Those who keep abreast of the art world may have noticed that a huge retrospective by Tracey Emin opens this week at Tate Modern. The ‘private view’ – words that might suggest civility and, well, privacy, in a gallery where everyone can see the works of art with a glass of wine in one hand – took place on Wednesday. Rakewell was honoured to be invited, but also fascinated that the tight curation seemed to apply not only to the works of art but also to the night as a whole. Rakewell felt sure that something was up when, fewer than five minutes after the official start time, the queue for entry snaked around three sides of the building. It has been some time since your correspondent last queued up outside a former power station for a party, and even longer since they saw Jools Holland walking the length of the queue, a look of despair upon his face as he considered just how long it might take to get in. The editor of the Independent, Geordie Greig, hardly looked much happier.
Inside the millennial temple to art, the crowds barely subsided. Perhaps the only good thing about squeezing through the jam-packed rooms of the exhibition was the sight of the singer Nick Cave, who stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd and was therefore able to look, unimpeded, at the assortment of letters, Polaroids and blankets. Or if you prefer, a view of David Furnish, Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran and Bianca Jagger all strutting their stuff, with society photographer Dafydd Jones snapping away.
In fact, the only 21st-century aspect to the evening seemed to be when a security guard prevented a rabble-rouser from leaving the mezzanine across the Turbine Hall with a drink in his hand. Rakewell could only look on with a twinge of 20th-century sorrow.
But what really confirmed the recreation of London in all its YBA pomp was the sight of Jay Jopling standing near a selection of Emin’s bronzes, chatting to the great and the good as if he were in full flow at White Cube. While Emin has been painting her way through cancer and lost love, Tate seems to have decided that the way to cheer everyone up in these difficult times is to bring back the ’90s. Things really can only get better.
