https://clubbing2020.cargo.site CalArts Clubbing 2020 Mon, 16 Aug 2021 19:31:28 +0000 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site en https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Main Mon, 26 Jul 2021 18:02:53 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Main CLUBBING 2020︎About︎Guest Speakers ︎COVID Clubbing Archive fia benitez[poem + interviews]ashlee dance Back That Azz Up!taylor donofrio Dancing On Our Own alexsa durrans 'Un-Archivable' Spaces in Los Angeles madison hicks “One” Night Only livya howard-yashar The Floor Improv Night—A New Kind of Clubbingcaitlin javech Clubbing &amp; Wellness robert kelley8:45 PM jobel medinaFriday christian mejia Ashes to Ashes, Glitter to Gold ica sadagat Object Permanence simmons The Creek House a.c. smith The Politics of Group Sex https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Fi-a-Benitez Mon, 26 Jul 2021 18:17:10 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Fi-a-Benitez CLUBBING 2020 fia benitez [poem + interviews] Can DyWarehouseTech Nodungeon lick ing stickers one per [pw?] swa pping heattech name is =ghost?-ed three somestory(Freedom) pushes pop Pers green- room noyou NO Ur [room] or rise &amp; raise yr ( ) WIN kinG[wind oh gLove(d) an img. UN/re: Solved]sighedbyeside– by–breakfastbeee eetleBotttledseaSicksun setspiralLimbsnuMb L aced w/ RotTTTTTT tenPrayers culpty(near-no diZZySeaReal: bodys0aK Interview credit: Thank you to Jo Simon, Rikki Pillon, Caleb Craig. https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Ashlee-Dance Mon, 26 Jul 2021 19:55:13 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Ashlee-Dance CLUBBING 2020 ashlee&nbsp;dance back that azz up! For as long as I can remember, I have undoubtedly been immersed in cultural experiences unique to black people. My parents conceived me during their prime nightlife years, while they were both in undergrad at the HBCU known as Elizabeth City State University. Although this university sat in a small rural town, it carried an undeniably booming reputation of gym jams and late night parties. I specifically recall when I was about 8 years old, my parents took me to what's known as a step show concert. These concerts existed so that Historically Black Greek Lettered Organizations (HBGLOs) could perform their strolls and step routines in front of the entire school. Even as a child, I could recognize the importance of witnessing black people exist in a space meant for them. Both women and men were dressed to impress. Women eagerly strutting around in their most revealing outfits. While the men hung back and eyeballed the eager women. My mom would even dress me up, this time I had on a jean bodysuit and some black leather boots. The evening always began with waiting in line to hand in your ticket to the people at the front door of this large gymnasium. Once you finally got through those doors, the strong aroma of what I now know was weed, smacked you in the face as you pushed through the crowd to make your way to your seats. The next thing you notice is that your hearing is suddenly snatched from you as the bass from the music fills both of your ears. Now all you can rely on is reading mouths and directional points to help convey where to go as we continue to make our way to the seats. When we finally get there, we have a chance to sit down, stand up, or dance as they played&nbsp;the hottest songs mixed with late 90’s hip hop jams. The air was thick and smokey, the crowd was young and hype, it felt like anything was possible in that moment. Suddenly, the lights go out and the crowd goes wild. “Whats up ECSU, are y'all ready for the show!”, was screamed into the DJ’s microphone. The strobe lights followed shortly after their introduction. The next thing I know we are watching sorority girls and fraternity men dance, step, and completely parody skits on a stage. The music was beyond loud, the crowd hyped up every single move, and the DJ assisted in the evening of entertainment. After the last act had gone, they began quickly preparing the stage for the aftershow concert, which was more like a party. My mom did not let me stay for the afterparty until I became older. The afterparty was when the grown folks started really acting like grown folks. When the grinding, weed smoking, and drinking got bumped up to the next level. Needless to say, i'm not a newcomer to the nightlife scene. At a young age I was introduced to a uniquely black experience that ultimately shaped how I currently view the black clubbing experience. Throughout history, black people have created secure communal spaces that have allowed them to amplify their blackness without judgement. The trends, music, and dances that took place in these settings, ultimately contributed if not shifted the American culture. When interviewing Dr. Stephanie Dance-Barnes, she explained that her first recollection of a clubbing experience was when she was younger and her family would throw these cookouts that lasted until early in the morning. She says “there would be music playing from indoors that you could hear all the way outside. My entire family would dance in the living room with their wine coolers and cigarettes”. Although what felt like our “first” black clubbing experience was an informal introduction, it is a shared black experience nonetheless. It is deeply rooted in us as we grow and experience other modes of nightlife. This paper is meant to highlight black&nbsp;experiences and more specifically black clubbing endeavors, as they can range from backyard family barbeques to sleepless nights in Hell's Kitchen. My fascination with understanding a uniquely black experience began for me at a young age, and here I am trying to expand upon these feelings and thoughts as they’ve remained in my mind for all these years. I suppose this story really begins during the Harlem Renaissance. Which is the earliest I could find of black people gathering in a club like setting. I am certain that African Americans have gathered socially throughout the span of history. However, it has proven to be difficult to find specifics on events such as that. Even as we look past the Harlem Renaissance into the 90’s, it is a challenging topic to find the necessary information. I only mention its difficulty because I feel it speaks volumes to the root of what this paper is about. Furthermore, the Harlem Renaissance was an artist and professional time of development for the African American community. Although this movement is labelled the Harlem Renaissance, it is not bound to New York, this was expanded across other major cities such as Washington DC, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Los Angeles. However, Harlem was a desired nightlife destination.The creation of the Harlem Renaissance came about due to the overwhelming need for black people to create spaces that were strictly designated for them. Although I am sure these spaces existed pre-renaissance, it is interesting to point out how difficult it is to research outlets for African Americans before that time. This was a notable time for literature, visual art, poetry, and inventions within the black community. During this time African Americans did not have much of a voice in these many areas of overall American culture. Therefore, they felt compelled to share their crafts within the comfort of their own communities and people. The map above displays the layout of Harlem NY during the Harlem Renaissance, and it shows a route to the different clubs being hosted or utilized by black bodies during this time. “Thanks to an animated map acquired by Yale’s Rare Book and Manuscript Library, we can get a sense of the vibrant nightlife of Harlem during this time in history (h/t Slate). This original pen-and-brush map was drawn by Elmer Simms Campbell, one of the first commercially successful, and syndicated, African-American cartoonists in the country. The map faces southwest, bound by 110th Street, and highlights the main attractions on Lenox and Seventh Avenues.” (Gannon, 2017). This map had helpful information and hints drawn on it. It allowed participants to figure out the hottest spots, which places were open all night, and the various speakeasies. It also highlights one of the most famous landmarks of the time, which was the Cotton Club. The Cotton Club was a space that featured mostly black music entertainers. This establishment was meant to grant space for black artists and black patrons of art, as they specifically limited the&nbsp;number of white audience members. Much like urban clubs today, The Cotton Club and other nightclubs in the 1930’s were meant to be a source of entertainment, trend setting, and innovation amongst the black community. The newest dances, songs, and fashions were just as important then as they have been throughout black history. Many of the trends that have swept the nation over the years were oftentimes originated within the black community, which were shared experiences in these spaces. As we move past the 1930’s into other decades and eras, we find that the fashion, music, and social behaviors may transform, however, the idea of having uniquely black spaces amongst the whiteness of America persisted. In the 50’s and 60’s jazz night clubs continued to be a popular destination for all people. Also, the emergence of rock and roll and country music added to the range of emotions that were being felt during those times. And as we know, music was a driving force of the culture. The type of music being played often drove the type of stylized dances that would occur or would influence the type of clothing that would be worn. This seems to be a condition of how trend setting in American works. As it pertains to popular dances, many of them were generated within black spaces and would again be taken from the African American and Latina communities and placed in white spaces, which ultimately was the way in which dance moves became commercialized. This trend of stealing from black and brown communities without giving props where props are due, is a trend that has remained through the course of time. As exemplified in the commentary below this photo, this is documentation of black people enjoying the likes of other black peoples space, time, and energy. The carefree energy being displayed by these black women, captured in the above photo is energy that I would argue can only be found within spaces such as this. The idea of being unbothered, untamed, and unharmed in a society that wants nothing more than to see the average black person suffer, bothered, and contained, is the root of understanding the importance of these particular spaces over time. As we enter into the 70’s we begin to engage in an era far different from the ones we've previously encountered. The 70’s in a general sense feels like the rebirth of a nation to me. Whenever this time period is discussed, politically it is hands down one of the most influential times that America has ever seen (much like the times we are currently living in). For the black community&nbsp;we were obviously still fighting injustices and inequalities of our own. And in the world the amount of protest happening around the Americas against the Vietnam War was quite astounding. This was a time where Americans began truly rebelling through their arts professions, crafts, and social endeavours. It was no longer about satisfying the white man, it had become quite the opposite agenda of pushing for the unspoken for and the unheard. For the culture, this meant embracing “out of the bo” as much as you could. For the black culture in the 70’s, a lot of the major cities were embracing house music and house styles of dancing as well as disco of course. House music influenced much of the black clubbing scene, in particular that black queer clubbing scene. “Throwing together and exploring the depths of vinyl disco, jazz and hip-hop, these Black icons paved a path of auditory experimentation. Greats like Levan and Knuckles transformed the Black and queer dance scene into a raw and entrancing club experience. Innovative exploration with beat-matching, drum machines, vocal edits, and other early DJ techniques set the Black house music scene apart from its disco roots. Overcoming the limitations of 1980’s DJ equipment, they engineered complex and avante-garde soundscapes, with roots in soul and disco.” (Taylor, 2020). The