Meanwhile seems such a bland word. Ostensibly, it is a scrap of time between one event and another. But in every hard-boiled thriller, it is where the real excitement lies: meanwhile, our hero shimmied down the drainpipe; meanwhile, on the other side of town …

… there’s an empty shop. Businesses have gone bust. They haven’t been able to pay business rates; they haven’t been able to compete with Amazon; the way we make and buy things has changed so radically, so fast, and they haven’t been able to keep up. Or a shopping centre has opened not far away and the trade has moved there or collapsed because of the competition. Or a developer has bought the space but has not figured out what to do with it or is awaiting planning permission. Whatever the reason, it’s empty.

According to a recent report on empty space in London, more than 20,000 commercial units have been empty for at least six months, and 11,000 for more than two years. And planning permission for development has been granted for 2,700 hectares (6,672 acres) of land – the equivalent in size to the London borough of Lambeth – but construction has yet to start.

That is a lot of space, just waiting, blankly, for the next thing to happen. And on high streets, it is a depressing sight (you only need to walk down a denuded high street in, say, Doncaster, or Shrewsbury, or Oxford to feel this), not to mention wasteful, when so many people are unable to afford somewhere to live or work. But a movement is afoot to change all that.

Enter the “meanwhile space” – the use of temporary contracts that allow community groups, small businesses or individuals to move into these vacant spaces and set up shop, on the understanding that they will leave within an allotted time.

Artists, of course, have long used empty commercial buildings as studios and gallery spaces, but now others (and not just in Britain) are seeing the potential. The uses to which these spaces are put are thrillingly varied. Jessica Tsang, a trustee on the board of the Meanwhile Foundation – which aims to “create socioeconomic value from vacant property” – says they have also provided outlets for textile designers, carpenters, hat-makers, kombucha brewers, tech businesses, charities, tailors, hack spaces and even a boxing gym, a coppicer and a slime factory.

Many also provide living quarters: in the Sussex town of Hastings, a derelict building called Rock House has been transformed into a mixture of businesses, charities and flats, all with securely capped rents (fixed at 30% of median income in the area). The social enterprises that run it are now crowdfunding to do the same for another Hastings space, the Observer Building. This will not technically be a meanwhile space – they hope to own it outright – but the project has much the same ethos. In London, the thinktank Centre for London recently estimated that between half and two-thirds of meanwhile space in London is occupied by live-in property guardians, who pay reduced rents in exchange for making sure properties aren’t vandalised or squatted.

Last week, the Ministry of Housing, Communities and Local Government, the Meanwhile Foundation and Meanwhile Space CIC launched Open Doors, a project that aims to spread the meanwhile idea further afield. Five locations have been chosen for the pilot phase: Stoke-on-Trent, Bradford, Rochford, Kettering and Slough, with a brief to tackle the issue of ailing high streets. Tsang says they have had 28 applications so far, including from a homelessness charity, a diaspora group that wants a “making space” for Nigerian artisanship; and a group wanting to organise regular meet-ups for people with chronic pain.

Below, we look at six spaces that are bringing creativity to our high streets.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Empty Shop, Hartlepool. Photograph: Gary Calton/The Observer

‘It injects some life into the area’: the talking shop

Empty Shop, Church Street, Hartlepool



City-wide redevelopment work meant that Church Street, a largely mid-19th century run of buildings with a rich maritime history, was closed to traffic for some time. Business dwindled and buildings were left empty.

In January this year, Nick Malyan and Carlo Viglianisi, of the non-profit arts organisation Empty Shop, moved in, at the invitation of the Tees Valley Great Place programme, to create a venue that will last until the summer. The building they took over – a former electrical goods shop turned office space – had been vacant for 18 months. The copper piping had been stolen, and the pair had to replumb and rewire the place.

Church Street is bookended by the Northern School of Art buildings, and Empty Shop has drawn on its creative environment. Malyan and Viglianisi have launched a creative talking shop – a drop-in space to share ideas, tell stories and connect with creative people in Hartlepool, as well as launching artists’ residencies, exhibitions and collaborations with the Northern Festival of Illustration.

“It immediately injects some life into the area, but we need to be careful not to be used for artwashing or gentrification,” says Malyan. “The work we are doing is very rooted in the community. We provide a platform for local artists and young people from the area.”

Laura Barton

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Lily King outside her shop in north west London. Photograph: Graeme Robertson/The Guardian

‘The community can be proud of it’: the gift boutique

Lily King, Queen’s Parade, Walm Lane, north-west London



“I had always dreamed of having a shop,” says Lily King, who opened her gift boutique last August. Yet the idea was daunting. “I had not even thought about renting a shop at normal high-street rent and rates, as I knew I just couldn’t survive financially and the stress would have been horrible.”

Instead, the 28-year-old found a space on Queen’s Parade after the building’s owners, Metro Textiles, decided to downsize its African-print fabric shop before the site was redeveloped for housing.

