So that’s where theory’s got to — it’s living above the shop.

Metaphorically, the phrase 'living above the shop' carries several layered meanings:

1. A blurring of personal and professional life

2. Deep embeddedness in one’s practice

3. Precarity and hustle

4. Para-academic or DIY cultural spaces

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Last night, I was part of the audience for an event on the theme of ALTEREGOISM, asking: 'What are the consequences of "weirdness" entering the mainstream? How can the fluidity of identity online be used to increase play, connection, and experimentation rather than induce anxiety?'

Organised by the everyone is a girl collective in collaboration with APEX zine, it featured an exhibition of artwork, a durational performance, an open mic jam session and music, and began with a panel discussion featuring 'post-internet stars' Shumon Basar, Nella Piatek, Marisa Müsing, Zaiba Jabbar and Bailey Davis.

Not so long ago, a panel such as this - moderated by everyone is a girl's Ester Freider and Andrea Evgenieva from APEX, whose reference points, judging from the copy I picked up, include Timothy Morton, Mark Fisher, Sherry Turkle, Jean Baudrillard, Gilles Deleuze and Guy Debord — would have taken the form of a cultural theory or cultural studies seminar. It’d most likely have been found in a university setting — or, back in the 80s and 90s, an arts venue such as the ICA perhaps.

But ALTEREGOISM didn’t happen in an established, formal institution. It took place in a packed room above a vintage clothes shop called Bread & Butter in Shoreditch (it had to be East London!).

Nor did it involve just theory: it also brought together art, music, fashion, new media and performance. And it wasn’t only academics either but artists, designers, curators, writers, musicians, DJs, film-makers, publishers …

These are people who may be doing 'serious' research but — having grown up with social media — feel no need to wait until they’ve (nearly) got PhDs to start sharing their work and ideas. And when they do publish, it’s not (just) in academic spaces such as peer-reviewed journals. They’re used to publishing themselves — so they're creating their own journals, magazines, newsletters, podcasts, Tumblr communities, collectives and multi-media live events.

Of course, we shouldn’t get carried away about all this activity. It's not entirely new. There’s a long history of scholars and para-academics operating in 'third spaces' between the university and corporate mainstream, including small artists' bookshops, independent cafés and bars, and the back rooms of pubs. Nor should we get swept up by the romance of it all. A lot of this energy is about finding – or forging – a means for some kind of authentic personal expression of ‘who I really am’ in a cultural economy that increasingly refuses to offer secure, liveable wages for work that's interesting and fulfilling, let alone critical and creative. Consequently, it's not an arena free of ‘artrepreneurs’ either: people acting as entrepeneurs of themselves, their own lives and ideas. Nevertheless, events like this create a collective space to gather, to experiment, to have fun and play together — and so can be seen as a means of pushing back against the individualism and ‘main character energy’ that saturates much of cultural life, online and off.

At this point, it's tempting to try to come up with a spreadable phrase like 'universities are sooo over'. But that would be inaccurate. It'd also be unfair. Much of this would be impossible without higher education. Many of those involved are doing or have done MAs and PhDs as well as undergraduate degrees. If they're not currently employed in HE in some part- or full-time capacity, then they’re very much engaging with — and building on — the work academics continue to produce from within the university.

Still, for what are obvious reasons — job cuts, precarity, casualisation, managerialism, excessive workloads, the general shift away from theory to more conservative intellectual formations and frameworks — university events today often feel a lot less alive than what’s happening here above the shop.