in cityscapes. In the context of a growing emphasis onthe role of creativity, a large urban neobohemia is assumed to be deeply interested inall kinds of creativity and forms of artistic expression. These off venues are used astools in city’s cultural policies. To understand these developments, it is necessary toreview changes in the cultural policies of French cities over the last 30 years. The goalsof cultural policies have moved from the supply of resident-oriented cultural servicestoward meeting the needs of newcomers and visitors. The city, as a built environmentand a social fabric, is becoming the playground of cultural policymakers. We will putinto perspective this shift in the attitude of planners and authorities toward these offspaces by examining the regeneration project of La Chapelle–Stalingrad area in Paris.

Keywords: underground culture; urban regeneration; Paris; gentrification

IntroductionOver the last three decades, the use of culture as a tool in urban redevelopment has risendramatically spread to many different cities (Evans 2001). This trend is revealed by theconstruction boom of new mainstream cultural amenities, often designed as spectacularbuildings by star architects. At the same time, off artistic spaces are flourishing incityscapes; for instance, in many cities, off artists squat empty buildings in order to createunderground cultural venues. Even though in the eyes of some people off venues areconsidered to be dangerous and marginal places, they can attract a wider audience than‘outsiders’. Indeed, in a context of rising creativity, a large urban neobohemia is argued tobe deeply interested in all kinds of creative and artistic expression (Florida 2002, Lloyd2002). Moreover, we argue that these off venues could be considered as tools in thecultural and urban policies of cities in much the say way as in cultural amenities used tobe. In many cities, off cultural scenes are becoming tourist attractions and are part of thecity’s image and experience; walking in the paths of San Francisco’s beatniks and hippies,discovering Copenhagen’s Christiana, or slumming in underground Berlin’s nightclubs.Inspired by these examples all around the world, this paper will focus on the French case,and especially Paris.

Ironically, given that culture as an economic and development tool was taboo for awhile in France (Le Galès 1993), the integration of cultural and urban policies represents anew development in French urban strategies. This trend has been led by cities such as Nantesand Lille, the first to explicitly use culture as a tool in an urban development strategy.

*Email: Elsa.vivant@univ-paris8.fr

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To understand this interest, it is necessary to review changes in the cultural policies ofFrench cities over the last 30 years. The goals of cultural policies have moved from thesupply of resident-oriented cultural services towards meeting the needs of newcomers andvisitors. This shift implies a change in the patterns of policies too. The city, as a builtenvironment and a social fabric, is becoming the playground of cultural policymakers. Inparticular, cultural policies are now embedded in the development strategies of cities, aswe will show in the first part of this paper. Then, we will explain how we define off cultureand how it is related to mainstream culture. This will put into perspective the growingchange that is occurring in the attitude of planners and authorities toward these off spaces.The example of the regeneration project of the La Chapelle–Stalingrad area in Paris willillustrate this change.

How do planners integrate off culture in an urban regeneration project? The Paris caseis interesting, because the integration of culture and urban policies and the growing inter-est of the city in off scenes has occurred in tandem with a political shift in the control oflocal government inaugurated by the election of a left-wing mayor in 2001. The aim ofthis paper is to develop a critical perspective on this new mode of production of urbanspaces. It aims to reveal the different interests, the tensions and the contradictions betweendifferent social groups. Artists gain access to temporary working spaces and showroomsand may offer cultural activities to the local community. The usual audience of off scenesdiscover new places in the city, stimulated by curiosity. For landlords, to have tenants likeoff artists is a way to avoid squatters. The city is also claiming responsibility for theblossoming of new cultural scenes and local creativity. For urban developers, off artistsare the symbolic pioneers of the reconquest of place, leading to new real estate redevelop-ment. But other authors have seen them as the ‘stormtroopers’ of gentrification (Smith1996). Thus the situation is by no means as straightforward as it may appear at first sight.Moreover, this paper provides the opportunity to discuss more controversial issues. Inwhose interests are culture-led regeneration projects planned? Why is urban regenerationled by culture? Is there any alternative to culture in planning policies?

Changes in the cultural policies of citiesIn France, the involvement of the state in cultural life is very important. Even if statepolicies have evolved in recent years, the duties of the Minister of Culture remain numerous:to protect national heritage, especially architectural and urban heritage; to manage anddevelop national museums; to train cultural professionals (such as architects and curators);to promote French culture throughout the world; to support cultural industries; to securethe professional development of artists; to support cultural diversity through the recogni-tion of new cultural movements and artistic expressions (such as hip-hop or comics); toenhance cultural democratisation through cultural decentralisation; to develop art educa-tion for children, and so on.1 This strong national involvement is enhanced by a growingcommitment of cities to cultural policies. This started in the 1960s through the Maison dela Culture program: this was a central state programme, based on a new kind of partner-ship with city authorities (on a 50:50 funding basis). This programme was conceived as anational planning policy for arts and culture, focused on medium-sized cities. It aimed tospread ‘high’ culture throughout the country, by building new ‘highbrow’ culturalamenities that hosted all the city’s main public cultural institutions (Urfalino 2004).

