The Capitalist systems drive the commodification of urban spaces and culture in cities worldwide. As a result, many communal areas in urban spaces have been transformed into profit-driven commodities, erasing their original purpose as spaces for resistance, belonging, and creativity.

This thesis aims to investigate how capitalism prioritises the commercial interests of urban development over what is good for the neighbourhood - or public good. This dynamic frequently results in gentrification, the privatisation of public spaces, and a loss of authenticity in cultural expressions.

To deepen this understanding, the thesis examines the concept of community by exploring key ideas through the lens of existing theories, particularly focusing on the commodification of raving and club culture. Once grassroots spaces for collective expression and subcultural resistance, these venues have increasingly been co-opted by corporate interests, stripping them of their radical potential and transforming them into profit-driven enterprises. By exploring case studies of urban spaces, particularly within nightlife culture, I illustrate these dynamics and their real-world consequences. By addressing the global intersections of urban space, culture, community and capitalism, this essay is dedicated to representing a desire to reclaim spaces that are committed to the fostering of creativity, connection and expression.

The world is visibly decaying before our eyes, a decline accelerated by capitalism’s relentless grip on society and the natural world. As Mark Fisher argues in Capitalist Realism , capitalism presents itself as the only viable system, making it nearly impossible to imagine alternatives while continuing its cycle of extraction and commodification. This all-encompassing force that leaves no corner untouched, eroding both communal spaces and the environment in pursuit of profit. Fisher, Mark. Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? Winchester, Zero Books, 27 Nov. 2009.

My inquiry is deeply personal, as it stems from my own experiences as a graphic designer and as as an individual who has witnessed firsthand this erosion of my own community and communal spaces. My practise as a designer has always been motivated by politics and narratives - an approach that I extend to this research. At the heart of this investigation is a critical reflection of capitalism and neoliberal ideologies, which I argue are the most impactful forces behind the commodification of community and the privatisation of public spaces within Europe and Western countries. I acknowledge that capitalism and commodification are global phenomena, shaping communities and public spaces beyond the regions in the scope of this essay.

To frame this discussion, I draw on key theoretical frameworks that dissect these processes. Mackenzie Warks’ (2023) concept of raving as ‘subversive space’ offers insights into how underground communities carve out spaces of resistance. While, Rene Boer’s (2023) notion of the ‘Smooth City’ highlights this idea of sanitised, uniform urban landscapes produced by gentrification. These frameworks will enable me to interrogate how power operates in urban and cultural contexts, revealing found tensions between resistance and co-optation.

My approach is both critical and speculative. This thesis not only critiques the current status quo but also attempts to speculate and reimagine alternatives, informed by my own design practise and the ethos of grassroots movements. A central aspect to my methodology is an exploration of how communal spaces can be reclaimed or redefined. By examining examples such as dance floors and clubs- a literal space where people physically come together for collective joy and creativity - I attempt to highlight how these types of environments resist commodification and offer small glimpses of more hopeful future.

In naming this project ‘Rottencore’, I acknowledge the duality of decay and renewal, inherent in the struggles for community and cultural agency. In the same way rotting matter nourishes new growth, I envision a reclamation of spaces and cultures that hopefully defines the neoliberal agenda(s) and foster real genuine connections. Therefore, this thesis is both a critique and a manifesto of sorts - a call to resist, reimagine and rebuild.

Chapter A:

of culture and space

Rene Boer’s concept of the ‘Smooth City’ provides a compelling framework for examining the capitalist transformation of urban environments and its impact on communal spaces and culture. the Smooth City prioritises clean, controlled, and predictable environments that cater to affluent tourists and residents, leading to the systematic erasure of “rough spaces”. Diverse, informal areas that foster cultural and social dynamism. This chapter critically explores how capitalism reshapes urban space, diminishing the spontaneity and inclusivity that once defied them.

