I went To Pete Doherty's Private Art Show

It’d been a fortnight since me and Pete Doherty hung out in his shop, enjoying reggae in silence and having jilted conversations about the Libertines. I thought that him politely asking me to leave would be the end of our brief tryst, but a week later, Noisey received an invite to his gallery opening. I couldn’t turn down an opportunity to see his latest artistic endeavours and there was even going to be a DJ set by ‘Shambles guitarist Mik Whitnall, the Tiesto of the quad-vod indie disco. So on Tuesday night I got on the Northern Line, plugged in my fake Beats headphones, loaded up my incomplete Babyshambles playlist and started thinking about what to expect from Doherty the artiste. Was I about witness further adventures in blackened blood or would Pete move on to other mediums? Dandruff? Cyst juice? Crayola?

When I arrived at the Camden gallery where the show was taking place I was greeted with gin in teacups and cupcakes. Babyshambles obsession with this Bill Sykes’ version of British culture always confused me and the vibe in here felt more suited to the opening night of a Victorian burlesque show than a junkie’s art show. The art, however, definitely felt like it belonged in a junkie’s art show. Semi-decent pictures had random letters and shapes spray-printed over them, reminding me of the time my little sister wrote all over my GCSE art book and then I pretended that was the direction I was going for. These art-farts were helpfully collected on an A5 poster for everyone to take home, a helpful note at the bottom telling people that the images were not to scale, just in case you thought the pictures on the wall were massively enlarged canvas prints and you were taking home the originals.

This was one of my favourite pieces. Part Orientalist abstract, part "I've Met The Met" primary school sticker.

In the middle of the masterpieces was a desk with a sign on it reading “Pete’s Collections”. Laid out on the desk was a picture of a Chinese lady, his tobacco tins and a load of spoons. This seemed like a pop-up version of the shop I visited, Pete transforming found objects into art and challenging our own conceptions of property and performance. Perhaps. The main draw of the night was an appearance from Doherty himself. The semi-coherent musician and failed Ghostbuster had promised to talk us through his work so the crowd were anxious when the classic reggae and deep rock n’ roll cuts are cut short as Suzi Martin, co-owner of Pete’s Rag N Bone shop and my biggest fan calls everyone to attention. “Let’s all remember that Pete is an artist first and foremost and as such being an artist he just can’t work to a normal schedule.” Oh I’ve heard that one before. Pretty sure that’s how Rachel Whiteread gets out of doing risk assessments.

Nobody else there seems that upset about the no show, perhaps because they’d left their notions of Pete and punctuality at the door. Once Suzi has made the speech about Pete being “an artist” and reiterated about four times that “he’s working really hard right now”, a whiteboard is put up to provide “special messages” for our absentee host. I write my own message to Pete reminding him to stay happy. Others offer verbatim quotes of Libertine lyrics and dry wit like “Petey, get a watch”. I half expect hiim to jump out of nowhere and surprise everyone with an impromptu song, but that doesn’t happen. Disappointed by his absence and shocked at the realisation that free gin didn’t also mean unlimited gin, I took to the streets to find out why people still care about Pete.

I’d seen an older woman earlier at the gallery and had assumed that she was a Doherty relative, I decided to chase her down Camden High Street for a chat. It turned out she was your typical Doherty fan but she still let me in on why she was still following him after the constant no shows. Noisey: Did you enjoy it?
Margret: Well he didn’t turn up.

Are you going back tomorrow?
Yeah, if he’s going to be there.

Have you met him before?
I’ve lost count, I go to all the small gigs that he does. I used to go to the Tap N’ Tin gigs.

So you’re a fan?
A big big fan.

Why?
I love his music; I think he’s got a really good voice. Since 2006 I’ve been going to see him, he blows me away when I see him. But when he’s shit he’s really shit.

After talking to Margret, I wanted to get the perspective from some of the teens that were loitering outside the gallery, considering that they would have just turned eleven when Pete was at his peak (and buy peak, I of course mean stealing from his bandmate's flat and heavily addicted to heroin). I was interested to find out why they were still captivated by him.

I met Jack and his posse, who were more than happy to tell me why, through all the disappointment, they’d stay loyal to Pete.

Noisey: What do you like so much about Pete?
Jack: His smell, he smells beautiful. It’s like old rusty tobacco tins, it’s beautiful.
David: And rich mahogany.
Niamh: And gin and teacups..

Did you write a message to him?
Jack: I’ve written Pete get a watch, love Jack!

Are you upset that he didn’t turn up?
Jack: He will though, I reckon. He’ll just be very late.

Why do you think he’s very late?
Jack: Because he can be. He doesn’t have to be.
Niamh: He doesn’t need to worry about his reputation, it’s already there.

When was your first exposure to Pete?
Jack: Mine was about a year ago.
Chloe: I have a Pete shrine.

At this point a fight broke out between two of the bar staff from the gallery. I imagine they'd both put a blind bid on his collection of spoons, only to discover they'd been withdrawn from sale. Niamh: This is what happens when Pete comes late.

Are you drawn to Pete’s crazy lifestyle?
Chloe: I think so, it’s the bad boy image.

If Pete was here right now, what would you do/say to him?
Jack: I’d go to the corner store, buy a pack of crayons and then give it to him.

Um, why?
Jack: Uhh, just to make him happy. Who doesn’t want a pack of crayons?
David: I’d try not to mega-fan him and I’d just be his friend.
Chloe: I don’t know if I could play it cool.

Meeting Carl would be like second best though, amirite?
David: Yeah, yeah we all know it.
Jack: Carl’s easier to talk to; he’s just a normal guy.

Do you think Pete gets a lot of bad press?
Niamh: I hate that he was known as Kate Moss’s druggy boyfriend for four years.

If you were Pete what would you do now with your life?
Niamh: I’d live it, just be Pete.
David: I’d just be happy with the fact that I’m very talented at poetry and then I’d make a No1.
Niamh: Just come to Camden and meet his fans.
Jack: Cause we’re just waiting here.

Have you bought anything?
David: I bought his ashtray for £20! It was a very nice ashtray though.

What other bands do you guys like?
Jack: There’s a band called The Libertines, Babyshambles… Dirty Pretty Things, I don’t really know any other bands.

And on that bombshell I stuffed my pockets with some free cupcakes leftover from the gallery and ran off into the night, but not before loading up my Babyshambles playlist and writing Pete one last drunken message.

Read about the time Dan actually met Pete.

Pete Doherty Locked Me In His Shop