In the late 1970s, particularly in towns and cities that were controlled by the opposi-tion (Socialist Party), local authorities began to implement their own cultural policies. Inorder to do so it was necessary to increase the budget of the Department of Culture, to

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create new administrative departments, and to develop partnerships with both nationalpublic cultural agencies and local artists and cultural entrepreneurs. At this time, severalurban changes encouraged cities to consider cultural policies. Most notably, the popula-tion of cities was changing. Urban social movement activists, rising artistic-related popu-lations and a new urban middle class had a deep interest in culture. In addition, somemedium-sized cities became student districts, for whom entertainment and culture are partof their lifestyle. Thus, the need for cultural amenities and events increased dramatically.The first aim of cities’ cultural policies was to supply a wide range of cultural facilities inorder to satisfy the tastes and needs of the whole community. Most of them played a‘catalogue game’ by offering basic facilities, such as libraries, art training centres or localhistory museums (Friedberg and Urfalino 1984). Cities did not develop specific culturalforms in order to differentiate themselves. All of them offered the same types of ameni-ties. Culture was also a tool of the politique de la ville (public policies directed at poorneighbourhoods) where, besides urban renewal, new community centres were built toprovide cultural activities for the local communities. So, until the late 1980s, the culturalpolicies of French cities were focused on the needs of the local community by providingart training for children and amateurs (e.g. music schools, dance academies) or libraries(Moulinier 1996, 2005, Poirrier 2002, Saez 2005a, 2005b).

However, local authorities gradually became aware that a cultural policy could bemore than part of a supply chain of local services. In a context of devolution and of thespread of liberal-oriented thinking, culture began to be considered as a competitiveadvantage for cities. Since the beginning of the 1990s, the cultural policies of cities inWestern countries have been driven by several beliefs. For instance, cultural (and crea-tive) industries are seen as major locally-based economic forces (Scott 1999). Supportingarts and culture is supporting local economic (re)development. Thus, some citiesdeveloped creative-industries clusters, such as music in Manchester (Brown et al. 2000),or media in Hamburg (Brito Henriques and Thiel 2000).

Culture (and entertainment) is also one of the main engines of urban tourism thatcontributes to local economies. A strong and dynamic cultural framework provides manyentertainment opportunities for inhabitants and tourists (Judd and Fainstein 1999, Gravari-Barbas 2006). Culture is now a crucial element in an urban lifestyle. Symbolic revalorisa-tion through culture is one of the factors thought to fuel the gentrification process (Cole1987, Zukin 1982, Mele 2000, Solnit and Schwartzenberg 2000, Ley 2003). Cityscapes,especially consumption (land)scapes, tend to be built by cultural industries (Zukin 1991,1995, Hannigan 1998, Sassen and Roost 1999). Thus, the cultural policies of cities shiftedtoward new kinds of interventions such as supporting local cultural entrepreneurs, organ-ising large cultural events and building new cultural amenities. The new goals for culturalpolicies are now to build a positive and attractive city image and to promote local eco-nomic development. Culture is a communication tool for tourist development, improve-ments in the quality of life and competitiveness. It markets the city as an innovative andcreative place, two qualities considered as essential to success in global inter-city competi-tion (Florida 2002). Cultural policies are therefore increasingly becoming a marketingstrategy to attract firms, high-value industries and educated and wealthy inhabitantsinstead of supporting the local community (Bianchini and Parkinson 1993, Verwijnen andLehtovuori 1999, Evans 2001, Strom 2003, Keating and de Frantz 2004). In many ways,cultural policies seem to be becoming location policies.

In term of planning, cities are looking forward by building what Saez called a TrèsGrand Equipement (a very large-scale amenity), which may lead to changes in a city’simage in much the same way as the TGV (high-speed train) is supposed to do

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(Saez 2005b). This point is becoming an important issue for urban planning. Indeed, anew widespread belief in urban planning circles is that culture is a magical tool for devel-opment. Cultural amenities are flagships in major urban regeneration projects. Most plan-ners expect that these amenities will increase the success of an urban project. Culturalflagships should attract visitors and tourists and build a new city image through architec-tural radicalism (Sydney Opera House or the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao are the mostfamous examples). It appears to be impossible to plan a new urban project without a cul-tural dimension. However, we need to ask: are these new cultural flagships simply becom-ing a part of a catalogue that is rolled out in every city regardless of its relevance? Is it stillrelevant to build a cultural flagship in order to create a distinctive image, when every citydoes this?

At the same time, it seems to be more and more difficult to intervene in the built envir-onment of a city. According to many local organisations, every building is a part of thecommunity heritage that should not be destroyed. This claim for history and heritage is anargument in a local identity-building process, especially in old industrial areas where thelisting of an industrial site is both a way to recognise and to celebrate the workers’ cultureand a symbol of the post-industrial turn. It is also a way for newcomers (i.e. gentrifiers) tolegitimise their involvement in local politics (Bourdin 1984). How to regenerate the citywithout destruction is one of the contemporary urban paradoxes. It is also the consequenceof a rising suspicion of contemporary architecture.2 As we will explain later, this heritageapproach is no longer controversial because planners and politicians are increasingly cre-ating a consensus based on heritage conservation. Indeed, the cost of the protection of aso-called ‘heritage’ building could be counterbalanced by the acceptance of undesirableplanning programmes by the local community.

Thus, culture is nowadays one of the key elements of the strategies of cities in the eraof globalisation and international inter-city competition. Culture is considered in the pol-icies of cities as a symbol (culture is a part of local history); a lifestyle (artists, as pioneersin the gentrification process, create a bohemian and artistic urban atmosphere); a space(tourism depends on cultural spaces, through the creation of atmosphere, customs orevents); an image (cultural activities market the city as an innovative, creative anddynamic place); an industry (cultural activities are becoming one of the most importanteconomic activities in the city, both by creating direct value and employment and byattracting visitors, as well as improving the tourist industry); and a planning tool (culturalfacilities are often flagships in urban redevelopment projects).