Boer describes the Smooth City as an urban landscape that is characterised by homogeneity, predictability and control. He writes, ‘there is no friction, no dirt, no contrast, no noise, and no smells’, illustrating the meticulously curated environments stripped of the chaotic energy and diverse elements that give urban life a vibrant flavour. Boer further notes that, ‘the smooth City welcomes everyone but provides space for no one,’ highlighting its inherent contradiction as an inclusive yet alienating environment. Boer, Rene. Smooth City. Valiz, 1 July 2023, page 28 It thrives on curated aesthetics and controlled experiences, creating a facade of openness while erasing the unpredictable and organic elements that define authentic urban life. Urban life thrives on spontaneity — the unplanned encounters, the conversations with strangers, the subtle dance of different cultures coexisting in a shared space. However, these moments are disappearing. Imagine walking through a city where everything feels curated, every public space designed to discourage lingering. Boer’s description suggests that this controlled environment strips away the friction and unpredictability that once made cities so vibrant. Without these informal interactions — those types of chance exchanges between people from different classes, backgrounds, and ways of life — urban spaces risk becoming sterile and drab, losing the very energy that makes them dynamic and diverse.

Another defining aspect of the Smooth City is in its relentless pursuit of efficiency and commercial viability. Boer illustrates how this dynamic involves the process of, ‘further blending the public domain with commercial activity’, Boer, Rene. Smooth City. Valiz, 1 July 2023, page 25 essentially blurring the lines between communal and consumer spaces, often at the expense of democratic engagement and inclusivity. Furthermore, Boer observes that the Smooth City, ‘is a place where everything is frictionless, yet nothing is truly free” (2023). This frictionless quality seems to stem from the idea of the meticulous planning and privatisation of spaces, which again further stifles spontaneity and creativity in favour of order and marketability.

De Hallen in Amsterdam demonstrates the processes of the Smooth City in action (fig 1). Figure 1. De Hallen. Credit: De Geboudengids. Originally a tram depot, the site has been redeveloped into an extremely polished cultural complex featuring boutique shops, co-working spaces, artisanal food markets, and a cinema. “De Hallen, Amsterdam | Ferret-c.” Ferret-C.com, 2018, ferret-c.com/project/de-hallen/. Accessed 14 Feb. 2025. It presents itself as an open and inclusive public space, its transformation embodies the very qualities that Boer critiques: hyper-curated, commercially driven, and selectively accessible. Therefore, the space fosters consumption rather than organic social interactions, subtly discouraging loitering or non-commercial activity. Instead of serving as truly democratic urban common space, De Hallen exemplifies how urban renewal often repackages these communal spaces into the frictionless, marketable experiences that Boer describes. Further reinforcing the blur between public and private space in a way that drives away genuine community-driven use, prioritising this type of controlled engagement.

Under capitalism, cities are not merely places where people come to work, live and gather but have now become arenas for perpetual cycle of economic growth. The aesthetic and functional aspects of urban spaces are tailored to attract these capital investments, such as housing.

The capitalist imperative is essentially to commodify everything it touches, which fundamentally alters the purpose and accessibility of urban space. We see it everywhere from public squares, parks and other communal venues.

Boer discusses the notion of ‘hegemonic practices’ being ‘practically unescapable’ Boer, Rene. Smooth City. Valiz, 1 July 2023. pp 141 and the way in which it underscores the ways in which power structures subtly, yet pervasively, dictate urban life and social interactions. These practises, that are always masked in the guise of being convenient or modern, create these homogenised city experience, which quite frankly is boring and lacking energy. Dissent and alternative modes of gathering become increasingly marginalised this way. This hegemony blurs the lines between participation and consumption, and as Boer states, it makes it ‘almost impossible to take a critical distance Boer, Rene. Smooth City. Valiz, 1 July 2023. pp 141 from the systems that shape our social lives.

Consider the gentrification of Bijlmer, in Amsterdam (fig 2). Figure 2. Bijlmer under construction in 1970. Credit: Pieter Boersma, Photography. An area originally envisioned as a utopian modernist experiment that was later stigmatised due to its association with marginalised communities, particularly Surinamese and other immigrant populations. Mingle, Katie. “Bijlmer (City of the Future, Part 1) - 99% Invisible .” 99% Invisible, 20 Feb. 2018, 99percentinvisible.org/episode/bijlmer-city-future-part-1/. Once defined by its rough edges - abandoned warehouses, studios, cultural hubs - Bijlmer became a site of organic communities and resilience. However, its redevelopment has followed the familiar pattern of urban ‘improvement,’ where upscale apartments, boutiques and trendy cafes replace the every spaces that one nurtured community-driven culture. These transformations are displacing the very communities that imbued these spaces with cultural energy. Urban planner Wouter Pokornie advocated for an alternative approach, one that redirects gentrification towards emancipation rather than exclusion. Arcam. “De Tijdlijn Van… Wouter Pocornie — Arcam.” Arcam, 25 Aug. 2020, arcam.nl/algemeen/de-tijdlijn-van-wouter-pocornie/. Accessed 16 Mar. 2025. This ensures that existing communities can benefit rather than being pushed out. However, the dominant model of urban renewal in Bijlmer aligns with neoliberal interest, once again prioritising commercial viability over social cohesion. Consider the rise of ‘fake’ lifestyle areas and “placemaking” “Placemaking in Amsterdam’s Transformation Area Amstel III .” Pop-up City, 2019, popupcity.net/projects/placemaking-in-amsterdams-transformation-area-amstel-iii/. Accessed 1 Feb. 2025. projects, all over Amsterdam, that mimic the aesthetics of real organic communal spaces but are designed primarily to encourage consumption in some form (fig 3). Figure 3. Placemaking in Amsterdam’s Transformation Area Amstel III credit: HOBU Explore tours.

