In 2019, 4 friends – Adam, Frazer, Hannah and Katie – took over an abandoned constructing in a Sheffield railway arch, and began throwing “word-of-mouth parties” for his or her friends, advertised through a secret Facebook group.

4 years and two venue changes later, Gut Level – as they’re collectively known – has been tasked with taking up London’s Barbican Curve throughout June, as a part of RESOLVE Collective’s Them’s The Breaks. In addition to workshops, events and a ‘cretinous’ afterparty on June 3, the exhibition will feature images from venues and collectives across the North of England, including Mondo Radio, Wharf Chambers, Cosmic Slop, QUARRY and Partisan Collective. 

Based across the theme of ‘joy in precariousness’, these vivid photographs capture the chaos, community and queer hedonism at the guts of DIY scenes across the north of England. From half-naked bodies slathered in mayonnaise to healthful snapshots of community gardens and karaoke nights, the exhibition bears witness to a shared determination to wreak havoc, on a budget.

After all, it shouldn’t have to be this fashion. These collectives all have shared obstacles: greedy property developers, a world pandemic, and an ongoing cost-of-living crisis. “There’s no such thing as a stable space,” says Frazer, describing an countless cycle of “rolling contracts” and “lack of investment.”

DIY scenes have been forced to adapt. In 2022, government funding through the pandemic enabled Gut Level to program a summer of back-to-back parties in 2022, just before they were booted out of their longest-running venue on Snow Lane, which they describe as their “spiritual home”. These nights were gleefully raucous, with parties lasting way beyond sunrise. DJs from Sheffield, Leeds, Liverpool and beyond, played eclectic sets of dance music, from thumping techno to campy, euphoric disco. Sweat-drenched bodies glimmered under a disco ball, taking regular breaks outside within the sprawling garden.

Even with the newest venue change, Gut Level has prioritised outdoor space. Step outside and also you’ll find drag queens cracking jokes and straddling the railings for impromptu photoshoots, while partygoers drink their very own booze and laugh around a communal bonfire. “We actually consider that club spaces don’t should be hostile,” says Katie. “It’s essential to have those spaces for people to take a seat and be social, because we don’t need to focus solely on the dance floor.”

Gut Level has sunk its roots further during the last 12 months, opening a community space, free for “friends with advantages.” This has enabled them to diversify their programming: from community meals to letter-writing sessions, organised by abolitionist groups, these get-togethers allow for “more intimate moments”. Membership is priced at a tiered scale, and no person is turned away for lack of funds.

Gut Level exemplifies left-wing values in motion. “That’s essentially the most motivating thing for me,” says Frazer. “It began as a celebration space, but now it’s where I see the ideals of socialism play out in point of fact. It’s rooted in those values of sharing resources and providing for one another, in a non-judgmental way.” This ethos has cemented its status as a queer utopia. “Throughout the LGBTQ+ community, there’s been this swing towards a more inclusive, queer umbrella,” says Frazer. “We never explicitly said that we’re a queer space, but we’ve all the time prioritised other queer people and made an effort to book queer DJs. We wish marginalised people to feel like they’ve a house here, however it’s all the time been for everyone.”

Especially over the previous few years, collectives across the North of England have taken a similarly inclusive stance. “I find quite a lot of queer bars too polished and clean,” says Sam, a more recent member of the team, who reiterates that Gut Level’s lineage is within the “subversive, dangerous” aesthetics of provocateurs like John Waters and his drag muse, Divine. It’s a standard misnomer that discrimination is more prevalent within the North, but in point of fact, loads of cities like Glasgow, Liverpool and Sheffield have long, socialist histories, based largely in solidarity and sophistication struggle. Coming together up North is nothing recent.

Low-cost venues with long-term contracts are getting harder to search out, but Gut Level is committed to creating these community spaces. Currently, they’ve got their eye on a more everlasting venue – and in the event that they can secure a contract, they’ll be providing a significant, community-led space for many who need it.

As a part of their mission statement for the exhibition, Gut Level writes: “We’ve never been polished, all the time messy.” So long as you’re respectful of their values – so long as you’re not a dick, principally – anyone can get stuck in. “I’m attempting to use that language of socialism to explain what we’re doing a bit bit higher,” says Frazer. “I feel with the ability to place it in that context is de facto useful, because ultimately it makes me feel great that we’re a part of this broad movement that is been happening for tons of of years; we’re just doing it in a rather different way.”

Throughout June, them’s the breaks will host a residency by Sheffield-based, queer-led DIY events space and collective Gut Level in The Curve gallery on the Barbican. The Cute and Sexy North Party takes place June 3 2023. Book your tickets here.

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