These cynical conceptions of culture are balanced, in France, by the very strong publicsupport of the state for cultural production through different social policies for artists (theintermittent du spectacle [precarious showbusiness workers] welfare system, artistic socialhousing), protectionist legislation on cultural products, a very strong public support for per-forming arts, a large national network of cultural centres and public theatres, and by somepresidential large scale projects (such as the National Library, Opera Bastille, Musée du QuayBranly). However, between business-oriented models and central state policies, there areplenty of spaces for art to flourish in the off spaces of cultural production and consumption.

In culture – off culture: a new semantic schemeToday, many cultural activities take place outside the mainstream sphere. Communityradios play DIY rock bands, independent documentaries are shown by student cinemaclubs, local TV channels are broadcast in cafes, visual artists and performers occupy emptyspaces, techno-travellers squat fields for parties, circuses settle down in wastelands, and so

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on. These underground culture scenes are not subsidised and have no apparent commercialvalue. They are typically precarious on an economic level (no subsidies, no regularincome), on a legal level (by squatting and organising unauthorised events) and on a mate-rial level (by recycling second-hand craft materials). They could include avant-garde artis-tic productions or mass subcultural activities, legal or illegal, isolated or collective.

Nevertheless, underground cultural activities should not be considered as separatefrom the mainstream cultural world. They are a part of the ‘art world’ (Becker 1983).Considering the creative process (in art, technology or science), and with regard to therelationships between mainstream and underground culture, we are proposing the seman-tic scheme of ‘in culture – off culture’. This scheme is inspired by the description of majorart festivals such as the theatre festival in Avignon. The in is organised and planned, whilethe off is spontaneous and opportunist; the off is free of commercial, academic or fashionconstraints, so it can be a creative and innovative space; the in draws from the off newideas and new talents; the off needs the in to build its legitimacy; and, little by little, the offbecomes the real festival: the place to show and to be, the real engine of the festival thatattracts more people and more artists until a new off of the off appears.

In much the same way, we will consider underground cultures as ‘off culture’, andmainstream culture as ‘in culture’. Other terms that sound more familiar, such as fringe,alternative or underground, might be used. But the in/off scheme helps to go further thanthe usual distinctions between mainstream and underground or between highbrow andlowbrow culture. Indeed, the space of culture is no longer divisible into separate andimpermeable spheres: for instance, the paths of cultural trends often intersect with andreinforce one another. A cultural career (as a cultural producer or consumer) moves fromin to off, and vice versa. This in/off scheme illustrates the systemic and cyclical move-ment of creation. It is necessary to consider off not as a subculture, but as a part of thecultural production framework where in and off are embedded and are working together,while other vocabulary schemes tend to separate them semantically. Furthermore, termssuch as ‘alternative’ or ‘fringe’ often refer to specific cultural movements. The idea of in/off has the ambition of opening a new space for rethinking the relationships between themainstream and its discontents in culture, consumption, politics or elsewhere. Forinstance, ethical ways of consumption (e.g. fair trade, organic or unbranded products)that used to be marginal are now a bankable niche market for major companies. In otherwords, off consumption schemes are incorporated into in consumption patterns (Healthand Potter 2005).

The rise of off cultures should be considered within a wider process of culturalchanges in both consumption and production. On the one hand, access to the art world isbecoming more democratic and large-scale. For a long time, being in touch with the artworld was a distinctive practice, reserved for the leisure class (Veblen 1899, Bourdieu1979). Even if it is still driven by a strong sense of social distinction, access to culture hasbecome democratised during the twentieth century. Nowadays, more people can be actorsin the art world: as producer, creator, spectator or consumer. As a result, cultural tastesand practices are widening and moving from elitism to eclecticism, characterised by theembedding of highbrow and popular culture and the mixing of different cultural types(Peterson and Kern 1996, Donnat 2004). The ability to switch throughout a wide range ofcultural registers and styles requires adaptation skills and cultural knowledge that gener-ally characterise more educated people. Actually, working-class cultural consumption andtaste remains mostly univore3 (Peterson and Kern 1996). Cultural consumption becomeseclectic, and eclecticism is the new pattern of cultural distinction. Juggling with verydifferent cultural registers and references is also a competitive skill for managers and

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professionals working in a cosmopolitan milieu. This diverse knowledge is both a meansof managing cultural diversity within professional networks and a tool for dealing withprofessional and personal relationships (Erickson 1996). Regarding the rise of eclecticismand omnivorism through the upper middle class’s cultural consumption patterns, it is nolonger surprising to see yuppies queuing for a party at an off venue’s doors.4 Indeed, whileculture is consumerised, cultural or artistic choices are also becoming more reflexive,acting as a tool for personal identity-building (Lash and Urry 1994, Ascher 2001). In thisway, consuming off artistic events is a tool for claiming a non-conformist identity even forthose who are professionally involved in the mainstream economic structure.

On the other hand, hybridisation is the current trend in cultural production. Breakingbarriers is the way of achieving artistic recognition (Heinich 1998). Barriers could bemoral, aesthetic, technical, territorial, and so on. Barriers also exist between high art andpopular culture. Pop art seeks to break these barriers by mixing mass culture icons andcontemporary art. The French cultural scene is developing other hybridisation processes.For instance, circuses, which were the most popular familial cultural venue, are becominga new highbrow artistic practice by incorporating contemporary dance, theatre, experi-mental music or artificial intelligence into shows, in a move toward ‘contemporarycircus’. On the contrary, a few companies now perform opera (highbrow culture parexcellence) in the street, in order to reach a wider and more popular audience. Moreover,since the 1980s, and the Jack Lang cultural policies, subcultures such as hip-hop, rock orcomics are recognised by cultural authorities as a legitimate part of artistic production.Cultural industries and the cultural production economic system need innovation andvariety to match the taste of an increasingly selective and diverse audience who have amultitude of niche markets from which to choose (Benhamou 2004). Lastly, urban cosmo-politanism leads to cultural hybridisation both by valorising others’ cultures and bymixing and creating new styles or subcultures.