These are sanitised environments that are curated to appeal to specific people. Therefore, we come to a conclusion that the cityscape results in prioritising capital and profit over people, reinforcing this idea that being different is a bad thing or stifling cultural diversity or other social inequalities.

Obviously, capitalism’s influence extends beyond physical spaces to cultural practices and expressions, increasingly dictating where and how communities can authentically gather. Cultural practises once rooted in specific traditions and communities, are forcibly being appropriated, commodified and re-packaged for mass consumption. Take, for example, how street art, almost instantly is co-opted by corporations seeking to capitalise on their subcultural appeal, yet as the Smooth City notes, ‘graffiti tags on a newly built overpass will be quickly removed to make sure it won’t become a popular place for youngsters to add their own tags. Boer, Rene. Smooth City . Valiz, 1 July 2023. pp 140 This double standard underscores how the,‘dominant norms’, are, ’crucial in determining where and when authorities intervene’ Boer, Rene. Smooth City . Valiz, 1 July 2023. pp 140 , which tightly controls creative expression.

Corporations and municipalities are curating experiences based on what they deem as acceptable, essentially limiting activities or spaces where authentic community can thrive. This manufactured spectacle of authenticity markets curated versions of culture as ‘real’ experiences. However, these commodified representations are deeply lacking depth, context and meaning of their original forms. Using the dance floor as another example, a once radical space for self-expression and communal connection - a site now that is often an area of commodification, where access is determined by ticket prices and VIP exclusivity.

In a landscape where communal spaces are increasingly policed or commercialised, the question becomes: where can we still go to gather, or create, or even connect in a way that feels organic and unmediated? A way that is not dictated by commercial interests, surveillance, or exclusivity. But instead allows for spontaneity, accessibility, and authenticity? Where can we can exist in a space without the expectation to perform, purchase or conform to to the imposed norms that dictate who belongs and who does not?

Nowhere is this phenomenon more apparent than in nightlife culture, where clubs and music venues once served as underground sanctuaries for subcultures to form and thrive. As explored by the Urban Catalyst research project, temporary and self-organised spaces have historically played a critical role in the social and cultural fabric of cities. However, under the increasing influence of neoliberal urban planning, these “rough edges” of the city-spaces that allowed for improvisation, artistic expression, and inclusive gathering - have been systematically smoothed over. “Urban Catalyst / Publications.” Urbancatalyst.net, 2025, www.urbancatalyst.net/forschung.php?lang=en. Accessed 17 Mar. 2025.

Chapter B:

From the moment I was legally able to, I found joy in going out with my friends and exploring the nightlife and venues that different cities had to offer. Dancing has always stirred a profound feeling within me — whether it’s a rush of euphoria or an unexpected sense of calm. It’s a fleeting tranquility, a moment where I feel free to move and express myself without inhibition. However, in recent years, I have also become increasingly aware of how these spaces are being encroached upon by an ever-expanding capitalist system. What was once authentic, healing communities built on inclusivity are now being eroded, leaving behind a stark contrast to their original purpose. This transformation signals the death of the dance floor.

We must first acknowledge the origins of dance music before focusing on the dance floor and its commodification. Dance music’s roots trace back to the late 1970s and 1980s, when techno emerged as a response to Detroit’s post-industrial decline. The music was created as a response to the urban decay many cities in the United States faced at the time. (fig 4)

Pioneers like Kevin Saunderson, Juan Atkins, and Derrick May — known as the “Belleville Three” (fig 5) — fused elements of soul, funk and other futuristic sounds, influenced by European pioneers like Kraftwerk. DJ Baboon. “The Roots and Rise of Black Techno and Rave Culture - Technoedm .” Technoedm, 12 Nov. 2023, technoedm.com/general-techno/the-roots-and-rise-of-black-techno-and-rave-culture/. Accessed 6 Feb. 2025.

