I was whisked into Concrete Breaks’ Communal Art-Expo and Rave on Oct. 23 by heavy bass thrumming under my feet and a crush of people bottlenecking behind me. Once through the doors, bright projections of cityscapes flashed to my right while a diverse array of prints and poetry lined the walls to my left. To the far end of the st. Laurent bar Barbossa, the density of event-goers increased until they formed a dancing mass, all crowded in front of one of the rave’s string of DJs.
Concrete Breaks is an offshoot of Nina Rossing, Matt Pindera, and Luke Pindera’s initial creative endeavour Pacific Breaks, “a grass-roots electronic music collective” in Vancouver, which similarly hosted a rave. According to their mission statement, Pacific Breaks aimed to “reinvigorate Vancouver’s rave scene with innovative, open-air events and cutting-edge sounds.”
Concrete Breaks wields much loftier goals, evident from its name, which strays from a specific place and instead describes a geographically universal breaking from stasis. In an interview with The Tribune, co-organizer Nina Rossing described the globality of this event, noting artists from Denmark to Toronto. The cosmopolitan nature of the expo aligns with one of its cardinal themes: Connection.
Another facet of the art-expo rave’s broader scope lies in its name, the event being an amalgam of many art forms, breaking beyond just sound. Concrete Breaks sent out a call for ‘All Medium/All Voices,’ the only directive being that pieces tackle the themes of dystopia, resistance and connection. This expansive breadth of forms came together at Barbossa to produce a mode of art that was completely novel.
The DJ’s beat shook the floor of the bar, causing the videos on the walls to fizzle at the edges while red rave lights cast prints on the wall in new shades. Each piece of art did not merely exist alone in the space, but instead all multiplied to form one new piece of which we were all a part.
Rossing reflected on what she and her team hoped to achieve through the event’s vast array of media.
“I think it’s just creating humanity. […] The beauty of being human and the beauty of art and of hope, and the power that it holds,” she said.
The night’s goal of humanity was achieved tenfold, with tables sprawled with pens and sticky notes for attendees to place their art alongside the selected artists, a gallery space loud not from music but from conversation, and a dancefloor bouncing beneath jigging bodies.
Concrete Breaks undertakes a return to humanity, especially imperative in our current zeitgeist. As society moves towards extremist radicalization, forging simple connections feels unreachable—people become friends with artificial intelligence or strangers on subreddits.
Rossing emphasized the importance of resisting such a world of alienation.
“We need to connect more, and with that, we become super powerful, and we can turn bad things into good things,” Rossing said.
Fellow organizer Luke Pindera similarly commented on the importance of the Concrete Breaks’ ideology in this moment. He told The Tribune in an interview that they “want to represent something positive amidst this […] world of chaos.”
Rossing, both Pinderas, the artists, and the attendees came together last Thursday to do just that: Create positivity and good. Everyone gathered, interacted, danced, and left feeling fuller than when they entered.
The defiant art exposition, alight with inspiration and connection, presents a fresh perspective on the importance of coming together and pushing towards resistance. As proclaimed by Pindera, Concrete Breaks goes beyond just a collective; he described it to The Tribune in terms of a way of life. In this fissured world, perhaps we should take up their mantle: Look down and see how we may break the concrete upon which we tread.