These changes occur in a context where innovation and creativity are becoming newcontemporary paradigms. These paradigms involve new economic and geographicpatterns as well as social changes. Florida (2002) suggests that all of these changes arereflected in the rise of the creative class. According to him, high-tech industries are clus-tering in cities where there is a high concentration of bohemia, artists, and gay communi-ties. Then, he claims that a new creative class is born whose members are paid for theircreativity, whatever the economic sector (e.g. culture, medicine, finance, engineering,research). Lloyd (2002) explains that now, bohemia is not only a way of life for artists andother marginal groups, but it is becoming a resource for the urban economy, based on cre-ative industries (e.g. media, design, advertising). Neobohemia is involved in arts and crea-tive businesses, as both producer and consumer.

Furthermore, off culture can take place in specific spaces that we call off spaces. Theyare off spaces of the off culture and off spaces of culture (Raffin 1998, TransEuropeHalles2001). In his study of Berlin, Grésillon shows that a major part of Berlin’s cultural lifetakes place in such off spaces, with artistic squats or private flats customised into smalltheatres. According to him, Berlin off culture is characterised by a search for new artisticmodes of production that occur in off spaces. Because off spaces are temporary, off scenesare constantly moving throughout the city, from place to place. Gresillon shows that, inBerlin, off cultural spaces function in urban redevelopment as symbolic spaces and have asymbolic value. Moreover, he shows that Berlin is currently becoming an internationalcreative city mainly due to the dynamism of off spaces and off scenes, considered part ofthe city’s image and identity. Thus, off participates in the promotion of Berlin’s image andis a source of interest for tourists (Grésillon 2002, Vivant 2006).

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How can planners and local authorities deal with these off spaces? In most cases,public authorities and urban developers accept artists squatting or using wastelands whilethey wait for development projects to be implemented, because it is a way to avoid thedereliction of the building and to satisfy a social demand free of charge. But many offplaces are threatened by eviction. Even well-known off spaces, such as Christiana inCopenhagen, are under threat. At the same time, in several cities, local authorities have anew approach to off cultural centres. The Paris case reveals the turn from an opportunistattitude to a strategic one. From the Ex-Carcel in Valparaiso (Chile) to the Belle de Mai inEuroméditerranée project in Marseille (France),5 artists who settle in the wasteland arenow considered part of a long-term strategic framework whose objective is to upgrade andrevitalise the relevant space.

The presence of artists is considered meaningful, and gives a semiotic as well as aneconomic value to the place. In fact, public authorities are now asking artists to occupycertain wastelands where new cultural facilities are planned. Some artists have evenparticipated in revitalisation projects by proposing new ideas of cultural engineering inwasteland improvement projects (e.g. Usines Ephemères).6 Some off spaces are now fullyintegrated into urban redevelopment projects. For instance, Les Frigos, a former ware-house turned into off artist studios in the 1980s, was planned to be demolished in the firstmaster plan of the Paris Rive Gauche urban project. After years of struggle and resistance,they were preserved; the planning authority is even using them to valorise the creativeatmosphere of this new neighbourhood (Vivant 2006). Moreover, some off spaces aredeliberately targeted and used as a tool in urban regeneration projects. How do plannersintegrate these off spaces in urban projects? What does it reveal about the change incultural policies of cities?

Making regeneration easier with off cultureThe case of the La Chapelle–Stalingrad regeneration project illustrates how off culture couldbe used as a tool for planning and how off artists are becoming planners’ pathfinders: func-tioning as symbolic shifters from decay to glamour.7 Moreover, this example reveals therole of community-based organisations in culture-led regeneration planning. Indeed, cultureappears as a uniquely acceptable feature of urban regeneration projects. What does this cul-ture-oriented planning claim mean? In whose interests are cultural amenities created?

La Chapelle–Stalingrad: the most rundown area in downtown ParisThe La Chapelle–Stalingrad neighbourhood is located at the frontier of the 18th and 19tharrondissements, enclosed between the railways of la Gare du Nord and la Gare de l’Est.Although it is a part of the central city, it is considered an outlying area, and has long beenneglected by the local authority. Housing is an important issue here. Moreover, the publichousing estates located here have a poorer population than the Parisian average, while pri-vate accommodation houses an even poorer and more desperate population. Most of theprivate housing buildings are decaying, becoming slums. Some ceilings are falling down,the risk of fire is high, flats are overcrowded and some places have no water or electricitysupply. Owners have not carried out repair or refurbishment work for some time, because rent-ing slums is a profitable business. Indeed, most of the residents are immigrants who havedifficulty finding accommodation. Many landlords take advantage of this and charge highrents for run-down places. As a result, some immigrant families (mainly Africans) have toshare a 10 m2 room with more than five people, while paying an exorbitant rent (in some

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cases, up to €1500/month). At the same time, some empty buildings have become crack-houses. Drug dealing and consumption causes a lot of problems for the neighbourhoodand some residents have organised self-defence patrols to push out dealers. This area alsosuffers of a lack of public amenities such as parks and playgrounds. It goes without sayingthat it is the cheapest area on the real estate market.