Detroit’s underground scene thrived in the infrastructure left behind, allowing marginalised communities to come together and escape their hardships. This grassroots movement laid the foundation for modern dance culture, emphasising this idea of collective form and liberation.

In Raving, McKenzie Wark presents raves as spaces of subversive potential — fleeting moments where participants momentarily escape the rigid structures of capitalist society. Wark, McKenzie. Raving . Practices, 14 Mar. 2023. Raving is structured more as a continuous, reflective essay rather than a traditional book with titled chapters, Wark discusses the subversive potential of raving—its ability to carve out temporary, liberating spaces—throughout the book. The ideas of the darkroom (as a metaphor for anonymity and transformation) and the zone (as a temporary autonomous space) come up thematically. However, this potential is increasingly compromised as rave culture becomes commodified. What once emerged as a grassroots movement rooted in resistance has been appropriated, stripped of its radical intent, and repackaged for mainstream consumption. The gabber scene in The Netherlands would be another illustration of this type of commodification; originally a raw and rebellious underground movement, it was eventually absorbed into the mainstream, with its aesthetics and sound repackaged for commercial appeal, stripping it of its radical root. Similarly, theorists like Hakim Bey, in Temporary Autonomous Zones, Bey, Hakim. The Temporary Autonomous Zone, 2004 pages 1-3 argue that these ephemeral gatherings create “zones of freedom” where the oppressive forces of capital and state control momentarily disappear. These temporary spaces, though precarious and short-lived, possess the power to disrupt the sanitised, controlled, and commodified nature of contemporary nightlife. They reimagine the dance floor not just as a site of entertainment, but as a radical space for communal resistance and liberation.

The underground rave scenes of the 1980s and 1990s, in the UK, emerged as acts of defiance against restrictive laws and societal constraints. These raves provided a space that offered liberation from mainstream venues covered by rigid rules, high costs and social discrimination. Raving typically took place in abandoned warehouses, fields, and other hidden locations to avoid police crackdowns and evade licensing regulations that controlled nightlife spaces. In contrast, large-scale music festivals, corporate-sponsored club nights, and curated playlists have reduced rave culture to a marketable aesthetic, diluting its political and social significance (Fig 6). Figure 6. Awakening’s festival

Awakenings exemplifies the shift from underground resistance to a commodified festival experience. Its carefully curated line-ups prioritise big-name techno artists over grassroots DJs, limiting the spontaneity and inclusivity of early raves. Pricing plays a crucial role in this shift as well. Unlike the free or low-cost illegal raves of the past, where access was based on word-of-mouth and a sense of community rather than financial means. Awakenings tickets can be expensive, ranging anywhere between €219 euros without camping and €264 euros with a camping pass. “Awakenings Festival 2025 | Awakenings.” Awakenings, 2025, www.awakenings.com/en/shop/awakenings-festival-2025-main/318191/step-1/. Accessed 16 Mar. 2025. This makes the entire experience exclusive and financially inaccessible to many. This shift in accessibly reflects the broader commercialisation of nightlife, were participation is entirely dictated by economic statues rather than shared passion for music and dance. Awakenings and other festivals are hosted in regulated venues with corporate sponsorships and strict security, it abandons the raw, defiant spirit of repurposed warehouses and secret locations. While preserving techno’s aesthetic, Awakenings repackages rave culture into a profitable, controlled spectacle, demonstrating how capitalism absorbs and neutralises countercultural movements by turning it into a product.

In addition to raves, nightclubs have always served as important spaces for youth subcultures. They offer an environment where people can engage in forming their own identity, self-expression and a sense of belonging to a social group. In the frame of these spaces, music, style, and shared experiences become key tools for navigating personal and collective identities. Within these spaces, they offer a momentary escape from social constraints and expectations. Gosling, Tim. “Not for Sale”: The Underground Network of Anarcho-Punk, pages 168-169 While being at a nightclub may not always be explicitly political, they do play a crucial role in shaping our cultural identities and do help foster a sense of community and unity amongst peers. Additionally, Henri Lefebvre’s Production of Space Lefebvre, Henri. The Production of Space , pages 170-194 refers to the concept of how such spaces transform from “representational spaces”, filled with this energy or what Lefebvre names radical potential into these “spaces of representation”, which are then restructured to align with these dominant capitalist ideologies. Nightclubs are no longer solely about music or community, they have become branded experiences shaped by exclusivity, surveillance, and profit motives. This transformation is evident in nightlife scenes across the globe, where spaces once filled with radical potential have been restricted to align with dominant capitalist and political ideologies.