King, who had been selling jewellery online, says her shop – which she found through the social enterprise Meanwhile Space– was a “life saver” in offering an affordable option. Now in the thriving independent quarter in Willesden Green in north-west London, she offers everything from artwork to lavender chocolate.

Hattie Lowe, 22, one of King’s regulars, says she has bought King’s boob-themed keyrings for at least five other people. She says she will be sad if this shop is reclaimed by redevelopment: “Not only is it great to have a shopping experience with the owner – who knows you personally – but it is something that the community can be proud of, and celebrate local businesses.”

Daniel Lavelle

Facebook Twitter Pinterest The community venue the Space Scotland in Glasgow. Photograph: Publicity Image

‘You get a more interesting mix of people’: the community venue

The Space Scotland, 257 London Road, Glasgow

Once this building housed Scotland’s first House of Fraser store; now, community groups and artists have made a home there. The Glasgow charity People Without Labels took over the empty shop in 2015, creating The Space Scotland, the country’s first “pay what you decide” (PWYD) community venue, including gallery space, a vegan cafe and a community food shop.

Located in Glasgow’s traditionally deprived east end, the Space is about “regeneration not gentrification”, says the operations manager, Lori Lynch. “We’re trying to bring arts, culture and vegan food to people who might not have experienced them before because of money or background.”

And its unique PWYD model also aims to tackle deprivation and foster community, with customers who struggle to afford food from the shop able to take it for free in return for volunteering. For Tessa Buddle, a local artist, its location in a former shop was part of the appeal when she booked an event in the Space. “Shops are located in well-connected centres and people feel familiar with them and comfortable going into them,” she says. “That can lead to a more interesting mix of people than you might find in a more established arts space.”

Eve Livingston

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Sara Auty in her photographic studio at the Merseyway shopping centre in Stockport. Photograph: Christopher Thomond/The Guardian

‘We’ve supported some of the most vulnerable in society’: the photography shop

Saz Media, Vernon Walk, Merseyway shopping centre, Stockport



Merseyway shopping centre in Stockport is rightly derided as one of the most heinous crimes against architecture and nature, a grey monolith plonked – unforgivably – on top of the River Mersey. Happily, the Greater Manchester town is undergoing a £1bn regeneration and, while works continue, the council has offered vacant units in the mall to a series of interesting projects. One is occupied by Saz Media, a social enterprise running photography workshops for teenagers.

It is the brainchild of Sara Auty, a photographer and film-maker who decided she wanted to share her skills with under-represented groups and help them to work in an industry dominated by the middle and upper classes. Saz Media also provides commercial services, including wedding and brand photography, which help to fund the outreach work.

“Since the opening of our shop, we have supported some of the most vulnerable people in society such as those who have disabilities, mental illness or experience social isolation,” says Auty.

Other empty shops in the Merseyway have been let free of charge to groups doing good work, including the Stockport Disability Darts League, which combats social isolation by bringing together people with autism, PTSD, visual health impairment and mental health issues.

Helen Pidd

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Weston Art Space in a former shop in Weston-super-Mare. Photograph: Jess Hicks

‘It’s brought us together’: the arts space

Weston Artspace, High Street, Weston-super-Mare



In the Somerset seaside town of Weston-super-Mare, a former shop has been turned into a vibrant community arts space. Tom Spencer, the director of the arts organisation Terrestrial, said Weston was full of creative people, but for many years they had nowhere to gather. “They told us they did not have a place to meet, to make a mess, to make a noise.”

So, in January North Somerset council handed Terrestrial – a nomadic “town of culture” movement – the keys to what had been a clothing store, a rabbit warren of a building, much larger inside than it appears from the street. Terrestrial has made clever use of the high street shop, which has been renamed Weston Artspace. An old store room has been turned into a photography studio; the first floor flat is a messy area for artists; the top floor is for people to think and write. Downstairs, the main shop area hosts everything from talks by pensioners producing short films to dance workshops for people with addiction issues and spy adventures for children.

Karen Blake, an abstract artist, said the arts scene in Weston was given a boost by Banksy’s Dismaland, which appeared in the resort in 2015. The opening of the shop was another important step for what had been a disparate group of local artists. “It’s brought us together and made us feel more part of the community.”

Terrestrial has the building for a year, but hopes the people of Weston will continue to run it after that.

Steven Morris

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Chanelle Joseph and Dorcas Magbadelo, co-founders of Ilé la Wà.

‘We didn’t have to worry about high rents’: the black British gift boutique

Ilé La Wà, Hoe Street, Walthamstow, east London

This gift boutique on Central Parade in Walthamstow, London, once sold soap. Now it offers gifts inspired by African and black British culture, made by a collective of 15 black British designers.

Co-founders Chanelle Joseph and Dorcas Magbadelo had been looking for a home for their products – everything from jewellery to leather bags and baby clothes – but had been priced out of the market. Then they found Meanwhile Space. “It meant a lot that we could reach a wider range of customers without worrying about high rents,” says Magbadelo. Unsurprisingly, their unique offerings have been embraced by shoppers in the local community.

Daniel Lavelle