In 2001, a political shift occurs in the Paris city council. After 25 years of conservativedominance a new mayor, Bertrand Delanoé (a member of the Socialist Party), is elected.This political turn is translated into a new urban policy. A particular focus is given to LaChapelle–Stalingrad, which becomes one of the city’s major urban regeneration areas.Several different kinds of urban intervention are implemented. Housing improvement pro-grammes occur whereby landlords are subsidised in order to redevelop rental housing(Figure 1, no. 4). Another large housing renewal programme leads to the demolition ofseveral buildings and to the construction of new ones (Figure 1, nos. 5 and 6), withsome becoming social housing while others are sold. Public spaces are redesigned to

Figure 1. The La Chapelle–Stalingrad area.Source: Elsa Vivant.

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create a more secure environment. Large public amenities are also planned. A new parkopens in 2007 (no. 2). A large empty warehouse will shortly be redeveloped into severalfacilities including a high school, a sports facility, a public library and a youth hostel (no.3). And a new cultural centre, the 104, opens its doors in fall 2008 (no. 1). How are theseprojects related to off cultural scenes? Actually, both before and during the real planningprocess, off culture stimulates it. Different empty spaces are turned into off cultural spaces.Off artistic practices liven up the area and off spaces influence the project of the newcultural centre (Figure 1).

This area is the site of one such a large regeneration programme for several reasons.First, the need for public services and housing renewal is enormous, as nothing has beendone here for many years. Furthermore, to invest in large-scale regeneration of this areasymbolises a political shift. Some of the most important Parisian socialist representativesare elected from this district (e.g. the mayor and the deputy mayor in charge of urbanplanning between 2001 and 2008). Moreover, in this area, local organisations are strongand active, mostly due to the lack of interest shown by previous governments. Forinstance, inhabitants had to manage some safety issues themselves (e.g. dealing with drugsproblems).

Partnerships (or at least consultation) with local organisations are a part of the Social-ist Party’s new vision. In the early 2000s, the socialist national government put into placea new ‘local democracy’ based on consultation with neighbourhood councils and localorganisations. Thus, it is necessary to react positively to local requests and needs, but itdoes not mean that local organisations gain power. In reality, planning authorities consultwith them in order to accelerate the implementation process. As will be shown later, someconcessions are made to appease other claims.

104: From a cultural policy flagship to an urban regeneration flagshipThe 104 is a new cultural amenity currently being implementation in the area. It is plannedto redevelop and to transform an old unused mortician’s building into artists’ studios,training places for artists, exhibition spaces, showrooms and a community centre. This is avery ambitious project: a building of more than 30,000 m2, costing more than €100million to build (Direction des Affaires Culturelles 2003). But the real ambition of the 104lies elsewhere.

The new socialist local government is using cultural policy as a symbol of its electoralvictory (Delanoë 2003). The two new main objectives are to support creativity and toorganise innovative events. Supporting creativity is achieved by opening new placeswhere artists can work. In reality, for several years, a sizeable movement supporting artis-tic squats put onto the political agenda the issue of the declining availability of spaces forartists. They legitimised illegal squats by complaining about the reduction in the numberof artistic studios, when it is an obvious fact that artists need a space in which to work.Some even argued that they would relocate to another world city (e.g. New York orBerlin) if they could not gain access to a workspace. They also developed a quite brilliantlocation strategy, leading them towards the most valuable areas in the city. They becamemore visible, especially in the media, where they questioned politicians’ support for thearts (Vivant 2006).

At this time, the French Minister of Culture (during the socialist Jospin government)tried to understand what was happening in cultural places that were not subsidised by thegovernment, i.e. off places. As a result, a large research study was carried out by FabriceLextrait (Lextrait 2001), which concluded with the organisation of a conference on the

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theme of the ‘Nouveaux Territoires de l’Art’ (‘New Art Arenas’).8 Lextrait studied manydifferent and diverse cases of new artistic experiences taking place in new kinds of spaces.He concluded that public authorities and planners should rethink how they conceivedthese off spaces, and he proposed a framework for a new cultural policy concerning theseoff spaces. Thus, as an heir of the Jospin era, today’s mayor of Paris is taking into accountthe Lextrait report and is trying to innovate by creating a new kind of cultural space.

At least, this is the official goal of the 104 project, and the project developer has todeal with the tautological question of how to be creative in order to promote creativity.But location is the main issue the project developer has to deal with. Creating a large pub-licly funded cultural amenity, oriented mainly toward artistic production rather than con-sumption, may be misunderstood by the local population. On the other hand, to attractspectators and visitors to this unique and stigmatised area is a real challenge. To ensure thesuccess of the project and to reassure the audience, the area’s image should change andbecome more attractive, or at least not scare people away.

In order to symbolise its intention of changing the neighbourhood, the city put thisarea under the spotlight by organising special events. Notably, most of the artistic per-formances during the first Nuit Blanche were concentrated here. Indeed, Nuit Blanche andother (cultural) events are among the symbols of a Parisian political shift. Such eventshave become tools in urban marketing. Firstly it is a communication tool aimed at localinhabitants, a way of saying: see how the local authorities are working for you. Butaccording to critics, to focus on these events could be a way to hide other actions (or inac-tion). Events are also a part of a tourist communication strategy. They are a marketing tooldirected at investors and newcomers: you should come to our lively city; it is the place tobe. Many urban managers seek to create this kind of city image, and some Parisian events(such as Nuit Blanche or Paris Plage) are copied worldwide.