early 1970’s is when Soul Train began to air on the television featuring Don Cornelieus. The idea of a “soul train line” is indicative to black people. Soul train line goes back to Dr. Stephanie Dance-Barnes and her experiences with black gatherings. It was an activity that was specific to the black experience, whether you realized you were having that experience or not. It consisted of making two lines horizontally facing each other, and one by one or two by two jumping in between these lines to demonstrate the newest dance moves to the hottest hits at the time. Therefore, this sort of black activity being displayed on television was a new gift to the black community because it gave us something to look forward to. And to know that we would see others who were in a safe black space, expressing&nbsp;themselves with no regrets was also a major component in the specialness that was felt with the tv series. During the 70’s we were also seeing more freedom and drugs within clubs; including black clubs. Which has always been interesting to me considering the infamous president Nixon declaration of the “war on drugs”. Which historically overwhelmingly impacted the black community's economic structure, more so than it had already been tampered with over the course of generations. However, heavy drugs such as cocaine and quaaludes seem to take over the nightlife scene, including the spaces that housed the black community. It seems as though in the 70’s there is an outwardness to the rebellious substances and materials in which were being consumed. Instead of hiding the drug use as I'm sure they had done for decades, it was now about the government knowing the extent of the drug use and people getting away with this level of rebellion. As discussed previously, the trends set in the nightlife settings especially amongst the black community tended to follow and held weight amongst other communities. I do believe drugs during this time were more heavily abused by white audiences but there are no statistics that can ground my beliefs. The clothing becomes more provocative, the hair becomes bigger and less tamed, and the music certainly more liberating than music previously had been. In the 1970’s we were also truly entering into the era of hip-hop music and culture. In my opinion the 70’s felt as transformative to American and black culture as the 90’s feel. As we begin to transition into the 80’s and 90’s the energy shifts into more of a hip-hop, music driven nightlife scene. Dr. Shon Barnes explains in a verbal interview that “hip-hop had only been around for less than 20 years. Hip-Hop music in clubs was the way at this time for artists to gain popularity and get their music heard”. He also expressed to me that for a long time hip-hop was essentially about the needs and sounds of the DJ. Although in previous years music has clearly always been a notable factor in the success of clubs and specifically black artists' influence of the type music&nbsp;being played, it seems as though in the 80’s and 90’s it became more exclusive. In my opinion, it is due to the fact that hip-hop was in its birthing stage, which made it a hard genre to replicate by white people. Therefore, it was hard to steal and difficult to claim if you did not possess the passion or knowledge for this new musical phenomenon. By the 90’s it seems as though the black community has begun to unapologetically make room for themselves, to be exclusively for themselves. There was now a genre of music that was nearly impossible at that time to replicate and they had become more confidently stylized in their fashion trends. It almost seemed as though they were generating a huge “F*ck you” to white american society and starting to march to their own drum beat while creating events and clubs specifically for them. The majority of the fashion trends embraced by the black community and others in the 90’s, have now resurfaced in the late 2000’s and are being worn by every young person who desires to look as such. Now more than ever, the black clubs were heavily influenced by the music being made within our communities. A multitude of genres such as reggae, hip-hop, neo-soul, and r&amp;b began to play strategically throughout the nights. The time was not only for dancing and sweating in the club, but hip-hop was such an integral part of the club and required close attention to the lyricism that the music was also geared towards deciphering the lyrics. However, in the 90’s there was also music that simply needed your butt in the air and your hands on your knees. They began making music specifically to “twerk” or to “grind” to. Over the years, many of these songs have become classics within the hip-hop clubbing community, and are considered necessities in order to have a good time. According to VH1, here is a list of must have 90’s hip-hop songs in the club: California Love- Tupac ft Dr. Dre Nuthin But A G Thang- Dr. Dre ft. Snoop Dogg Mo Money Mo Problems- Notorious B.I.G ft Puff Daddy Gin and Juice- Snoop Dogg Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Can See- Busta Rhymes Gangsta Paradise- Coolio ft LV Baby Got Back- Sir Mix-A-lot Mama Said Knock You Out- LL Cool J U Cant Touch This- MC Hammer C.R.E.A.M- Wu Tang Clan Make em Say Uhh- Master P The Choice is Your- Black Sheep Ruff Ryder- DMX Whatta Man- Salt n Pepa ft. En Vouge Summertime- DJ Jazzy Jeff &amp; The Fresh Prince Back That Than Up- Juvenile There are most certainly many more songs that could be added to this list of must haves. But I have provided this list to help provide examples of range as well as a hint of nostalgia. According to my interview subjects, “there was nothing like what we were experiencing, it was even new to us. We were a part of a revolution and did not even realize it”. For that to be a statement of a black club go-er in the 90’s and early 2000’s, it seems fair to say exclaim that the evolution of music and what that did for black people was historically legendary; unlike any other. As we examine what clubbing has become for black patreons, it is fair to say that we certainly do not have the luxury of being a part of many music revolutions nor are we the first at any major clubbing breakthrough. The urban or hip-hop clubbing experience now makes me feel like I am a part of a show. It has become all about the appearance and less of the special experiences that are held within these spaces. I find myself enjoying my nights more when I attend lesbian or queer night life events, because it feels like less of a show and more of a form of escapism. However, hip-hop clubs and majority black spaces, still house experiences specific to only African Americans. It is the type of experience that is guaranteed to make you feel welcomed, immersed, and showered in all things black. From the DJ booth to the bar, you will encounter situations that are uniquely discovered in those types of spaces. For example, when you hear the introduction of the famous song Dreams and Nightmares by Meek Mill, you&nbsp;immediately know that everyone screams all of the lyrics, there will be pushing and shoving to evoke emotion, and the entire club will actively participate in this massive karaoke experience. Or when you hear the song Swag Surf, there is a one hundred percent chance that you will be linking arms with another sweaty human just as drunk as you are. After you link arms you are guaranteed to begin rocking back and forth for the duration of the song, singing “now I swag, I surf, I swag, I surf”.. Until you cannot take anymore joint dancing and singing. It is my opinion that black clubbing experiences are made and not forced. These experiences for most of us begin at an early age in scenarios that most wouldn't consider a clubbing experience. But the atmosphere that we are able to create for pleasure and that we’ve been made to create for our safety in self expression, is unique to our history and culture. Black people have been trend setter, content creators, and boundary pushers throughout history. And when given the opportunity we will ensure there is a space where we can be unapologetically black whilst experiencing each other's presence. Here is a prime example of the Swag Surf song experience. References “During Prohibiti on, Harlem Night Clubs Kept the Party Going.” National Geographic&nbsp;News, 4 Apr.&nbsp;2017,&nbsp;www.nationalgeographic.com/news/2017/03/prohibition-harlem-night-clubs-maps/#close GANNON, DEVIN. “1932 Map Illustrates a Vibrant Nightlife during the Harlem&nbsp;Renaissance.”&nbsp;Www.6sqft.Com, 5 May 2017, Taylor, Grace. “A Brief History of House Music: Diving Into The&nbsp;1970’s Black Disco&nbsp;Scene.” Respect&nbsp;My Region, 18 June&nbsp;2020,&nbsp;www.respectmyregion.com/history-of-house-music-black-disco-scene. https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Taylor-Donofrio Mon, 16 Aug 2021 19:31:28 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Taylor-Donofrio CLUBBING 2020 taylor donofrio dancing on our own:&nbsp;nightlife during the pandemic and it’s significance Since March of 2020, we have experienced an unsettling new world due to the COVID 19 Pandemic. Businesses have been vacated, public spaces abandoned, and the nightlife industry fell to it’s knees. A once vibrant and active night playground of DJ’s, dark rooms, and dancing, quickly turned to a mandate to stay indoors and out of the public, leaving popular nightclub venues completely empty. At a time where depression, fear, and sickness began to consume our every day lives, the need for an outlet to express our growing anxiety became a necessity. Over the past 10 months the nightlife industry quickly found innovative ways to bring these clubbing experiences back to the people, offering connection, expression, and escape from a world that has felt unrecognizable to us all. For decades, nightclubbing has been a symbolic channel for people of all backgrounds to cope with their everyday lives and to explore and embrace who they are. As Micah Salkind, author of Do you remember House?: Chicago’s Queer of Color Undergrounds, writes in regards to his experience of feeling “small” as he was growing up, “house music spaces, even those I danced in prior to my time in Chicago, have allowed me to feel safe enough to practice shedding this habitual embodied retreat.” (Salkind, 2019, p. 224) Micah, like many others have used clubbing environments to explore parts of themselves they are used to hiding in everyday society, due to being ostracized because of race and/or gender. Nightlife offers a space to express a part of yourself that can only come out at night. Author Madison Moore speaks further about this nightlife culture specifically when discussing Sociologist David Grazian’s theory of&nbsp;the “nocturnal self.” Moore explains: “We fabricate a special night body so we can feel the difference between what we have to do during the day and what we choose to do at night, ultimately the difference between work and play.” (Moore, 2018, p. 94) Our desire and need to let loose, forget about our daily lives, in a darkened music driven room, has been an integral part of our culture, and when the pandemic hit, no one was sure where we would be able to go to find this safe space. Through this pandemic, our need for refuge is at an all time high as our stress and anxiety reaches new heights. Debbie Plotnick, Vice President of Federal and State Advocacy at Mental Health America discusses MHA’s mental health screen program and explains: The number of people coming to the MHA's Online Screening Program showed what we’re all feeling, that we’re increasingly anxious and depressed. In late February through March, the number of people taking screens rose by 18%-22%. And the screening results for the 2,500 screeners were much more likely to be in the severe range than we’ve previously seen. (Plotnick, 2020)This stress and depression that so many are feeling will not be dissipating any time soon as the pandemic has stretched over 10 months and will continue on through 2021. This continued stress needs attention in order for our communities to be able to rise to a place of health and mental stability. As Plotnick further describes: “When the waves of people needing acute care from the pandemic subsides, there will be the need for additional help with grief (over lost loved ones, livelihoods, and way of life and untold numbers of people will show the effects of traumatic stress.” (Plotnick, 2020) Not only are our communities experiencing a heightened stress due to the pandemic, but they are also being forced to stay indoors which has caused it’s own issues. As institutions such a yoga studios, gyms, and dance clubs have closed, physical activity has decreased and isn’t readily available. At a time when physical activity could help aid in illness prevention, our communities are struggling to find alternatives to their normal physical routines. Being physically active has important mental health benefits and encouraging peopleto be active could help many cope with ongoing stress and avoid psychological ill-health. Each session of physical activity reduces symptoms of depression and anxiety, so being active every day can be a partial antidote to the stress of the pandemic.