Recently I attended the book presentation of Skank Bloc Bologna: Alternative Art Spaces Since 1977, a new volume edited by Roberto Pinto and Francesco Spampinato, published by Mousse Publishing. This volume, made up of a wealth of archival materials and essays from different voices, traces the evolution of nonprofit art spaces in Bologna from the late seventies to present day, offering an alternative perspective into not only the city’s cultural and artistic landscape, but alternative art spaces as a model within the art world ecosystem. From individual initiatives, cooperative projects, and social centers, the book examines the development of what has become known as the “Bologna Model”—a singular approach to art and activism that stands apart from practices in other Italian cities and resonates on the international stage. The title refers to the 1978 track Skank Bloc Bologna by the English post-punk band Scritti Politti, Bologna began to become known outside of Italy as a hub of political activism and cultural experimentation. 

Organized by the art space Palazzo Bentivoglio, the presentation took place within its recently inaugurated library, a space dedicated to art history and contemporary art research, whilst sat on Andreas Angelidakis’ marble-esque pieces (POST-RUIN (PINK), 2019). After an initial overview of the book’s contents, the event transitioned into a conversation led by the author and professor Francesco Spampinato, alongside artist and Palazzo Bentivoglio project manager Davide Trabucco. An open discussion surrounding the realities of these spaces, their uncertain futures, and their relevance in the present day. The public who came to listen, mostly under the age of 35, considered what it means for an art space to be “alternative” and “independent” in today’s context, a notion that, to some, borders on contradiction. Among them were individuals who had been part of the late 1970s art scene; they reflected nostalgically on the contrasts between then and now, and how even the role of the curator had changed drastically. Back then, the position was virtually nonexistent; today, it has become almost idolized, a symbol of the shifting dynamics in the art world.

Exploring the meanings, implications, and contradictions of independence in the art world raises a critical question: can art spaces that eschew commercial activity truly sustain themselves without succumbing to corporatization? Institutionalization often becomes a necessity and a next step for many venues as they start to seek funding, unless they find alternative income sources, such as operating a bar. This is not inherently problematic; funding from local municipalities, governments, or large-scale cultural initiatives like those from the European Union can serve the ultimate purpose of supporting the arts and bringing them closer to a broader audience. However, corporatization shifts the focus towards relationships with private funders, whose intentions may not always align with the well-being of the artists or the sustainability of the space itself. 

As highlighted within the book, in 1996, American artist-curator Julie Ault noted that “invention and reinvention are always possible, despite the Right, despite the culture wars, despite temporarily curtailed government funding, despite the stealthy and speedy privatization of the public realm… The result is countless models for practices that try to, and in some instances do, effectively transcend and challenge the established system”.

Examining the Bologna Model, the publication highlights 32 examples, ten of which remain active today, including Cassero. A multipurpose space that has become a symbol of the political and civil claims of the LGBTQIA+ community, Cassero first opened its doors in 1982. A milestone for the city (and country) as the opening of Cassero “was the first time in Italy that a public administration recognized social and cultural value to an openly homosexual association, assigning it a city-owned venue” (F. Spampinato, R. Pinto, 2024). Another example, though forcibly and violently shut down in 2015 by law enforcement, was Atlantide. Having occupied two buildings within Porta Santo Stefano, one of the city’s historic gates, since 1999, Atlantide became a hub for feminist and queer collectives of the time. While its primary focus was organizing concerts within the punk and hardcore scenes, it fostered constant intersections between music and other forms of expression, including comics, street art, performing arts, photography, audiovisual media, and independent publishing. Self-funded through entrance fees for events and concerts, Atlantide exemplified the capacity to provide the city and its residents with non-mainstream cultural programming, standing as a testament to grassroots creativity and resistance. The British newspaper The Guardian wrote about the eviction, “the story of Atlantide might, for some in the rapidly gentrifying capitals of Europe and North America, seem overly utopic. For those whose everyday environment is marked by homogenizing branding initiatives and the ubiquity of multinational banks and corporate outposts, spaces such as Atlantide are all too often expected to be lost” (Darren Patrick, 2015).

Should artistic spaces become commercialized, charging entry fees and tailoring their offerings to attract specific audiences? The freedom and experimental spirit of late 1970s art spaces feel increasingly out of reach, constrained by evolving laws, societal expectations, and the demand for spaces to appear “clean” and “public-friendly”. Yet, when these venues prioritize artists or collectives with established reputations, those who can reliably draw a crowd, the next generation of emerging artists is often left behind. This marginalization stifles opportunities for experimentation and growth, forcing many young creators onto a narrow, linear path into the exclusive art world or left outside completely if they do not conform. In this system, art is frequently imagined and produced with the buyer in mind, transforming exhibitions into curated extensions of private living rooms, designed to blend seamlessly with interior decor rather than provoke or inspire. Such commercialization poses a particular threat to performance art and conceptual works, forms that challenge boundaries and traditional thinking, because they resist commodification and are difficult to package and sell. As these pressures intensify, the very essence of art spaces as incubators for radical creativity and innovation risks being lost.

Inclusiveness, interdisciplinarity, and independence: three words emphasized throughout the book that encapsulate the essence of alternative art spaces. From their open-door policies and open-minded approach to avant-garde artistic experimentation and its creators, to events and exhibits that transcend the boundaries of visual arts—concerts, performances, and theatrical pieces—these spaces aim to remain unrestrained. Finally, there is independence. But what does independence mean for an art space? Is it the freedom to create without constraint, to challenge norms, or to exist outside traditional frameworks? Perhaps it is all these things, woven together into a singular, uncompromising vision.