A particularly striking example of this shift can be found in Tel Aviv’s nightlife. Scholars, like Sarah Schulman, have highlighted how the Israeli government uses cultural events to pinkwash its image. Pinkwashing refers to the strategic use of LGBTQ+ rights or representation in governments, corporations, or institutions to distract from or justify harmful policies, particularly those involving oppression or human rights violations. Israel ‘pinkwashes’ by presenting Tel Aviv as a haven of queer rights, while simultaneously diverting attention from ongoing political and territorial conflicts. Sarah Schulman and Karma R. Chávez’s “Israel/Palestine and the Queer International” Journal of Civil and Human Rights , Vol. 5, Palestine on the Air (2019), pp. 139-157 The city scene frames itself as progressive, diverse and full of light — often dubbing itself a “beacon of light." Yet, in reality, it plays a central role in whitewashing Zionism, transforming apartheid and segregation into a spectacle of carefree escapism. Israeli nightlife markets itself as a place of liberation: queer parties, raves and techno events abound. But one must ask, liberation from what, and for whom? The fact that these clubs are built on stolen land? That Palestinians are often unable to enter Tel Aviv without a permit? These contradictions illustrate how spaces that claim liberation often obscure deep systems of control and exclusion.

The reality of Israel is that it remains a deeply conservative and religious country, while the scene prides itself on queer inclusivity, meaning the reality and visibility of queer life in nightlife does not always translate to full acceptance in daily life. The irony is stark, the same scene that hosts ‘inclusive’ drag shows and queer events is built upon a massive system of exclusion. Zionists also often peddle narratives such as that ‘Gays for Gaza’ are to be thrown off roofs. It is evident that queer people are used as a tool to pinkwash Israel as the ‘only democracy in the Middle East’ — a nation that paradoxically bans same-sex marriage.

Across the West, nightlife spaces often exist within larger systems of control and exclusion. Take Berghain for example (fig 7), Figure 7. Berghain. Credit: Dpa Picture Alliance/Alamy. capitalist and political interests have increasingly restricted access for DJ’s, individuals and party-goers from feeling safe on the dance floor. Tapper, James, and Isabelle Rodney. “>DJs Join Ravers for Palestine Boycott of Top Berlin Techno Club Berghain .” The Guardian, The Guardian, 10 Aug. 2024, www.theguardian.com/world/article/2024/aug/10/djs-join-ravers-for-palestine-boycott-of-top-berlin-techno-club-berghain. It mirrors how Western nightlife industries tokenise The meaning of ‘tokenise’ is the means to reduce a complex matter, like a movement or culture, into a marketable symbol or commodity. diversity while failing to ensure real safety or equity. More broadly, the rise of neoliberalism, which prioritises economic growth, political neutrality, and individualism, has played a key role in this shift. As Mark Fischer argued, the erosion of collective space is not incidental but a common feature of capitalisms ability to commodify itself. Fisher, Mark. Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? Winchester, Zero Books, 27 Nov. 2009. Both Wark and Boer have examined that spaces like the dance floor, once sites of countercultural expression, are increasingly being absorbed into market logic, depoliticised under the guise of inclusion while serving profit motives. Wark warns that these spaces are becoming more tightly regulated and commercialised, with club culture increasingly structured around spectacle and exclusivity rather than collective liberation. Wark, McKenzie. Raving. Practices, 14 Mar. 2023. Similarly, Boer argues that while underground dance spaces historically offered an alternative to mainstream consumer culture, they are now subject to the same forces of gentrification, surveillance, and monetisation that shape broader urban life. Boer, Rene. Smooth City. Valiz, 1 July 2023. This shift echoes Thatcher’s infamous rejection of ‘society’ in favour of the individual, undermining the very notion of community-driven spaces. Her assertion that “there is no such thing as society” reflects a capitalist ethos that prioritises self-interest over collective well-being. Keay, Douglas. “Interview for Woman’s Own (“No Such Thing [as Society]”) | Margaret Thatcher Foundation.” Margaretthatcher.org, 23 Sept. 1987, www.margaretthatcher.org/document/106689? Accessed 15 Mar. 2025. The dance floor risks becoming an illusion of liberation rather than the real thing. Bringing this back to my investigation, the question remains: Can nightlife still be reclaimed as a genuinely communal space, or has it become yet another frontier for the forces it once sought to resist

