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    Now reading: Photographing south Florida’s wild underground punk scene 

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    Photographing south Florida’s wild underground punk scene 

    Stefano Lemon spent three years capturing what lies beneath the extravagant wealth of Miami.

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    Throwing off the yoke of capitalism, which demands all things be measured in terms of money, status, and prestige, a cadre of rebels, renegades, and malcontents come together as a tribe for a primordial ritual at underground clubs across south Florida. Fuelled by their shared contempt for the status quo, they rage, mosh, and scream, losing themselves in a potent brew of blood, sweat, and beer. 

    As heirs to punk’s DIY ethos, they built this world for themselves and all who share their righteous scorn for materialism and excess — no matter your race, gender, or creed. With the release of Fake 03 – Florida Untitled (Fake Press), photographer Stefano Lemon takes us on a hallucinatory journey inside the dark spaces of ecstatic filth and fury through photographs and collages. “If you want to do something, you have to interact with people and learn by yourself,” Stefano says. “That’s the core for punk, for street photography, for everything. You learn to do something creative for your soul.”

    Black-and-white photograph of two men on the back of a motorbike parked against the curb

    At the end of 2016, Stefano did just this. Arriving in Miami as a location scout for a Japanese documentary film about the city’s fabled 1950s jazz scene, Stefan spent long hours at the Black Archives and Wolfson Archives. After work, he began scrolling Facebook and YouTube looking for live shows. It was then that he accidentally stumbled upon south Florida’s notorious hardcore punk scene

    He hit up John McHale, who ran hardcore indie label Eighty-Sixed Records. John invited Stefano to show at Space Mountain in Little Haiti that night. Bands took the stage, playing 15-minute sets, unleashing a powerful, primaeval energy through the packed space. A maelstrom of wrathful passion was unleashed, creating the perfect atmosphere for catharsis and release. People began to thrash uncontrollably; their angst finally set free amid a shared sense of brutal camaraderie.

    Black-and-white photograph of a woman singing into a microphone while crowds around her watch, cheer and dance

    “This is a community nobody knows about; it’s untouched, hidden, and poor. You need to dig and search for these guys because it’s underground,” Stefano says, pointing to the image of south Florida as a tropical paradise. “When you think of Miami, you imagine spring break, clubs, palm trees, and white beaches. Maybe this ‘secrecy’ is what’s keeping the scene alive and authentic.”

    But with every passing year, the region becomes increasingly gentrified. The arrival of new transplants of wealth and means creates a cost of living that is increasingly unaffordable, forcing locals to leave a world they built over generations. Borne out of outrage and disgust, hardcore is a big Fuck You to the encroaching horrors of neoliberalism that has taken root over the past 40 years and transformed the nation into a vast wasteland. 

    Black-and-white photograph of club goers hanging around a wall covered in stickers, posters and graffiti

    Refusing to conform and play the game, hardcore allows people to speak — or rather scream — their truth. Fast and furious, hardcore embraces the edge, disavowing the abject commercialism and exploitation of the music industry and its adherents. Aggressive, confrontational, and politically charged, hardcore speaks to disaffected youth whose disdain for mainstream culture is matched by their determination to create their own world. Florida, a bastion of regressive, conservative politics, provides the perfect backdrop for rebellion against the status quo. 

    “I like the dirty smell of the underground world — I feel at ease in this territory,” Stefano — who grew up in Italy listening to Black Flag, Minutemen, and Fugazi — tells me. “There are no racial tensions; it’s a beautiful melting pot. It’s super intimate; it’s like seeing a gig in your bedroom.” Although Stefano had temporarily lost his hearing that first night out, he knew he had to go back — this time, camera in hand to document the scene. He began going out three or four times a week, hanging out, and getting to know the people at locales like Gramps, Respectable Street, Las Rosas, Beer Punx, Lozer Lounge, and Churchill’s Pub — a longtime local venue that is known as the “CBGB of the South.” 

    Black-and-white photograph of a tattooed woman in a bikini and chain belt standing in a doorway

    “We were drinking beers together, sharing stories, and listening to good music,” Stefano says. “It was beautiful to see these guys from different subcultures, from bikers to punk to hardcore, getting together and sharing the same energy. I was lucky to get inside the community and take pictures because these guys were not photographing themselves. They wanted to enjoy the time instead of sharing it live on Instagram. Sometimes I was the only one actually taking pictures.”

    Shot between 2016 and 2019, and created with artist Cristiano GrimFake 03 – Florida Untitled is a hypnotic portrait of people who are sworn to resist the pretence and perfidy of modern life. “Gentrification is killing communities, identities and also many music venues,” Stefano says. “Spaces like this are fewer and are harder to find, I think it’s very important to preserve the social value and spread awareness on this matter to inspire future generations.”

    Black-and-white photograph of the back of a man waring a leather jacket that is painted with the words die hipster scum

    Stefano and Cristiano first met at the latter’s old studio on New York’s Lower East Side through a mutual friend. “Stefano clicked because we are both photographers; we are in love with downtown Manhattan and its magical, overwhelming energy,” Cristiano says. “We had many drinks at my favourite bar, The Library on Avenue A. Stefano had just come from Florida. He showed me his work and told me his stories. We agreed that doing a release together was going happen sooner or later.”

    Stefano selected 11 tracks from the bands he followed in south Florida, which are collected on vinyl and accompanied by his images “remixed” into wild, explosive collage by Zach Hobbs. “Zach has been on my top five list of the best rock star graphic designers of all time,” Cristiano says. “He is a living legend: punk rock, pre-internet nostalgia, illustration, and Xerox. He saw the vision and got it right away. He literally tore apart Stefano’s original photography, creating iconoclastic handmade collages where Christianity merges with punk cultures. This is a purification process. There is a desecrating jest in what we do, a holy disruption. We act by subtraction, not addition. It’s a collective ritual.”

    In doing so, Fake 03 – Florida Untitled preserves the spirit of hardcore and punk, refusing to cater to corporate interests or sell out to make a quick buck. It refuses to conform to the status quo, defying all desire for clout. Uncompromising in their principles, these rebels live by their own rules. “We are living in a world dominated by social interactions with commercial purposes. Unfortunately, social media are inhibiting spontaneity and refraining us from living authentic experiences,” Stefano finishes. Punk is not how you dress, how many followers you have or how many albums you sold last month. It’s about keeping a DIY attitude against the establishment.”

    Fake 03 – Florida Untitled’ (Fake Press) is available here.

    Black-and-white photograph of a club with paintings of naked women and graffiti on the wall, a telephone booth sits against one wall and a doll house against the other.
    Black-and-white photograph of two club goers dancing close to each other.

    Credits


    All images STEFANO LEMON © FLORIDA UNTITLED

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