Nuit Blanche is a one-full-night event that has occurred annually since 2002. It aims toprovide contemporary art installations and performances in public spaces9 – for example:a light show in an art-deco swimming pool, a 500-guitar marathon in the Sacré-Coeur, or acontemporary art installation in an old church. It can take place either in the street or inmore common cultural places (such as Le Louvre, the National Library) or non-culturalplaces (like a train station). Nuit Blanche is also an opportunity to open the doors of placesunder construction, such as 104. In fact, during the first Nuit Blanche, there were not manyattractions. Partners were not too enthusiastic and did not really believe in this idea. The104 was the place where most performances occurred.10 During this special night, Parisi-ans were invited to come into the La Chapelle–Stalingrad area, where they had probablynever been before nor planned to come, in order to support a one-off art performance. Atthis event, the public visited this amazing building, and was informed about the culturalamenity project. However, this information session was not ad hoc. The local authorityhad carefully planned this targeted exhibition of the 104 and the area. It was the first stepin an image-remaking process. Art performances glamorised a derelict building and adecaying area before the real regeneration process occurred. For one night, 104 and LaChapelle–Stalingrad were the place to be in Paris.

Making place safer with off artistsNuit Blanche lasts only one night. It is a unique one-off event aimed at a few art lovers. Inisolation, it is not enough to overcome the stigma associated with the area. How can thepresence of off artists contribute to a long-term strategy? Even if off artists do appeardangerous or marginal to some people, they can be considered as a tool and as pioneers for

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urban regeneration. Are off art scenes used as politically correct cleaning agents of adecayed area?

First, as explained earlier, there are a large number of empty spaces in the area. Manyof these were squatted, and a few became crackhouses, creating a difficult situation forresidents, authorities, and landlords.11 The National Railways Company, which ownsmany of these spaces, implemented an interesting (and opportunistic) strategy to deal withthe problem. While a building is empty, without any specific plans, the company author-ises non-profit organisations, NGOs or artistic communities to occupy it. This occupationis generally free of charge. In the area, there are two main sites occupied under this proce-dure. First, two houses, located at the entrance of the Cour du Maroc,12 house the SecoursCatholique (social and community support activities) and a group of independent mediaorganisations (associated with the Indymedia network). The second place is a very largeempty warehouse, Hall Pajol, where a sculptor, an acrobatic company, an independenttheatre company and two local organisations have been located . Here, independent (off)local organisations and artists are allowed to stay as a way of avoiding squatting (espe-cially by drug dealers) or other unwelcome occupants. In addition, they provide socialcare and cultural activities to the community.

This approach, however, has not been without problems. Building safety has to beconsidered more carefully. Indeed, the landlord does not pay for any redevelopment,because demolition or sale is the future purpose of the building. The first issue is that mostof the buildings do not satisfy safety standards, but the owner remains responsible in caseof accidents. Moreover, the city council wishes to buy these places in order to implementurban regeneration projects. But the safety issue has blocked the sale until the tenantsleave, because the mayor is personally responsible in case of any accident in a city-ownedbuilding.13 Then there is a second problem: the tenants do not wish to leave! However,when using people as a tool for planning, it is necessary to confront them at some stage inthe process. Most of the tenants have resisted eviction, even if it was clearly written intheir contract that they would have to leave the building to allow the public project to beimplemented. Moreover, they have asked to be resettled somewhere else, as if it is a right(for them) and a duty for the authorities.

In these situations, resistance takes many different forms. Some just wait, contest andsee. But two tenants have been more innovative. One sculptor, who is creating monumen-tal art works, classifies all his works as artworks. Thus, it is more difficult and moreexpensive to move them out. Nevertheless, he had to move, and currently, the Halle Pajolis empty and construction is underway. The off media are more influential. Because oftheir position in the mediasphere (especially on the Internet), they are able to exercise con-siderable influence. They can easily mobilise activists and supporters to oppose an evic-tion. They did this a few months earlier when the no-vox movement wished to squat thePoint P to turn it into a community centre instead of an artistic space managed by UsinesEphemères.14 Currently, off media organisations are still in the house, and the city councilis trying to resettle them.

There is another experiment, planned as a mid-term occupancy and supported by thelocal authority, that aims to contribute to the regeneration process by being more than aform of security and more than a one-off spotlight event such as Nuit Blanche. In the cen-tre of the regeneration area there are plans to change a large wasteland into a new park. Asit is a public project, the local authority has to pass a specific kind of agreement called amarché public [public contract].15 While all these administrative and design processestook place, the owner (i.e., the city council) authorised an off circus company to locatethere from October 2003 to December 2004. What is more, it was subsidised by the local

Urban Research and Practice 47

authority (€100,000) in order to involve other companies and to organise an artistic andcultural activities program.

Even if it has been subsidised, the Cirque Electrique (Figure 2) is definitely off in thecircus scene. The artists were not trained in the National Circus School (like most of thecontemporary circus artists), but in an alternative school (les Noctambules). They are con-nected with other off scenes (off music shops, off artist studios, off musicians). But as offand in can work together, as a system, for 18 months the Cirque Electrique was involvedin the city’s cultural policy and was the unwitting agent of an urban regeneration process.

First, as with other temporary occupants, the circus, as a recognised tenant, has to con-trol and to secure the site. Artists even clean it by removing waste. Critics also argue thatthey clean the site by removing drug abusers and the homeless too. Then, as agreed, theCirque Electrique and other (mainly circus) companies perform different shows. Moreo-ver, the Cirque Electrique and friends are part of the Festival Paris Quartier d’Eté. This isa month-long cultural festival, subsidised by local authorities and the state, offering sev-eral shows and performances all around Paris, generally at low prices. Being a part of thatevent helps to attract a wider audience than just circus fans and the local public. The mediahave informed the wider public about the shows. Furthermore, the media describes theatmosphere and the site as a ‘Kusturica movie no-man’s land’, which is worth a visit initself.