(Sallis, Pratt, 2020) The need for initiatives for physical and mental health has become a necessity in order for us as a society to endure the affects of this pandemic. Though not your normal prescription for mental and physical health, it’s at this time that clubbing can be our medicine. Not only has night clubbing historically offered a platform for release of daily life and stress as previously mentioned, but it also offers a place to be physical active. Being able to dance and move to the beat without judgement, vibing off the energy of others, has led to a workout unlike any other and even has been replicated in recent fitness trends. Without this clubbing space to express our physical and mental needs, as a society we are feeling stressed, constrained, and detached. Luckily the nightlife industry and their artists saw this gap and need and decided to take charge in it’s initiative to bring nightclubs to the people and their homes. In March 2020, United We Stream was built in response to COVID-19 and the closures of night clubs in Berlin. Created by a Berlin based organization, Berlin Club Commission, United We Stream brought together&nbsp;DJ’s from around the world to stream DJ sets for free to the public each night. As they began in Berlin, they soon expanded globally and are now have streaming events in 96 cities with 2158 artists. Within each live streaming event, the public is encouraged to donate to the platform which raises funds for these DJs, clubs, and nightclub artists. “After just two weeks, the site attracted 5 million viewers from across the world and nearly half a million dollars' worth of donations.” (Schmitz, 2020, p.1) Not only did United We Stream fundraise to support the nightlife workers in need, but it also gave an outlet to the thousands of club goers who were suddenly lost without their clubs, a place that many people call home. Offering a place for club goers to gather virtually to listen to their favorite DJ’s from the space that they used to frequent, has given some hope during this difficult time. As one club goer, Lars Schott, mentioned: “I share my experience with other friends..for example, in Frankfurt or in Hamburg, and they have the same music on. We drink a beer together and chat via Zoom.” (Schmitz, 2020) Initiatives like United We Stream not only helps club-goers to feel more connected, but it also keeps DJs at work and tending to what they do best, gathering crowds and creating an energy that is only specific to that of a club. Within this pandemic many DJ’s asked themselves if the experience would be the same. DJ Louie XIV spoke about his experience DJ-ing during the Pandemic for the first time: I’ve always considered DJ-ing to be a fundamentally live experience, a magical communion experienced with a crowd of autonomous bodies who coalesce into one singing, dancing mass. The notion of DJ-ing alone in my small Brooklyn apartment felt antithetical to everything I love about my work. (Louie XIV, 2020)As Louie XIV prepared to go virtual for the first time with his DJ set on Instagram, he started to receive texts of joy from his family, friends, and acquaintances near and far. What he thought would be a poor substitute for the real thing, the virtual DJ set became a highlight for him and his audience during a time that felt lonely and anxiety filled. “About an hour into my set, I realized it was there: the magical communion, appearing out of nowhere just like it does live.” Louix XIV explained. Texts and heart emojis filled his instagram screen as he played songs that were specific to the isolating times such as Robyn’s “Dancing on my own”. The significance of his virtual DJ set became clear, “The comments rolled in: “Thank you so much for this”; “I’m crying. I don’t know why!” I started to cry too. I felt a deep closeness to the people in that feed, the ethereal intimacy of a shared musical experience—even from a physical distance.” (Louie XIV, 2020) Although DJ Louie XIV was skeptical at first on how successful it would be, he soon found an intimacy and shared experience that he didn’t think was possible in the virtual space. Not only can DJs feel the gratitude that their audiences are experiencing when being able to virtually connect, but they are also able to feel the impact that virtual clubbing has offered during this challenging time. DJ Zeke Thomas speaks about his experience DJ-ing during the pandemic, “My sister has corona, and I realized DJ-ing on Instagram was a way for my family to connect around her and dance with each other since we couldn’t actually be together,” (Louix XIV, 2020)Similar to DJ Zeke Thomas’ experience, the virtual clubbing experience is supporting the public whether they are stuck at home and needing to physicalize their experience, or even when they are ill with the virus and needing connection. The vast amount of virtual audiences that are attending these events is also a significant aspect to this new virtual clubbing experience, and it sheds light on how many people are in need of this type connection right now. DJ Physical Therapy, who usually plays live at Nowadays, a club in Ridgewood Queens, has been streaming virtual DJ sets from his apartment. One of his streams in March, during the strictest lock down period, had a streaming audience of 11,000 club-goers. Back in Berlin, the clubbing capital of the world, United We Stream isn’t the only platform taking a lead in responding to the absence of this club culture. Club Quarantäne took form and was created by Club Promoters through out Europe. The virtual streaming event offers 360 degree views of a virtual club, electronic music, and even a virtual bouncer. The creators of the club built the streaming platform to “bring a sense of community to even the loneliest on lockdown.” (Jibilian, 2020) The virtual club attracted an immense 700,000 visitors over the span of their three parties they launched in the Spring of 2020, when the pandemic first hit. Another virtual dance space that has received booming notoriety was created by Derrick Jones otherwise known as DJ D-Nice. DJ D-Nice leads an Instagram live club experience for thousands of people each night, celebrities included. The party began the first week of the pandemic and within the first night attracted 105,000 viewers who were all bopping and grooving from their homes. The virtual club, still active today, was a way for DJ D-Nice to contribute to what he felt the public needed. As he mentioned to PBS in an interview: “I really do sign on most times to do it for them, to give them a place, to just have a great conversation, to hear music and to keep their day inspired.” (Barajas, 2020) DJ D-Nice is used to playing live for&nbsp;big crowds, feeding off of their energy, however in this pandemic, he has found another way to feel this energy of the audience, I would pay attention to what people were saying, even if I didn’t respond or interact with them, I would just pay attention to what they were saying and the energy that they were feeling. I just kept seeing hearts flying every time I would play a song, hearts were just flying. And I allowed that to translate into me realizing that even though there’s no audience in front of me, that on the other end of this is someone listening to what I’m playing. And they are interacting. (Barajas, 2020)These flying hearts that DJ D-Nice speaks about has become a significant symbol within today’s virtual culture. When isolated at home, the way of relating to one another is often through a click of an emoji or a like of a comment, our own language of connection. While it’s not the same as physical connection, in the times of a global pandemic where touch is forbidden, this may be all we have. For the queer community, one virtual club “Club Quarantine”, not to be mistaken with Club Quarantäne, has become haven for many. For decades, nightclubs have been a safe space and refuge for the queer community, where identity can be explored, stripped away or developed. As Micah Sinkland wrote: “Naive bodily experimentation connected me to the fleshiness of others as I was coming into my self- knowledge and, later, self- love, as a queer person in the world.” As these “brave” spaces, as Sinkland referred to them as, became a home for the queer community, it isn’t surprising that a virtual substitution was greatly needed when the pandemic hit. That’s where Club Quarantine comes in. Mason Pippenger, who describes themselves as a&nbsp;queer black Midwesterner, spoke about their experience of trying Club Quarantine for the first time, I saw people in drag and nonbinary people in a space where they were celebrated. I heard music that I recognized and actually enjoyed. I saw other black people smile and not feel like othered. I wasn't being gawked at by my peers for moving my body how I wanted. I didn't feel just "good enough." Unlike my physical reality, this was a virtual place where my queerhood and my blackness could be put on display to be recognized and seen. I was able to participate in a side of my identity that's not available to me under normal circumstances. (Pippenger, 2020) For cases like Pippenger, where their current day to day may not be one of safety or comfort, a virtual club experience was a silver lining within this pandemic, and could be a consistent outlet for years to come. These virtual clubbing experiences mentioned above are just some of the hundreds of virtual clubbing experiences that have taken form through out the pandemic, not because they are a direct substitute of the real in person experience, but because they are what people need right now. When the pandemic and COVID-19 hit, what we once knew and took for granted was stripped from us, and our worlds instantly changed. Isolated, scared, and in the unknown, we looked to find a way to connect, cope, and release this shared anxiety, and the virtual club experience became not only a bandaid for us but something we could count on. When this pandemic is over, who knows what will come of virtual nightclubs, but one thing is definitely for certain, we always know we can turn to the club even if that club is on the screen. Bibliography Barajas, Joshua. “DJ D-Nice gave us a party to remember in the pandemic. But what’s next for live music?” PBS. https://www.pbs.org/newshour/arts/dj-d-nice-gave-us-a-party-to- remember-in-the-pandemic-but-whats-next-for-live-music. DJ Louie XIV. “The Strange Intimacy of a Socially Isolated DJ Set.” Vanity Fair. https:// www.vanityfair.com/style/2020/04/the-strange-intimacy-of-a-socially-isolated-dj-set. Jibilian, Isabella. “European club promoters created a virtual nightclub.” Business Insider. https://www.businessinsider.com/club-quarantane-europe-berlin-virtual-nightclub-berghain- dancefloor-2020-8. Moore, Madison. FABULOUS: The Rise of the Beautiful Eccentric. YALE University Press. 2018. Prince, Daisy. “New York Nightlife Goes Online.” The New York Times. https:// www.nytimes.com/2020/03/25/style/new-york-nightlife-goes-online-coronavirus.html. Pippenger, Mason. “Virtual Clubbing: How I Found Solace as a Queer Person Social Distancing in the Midwest.” PopSugar. https://www.popsugar.com/love/queer-virtual- clubbing-during-covid-19-47427697. Pratt, Mike. Sallis, Jim. “A Call to Action: Physical Activity and COVID-19.” American College of Sports Medicine. https://www.exerciseismedicine.org/support_page.php/stories/? b=896. Plotnick, Debbie.