The popular rise of “luxury” nightlife underscores this transformation. With new types of exorbitant cover charges, VIP sections, exclusive clientele, and sponsorship deals from multinational corporations. These practises often alienate the very communities that originally built these spaces which now define these spaces, championing affluent individuals and social connections. As Thornton (1996), Thornton,Sarah. Club Cultures: Music, Media, and Subcultural Capital , chapter 2, pages 26-27 , explains, ‘connections in the form of friends, relations, associates and acquaintances can all bestow status,” ultimately shaping the customer in a specific way, while excluding those unable to meet financial or aesthetic entry requirements. The commodification of these spaces mirrors their political underpinnings: both systems reward privilege while masking exclusion with a veneer of liberation and inclusivity.

Moreover, the application of surveillance technologies within nightlife, such as facial recognition, enhanced security in and around venues, and digital guest lists, reinforces the idea that exclusionary policies are often implemented under the guise of safety. These measures are frequently utilised to target racialised and queer bodies. Therefore, rendering the space complicit in systems of control and oppression. I would argue that this system also reflects Foucault’s concept of disciplinary power (1975). Foucault, Michel. Concept of Disciplinary Power, Part Three: Discipline pages 170-194 The concept refers to the subtle, pervasive ways institutions and systems regulate behaviour, shape identities, and maintain control through surveillance, norms, and self-regulation rather than direct force. Young, Stephen M. “Michel Foucault: Discipline .” Critical Legal Thinking, 26 Feb. 2019, criticallegalthinking.com/2019/02/26/michel-foucault-discipline/. There are cameras everywhere, watching you and your behaviour. That all-encompassing feeling of being watched while you are inside or outside a club, and in turn, this feeling of knowing you are being watched so you may be inclined to act a certain type of way or conform to expected norms.

A classic example of this, here in The Netherlands, can be seen in the over-policing of Black, Moroccan, North African, Middle Eastern youth in gentrified urban spaces, particularly in nightlife. Despite their cultural contributions to the music and the scene, they are often excluded from these spaces through racial profiling and economic barriers, while their cultural expressions are commercialised and marketed to affluent audiences.

As a response to this erosion of communal authenticity, underground raves and DIY club nights employ a range of tactics that challenge the logic of the “smooth nightlife”. Events like ‘Permanent Breakfast’ in Berlin, a grassroots movement that organises spontaneous gatherings in banned spaces, operate without formal licensing or corporate sponsorship, rejecting the commodification of nightlife. Places like ‘Herrensauna’ (fig 8), Figure 8. Herrensauna LP.

a queer techno party in Berlin, or other venues, such as 'Pxssy Palace’ (Fig 9) Figure 9. Logo of PXSSY PALACE

in London, redefine cultural priorities by centring queer, trans and Black communities, emphasising community driven safety, accessibility, and collective care over profit. These spaces are shaped by principles rooted in social organising, mutual aid, and Black liberation movements, creating environments that explicitly centre those often excluded from mainstream nightlife. Borrowing from David Harvey’s Rebel Cities (2012), such acts can be understood as radical assertion of the “right to the city” not just through occupation but through intentional reimagining — where the dance floor becomes a space of resistance, collective joy, and self-determination. As Harvey states, “the freedom to make and remake ourselves and our cities” is central to urban life, and in these alternative spaces, that freedom is actively practised. Harvey, David. Rebel Cities: From the Right to the City to the Urban Revolution . London, Verso, 2012. chapter 1, pages 1-3

Ultimately, while the commercialisation of nightlife has stripped many spaces of their subversive energy, transforming them into the sanitised, exclusive environments that cater to the affluent crowds, the resilience of DIY spaces and underground movements offers a stark contrast. Unlike the controlled, profit-hungry “smooth” nightlife, these grassroots spaces reject over-policing and economic barriers, reclaiming the dance floor as a site of resistance and radical joy for those who have long been excluded from mainstream nightlife.