Actually, most of the public would never come here without the circus shows. Ashighlighted earlier, most of the audience (white) contrasts sharply with local residents(black). Through this process the Cirque Electrique opened up the neighbourhood toParisians. Over the course of a summer, artistic performers, experimental acrobats andDIY musicians turned this drug dealers’ playground into an exciting poetic off venue. Forthose who have been there, the image of a trapeze show at nightfall, in an open space, infront of running trains, and with a unique view over the Sacré-Coeur, seemed like a time-less and placeless experience. Years later, the Cour du Maroc is still seen as a symbol ofthis unique taste of urban freedom.

Figure 2. The Cirque Electrique.Source: Elsa Vivant.

48 E. Vivant

Less intense, but longer-lasting, was the image-remaking process that occurred alongwith the Cirque Electrique, as it did with the 104 during the Nuit Blanche. What is import-ant to note is that these individual projects which focused attention on the area were allcarefully planned.

Is there any solution other than culture?These examples show how off cultural scenes can be used as a tool by planners, to cleanand secure a site. But then, culture is also used by planners as a way to facilitate the imple-mentation of projects. In the face of residents’ claims for culture, how do planners react?

As noted earlier, a large empty warehouse and its surroundings (Halle Pajol) are beingregenerated through a comprehensive planning process called the Zone d’AménagementConcerté [Collaborative Development Zone] . During the 1990s, the first plan was todemolish and to clean the whole site, then to rebuild housing (mostly estate housing).Local organisations protested, arguing that too much housing was planned, and that therewas no programme to deal with the lack of public amenities. The project was put on holdfor several years. Post-2001, the new council wanted to redevelop the area. A consultationprocess with the local population was implemented to decide what form the developmentprogramme should take. A gap appeared between resident’s organisations and city plan-ners. The city wanted to create several public facilities (school, library, sport facilities), ayouth hostel and offices. Its first plan proposed the demolition of a large, architecturallyinsignificant, warehouse and its replacement by smaller-scale buildings.

However, the residents’ demands were totally different. First, they wanted to protecta building they considered to be part of their local history, describing it as ‘a cathedralof railwaymen’s history’. They argued that this industrial heritage should be conservedand valorised. This is definitely true of old industrial areas (such as in northern France),where a post-industrial crisis paved the way to a socio-economic crisis and an identitycrisis. But is it the same in Paris? Definitely not. Perhaps this claim reveals some suspi-cion of contemporary architecture. Nevertheless, to consider industrial buildings as her-itage is quite new in France. Even if planners and architects tried to preserve them for awhile, this opinion was not shared by many people. Moreover, the demand for the rede-velopment of industrial sites into cultural centres proves that a few examples are nowfamiliar to the public. Indeed, local organisations wanted to turn the building into a cul-tural centre that they compared to the LU factory in Nantes, the most famous (and suc-cessful) example of cultural conversion of an industrial building in France.Organisations designed an architectural project that they presented during consultationmeetings (CEPA 2002, 2003).

The proposal appeared to be exciting and interesting, but the city council had a verysimilar idea for the 104, just 100 metres away, on the other side of the railway tracks.Local organisations argued that the 104 was too far away and that there was a lack of cul-tural amenities in their neighbourhood. Of course, the city could not accept these proposi-tions. Nevertheless, its position has changed a little and the building will not becompletely demolished. In fact, in this context, the (partial) preservation of this building isa tool to facilitate consensus on the project. Complying with some of the residents’demands is a way to avoid others. As the conservation project is implemented, it hasbecome more difficult for local organisations to oppose the project. Nevertheless, if theresidents’ proposal is unlikely to be realised, they are still exercising an influence over theproject. For example, the residents are deeply involved in the creation of a small profes-sional theatre instead of a gymnasium.

Urban Research and Practice 49

This last point is somewhat controversial, as it raises the question of in whose interestslocal organisations are mobilised. A theatre, even a small one, may well attract a culturallyoriented population that has more (cultural) capital than most local people. On the otherhand, a gymnasium attracts and encourages young people to stay in the area. Facilities ofthis type are used by young people who stand out on the street, talk, make noise and arevisible, especially when they belong to an ethnic minority; while a theatre audience couldbe considered as an upgrading tool in a gentrification process. Of course, that is not theway things are explained; and local activists are probably genuine in their desire to secureamenities for the area’s current population. Nevertheless, contradictory interests betweendifferent populations living in a socially mixed neighbourhood are ever present. Newcomersor middle-class gentrifiers have more resources to negotiate their position in the neigh-bourhood. For example, they are more aware of urban projects and are more active in con-sultation processes, even if they are a minority (Bacqué 2006). This is particularly true inthis area, where a lot of people are new immigrants. In contrast, in one of the most activeorganisations, all the members belong to the middle and upper middle classes (working asprofessionals or in the social services, education and medical care).

At the same time, it appears that these organisations are not really involved in the 104project; even if they are simply curious, they do not demand more information from thecity. The project design process and implementation has not really included consultationwith the population. On the other hand, associations do not ask for it. How can this lack ofinterest be explained? Perhaps a cultural project is considered to be consensual and is notseen as a threat by residents, and thus does not encourage participation.