“What The Pandemic Storm Is Revealing And What Will Be Left In Its Wake.” Mental Health America. https://mhanational.org/blog/what-pandemic-storm- revealing-and-what-will-be-left-its-wake. Salkind, Micah. Do You Remember House? : Chicago's Queer of Color Undergrounds, Oxford University Press USA - OSO, 2019. Schmitz, Rob. “Clubbing in the Time of COVID-19.” NPR. https://www.npr.org/ 2020/04/18/833068482/clubbing-in-the-time-of-covid-19-berlin-clubs-are-closed-so-djs-are- livestreamin. https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Alexsa-Durrans Tue, 27 Jul 2021 20:07:37 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Alexsa-Durrans CLUBBING 2020 alexsa durransan exploration into the 'un-archivable' spaces in los angeles a conversation with the folx who were there The Los Angeles clubbing scene, like many other aspects of this city, is hard to track, multifaceted, disparate and often slips under the radar. From the big clubs in Hollywood, to the dive bars of East LA, to the warehouse afterhours of Downtown, to house parties in the Hollywood Hills, these spaces are critical cultural stirring points. Folx gather in community, in ways that the sprawl of the city and the barrier of the vehicle heavy lifestyle do not allow in the day to day. It is the club spaces that are the meeting points where at the end of the workday, after the drive home, we become in physical contact with our communities, and that is where we share our ideas, our dreams, and our work. In this research I am examining the LA warehouse and afterhours spaces through interviews with participants in the scene. With anecdotal evidence and contextual connections, I hope to paint a picture of what a window into this world might look like. In deepening the understanding of how these spaces and communities function and the circumstances that lead to them existing this way, I hope to highlight and draw importance to the cultural creation that comes out of them. I am compelled by Julie Tolentino’s notion of “the body as a leaky archive” and Eleanor Bauer’s ideas of translation in her essay Effing the Ineffable. In connecting these ideas to the club and the bodies that fill it, I hope to find a way to delicately present these leaky ideas that perhaps don’t need to be sealed. In these interviews I want to acknowledge that the folx I talked to fluctuate in and out of similar social spheres connected through nightlife, work, and art. I say this to highlight the shared lexicon that comes through and to understand that there is a shared (somewhat similar) image of what LA warehouse clubbing looks like for our communities. This is by no means full and final. I would also like to note that a lot of these folx are participants, organizers, and performers in these spheres, giving each interview a specific entry point to this work. The information in this paper is a supplement to the work that occurs in the club, in the leaky spaces, that we participate. I will bring in sections of interviews with folx and peers in the scene and then expand on them with my own experiences and analysis. I do this to attempt to draw a through line and provide context to bolster the conversations and to bring us back to the notion of how these ephemeral spaces and movement of community are truly generative in cultural production. I understand this painting of the scene to be three-fold, looking at this from the lens of space, from the lens of body and from the lens of legality. S P A C E&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; An Angelino’s relationship to space is different than most. The city’s structure is expansive and open, implying the feeling that the body too, can be expansive and open. In this expansiveness there are pockets of breath and air, sometimes alluding to a nothingness. If we look at a map of Los Angeles we can identify pockets and centers of business, community and attraction. This means that ‘in-betweens’ exist too, perhaps in neglect, but these spaces of transfer from one ‘center’ to another are the leaky spaces of translation and often the locations of the warehouse spaces the underground scene gathers at. Spatial relations in Los Angeles have been theorized and critiqued for many years. In Black Los Angeles: American dreams and racial realities Darnell Hunt and Ana-Christina Ramón gather essays from Los Angeles Scholars and date back to the inception of this city in 1781 when it was still under the Spanish colonial empire. What immediately struck me in reading the first chapter of this book is that the majority of the original settlers of Los Angeles had African ancestry. A tiny population at the time, these people were farmers, retired soldiers or miners (Hunt and Ana-Christina Ramón). I think this is interesting to note, that the original structures (both literal and metaphorical) of this city were built by non-white settlers. What was originally disorienting for me is now what I find most incredible about Los Angeles. The spatiality of the city does not prescribe to certain colonial and Western notions of what a metropolitan center should look like, and I would argue that this permeated into the cultural structures of the dance communities as well. This isn’t to say there are not any deeply rooted problems in how this city functions, there very much are. I am more so highlighting this in order to say that to understand Los Angeles, you cannot try to understand it as you would another metropolitan center in the United States. I think this understanding is an important lens to grasp how the warehouse and underground spaces function. Turning to the more micro perception of space, I am interested in this inventory of spaces that the warehouse parties happen in. In comparing addresses to the larger map of Los Angeles, the trend does show that the spaces hosting the after parties in the underground scene are frequently in less affluent neighborhoods, or in ‘in-between’ spaces. I as ked each of the 5 folx I interviewed to name spaces that felt familiar, that stood out or that were memorable. “Vertexx/Reccen [Rec-center], Bubbles, directory ..” “With clubs it is a little difficult because there aren't necessarily that many but I would say General Lee's hosted a lot of events run by and played by a lot of local DJs. There is also the Lash, La Cita, The Ace Hotel and El Dorado all of which are in DTLA. Each of these places hosted a lot of local events and DJs. As for some larger events their locations varied but an event that really stood out to me was Bubbles - usually drawing large crowds in the several&nbsp;hundreds, having a good team of organizers, and always equipped with a powerhouse lineup.” “Yes — Mustache LA was something I looked up towards for years (mostly&nbsp;because of Fade to Mind/Night Slugs and other DJs I was a huge fan of on the internet). Nacho took me under his wing after he saw me perform once and it meant the absolute world to me. Probably one of my&nbsp;“breakout”&nbsp;gigs was the Mustache with Mexican Jihad in March of 2018. Nacho and I began to collaborate often since after that gig. Rail Up was also an event that I had noticed grow and sort of karmically became involved in. I also attribute a large part of my growth both as a partygoer and as a DJ through the bonds, events, and friendships I formed through it. I think Rail Up in Jan 2018 with DJ Lag was my actual breakout event Those two were probably the most formative for my “DJ&nbsp;Career.” Pre-2018, I frequented the whole spectrum of events and probably attended every imaginable venue from legal to illegal. I spent a lot of time at Los Globos and Jewels Catch One and The Handbag Factory.” “Mustache, bubbles, Rhonda, The Oxwood, payasa, mcpoems, heaven, electric pussycat, oil can, gurt, top40, swallow, Playstation...” “I love how multi-cultural LA is. I can go to a sweaty warehouse for a dancehall night or a laser and fog rave scene. or a dumb Hollywood hills mansion party where no one is dancing and everyone is just trying to look cool.” In picking out a few names I can organize these spaces into three categories; established club, warehouse venue, and moving parties. Established Club: General Lees (Chinatown), Lash, La Cita, Ace Hotel, El Dorado (All DTLA), Electric Pussycat (Glendale), Oil Can Harry’s (Studio City), Los Globos (Silverlake), Jewels Catch One (Mid City), Handbag Factory (DTLA). Warehouse Venue: Vertexx (DTLA) Rec Center (DTLA) Moving Parties: Mustache, Bubbles, Rhonda, Payasa, Swallow, Rail Up, Directory. I am interested in the last two categories (which at times overlap with the first). Even in this interview process I notice an inclination to name the clubs, as there is more language and tangible information surrounding them. I find the notion of space in relation to these parties extremely interesting to note, they are transient because of bureaucracy and legalities. For example: Mustache Monday’s was run by Nacho and it moved around between established bars from La Cita to the Lash etc. In this way, this party was able to have a security of location and visibility in the ‘legal world’ and the restrictions that come with it (the 2am club closing, the sound requirements the space requitements etc.). If we look at another moving party Rail Up, which was started in 2016 by Samantha Blake Goodman, Adam Cooper and Kelman Duran, we can see how it operated outside of these legal venue spcaes. This party jumped around between warehouse spaces, permitted and not permitted. I recall locations in South LA, in backyards and in artist run dance studios. I think it is interesting to note that as we track the leaky archive, it corelates with the mobility and ephemerality of the way these parties functioned. In space, but consistently moving out of necessity. DJ, producer and even organizer Carrie Sun (KAILI is her stage name) discussed this with me in her interview. ‘From a promotion perspective… One of the major barriers of entries to event promotion in Los Angeles I think is the difficulty in securing spaces and the overhead that running events require. There’s a network of (gray&nbsp;area or completely illegal) venues that you sort of need to .. know someone to use. From the actual physical space to the sound equipment to security and bar, there are so many components that promoters need to consider even aside from curating lineups and booking talent. It’s so much easier to use tried-and-true venues, even if the actual design or vibe might be sub-optimal. This is such an LA-specific problem too, since there are so few good clubs and the 2AM shutdown is absolutely dire for a good event. In NY, London, or Berlin for example, the story is very different.’ These ‘illegal’ venues are dangerous too. The Ghost Ship fire in 2016 rocked the underground community around the country. A warehouse party in Oakland caught fire killing 36 of the 100 people there. This tragedy draws the questions, why do folx need to flock to the underground, to the warehouse, to the non-permitted. The simple answer is, because space for them in the ‘legal’ realms of society does not exist. Like Moten and Harney’s argument in The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning &amp; Black Study these spaces are sacred, generative and there is a deep need to keep them, to not give them up to the mainstream (Harney and Moten). To note in Carrie’s experience this is “such an LA-specific problem” is what I am attempting to highlight in this research – the specificities of this city that yield these very “Los Angeles” results. LA born and raised DJ Bapari also spoke with me about the qualms of producing in warehouse spaces: ‘One space that I went to often for various events was called 'Wilson' [dubbed this name as it was on Wilson St] - there were many underground shows that took place there. I even threw a handful of shows at this location. It was a good sized but not too large, in an accessible location east of DTLA and was never shut down at any of the events I attended. I think it became a fairly 'reliable' space for events and promoters.’ Wilson is an interesting space to consider. Having been there many times myself I have a grasp of the layout, surroundings and the crowds it gathered. What is striking about Wilson is that when you look at the address during the day, it looks like it belongs to a towing company. So we have this space that is transformed at night, becomes this portal per say (Moore), and then is completely wiped away from history once the sunrises. All the people that were there know, but otherwise the elusive “Wilson” only exists when that address takes on a certain form. This understanding of warehouse operation and ephemerality provides a logic to me that brings us back to Tolentino’s “leaky archive”. Of course, these moments and places are placed in the underground, the unseen, the unknown – but the bodies and the sharedness in these spaces carry the drips and drops from those nights with them when they leave the portal. It’s like each of the participants in the warehouse club is acting as the archive, and because the archive is the person (body and mind) it will be nonlinear, nonsensical and quite often intangible. Yet the necessity and importance of these spaces remain. BODY “I think its better to remember than to archive and hold onto the object which is only a shadow of what took place, sometimes…” – Interview with Emily Lucid,&nbsp; November 2020 In validating and privileging the knowledge we can archive over the ephemeral, our Western culture, particularly white masculine affluent culture in the United States does not leave much room for the leaky archive of the body and the club. It is this colonial way of dichotomizing knowledge that leads the underground deeper underground; it is a means for safety and validation. When we think about the warehouse clubs of Los Angeles, we cannot skip through the bodies that occupy these spaces. In Diana Taylors essay ‘Acts of Transfer’ from her book The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas she suggests that because of the privileging of writing and verbal language, “live, embodied practices not based in linguistic or literary codes, we must assume, have no claims on meaning”. She further purposes that what is necessary to do is to “take seriously the repertoire of embodied practices as an important system of knowing and transmitting knowledge” (Taylor 25-26). It is this argument that I base my connection to the bodies that occupy the spaces of the Los Angeles underground warehouse scene. This case of reportorial knowledge, as Taylor defines as anything non-archival, is not isolated to Los Angeles, it is of course global. So is the privileging of the written word as a ‘truth’. It is the reason why dancing in the club, moving through space in a warehouse or DJ’ing all night until sunrise are thought of as ‘vapid’ and ‘superficial’ ways to be. Just as Moore discusses in Fabulous what is seen as excessive to the mainstream is a means of survival and self-expression to those that do not accept White heteronormative culture. I would argue that if you were to look at both Moore and Taylor’s arguments you would see they are essentially saying the same things: what we do with our bodies, what we share in subversive ways with our communities, and the places we occupy in the underground realm are extremely valuable knowledge systems, even though a society based on archival truths continually disagrees. It is this argument that articulates why the generative culture and community that happens in the afterhours warehouse spaces of Los Angeles are continually pushed into the underground. We see moments in which entities with money come in to elevate the scene for a night or two, for example Redbull Music throwing a Valentines Day party in 2020, but ultimately leaving just as quickly as they came. In going back to what Emily Lucid, artist and clubgoer, said to me about it being better to remember ephemerality rather than attempt to lock it into the archive rings true. The systems of knowledge that these bodies take on and shape are more than adequate ways of knowing. Further more, Emily seems to hint at the idea that attempting to fit the repertoire into the archive is not an adequate portrayal of the knowledge shared in those spaces. I think it is important to inspect the patterns of what is considered valuable knowledge in our culture and what ways of knowing are swept to the side. In my conversation with artist and dancer Lyric Shen she suggests a way this reportorial knowledge tangibly exists alongside the archive in the warehouse. “So in that sense there is a function to the chaos. It becomes the work of folks with social influence/people moving between spaces or frequently occupying spaces to document (ultimately archiving and organizing) and serve as the main connection points. So then there is another layer, socially, engaging different kinds of micro and macro celebrity. I think in some ways our culture has yet to legitimize this work, while those who do it intentionally or by proxy have often been in positions of negotiating larger amounts of power in their communities.” In studying and understanding how these people and their bodies interact in the warehouse space, we have a better understanding of how knowledge is shared. To have the lived experience is to know, to embody and to share that knowledge whether we are aware of it or not. That is why even in my role as researcher and author, my lived experience in this scene holds a knowledge of its own, just as all my interviewees. Lyric correctly asserts that our culture is not ready to see knowledge production at the club as ‘work’, and I am certain this is why clubbing in general is belittled or thought of as a frivolous activity. The bodies that take up the spaces in Los Angeles clubs are defiant. They book warehouses and front money for the deposit. They share the addresses with friends only and create sliding scale payment systems as a forms of ‘rave reparations’. They go above and beyond to reject the carved-out spaces of 1OAK and Bootsy Bellows and the Hollywood Groups monopoly on the clubs, in which white bodies, cis bodies and mostly stagnant bodies are privileged. This defiance is work and it is deeply commendable. Specifically, in the Los Angeles scene where the liquor laws, club rules and spatial permits rule all, these leaky archiving bodies are easily lost in the already difficult to grasp city scape. LEGALITY Bureaucracy in Los Angeles is messy and from my experience confusing. This is a city with a postmodern lay out governed by a very antiquated system. Bapari highlights this in their comparing DJ’ing in Los Angeles and New York City. “I think one of the biggest reasons it is so critical is that Los Angeles unlike a lot of its metropolitan counterparts (New York, London, Berlin, Montreal etc.) has its bars close at 2am, liquor/alcohol cannot be sold or purchased after this time. It leaves nightlife in somewhat of a limbo. If you want to go to a standard bar or club last call can sometimes be as early as 1:30am. I remember living in New York and realizing how big of a difference it was. Not only were there more events in general, but because these bars and clubs could stay open later these events were busy and prolific. People could hop around from show to show without rushing or feeling discouraged. Nightlife in that sense feels like a more respected aspect of the culture of those places. Whereas in LA, there are not only fewer shows, there are fewer locations, and they have to shut down sooner.” A critical part of validating a culture is legality. There is an important link Bapari makes is that when the city has built and designed a system to allow clubs and nightlife to exist, its more acknowledged and respected – its more archived! The evidence is presented as such, in Los Angeles the warehouse scene has to exist against so many rules like the 2am liquor law, the lack of public transit and of course the scarcity of space. In New York, there is a branch of the city government, quite literally the Office of Nightlife that tends to this sector of the city. This gives the message: we see this as a valuable and necessary part of the operations of the peoples of this place, we will put money and labor towards it. In Los Angeles, it is up to the folx that go to the parties to organize, without the City’s support. Groups such as ‘LA Nightlife Alliance’ have been organizing and representing party goers, but the work is much more difficult without the City on their side. There has been so much talk of changing the last call in LA from 2am to 4am. Dubbed the “Last Call Bill” or SB 58, the bill would allow cities across California to serve alcohol until 4am (currently alcohol sales are prohibited between the hours of 2am and 6am). This would of course mean that clubs would be able to stay open much later, facilitating more legal and safe parties. In August of 2019 the bill was opposed by the LA City Council in a 10-2 vote. The logic to say no to this bill is there on a surface level. Safety was the most prominent counter point to this bill. If bars stay open until 4am that means two more hours of folx drinking, and a high percentage of them driving home in inebriated states as LA is such a car reliant city (KABC). LA Nightlife Alliance were a major supporter of this Bill passing, stating that it would in fact lead to a safe nightlife community in Los Angeles. What is clear is that this topic is contentious and divided quite explicitly between folx that think nightlife is a generative and important part of city life and those who think nightlife is a creator of mayhem. In detailing the above debate regarding liquor laws in Los Angeles and the bureaucratic divide on the City level, I am aiming to bring to light another circumstance in which underground warehouse parties are pushed into the un-archivable spaces. Where the laws are stricter, the underground scene grows more expansive but also less ‘acceptable’, making the generative culture of the afterhours nightlife scene in Los Angeles more difficult to name. There doesn’t seem to be an easy solution either. Allowing clubs to stay open later means that folx are not forced to have parties in rundown warehouse spaces but it also means more instances of suppression of non-white heteronormative party goers in more established spaces. Again we come back to the idea that it is not as simple as attempting to fit the repertoire into the archive. S P A CC E EE BODY LE G ALITY&nbsp; The translation of knowledge that happens at the club is spectacular, dynamic and important. In Eleanor Bauer’s essay Effing the Ineffable she says “let us not assume that words can only denote and movement can only connote, nor settle for a simple inversion or exchange between the connotative tendencies of dance and the denotative tendencies in language”(Bauer 162). The movement of bodies in the club (both the literal dancing and the macro movement of bodies between nightlife spaces over the course of the LA underground evening) is a production of meaning that is subversive and powerful.