Chapter C:

A shift is necessary, yet I recognise that not a single solution can address every issue. While the idea of instant change is appealing, meaningful transformation requires a more focused and incremental approach. By concentrating on smaller, tangible actions, we can create a foundation for broader impact, ensuring that change is not only envisioned but also achievable (Fig 10) Figure 10. WIP graphics for RTC

The ethos of Rottencore aligns with this idea of resistance, advocating for the radical reclamation of communal spaces and the rejection of capitalism’s commodification of culture. However, resistance must be more than a concept- it requires applied strategies to ensure these spaces remain autonomous and do not fall into the cycle of capitalist recuperation. We can look at real-world creative networks that have attempted to carve out alternative spaces, like ‘Papergirl’, a decentralised street art initiative that was created in Berlin in 2006 (fig 11). Figure 11. Logo for Papergirl.

Its aim was to disrupt traditional art market hierarchies by redistributing art freely in public spaces. Kovacic, Igor. “Papergirl.” Papergirl-Berlin.de, 2025, papergirl-berlin.de/. Accessed 7 Mar. 2025. Similarly, the existence of creative hubs in London like BeauBeaus—which balance artistic engagement with the necessity of economic survival. It illustrates the ongoing struggle to maintain radical creative spaces within a capitalist framework. These examples serve as both inspiration and cautionary tales for how Rottencore can navigate these tensions while remaining a genuine tool of disruption.

For Rottencore to be truly disruptive rather than symbolic, it must extend beyond abstraction into direct praxis. Wark’s concept of raving as a site of subversive potential is deeply relevant here - where participants momentarily escape societal pressures and experience a collective resistance outside of traditional frameworks of ownership and control. Rottencore must build upon this by creating a framework for real-life application. If it remains only a concept, it risks becoming just another aesthetic packaged for commodification. How, then, does ‘rtc’ function as a genuine alternative?

First, rtc must be a living movement, not merely aesthetic or theory. It must thrive on the impermanence of gatherings, art, and actions as intentional resistance to capitalist capture. Just as raving creates a temporary autonomous zone where bodies move freely beyond capitalist logic, Rottencore must carve out cultural spaces that resist market-driven incorporation. Whether through occupation of neglected urban spaces, underground collectives, or decentralised networks of artistic production. Rottencore must actively challenge existing structures by fostering spaces of uncontrolled expression.

Wark’s concept of raving as a site of subversive potential is deeply relevant here. Participants momentarily escaping societal pressures and structures, experiencing a collective resistance that exists outside traditional frameworks of ownership and control. In a similar way, using this theoretical concept my desire for Rottencore is that it thrives off this radical and subversive potential. It embraces the impermanence of gatherings, art, and action as a means of defying commodification. Just as raving creates a temporary autonomous zone where bodies move freely between capitalist logic, Rottencore seeks to carve out a culture where community and creativity can exist outside of commercial demands. The act of coming together, whether through physical events or shared digital movements, becomes an act of defiance in itself, reinforcing the idea that resistance is not always about permanence but about the continual creation of alternative ways of being.

A convincing example of this kind of creative self-organisation is ‘Papergirl’ the street art project that was previously mentioned. Artists were asked to submit works that are exhibited and then distributed by bicycle to random passers-by, disrupting traditional art market structures. (Fig 12) Figure 12. ”Señor Jesus”. Credit: Ivan Summersky.

By transforming public spaces into dynamic artistic hubs, Papergirl embodies the ethos of resistance through secretive distribution and accessibility. Similarly, rtc can function as a means of subverting the commodification of culture by ensuring that creative expressions remain freely shared, unbound by commercial constraints.

An example that illustrates the complexities of balancing creative autonomy with economic survival is ‘BeauBeaus’, a creative hub and café in London that hosts workshops and artistic activities while simultaneously functioning and a business. (Fig 13) Figure 13. BeauBeau café. Credit: beauteous.co.uk.

Spaces like BeauBeaus attempt to navigate the tensions between fostering genuine creative community and the realities of economic sustainability. Their positioning reflects a broader dilemma: they promote artistic collaboration and engagement while ultimately needing to operate within the capitalist framework to survive. As their own statement suggests, ‘ a beautiful space can inspire creativity and productivity, ’ reinforcing the gentrified logic that creative work must be performed within structured, monetised environments. “About.” BeauBeaus, beaubeaus.co.uk/about/. While they provide essential platforms for grassroots cultural engagement, they also face the challenge of needing to sell products and generate revenue. This highlights the fine line between maintaining authenticity and accessibility while resisting the pressures of commercialisation. Rottencore must critically engage with these found tensions, exploring ways to sustain alternative creative spaces without succumbing to market- driven compromises that dilute their radical potential.

