Beyond the Static Gallery: How V&A East’s ‘upperground’ is Redefining the Museum Experience

On a typical Thursday afternoon, the quiet hum of a museum is usually punctuated only by the soft footfalls of visitors and the hushed tones of curators. However, the upper ground floor of the V&A East has recently undergone a seismic shift, transforming into a vibrant, pulsating hub of club culture, experimental music, and community engagement. This metamorphosis is the result of upperground, a groundbreaking DJ residency launched this past August in direct conversation with the museum’s exhibition, The Music is Black: A British Story.

The initiative, which invites a rotating cast of DJs, selectors, and music practitioners to "activate" the museum’s upper ground space, represents more than just a series of performances. It is a bold experiment in institutional permeability, testing the boundaries of what happens when the rigid, often static nature of a gallery space collides with the kinetic, immersive energy of live club culture.

For those behind the scenes, the impact of the project has been immediate and palpable. One staff member involved in the coordination of the residency recalls a chance encounter that perfectly illustrated the series’ potential. While setting up for an upperground set, they ran into a university friend visiting the Why We Make galleries. What began as a casual visit evolved into a deeper connection; the friend, initially planning only a brief stop, was convinced to return for the evening set. That serendipitous meeting served as a microcosm of what upperground aims to achieve: proving that young people from across London are not only eager to engage with V&A East but are actively seeking a less formal, more dynamic relationship with the institution that extends well beyond the viewing of traditional exhibits.

The space itself—illuminated by floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a sweeping view of the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park—provides the perfect backdrop for this union. Stripped of the stuffiness often associated with heritage institutions, the area feels expansive and welcoming. Once the music begins and the crowds start to move, the traditional "gallery" atmosphere evaporates, replaced by a sense of shared discovery. By inviting the public into this space, V&A East is encouraging a dual form of connection: one with the music itself—which serves as a rich, sonic representation of Black diasporic creative production—and another with the people standing alongside them.

Each artist invited to the residency is granted significant creative agency. They are not merely performing; they are curating the environment, with the freedom to influence lighting, staging, and even supplemental activations. This approach was exemplified on the 13th of August, when the Black, queer DJ collective Polyjammeorus took command of the space. Their contribution went far beyond the turntable. Alongside a diverse, high-energy set that navigated through Afro tech, dancehall, amapiano, garage, and house, the collective organized a zine-making workshop. This session invited attendees to engage in a dialogue about the meaning of Black British music, effectively bridging the gap between passive listening and active intellectual engagement.

upperground is, at its core, a question directed at the institution itself: How can a museum be more open, more inviting, and more relevant to the youth, particularly Black and queer youth in the local area? By showcasing the breadth of Black talent currently defining the London music scene, and by offering these events as free, non-ticketed opportunities, the museum has successfully acted as a bridge between diverse demographics. People who might otherwise never cross the threshold of a museum are being unified by a shared love for music, movement, and the desire for genuine, like-minded community interaction.

For those coordinating the residency, the process has been a profound learning experience regarding the mechanics of representation. Interning at V&A East during this summer has offered a unique vantage point on what representation looks like in practice. It is not merely about hanging a picture or displaying an artifact; it is about championing untold and underacknowledged stories in ways that are both intellectually stimulating and cross-generationally applicable. As a young Black woman from the local area involved in the coordination, the importance of this work is personal. Serving as a facilitator for this kind of artistic expression highlights the power of institutions to act as platforms for the very communities they serve. This hands-on experience has prompted a wider reflection on the local cultural landscape and what might be possible if more institutions adopted this philosophy of open, community-led programming.

As a pilot series, upperground is inherently investigative. It is testing the public’s appetite for engaging with museum spaces in non-traditional ways and questioning whether a single institution can successfully hold such a vast range of musical histories and diasporic experiences while still respecting the individuality of each artist’s sound. It forces the museum to "decode" itself—to examine its own identity and interrogate who it is truly for. The presence of these "outsiders" as architects of the museum’s public programming acts as a mirror, revealing the institution’s strengths and identifying the gaps in its traditional engagement strategies.

Ultimately, the residency operates in a symbiotic relationship with the The Music is Black: A British Story exhibition. While the exhibition provides the historical and cultural context—the "textbook" if you will—of the multitudes of Black contributions to the global music scene, upperground provides the living, breathing, current iteration of those stories. It sets a stage for the continuation of these musical narratives, moving them out of the display case and into the future.

The residency’s success—evidenced by the crowds, the atmosphere, and the integration of workshops and performances—suggests that the experiment is paying off. It demonstrates that when a museum chooses to be porous, to let the outside in, and to trust artists to lead the way, it transforms from a static repository of the past into a vibrant, essential part of the present. The artists invited to the series, from those who opened the residency in early August to those who followed in the subsequent weeks, have all contributed to a growing body of evidence that the public is ready for a new kind of museum experience.

As the series continues to evolve, the questions it poses remain central to the future of cultural institutions. Can a museum serve as a dance floor? Can a gallery be a workshop for social discourse? Can the history of music be told not just through objects, but through the act of dancing, listening, and debating in a shared, public space? upperground suggests that the answer is not only yes, but that this evolution is essential for the long-term relevance of the museum in the 21st century. By prioritizing the voices of those who have historically been underrepresented, and by embracing the informal and the unexpected, V&A East is setting a new precedent. It is showing that when the doors are opened wide and the music is allowed to play, the museum ceases to be a place to visit and becomes, instead, a place to belong.