Cities have always attracted groups of artists, bohemians and other creative types who have often clustered together in distinctive neighbourhoods, districts and local quarters. Such places have offered the chance to mix and mingle with other artists but also a base from which to explore and absorb the sensual experiences of the city – so inspiring creative work. In the modern age, different cities and districts have emerged as centres of bohemian creativity. In the 19th Century, radical artists flocked to Montmarte in Paris; in the 20th century SoHo in New York became central; in the early 21st Century artists occupy Prenzlauer-Berg and other eastern districts of Berlin. Such spaces are socially valued for providing new art and culture, radical critique and alternative visions of society – dreams of what cities might be.

On a recent visit to Vilnius, Lithuania's capital city, I came across another alternative space - the 'Republic of Uzupis', a small, seemingly run-down enclave situated just outside the Old Town. Uzupis declared its 'independence' from Lithuania in 1997 in order to provide its resident community of artists, bohemians and cultural producers with their own free 'state' and a new constitution of rights and freedoms. These include 'Everyone has the right to love', 'Everyone has the right to have no rights' and 'A dog has the right to be a dog'. Uzupis is not meant to be taken too seriously perhaps - but neither should its radical credentials be lightly dismissed. Uzupis residents have often expressed their direct opposition to local governmental and economic reforms.

But while I was admiring the radical constitution, the tumbledown art galleries and street sculpture, imagining a utopian community of free creativity, the locals were telling me a different story – for them Uzupis was already 'over'. What could they mean? Firstly, the district had started to become gentrified, redeveloped and rebuilt, mainly for the benefit of incoming professionals and the middle classes (and, no doubt, occasional tourists like me). Indeed it was the arty and bohemian 'atmosphere' that was specifically attracting these new residents – they wanted to savour the 'alternative' delights that Uzupis had to offer. With property developers converting old buildings into luxurious apartments and more up-market businesses moving in, the artists and bohemians were now being squeezed out by the increased rents and land values. The artists and the creativity that once thrived were now being displaced by commercial concerns – ironically undermining the cultural value that made Uzupis 'special' in the first place.

This urban process of artistic growth, commodification and decline was first noted by the sociologist Sharon Zukin in her book Loft Living (1988) – and is now recognised as the widespread fate of the counter-culture. This leads us to question whether spaces of radical or critical art can any longer exist 'outside' of the mainstream. On the one hand, this might not be such a bad thing since art requires markets and consumers to thrive – but it is also the case that commerical concerns can sanitise art and subordinate its radical purpose.

About the author

Mark Banks is Reader in Sociology at the Open University. His research interests include the cultural and creative industries, popular culture, cities and urban space.