Second, Rottencore must function as a tool for organisers, artists, and citizens who refuse to participate in the consumption of culture. What can someone do with rtc if this ideology speaks to them as a raver, organiser, neighbour, or disobedient citizen? Rather than simply, highlighting decay and loss, it must provide the means to create - new spaces, new connections, and new ways of resisting the erosion of communal existence. This could manifest as DIY event infrastructures, radical publishing, disruptive urban interventions, or collective-run creative pop-ups.

Third, ’rtc' must differentiate itself from mere nostalgia. While it recognises the historical patterns of grassroots organising, its purpose is not to replicate past-movements but to build a forward thinking, adaptable framework. One that operates realistically within the constraints of capitalism while actively proposing real, practical alternatives. If resistance remains aesthetic, it risks being absorbed by the very system it seeks to reject. Instead, rtc must remain in a state of constant evolution, staying one-step ahead of co-optation through proactive engagement and continuous reinvention.

To prevent rtc from being cannibalised by capitalism, it must resist the cycle of commodification that often absorbs underground culture. This means ensuring rottencore’s spaces and practises remain decentralised, collectively owned, and resistant to external commercialisation. It needs to prioritise autonomy over branding, collective action over spectacle, and temporary interventions over static institutions. The moment Rottencore becomes a product it loses its radical potential. To counteract this, it must rely on fluid, self-organised networks that reject hierarchal structures, ensuring it remains a tool for hopeful change rather than be a marketable trend.

Fundamentally, Rottencore must be more than aesthetic or nostalgic longing for past forms of resistance. It must be a living methodology, an evolving toolkit that is shared by those who engage with it. This means rejecting passive participation and instead encouraging direct action. Whether through reclaiming, neglected spaces, forming underground creative collectives, or designing infrastructures that exist outside the control of traditional institutions. What can someone do with Rottencore today? This is the question that must guide its evolution. If it is to remain radical, it cannot simply critique - it must build. It must offer a blueprint for creative rebellion that not only resists capitalist co-optation but actively prevents its absorption into the system it seeks to dismantle.

To put Rottencore into practice, I will focus on creating decentralised, autonomous spaces that reject capitalist commodification while fostering genuine communal engagement. This will involve DIY event infrastructures, radical publishing, and disruptive urban interventions that prioritise impermanence and fluidity over static institutions. By forming networks of underground creatives, reclaiming neglected spaces, and facilitating collective-run initiatives, Rottencore will act as both a methodology and a toolkit for resistance. It will not be a passive critique but an active force- one that continuously adapts to evade co-optation, ensuring that it remains a living, evolving framework for cultural disruption.

CONCLUSION:

By examining the transformation of nightlife and urban spaces and culture under capitalist structures, this project interrogates how grassroots movements can resist commercialisation of social interactions and foster spaces that prioritise the shared experience. Through this thesis, Rottencore has emerged as a critique and a methodological response to the commodification of community, urban spaces, and culture. Rather than existing solely as a conceptual framework, rtc materialises through design, discourse, and activation. With the aim of reclaiming communal spaces as sites of resistance.

The dance floor and music events exemplify how communal spaces have historically functioned as sites of liberation, creativity and solidarity. This parallels a broader societal shift, where urban environments prioritise profit over people enable the disappearance of these creative or social experiences. Rottencore challenges narratives by embodying a grassroots approach that resist commodification and seeks to foster authentic gatherings where people can come together, share, and belong. The concept of Rottencore underscores the power of community to transform and reclaim spaces, fostering environments where creativity thrives beyond institutional or corporate boundaries. It invites us to question the systems that fragments our communal experiences and create new possibilities for inclusive, sustainable spaces that nurture connection and culture.

As society continues to navigate the blurred lines between, culture, commerce, and community, projects like Rottencore remind us that reclaiming our spaces and fostering genuine interactions are acts of resistance. This thesis serves as a call to action for designers, creatives, and communities to take ownership of their environments and create spaces that celebrate the spirit of togetherness, creatively and most importantly defiance.