I went to Eddie Peake’s opening of Concrete Pitch a couple of weeks back in the White Cube. I was meeting some of my friends at the gallery who had got there before me. They had pre warned me that there was a huge queue to get into the exhibition but I didn’t half expect to see this volume of people eagerly awaiting to get entry. As I joined the back of the line, I noticed that nearly everyone had a bottle of beer in their hands and/or a cigarette, and were either talking to the person in front of them or had formed mini social groups within the queue. There was a real buzz. After waiting in for around 45 minutes I got into the gallery to be greeted by my friend screaming that she had just brushed past Tracey Emin.
A pink hue flooded the entire room which was filled with a swarm of people. Peake himself was visible from behind a window in a constructed DJ booth alongside DJs from Kool London, broadcasting an underground oldskool jungle and drum and bass sound. The music and atmosphere had everyone with their hands in the air dancing. As I found myself in the middle of this mosh-pit of people I felt this feeling of euphoria. It was a transformative experience. It wasn’t the gallery. Not the artworks, not the artist. It was the people. It was the feeling of belonging, with collective group of people from all different walks of life with one common interest. Even the title of ‘Concrete Pitch’ implies an underground belonging, with a pitch being associated with a team game, where every individual needs an other to win.
I felt a sense of community.