&nbsp; This is to be said of all dancing ‘fabulous’ bodies in the global nightlife scene (Moore). In pointing specifically to Los Angeles, after parsing through these interviews, experiencing the nightlife myself and reflecting on the broader knowledge of the city, the knowledge that is generated in this city is less archived and less respected as truth due to the spatial constraints and the bureaucratic impositions of the City and State governments. &nbsp; My hope is that this research is a slight opening of a window into lifting up these folx, spaces and ideas that are innovative and important. These modes of knowledge exchange are boundary pushing, subversive and critical for the next wave of progress we want to see in this city. I am grateful to be able to do this research. Creating an archive of the ‘un-archivable’ is creating a stamp of memory that can reflect a culture that is often forgotten. I would like to thank Lyric Shen, Arielle Baptist (Bapari), Emily Lucid, Carrie Sun (Kaili) and Sandy Heyaimn for being so generous with their time and sharing their connections to these places. I mostly would like to thank all the folx who throw the parties, who DJ them, who work the bar, who work the door, and who dance; all have welcomed me at my best and worst in Los Angeles and most importantly have taught me much of how I understand my place in this world. Works Cited Bauer, Eleanor. “Effing the Ineffable.” Movement Research, 2018, pp. 147-188. Hunt, Darnell M, and Ana-Christina Ramón. Black Los Angeles: American Dreams and Racial Realities. New York, New York University Press, 2010. Harney, Stefano, and Fred Moten. The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning &amp; Black Study. Wivenhoe Etc., Minor Compositions, 2013. Moore, Madison. Fabulous: The Rise of the Beautiful Eccentric. New Haven, Yale University Press, 2018. Taylor, Diana. The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas. Durham, Duke Univ. Press, 2007. KABC. “L.A. City Council Votes Not to Support CA Bill to Let Bars Stay Open until 4 a.m.” ABC Los Angeles, 28 Aug. 2019, https://abc7.com/last-call-bill-bar-closing-california -cities-testing/5496397/. Accessed 02 Dec. 2020. https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Madison-Hicks Tue, 27 Jul 2021 20:19:46 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Madison-Hicks CLUBBING 2020 madison hicks “one” night only <img width="540" height="960" width_o="540" height_o="960" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9477772e574bce9ed15ba7e6d51ec23ac144b9a922ec9bf9e5b2d8df173b7172/madi_final2.jpeg" data-mid="114824653" border="0" data-draggable src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/540/i/9477772e574bce9ed15ba7e6d51ec23ac144b9a922ec9bf9e5b2d8df173b7172/madi_final2.jpeg" /> It was an average Friday night. It was an average Tuesday night. Or at least we thought it was an average Friday night. Or at least we thought it was an average Tuesday night. Except this specific Friday night, we had waited a very long time for. Except this specific Tuesday night, we had waited a very long time for. It felt like it had been years that we had waited for this specific Friday night. It had actually been 4 years that we had waited for this specific Tuesday night. It started like every other average Friday night. It started like every other average Election night. Drinking. Drinking. More heavy drinking. More heavy drinking. Checking Find my Friends every 15 minutes to see where they are at. Checking CNN every 15 minutes to see where they are at. Stuffing your face with food to fuel your body for the night ahead. Stress eating to fuel your body for the night ahead. Drinking large amounts of water to hydrate for the amount of drinks you’re about to have. Drinking large amounts of water to hydrate for the amount of tears you’re about to have. Rummaging through your closet to find the perfect outfit. Rummaging through your closet to find the perfect blue outfit. That perfect outfit that you just know will bring you luck tonight. That perfect blue outfit that you just know will bring everyone luck tonight. Scrolling through Instagram to see how many friends are doing exactly what you’re doing Scrolling through Instagram and unfollowing the ones that aren’t wearing blue or posting blue or saying anything about blue. Checking Find my Friends one more time to see if Jamie or Daisy are going to make it any time soon. Checking CNN one more time to see if Florida or Texas are going to make it any time soon. They’re finally here but don’t look the way you were hoping them to look and make you feel like an idiot for the outfit you picked out. They’re finally done counting and make you feel like an idiot for thinking they’d ever turn blue. Instead of changing because it’s too late, you just poor yourself and Jamie and Daisy a shot of something very strong in hopes of forgetting. Instead of hating everyone that lives in those states, you just poor yourself and Floridians and Texans a shot of something very strong in hopes of forgetting. Now that you’re all feeling that good amount of buzzed and awake you decide to head out to the club. Now that you’re all feeling that good amount of drunk and depressed, you decide to change the channel for a while. Except you must have left at the wrong time because by the time you get there, there is a line the length of California. Except you must have changed the channel at the wrong time because by the time you turn it back, everything has gone drastically downhill. Nothing to do now but wait, you tell yourself. Nothing to do now but go to bed, you tell yourself. You make it through the line and finally… You make it through the night and finally… You’re inside. It’s a new day. The night is still young, and anything can happen at this point. The day is very young, and anything can happen at this point. There is a glimmer of excitement as you enter the club and hear the music. There is a glimmer of excitement as you enter your living room and see Nevada and Arizona looking cute in blue. Honestly, the night can go anywhere from here. Honestly, the election can go anywhere from here. You’re feeling pretty good after a few dances and a couple drinks, so you decide to head to the ladies’ room for a little break. You’re feeling pretty good after a few blue states and listening to John King’s soothing voice, so you decide to head to bed for hopefully a less rocky sleep than the night before. Although you’re feeling a little guilty about the alcohol consumption you’ve had, you know it’s been for a good cause after huge dips in the night when your friends would say and tweet the most ridiculous things. Although you’re feeling a little guilty about the alcohol consumption you’ve had, you know it’s been for a good cause after huge dips in the day when red would say and tweet the most ridiculous things. After a much-needed bathroom break, you’re ready for what could potentially be the greatest hour. After a much-needed good night’s sleep, you’re ready for what could potentially be the greatest day of your life. Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch but maybe the best hour you’ve had in a club. Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch but maybe the best day in American history that you’ve played a part in. After all, it doesn’t take much after that line we waited in After all, it doesn’t take much after the 4 years we have had. The next hour felt like the longest hour of my life. The next day felt like the longest day of my life. Waiting for a boy to buy me a drink. Waiting for them to finish counting. Waiting for a girl to buy me a drink. Waiting again FOR THEM TO FINISH COUNTING. Waiting for the DJ to play my favorite song. Waiting for CNN to tell me what I’ve been waiting for, for 3 whole days. Not much changes over the next couple hours. Not much changes over the next couple days. A few good songs. A few more votes. A few bad songs. A few bad red speeches. For a moment there I almost left. For a moment there I almost gave up completely. And then… The moment I had been waiting for, for hours. The moment we have been waiting for, for days. The climax of the night. The climax of the year. That one special moment when the lights become electric. That one special moment when the world becomes silent. And it all was worth it. And it all was worth it. The long line. The long week. The countless shots. The sleepless nights. Because in this moment… Because in this moment… You feel the base from the music in your heart. You feel the hope in the world in your heart. And for a split second. And for just one split second. Time stands still. Time stands still. And you… And we… Are alive. Are alive. https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Livya-Howard-Yashar Tue, 27 Jul 2021 20:33:07 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Livya-Howard-Yashar CLUBBING 2020 livya howard-yashar the floor improv night—a new kind of clubbing. When I was younger, the idea of clubbing suggested danger, debauchery, sexuality, and more importantly a gateway into “adulthood”. When I reached what I then considered adulthood, I had gotten most of “that” out of my system, debunking any&nbsp; preconceived notions I had about clubbing and realizing that I could in fact go to the club and come out safe and unscathed. From the moment I was of age, I wanted to taste the clubbing experience on an international scale as I didn’t think LA had that much to offer and the scene was becoming very predictable. From turning 21 in Beijing to to getting completely lost in one of the most iconic gay clubs in London, I learned the ins and outs of clubbing etiquette, how to save money on drinks, how to turn away unwanted solicitations, and to flirt with the bouncer just the right amount so you know he’s got your back (still waiting for the day I get to meet a “she” guarding the front entrance). I made the most of my time away from home, exploring all the possibilities of what nightlife could be. After some years abroad and living in New York, I returned home to LA, having to readjust to the designated driver experience and to search all the nooks and crannies of the city for something that excited me enough to check it out. As I continued to develop my professional dance career and further explore my identity as a music lover and musician, my focus turned less towards “clubbing” and more towards unconventional venues where two things were non negotiable for me: The music had to be slamming, and people had to be dancing. The basic requirements for enjoying myself were not always aligned with those of my non-dancer friends, so “going out” started to become a somewhat polarizing experience. It wasn’t until a friend told me about The Floor Improv Night, that I had found my eden in Los Angeles. At first it sounded rather intimidating. All of the best dancers in the city gathering with all of the best musicians in the city for a night of entirely improvised mash up performances, music and dancing. My mind immediately jumped to..well, what would I do? How would I present myself as a dancer and a musician amidst the best of the best? The Floor happened once a month at the King King in Hollywood but later changed venues to Los Globos in Silverlake. For a while I stayed away, nervous about the idea of being put on the spot and not knowing what to do. It wasn’t until a friend agreed to meet me there that I built up the courage to go. Once the seal was broken, I never looked back. I waited patiently for the best night of the month, mentally preparing and hyping myself up for the next event. The Floor was unique in that it was a “clubbing” experience unlike any I had experienced in LA or even in my time living in New York. The entire concept of knowing what exactly I was going to dance or play was irrelevant. I was able to show up exactly as I am, a hybrid of Afro beat, Salsa, House, Hip Hop, Contemporary, Jazz that synced effortlessly with the array of world rhythms coming from the incredible musicians. Nothing was planned or prepped, and It all happened in the moment. There was no etiquette per say with the exception of of a few consistent patterns that were trademark of this unique experience. The structure was more or less the same, with one musician and dancer selected to improvise with each other as everyone else surrounded and observed. There were no rules or time limit, and when the moment and energy felt right, other people would jump in the circle directing the attention to another dancer, couple, trio etc. It was the essence of spontaneity and that was the only drug I needed to enjoy myself. As the focus changed and the movement shifted around the space, it no longer became one large circle but began to branch off into smaller circles and cyphers, each with their own flavor, creating a less intimidating and more equal opportunity for anyone who wanted a moment in the spotlight. Spontaneous moments of line dancing and call and response from the stage were also staples of the evening. It wasn’t too long before I felt comfortable enough to jump in the middle of the cypher, and doing so invigorated me even in the worst of moods. It was the first time that I felt my dancing acknowledged by professional dancers rather than the average person paying me a compliment for dancing at a given bar or club. It was the first time I truly felt recognized and accepted as a hybrid dancer and established genuine connections with male dance partners who fed off of my energy without sexualizing me. I made professional connections with dancers and choreographers by expressing my most authentic self without trying to fit a “type” like I would in an audition room. I could admire dancers up close and pay them my respects instead of watching them from behind a screen on social media in a way that feels distant and inaccessible. Most importantly, it was the first time I was able to connect with&nbsp; other people in my hometown who simply wanted nothing but to dance without judgement, without fear of being preyed upon, and more importantly without waiting for the next “good” song. The Floor became my sacred hidden gem in Los Angeles, and it was the best medicine for any malady. One year it fell on my birthday so of course I invited my friends, some dancers but mostly non dancers, to join me or simply hang with a drink and take in the electric energy. Sadly the Floor went on an extended hiatus with most of us unsure if it would ever return. Especially in this global pandemic, reminiscing on the many nights I spent at the Floor feels like a distant part of my past, but the values it instilled within me feel more present and relevant in my life than ever. As an artist contributing to the local dance scene, I hope to create more spaces like the Floor; A night of equal opportunity, community, and the ultimate experience of dance and musical improvisation. https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Caitlin-Javech Tue, 27 Jul 2021 20:45:46 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Caitlin-Javech CLUBBING 2020 caitlin javech clubbing &amp; wellness &nbsp; In the last five to ten years, the popularity of a new type of club experience called&nbsp; “conscious clubbing” or “clean raving” has been slowly growing in NYC and LA. Clubbing&nbsp; looks largely different than it did in the 80’s and 90’s and has taken on new forms and&nbsp; approaches that challenge the norms of the eclectic history of clubbing in these metropolitan&nbsp; cities. This new era of clubbing is an unsurprising result of the capitalization of the wellness&nbsp; industry and boom of the era of self-care amongst millennials, Gen X, and Gen Y. For this&nbsp; project, I will express the commonalities and contrasts between clubbing as it has been known&nbsp; and understood since its emergence in NYC and LA and the newly growing popularity of&nbsp; “conscious clubbing.”