Dancing in the dark: Is club photography really necessary?

Being in the club is one of the few times that your body is not hyper visible. The darkness becomes a cloak to wrap yourself in, to reveal parts of yourself that you would feel too uncomfortable or shy to reveal in the light. For people who feel uncomfortable with themselves or feel that their body is not accepted in daily life, this time when your body morphs into a mass of other bodies in a barely lit room can be vital.

That’s because the act of “going out” often extends beyond the desire to experience music on a Funktion-One and the chance to hear that new, unreleased Joy Orbison track, for example. Dancing has a healing and meditative quality; it provides a chance to momentarily let your body exhale from everything that exists outside of the club for a few hours. But when you add a camera, it changes the dynamic of a situation in which many people don’t want to be seen.

Documenting club experiences can be a positive thing – it’s natural to want a permanent reminder of a night. But the way in which that’s done can have an effect on other people. More often than not, documentation through photography can be an unnecessary imposition, whether via an official party photographer or personally by phone. Having the searing strength of a flashbulb cause you to see bright patterns in your vision shortly after is annoying at the best of times but when you are trying to dance in the dark, it becomes even more irritating.

The occasional personal photo taken away from the centre of the dancefloor can be a nice memento but should any photography be allowed at all? From monolith clubs such as Berghain to small, local nights like Rhythm Section, a “no photography” policy has been a key aspect to maintaining the vibe of the party. Phonox also explicitly asks ravers to avoid using phones or cameras to take pictures while in the club, with staff calling people out if they’re seen waving a bright screen in the air. While it may seem to some like a harsh stance to take, unnecessary photography is a central complaint from clubbers and the absence of cameras allows the audience as well as the DJ to feel more comfortable. It also stops the possibility of people going one step further and standing in front of the DJ booth with an iPad, which sounds ridiculous, but it does happen.

Club photography isn’t just a mild nuisance though – it carries different implications for different people. Official photographers can wander around a crowd and snap people in the moment without requesting their permission. Especially if you are undocumented or queer, these photos could cause a real impact on your life if used without permission and seen by people in the public domain. Being at a nightclub can provide a great amount of solace for closeted queer people and a rare chance to be themselves and if photos of them emerge, they could be outed to people they know without their consent.

However, if done respectfully, club photography can provide a beautiful documentation of queer nightlife. As Dalston Superstore co-owner Dan Beaumont says, club photography is a big part of queer nightlife in the UK’s capital “from dress-up parties to more ‘specialist’ events.” If you’ve made the effort to put together an amazing outfit you want to be widely seen, you might be seeking the camera in the darkness rather than hiding from it. But there are lots of gay parties that do choose to opt out, putting camera shy clubbers at ease. While Beaumont admits that it’s not his favourite thing personally, it’s sometimes unavoidable. “About 99 per cent of it is fucking awful, but maybe that 1 per cent makes it worth it – as long at the cameras stay away from me!” He makes a salient point that in the decline of physically-produced memories such as membership cards and flyers to take home with you, photos are often a sole reminder of the night you’ve had.

Promoter of a night that does still trade in membership cards, Bradley Zero also feels unfavourable about the idea of a camera being present on a personal level, mentioning that he hates a photographer being in his face for more than a few seconds. “Too many places rely on good photos above good memories,” he says, talking more generally, “big flashes, constant snapping - kills me.” Again, it’s a matter of respect and there are ways to be more subtle which ensure that everyone feels happy and relaxed. Zero mentions that Berlin party African Acid Is The Future hands out disposable cameras which makes for a more casual and also interactive and consensual approach that he loves. They’ve even previously organised an exhibition to show photos that have been taken from the night. Involving clubbers in the act of photography in a way that doesn’t involve using their phones or obstructive flash is something that would be great to see more promoters initiate, making it a fun addition to the party rather than a nuisance that’s unwelcome.

However, it’s banned completely at Rhythm Section parties, encouraging people to be present in the moment. If you’ve been to a RS party, you might be familiar with team members dipping the music down and using the microphone to tell people to stop taking photos in a polite way. It’s a rare occurrence though as people are generally very on board with photography not being a feature of the party. Sometimes it doesn’t need to be as explicit as putting stickers on the back of phones or confiscating devices in order to achieve this, with smaller parties you can relay that is the vibe and personally enforce it if people decide to go against that.

Much in the same way that you might occasionally catch someone sketching someone’s portrait from across the room while sitting in a cafe or a bar, personal drawn artistry can exist in the club space as well. Artist Felix Scheinberger goes to Berlin’s fetish clubs and often takes his sketchbook with him to recreate some of the scenes that can’t be permanently captured otherwise. It’s a much more time consuming way of creating memories but it turns those experiences into physical art that clubbers could potentially own prints of as well as visit in an exhibition capacity. Unsound festival also issued illustrations of performances in place of photography when it banned cameras from its events a few years ago. However, this isn't a widespread sustainable alternative to club photography.

Documenting a night has surged in popularity, with raves captured through the lens of Snapchat, Instagram and even Facebook live streams. This can have a negative effect on other people’s nights out, especially if you are constantly leaning over someone to take photos of their favourite DJ or making everyone move out of the way so you can take a group photo in the middle of the dancefloor. If done subtly and sparingly though, you get to keep a memory while also being respectful of those around you.

“No photography” rules at club nights are clearly working and contributing to the vibe and it’s a massive draw if you’re looking for a party that gives you a sense of privacy. It’s not one-policy-fits-all though and photography has its place in the right context and with sensitivity. Looking for different ways to involve the clubber in documentation such as handing out disposable cameras, having someone sketch their form or non-visual mementos is something that more clubs and promoters could be actively thinking about. In the absence of photography, people would be allowed to get creative and find new ways to make memories that last just as long as any iPhone image.

Aurora Mitchell is a freelance journalist and regular contributor to Mixmag. Follow her on Twitter