Why take a selfie in a sweaty club when you can buy a painting of your banging night out instead? We meet the ravers turning 3am euphoria into pulsating art
It would be around midnight when Jah Shaka’s truck pulled up outside Phebes nightclub in east London, and his crew would start humping his big sound system speakers into the dark, cramped, low-ceilinged basement ready for an all-night dub reggae session. As the excitement built and the basement filled with people, Denzil Forrester would squeeze behind the long, narrow bar that ran down one side of the room, prop his A1 sketchbook on the counter … and start sketching.
It wasn’t the easiest place to work. It was dark, hot and crowded, the air fogged with weed and tobacco smoke. Then, when Shaka fired up the system and the heavy bass kicked in, it would take a while for Forrester to adjust to the vibrations passing through his body.
Continue reading...from Culture | The Guardian http://bit.ly/2Wkz9k0
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