&nbsp; Some may argue that the wellness industry is killing clubbing as we know it, and they&nbsp; might be right. It has become clear to me that yes, that argument has significant validity when&nbsp; comparing these two distinct experiences. “Conscious clubbing” prioritizes wellness, deeper&nbsp; connections between club-goers, and creating safe-spaces that allow for both music and dancing&nbsp; to serve as cathartic exploration and self-expression, without the need of drugs and alcohol. In&nbsp; contrast, the LA and NYC niche nightlife club scenes, prior to the emergence of the fusion&nbsp; between wellness and clubbing were commonly known and defined by their DJ’s and artists.&nbsp; They were further characterized by their established vibes, notoriety, exclusivity, location, and ability to bring the club-goer into an altered state that is more often than not facilitated by drugs&nbsp; and alcohol.&nbsp; What has become more interesting to me is whether or not “clubbing as we know it” and&nbsp; “conscious clubbing” can exist and succeed simultaneously in the same cities. Are they distinct&nbsp; enough in their differences to maintain and expand their clientele base while building a sense of&nbsp; community? Will capitalism and the booming wellness industry create too much competition&nbsp; between these two types of experiences? Will the evolution of young adults who more&nbsp; commonly prioritize wellness, being present, and reducing their drug and alcohol consumption&nbsp; while partying ever become so strong that “clubbing as we know it” will become irrelevant? In&nbsp; order to look at these questions with both curiosity and skepticism, I will take a deeper dive into&nbsp; what “conscious clubbing” really entails. While it is certainly a departure from “traditional&nbsp; clubbing,” I believe both clubbing experiences share commonalities in structure, social-impact,&nbsp; and attractiveness to those looking for immersive nightlife experiences.&nbsp; From my research, I can conclude that the popularity and growth of “conscious clubbing”&nbsp; in NYC and LA respectively emerged as a result of a growing connection between partying and&nbsp; clean living. Many millennials, Gen X and Gen Yers have become more attracted to&nbsp; environments that provide healthier party environments that may integrate yoga, meditation,&nbsp; sound experiences, and building community. Having the space to move and express themselves without the expectation of being inebriated or in pursuit of sexual encounters has increasingly&nbsp; become a priority for these generations of club-goers. In an article in The Guardian titled, ‘Clean&nbsp; Raving; How Club Culture Went Wild For Wellness;’ writer Hariet Gibsone explains how “...the&nbsp; unexpected relationship between clubbing and clean living has been building for a few years&nbsp; now. In 2014, for example, there was a craze for voga, a fitness class combining yoga and voguing. But the latest wave is more bohemian. It includes the club awakening a “Conscious&nbsp; Rave” where cacao and smoothies are served, there are classes in hip-hop hot yoga, and&nbsp; meditation sessions are accompanied by expert gong practitioner Mona Ruijs of Sound&nbsp; Interventions.” She later goes on to explain that the success of this alternative club experience is&nbsp; deeply connected to the “pairing of wellness and music” that has become mainstream and highly&nbsp; profitable. This is exemplified by artists like DJ DRĖĖĖMY (Reem Abdou) who I researched for&nbsp; my “Clubbing In Covid Project,” who have successfully created music labels that integrate&nbsp; wellness, music, and ‘cleaner’ or ‘more mindful’ nightlife experiences. While DJ’s, music labels,&nbsp; and clubbing venues like BAE may not be as well-known as mainstream name-drop-worthy&nbsp; clubs, they are succeeding financially and seem they are on a path to continuous popularity&nbsp; growth.&nbsp; It is clear that the era of conscious clubbing stems from the popularization of clean living,&nbsp; the booming wellness industry, and how these elements shift in societal preferences for what a&nbsp; great night out looks like. In looking at two conscious club scenes in NYC and LA, Esme&nbsp; Benjamin in an article on Culture Trip summarizes this shift very clearly. Benjamin explains&nbsp; “...the rise of conscious clubbing feels inevitable at a time when more young people are&nbsp; becoming curious about sobriety, and it’s unfashionable to brag about how heavily you drank the&nbsp; night before. The haze of inebriation is a barrier to being fully present, and events like The Get&nbsp; Down and Ecstatic Dance offer a more nurturing form of nightlife. One that, crucially, facilitates&nbsp; deeper connections. Dancer to dancer. Human to human.” This societal shift in preferences is&nbsp; evident in environments created at clubs like The Get Down in NYC and Ecstatic Dance in LA,&nbsp; that prioritize wellness, deeper connections between club-goers, and a focus to create safe-spaces that allow for both music and dancing to serve as cathartic exploration and self-expression&nbsp; without the need of drugs and alcohol. &nbsp; These two examples, and many other popular conscious clubbing venues share many&nbsp; common values and ‘rules of engagement’ that are upheld within their respective clubs. Some&nbsp; common values include, but are not limited to, the following: prioritizing the power of freedom&nbsp; of movement, supporting judgement-free self-expression through dance parties, inclusivity,&nbsp; radical self-expression, clarity in presence and embodiment of the present moment and&nbsp; eliminating intoxicants and personal electronics during the experience. Conscious club scenes&nbsp; also encourage sex-positivity, some version of a “fuck yes” consent policy (if the answer isn’t&nbsp; fuck yes, then it’s a no), creating judgement free environments, encouraging connection to your&nbsp; deeper self and the community around you and keeping the dancing and music as the driving&nbsp; forces of the club environment.&nbsp; The values of what I will call “traditional clubbing” for the lack of a better term, contrasts&nbsp; the values and rules of engagement in this new era of “conscious clubbing.” In this new type of&nbsp; nightlife, connection to self and the present moment are at the heart of the experience, while&nbsp; more “traditional clubbing” values an escape from the realities of everyday life. In an article&nbsp; from The Guardian, Jochen Eisenbrand, chief curator of last year’s Night Fever exhibition at the&nbsp; Vitra Design Museum in Weil am Rhein, Germany, explains how “...the 1960s and 70s were&nbsp; most interesting because that’s when the nightclub was being defined as a typology of its own.&nbsp; Clubs, he says, are forerunners of spaces that create an experience temporarily. Clubbing has&nbsp; always been about creating a parallel world for the night, right down to how a typical club is laid&nbsp; out: a stairway descending into an underground playground of disorienting lights and sounds.”&nbsp; What remains at the core of the clubbing experience, as Eisenbrand articulates, is a sense of&nbsp;ephemerality and pleasure that comes out of the artful integration of the architectural design and&nbsp; sensorial elements a club offers. In my opinion, the attraction to this “traditional clubbing”&nbsp; experience is based on a natural human attraction to mystery, the unknown, and a temporary&nbsp; transcendence away from reality to a new world with a satisfying warped sense of time and&nbsp; space. I believe that such an experience is often more fully realized with the consumption of&nbsp; drugs and would argue that it may even be a non-negotiable element for the club-goer to have the&nbsp; out of body experience they may be seeking.&nbsp; The cultural experience of “traditional clubbing’” is painted in a similar light in an article&nbsp; titled, “The Rave: Spiritual Healing In Modern Western Subcultures” by Scott R Hudson. In his&nbsp; research, Hudson articulates how “...the postmodern approach views the rave as a culture of&nbsp; abandonment, disengagement, and disappearance.” What makes this escapism possible and a&nbsp; clubbing or raving experience successful is the world created by the club’s lack of subjectivity paired with “...the style of dance1, the relative anonymity of the DJ, the nature of the music2, the&nbsp; ego-reducing effects of Ecstasy [MDMA]3, and the occurrence of raves in out-of-the-way places&nbsp; at times when the rest of the population sleeps.” This researched perspective supports my&nbsp; argument that the attraction to the “traditional clubbing” experience is towards being transmitted&nbsp; to another state of being through pleasure and overloading the senses. The use of drugs in&nbsp; combination with the environmental and social elements of the club are essential elements to&nbsp; accessing this altered state. This approach to clubbing is not in pursuit of becoming more in&nbsp; touch or tapped into one's deepest internal self, but rather to create the ideal set up for a complete&nbsp; and blissful escape from the self. This experience is explained clearly by an authoritative rave&nbsp; journalist quoted in Hudson’s article who “...summarizes the postmodern interpretation&nbsp; elegantly: rave culture is geared towards fascination rather than meaning, sensation rather than&nbsp; sensibility; creating an appetite for impossible states of hyperstimulation." &nbsp; Both Eisenbrand and Hudson’s research on the function and aim of traditional club or rave&nbsp; experiences aligns with the many diverse examples of “traditional clubbing” we have learned&nbsp; about throughout the semester in our ‘Clubbing’ course. While the exact environment, client type, focus, and nuance of each club or clubbing experience are all distinct in their own way,&nbsp; they all share a common thread in their function. “Traditional Clubbing” creates a departure from&nbsp; the ordinary, facilitates a sense of ‘home’ or welcoming to those who may never feel at home in&nbsp; society at large, and provides a space for freedom and unbound expression in movement,&nbsp; sexuality, community, and musicality. These commonalities shared amongst the variety of “traditional clubbing” examples we have unpacked in this course are not completely&nbsp; contradicting with the values of “conscious clubbing.” In my opinion, both traditional and&nbsp; conscious clubbing aim to provide immersive experiences where the club-goer can tap into parts&nbsp; of themselves in the presence of others through sound, movement, and community. “Traditional&nbsp; clubbing” is colored by a craving for escaping the norm and creating an alternative reality where&nbsp; one can either fully embody who they are or transform into whatever they want, whoever they&nbsp; want, and however they want while “conscious clubbing” aims to bring the club-goer closer to&nbsp; themselves, facilitate a more rooted presence in their body and in the space, and create a safe and&nbsp; drug-free alternative to exploring oneself through movement and music.