I always saw you for what you could’ve been / And even when it’s business with you it’s personal again, croons Drake in the opening ballad to his grossly successful album, Views. The record, a reflection on relationships and a forlorn anthem of unrequited feelings, connected together by catchy rhythms, feels relatable. It feels important even if it doesn’t venture into the realm of grand political statements that other rappers seem to be traversing right now. Perhaps that’s why it feels so relatable. In a world torn apart by polarizing ideologies, this album gets back to the simple essences of the human experience. I appreciate rap as an art, though I do not find myself engaging with it as often as I’d like, so I was curious to see how I would feel attending such a visceral exhibition of not only art, but of fandom in the rap community.
The exhibit, an amalgam of art celebrating Drake’s Views album, was curated by Brianni Taylor. Previously, Taylor had curated the Life of Pablo exhibit here in New York City which was met with an outpouring of appraisal and support. In an interview with NYLON magazine, Taylor described the way in which art helps us discover more on the subject we are creating art about and how it helps foster a greater degree of intimacy between the artist and listener. She said, “It’s giving us the opportunity to peel back another layer of the artist’s persona, which ultimately makes us connect with them more.”
Outside of the event space was a line bustling with excitement. The crowd was here as a collective, to celebrate something they all had in common: Drake. At the door, a nice woman asked for my name. For a second, I worried that I wouldn’t be on the list, but alas, I was. And I could feel the eyes of passerbys on the street wondering what it was we were all doing there and whether or not they could get inside too. I didn’t blame them. The music, which sounded distant and murky from the outside, reverberated in time with colored lights, and looked both exciting and inviting.
Inside, art coverd the walls, as well as people’s bodies. Everyone came dressed for the occasion in what appeared to be completely personalized leather and denim. I was floored by how amazing some of the outfits were. The space, which was divided into sections, took the participant on a physical journey on the themes of Drake’s albums. From a wall that depicted him amidst biblical backgrounds to a “champagne room,” the exhibit encouraged everyone to move about it fluidly. Where art is seen as a medium that has been traditionally inaccessible, this exhibit thrives in its approachability. It was a night of celebration rather than one of critique. People interacted unapologetically, dancing and taking selfies next to all of the artwork.
I made the rounds, looking at all the pieces and moving to the beat of “Know Yourself”–a crowd favorite when it came on. At times I felt out of place, but I didn’t mind too much. This wasn’t an exhibit entirely meant for me and that’s okay. It was a place for a genre, sometimes marginalized, to obliterate any feelings of self-consciousness and to be unapologetic in its expression. A refreshing atmosphere in New York City. What I thought could feel like a haughty inspection of art and cultural dissection, felt like a gathering amongst friends, even those meeting for the first time. There was no shortages of “This is amazing!” uttered throughout.
If this exhibit proved anything, it’s that people see you, Drake, not for what you could have been but for what you are–and they are extremely appreciative of it. And personally, I can’t wait to see who Brianni Taylor will decide to showcase next.