EpilogueAll of the area should dramatically change over the next few years. The built environmentwill be renewed. More facilities will be created; security issues will probably disappearthrough the displacement of the relevant people to a more remote site. As a result, thequality of everyday life of people living in the area should increase. Even if social engin-eering were not an explicit aim of the project, a change in the resident population can bepredicted. Illegal immigrant families may not be able to apply for public housing in thearea, and it is unlikely that they will own or rent the new flats. We should ask, where willthey go? On the other hand, who will be the new residents? Estate housing continues tofunction as part of the social housing sector, but due to the massive housing crisis refur-bished private accommodation will house those with higher incomes. In other words, agentrification process will change the social character of the neighbourhood. Thus,because they are used as a tool for regeneration, off cultural scenes function as the unwit-ting agent of population-restructuring policy (i.e. changing the social mix of the area).However, this gentrification process is unlikely to be particularly dramatic because it willaffect only a small proportion of the housing stock; though, of course, it may serve as thetrailblazer of a more thoroughgoing gentrification process in the future.

This example reveals a dangerous but common trend in planning practices. It seemsthat culture tends to operate as a means of displacing local resistance to urban regenerationprocesses. Culture (amenities, actors, agents, and scene) has a consensual function thatprevents local organisations from questioning the process. Uncontroversial, it legitimisesurban regeneration processes, even if their social effects could be questioned. Culture is atool to trigger the implementation of regeneration projects. Is it possible to plan a regener-ation project without a cultural feature? Is there an alternative to culture? Could plannersimagine a no-culture urban project? In some ways, this reveals the lack of imagination of

50 E. Vivant

all of us, and especially planners and architects. When facing local opposition, it is moredifficult to intervene in the built environment of the city. Conservation functions as ameans to avoid, or at least to limit, protest, and to turn an area into a ‘cultural place’ is aneasy answer to the problem of how to regenerate an area. Regarding the existing example,this form of redevelopment does not require the total transformation of an area. Off artistshave been doing this for the last 20 years, in a DIY way without public money. To turnbuildings into cultural centres appears to be the new model of urban intervention allaround the world (Vivant 2007).

Moreover, why do residents ask for culture? Which residents ask for it? In otherwords, in whose interests do planners act, and in whose interests do residents makedemands? What should be discussed further is the question: if we think of off culture as atrigger for urban regeneration, how can it avoid becoming the handmaiden of trickle-downtheory? To what extent could it been argued that, from an urban planning point of view,cultural policies and the use of culture in urban regeneration projects reveals the spread ofliberal thinking by attracting wealthier people, and that this will somehow (in a way that israrely specified) benefit the whole community? On the one hand, the generalisation of the‘critic artist’ through the whole of society, and especially in the management sphere(Boltanski and Chiapello 1999), allows urban managers to develop an economic strategybased on culture. On the other hand, the common interest in art and the culture of left-wing thinkers and urban activists seems to blind them to the negative impacts of regenera-tion projects and to reduce their opposition and capacity to protest.

AcknowledgementsThis paper received the Eura Young Scholar award at the Eura Conference, ‘The Vital City’, held inGlasgow in September 2007. I would like to thank the award committee and especially RobAtkinson for their support.

Notes1. The institutional organisation and the duties of the Minister of Culture will probably change

during the next few years under the pressure of the newly elected conservative government.2. For instance, the recognition of the historical importance of modern architecture buildings is a

very new process, not yet widely shared by the public. Encouraged by the recent listing of theCity of Le Havre (built after World War II by Auguste Perret according to the Athens Charterprinciples), a few heritage preservation organisations are now calling for the conservation ofsome masterpieces of the 1950s’ large-scale urban programmes, whereas local authorities (andthe population) widely dislike them and would prefer to see them demolished.

3. According to Peterson and Kern, univore is the opposite of omnivore. The univore consumes onlyone of various cultural styles. The neologism omnivorism also comes from Peterson and Kern.

4. For instance, I witnessed a group of 10 young men, wearing professional ‘men in black’uniforms, turned away at the door of the Shunt, an artistic off venue in London Bridgeunderground station (London, UK).

5. http://www.lafriche.org.6. http://www.pointephemere.org/.7. This case study is based on several interviews (with planners, city representatives, local

organisation leaders, artists), personal observations, the analysis of planning and other officialsdocuments, and a press review

8. ‘Wastelands, Laboratories, Factories, Squats, Multi-discipline Projects: A New Era of CulturalActivity’, www.culture.gouv.fr/culture/actualites/rapports/lextrait/eng.pdf (English summaryof the report is available online).

9. For many critics, it is becoming a kind of popular fair, where art is just an excuse for a longnight out.

Urban Research and Practice 51

10. Other places (such as Point P or the Theatre de la Gaité) that also represent new culturalamenities projects were also opened this night.

11. Landlords are responsible for any accident occurring in their building.12. Now turned into a park.13. In French jurisprudence, the mayor has a wide range of duties. For example, if a child dies in a

playground, the mayor could be responsible. The same problem occurred when the city boughtartistic squats in order to regularise them. Here, the mayor is directly and personally responsible.When buildings are owned by a company, duty and guilt is spread throughout the hierarchy.

14. Usines Ephémères is a off cultural organisation that has been redeveloping empty places andturning them into artistic places since the beginning of the 1990s. As they are no longersquatting, and are dealing with local authorities, they are considered by some of the off sceneas traitors.

15. Under this procedure, different firms are in competition regarding the design or the implemen-tation of the park. A commission (composed of elected representatives from different partiesand state representatives) chooses the contractor based on their proposal.

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