Between 2011 and 2021, the Hackney-based club night PDA paved the way for a new experimental Black and Brown queer club culture in London’s underground scene. Established by Mischa Mafia, Ms Carrie Stacks, Akinola Davies Jr, and Siobhan Bell, the Kingsland Road gathering was a site of glamour and chaos, offering its community a world away from the conventions and systems upheld by the UK’s patriarchal imperialism – a space to be whoever they wanted to be.
During its decade-long run, Liz Johnson Artur was the only photographer ever invited into the club with her camera – a gesture the iconic artist remains endlessly grateful for. “PDA was very special to me,” Johnson Artur tells Dazed. “People really cared for each other there. It offered a space of safety and camaraderie for people who often felt like the wider world could be hostile. It was about being free and being surrounded by people who appreciated you.”
This unique spirit of PDA now lives on in Johnson Artur’s latest publication of the same name. Her images – all shot in analogue – capture it all, from the anticipation of the night ahead to the games people play to prolong its end. Like all of Johnson Artur’s work, these images don’t document a moment in time, but instead attempt to approximate experience. “I’m interested in capturing more than what I see,” she says. “The camera has always been a conduit to get close to people, and this book is about me giving back to the people who allowed me in.”
Below, Liz Johnson Artur speaks to Dazed about transitional spaces, creating a time capsule of solidarity and why club culture is vital for creatives.
Music has always been a throughline in your work, from your time spent making work in squat parties to pirate radio stations. What draws you into this world?
Liz Johnson Artur: I’ve always felt a strong connection to music. In the 90s, I shot a lot of nightlife, simply because I was curious about these transitional spaces where things happen for a while and then they disappear. Nightlife was a significant part of how people lived in London, and I love exploring how it was embedded in their lives. I did a long stretch of work about pirate radio stations, as they were important social community hubs at that time. I also photographed squat parties and went on tour with musicians like MIA and the Spice Girls. Musicians have a certain generosity that I really appreciate; they bring people together, and to me, that’s really exciting.
How did you find out about PDA? You were the first and only photographer ever invited in with your camera.
Liz Johnson Artur: I stumbled upon PDA, really. I met Carrie [Staxx] at another event. She was walking towards me, and I was like, ‘Wow, who’s this?’ It was love at first sight. Carrie told me about PDA and said that if I wanted to take pictures there, I would have to talk to Misha, Kerry, and Kinola, who ran the night. The four of them were the heart of PDA. They were very protective of people just coming and taking pictures. I understood that, because what PDA represented for Black queer people in London was a place of safety and solidarity. Everyone looked after each other there, and it was a place people went to feel good about themselves. Misha and I clicked; there was something of a trust between us, and I just jumped right in.
Do you remember the first night you went to PDA?
Liz Johnson Artur: Yeah, very much. I went to Misha’s house with a few other people. Everyone was getting ready to go because people got ready to get to PDA! We drove there, and I remember walking in, and it felt like a house party. It was in a small basement on Kingsland Road. There were as many people behind the DJ booth as there were in front of it. I would take pictures until I ran out of film, and then I would enjoy myself.
Looking through the book feels like a roll call of people who went on to be some of London’s most important creatives.
Liz Johnson Artur: PDA was also full of talent! Spaces like this were crucial because they provided a space for creativity. They allowed people to experiment, and that’s what creative people need. The community at large didn’t provide these things for Black Queer people, so PDA was special in that way. Many people I met there, I went on to collaborate with. There was a sense of making this a special night together, and this book serves as a time capsule of that.
One of the things that struck me about the book is that it begins and ends on the street. It captures the anticipation and rituals we share when going out. Your photographs illuminate the connective tissue between people and how nights like this shape people’s lives long after they leave the club.
Liz Johnson Artur: It was exciting to go to PDA. There were a lot of things that happened in the club, both inside and out. It was quite a sweaty situation. In between, it was quite nice to go out and get some fresh air or grab snacks from the corner shop. In a way, clubs are an extension of the street because they represent a space that is not domestic. It lives off that impulse that people bring in.
People often read your work as documentary photography, which doesn’t accurately describe what the work is about, which is feeling. Can you talk about that?
Liz Johnson Artur: Photography is a tool that, in a certain way, allows me to enter these spaces, but I never look at the work as documentation. That’s a rigid way of looking at things. I’m interested in capturing more than what I see. I’m deeply attached to my work emotionally. That’s something I hope my pictures convey. I’m always present. And what I mean by present is the people I look at, who also look at me. And that is a quintessential part of my work. It’s not so much that I’m in every picture, but that they give me something. It’s an exchange.
As I work with film, I would attend these nights, take pictures, and come out not knowing what I had. I was in the moment! In general, I love that because the space between the moment you make a picture and see it is essential. It gives you time to breathe, to understand, to not judge. That’s why I stay away from the documentary perspective, because we can document everything, and we won’t get everything.
What’s always struck me about your work is just how intimate your process is. You’re constantly making pictures, yet rarely showing them. I know you have a practice of making personal workbooks, where you privately experiment with the work. Was that true with the PDA work?
Liz Johnson Artur: Yes! I ended up creating a PDA Bible – this book isn’t a reproduction of that workbook, but more a starting point for the ideas. I wanted the book to represent and respect everyone who was part of PDA. I’m very protective of my work, and like to make my own decisions, but I didn’t feel that this book was meant for me alone to create. I wanted to do it in collaboration with Misha and Carrie. It took us a while; we have been working on it for several years now. It’s bittersweet that it’s coming out now, and PDA doesn’t exist anymore.
Why was now the right time to make this book?
Liz Johnson Artur: PDA is a book that is very close to me because of the people that you see in it. I don’t think of this as a club book – it’s about the genuine love that happened between people there. I really felt that every time I went. When people allow me to take pictures, I find that extremely generous. With PDA, there were no barriers, and so this book is about me giving back to the people who allowed me in. It comes from that spirit.
PDA is published by Bierke Verlag and is available here now.