&nbsp; Along with establishing the differences in the two approaches to clubbing, it can be argued&nbsp; that all club-goers are looking to reach the same ends, just by different means. In Hudson’s&nbsp; article on rave culture, an interviewee argues that the rave experience they are having is not dependent on drugs and is primarily a result of the other elemental factors of the club. The&nbsp; interviewee explains the experience is brought to life when “...with the help of the DJ's ecstatic&nbsp; techniques, ravers enter areas of consciousness not necessarily related to everyday ‘real’ world&nbsp; experiences. Though Ecstasy enables altered states of consciousness, drugs are not necessary4. In&nbsp; this sense, raves are similar to the trance dances of the Dobe Ju/'hoansi, which do not involve any&nbsp; mind-altering substances. In both cases, altered states of consciousness are stimulated by a&nbsp; combination of upbeat rhythmic drumming, exhaustive all-night dancing and flickering light.” In&nbsp; reading this, one could argue that all forms of clubs and raves, whether drugs are frequently used&nbsp; (in “traditional clubbing”) or adamantly banned (in “conscious clubbing”), are more dependent&nbsp; on the music, dancing, design and sound elements of the space to bring the club goer to the&nbsp; desired altered state. Perhaps what “conscious clubbing” is now capitalizing on is part of what&nbsp; club-goers have always been looking for, just via a new wellness-driven avenue. Whether it’s by&nbsp; taking ecstasy and seeking sex or by drinking a CBD infused drink and taking hip-hop yoga,&nbsp; those who “club traditionally” or “club consciously” seem to be after a similar sensorial&nbsp; experience.&nbsp; Both types of clubbing are a means to an end, and I don’t believe one to be more or less&nbsp; valuable than the other. While I think it would be ideal for both to continue to successfully grow&nbsp; and thrive in the coming generations, I am not sure they can. In comparing the two, it is&nbsp; imperative to recognize that both “traditional clubbing” and “conscious clubbing” are dependent&nbsp; on capital to stay in business. They will both be working to attract the same young adults in&nbsp; metropolitan cities like LA and NYC, and I believe the competition will grow more intense&nbsp; overtime. Within the demographic of adults ranging from their twenties to their fifties that club promoters will be trying to reel in, there will be specific demographics that will be more drawn&nbsp; to “conscious clubbing,” and some that are more drawn to traditional clubbing. In my opinion,&nbsp; “conscious clubbing” will become a preference for the upcoming generations of young adults,&nbsp; and traditional clubs may suffer the consequences. Upon reflection of my research, I think “conscious clubbing” will continue to gain&nbsp; momentum and strength based on new scientific, psychological, and wellness-focused research&nbsp; about what conscious clubbing can do FOR your body vs. what traditional clubbing can do TO&nbsp; your body. The shift in societal views on clubbing and a magnetism towards a more mindful&nbsp; approach to a night-out has already been set in motion and I believe it will continue to gain&nbsp; prominence. These societal shifts are in part due to a movement among young adults towards&nbsp; living healthier lives, and the common practices and nightlife environments of traditional&nbsp; clubbing do not align with this movement towards wellness. Author, stylist, and blogger, Navaz&nbsp; Batiwalla, articulates this societal shift very clearly in her article for Dazed Digital titled ‘Has&nbsp; The Wellness Industry Killed Clubbing As We Know It’ when she explains “...this shift in the&nbsp; culture of clubbing isn’t just about opting out of alcohol to avoid hangovers and therefore make&nbsp; you a better worker. It’s also not just about alleviating the mental health complications&nbsp; associated with drinking. It’s an impulse reflection of our changing attitude towards health and&nbsp; wellness. No longer merely about avoiding illness and disease, the growing wellness movement&nbsp; has shifted our concern to actively improving one’s physical, emotional and spiritual health.” In&nbsp; this new paradigm, it seems much more likely that the type of clubbing whose branding,&nbsp; marketing, and offerings focus on increased wellness will become increasingly more attractive.&nbsp; Although I believe that “conscious clubbing” will continue to thrive as the wellness industry grows and the desires of young adults shifts, I don’t think it will take “traditional clubbing” venues out of business. There will be competition between “traditional clubbing” and&nbsp; “conscious clubbing,” but they will conditionally alter based on the desires of the public each&nbsp; year. Who can predict whether after the insane life changing year of 2020 in which a global&nbsp; pandemic turned everyone's worlds upside down if society will be more obsessed with wellness&nbsp; or rush back to the clubs for an intoxicated escape from the harsh reality? Regardless, as I argued&nbsp; before, all club goers are looking for a sensorial experience. Whether the pursuit is created via&nbsp; drugs and fantasy or by integrating meditation, to escape the self or to come closer to the self,&nbsp; there are still commonalities in the ends being seeked. While I believe there will be a crowd that&nbsp; will still remain primarily attracted to and financially invested in “traditional clubbing,” the&nbsp; popularity of “conscious clubbing” will grow stronger as the wellness industry and scientific&nbsp; research continue shifting the priorities of young adults in their approaches to partying. Navaz&nbsp; Batiwalla articulates the growing success of conscious clubbing succinctly when she writes,&nbsp; “What these events have in common is an unspoken mission to nourish the mind and soul; a&nbsp; form of mindful escapism that’s much needed as economical, ecological and political turmoil&nbsp; continue to hurl challenges at Generation Anxious. Fueled by a desire for pin-sharp mental&nbsp; clarity in a befuddled world, clubbers are realizing that being proactively healthy is, to use a&nbsp; hackneyed word, empowering.”&nbsp; The current pandemic may strengthen the value of conscious clubbing to serve as a form of&nbsp; wellness, clarity, and empowerment for “Generation Anxious.” With changing attitudes and&nbsp; values of the young and upcoming generation of club-goers, it would not be surprising if the&nbsp; “traditional clubbing” experiences will become less popular than clubbing experiences that&nbsp; promote socializing on a deeper, and healthier, level. According to The Future Laboratory’s&nbsp; senior futures analyst Victoria Buchanan, “We’ll see club spaces pushing even further into the health and wellbeing arena to encompass sustainability, learning and more sensorial&nbsp; experiences.” Later in the article, Batiwala asks the question “...is getting into it the new getting&nbsp; out of it?” which gets at the heart of the difference between conscious and traditional clubbing&nbsp; that I am researching. What I believe Batiwala is getting to when she talks about “getting into it”&nbsp; is the growing attraction to more mindful clubbing experiences, rather than the previous&nbsp; popularity of clubbing as a means to escape from reality. Buchanan provides an eloquent&nbsp; response that highlights the value of conscious clubbing to and the growing irrelevance of&nbsp; “traditional clubbing” for Gen Z and Millennials. She says, “In the future, hedonism and escape&nbsp; will need to provide enrichment or risk being seen as empty, shallow and wasteful to this&nbsp; purpose-driven audience.”&nbsp; In conclusion, I think it would be nonsensical to claim that conscious clubbing will not&nbsp; only grow in its success but change the future of clubbing as a whole. While I cannot predict the&nbsp; future, the mindset shifts and needs of young people will certainly continue to make waves in&nbsp; what clubbing, raving, and partying look like in the coming generations. In Batiwala’s article,&nbsp; this idea is explained as the “...collective embrace of a more conscious club culture as a&nbsp; necessary shift in mindset.” The article argues that “...people want empowering, engaging&nbsp; experiences in every area of their life. That includes raves that make you feel like pure ecstasy – without necessarily having to take it.” All good, clean fun then – see you at the seltzer bar.”&nbsp; Time will only tell whether the future of clubbing will be dependent on the ecstasy of the drug or&nbsp; the feeling of ecstasy by other means, even if that feeling comes from CBD-infused cacao&nbsp; smoothies and hip-hop yoga.&nbsp; &nbsp; Citations Batliwalla, Navas. “Has the Wellness Movement Killed Clubbing as We Know It?” Dazed,&nbsp; 31 July 2019,&nbsp; www.dazeddigital.com/beauty/soul/article/45445/1/has-the-wellness-movement-killed-cl clubbing-as-we-know-it.&nbsp; Codrea-Rado, Anna. “Music, Fashion and Town Planning: How Nightclubs Change the&nbsp; World.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 18 Mar. 2019,&nbsp; www.theguardian.com/music/2019/mar/18/nightclubs-influence-on-culture-drugs-town-p lanning-architecture.&nbsp; Gibsone, Hariot. “Clean Raving: How Club Culture Went Wild for Wellness.” The&nbsp; Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 14 July 2017,&nbsp; www.theguardian.com/music/2017/jul/14/rave-health-wellness-festivals-djs.&nbsp; Goldfine, Jael. “This Entrepreneur Is Uniting Weed, Rave Culture and Social Justice.”&nbsp; PAPER, PAPER, 15 June 2020,&nbsp; www.papermag.com/michelle-lhooq-weed-rave-2-2626420741.html?rebelltitem=12.&nbsp; Hutson, Scott R. “The Rave: Spiritual Healing in Modern Western Subcultures.”&nbsp; Anthropological Quarterly, vol. 73, no. 1, 2000, pp. 35–49. https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Robert-Kelley Tue, 27 Jul 2021 21:13:58 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Robert-Kelley CLUBBING 2020 Robert Kelley 8:45 PM https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Jobel-Medina Tue, 27 Jul 2021 21:32:20 +0000 CalArts Clubbing 2020 https://clubbing2020.cargo.site/Jobel-Medina CLUBBING 2020 jobel medina friday To the first go-go dancer I’ve ever met I saw you at Hamburger Mary’s in Long Beach When it used to be small and crowded; barely any room to dance There you are dancing on a tiny stage, not fit for a boulder like you. I wanted to tip you just as others were doing But this was my first night out… As a gay man. You see I’ve been closeted prior to that night I’ve only seen nude men online, but there you are in real life– very generous Singing “my neck, my back, lick my pussy and my crack” repeatedly And I’m not into fish but, ironically, it turned me on. Later that night, an older man had offered me a shot of vodka– and my dumb ass took baby sips Why? Because I don’t drink; I don’t need it to have a good time Another fact about me, I’m a dancer so I’m comfortable dancing in front of people without needing a drink But, I have to admit, these days I do take the vodka shots– not so I can dance and let go, but so that I can tip these men on stage. You remind me of them. Actually, maybe they remind me of that night. Man, this was 12 years ago.. 12 years and you and that song and that club are still part of my memory, how cute I so badly wished I tipped you that night But I promise you, if I ever see you again on stage somewhere, I will tip you so hard you’re gonna have me in your memory You and I have a lot in common– for one, we are both professional dancers. Except I rarely dance in thongs. Also, we now both like the same music by Khia, how cute. I know you have no idea who I am, and I don’t even know where you are and rarely remember your face But just know, you will always be the first go-go dancer I’ve ever met, and that means something to me.