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From 1976 through the present, British photographer Paul Hartnett has been consumed with documenting the moths and butterflies of London’s underground clubs. What began as a way of developing a rapport with the exotic personalities of the nightlife as a teenager has now turned into a riveting document of three decades of excess, eccentricity, and, above all, cutting-edge style.

Hartnett continues to be obsessed with the new and the now, but currently splits his time between the denizens of the dark and Haworth in West Yorkshire, beloved territory of the Brontë sisters. Following the recent wrap of an exhibition of his photos, Hartnett: ’76 > Now, at London’s groundbreaking youth culture archive PYMCA, we asked Paul to talk about some of the settings and stars of his legendary snaps.

Read the full interview with Paul Hartnett.

1984: Scary Monsters, One or Two Super Creeps
Lana Pelay sits in the center, one of London’s queen bees back in the ’80s. Around her, the fighters and fuck-ups of ’80s clubland. Princess Julia, Scarlet, Mike Nicholls. Oh, I could tell so many stories… Which one was the thief, the whore, the junkie. So many of the dancefloor crowd seemed set to self-destruct.

1978: Myra and Hilda, Billy’s, SoHo, London
Myra and Hilda were the first two women to grace the dancefloor at Steve Strange’s and Rust Egan’s ’78 club, Billy’s, where the vibe was all things Bowie, Roxy Music, and Kraftwerk. I would invariably be the first to arrive at a club, setting up my cameras (Nikon), and awaiting the beautiful butterflies and moths as they came down the stairs. I loved the theatricality of the Steve Strange clubs–it was all very playground.

1995: Jo Reynolds, Polaroid
I have had the good fortune to photograph so many wild flowers, exotic butterflies, and moths. Jo Reynolds was the ultimate club kid back in the mid-’90s. She was the door girl at the drag king club I hosted in Leicester Square, where around 150 women would come dressed as men each Thursday night. Jo had such pale skin, the most dilated pupils. Can’t imagine why… ahem. Jo was a star, and bands loved to have her as an atmospheric darling in their videos. She went kind of, um, you know… discovered God. Jesus. Then started making jewelry out of feathers. Lord knows what has happened to her. She probably became one of the weirdest things imaginable: quite normal.

1985: Polaroids of Leigh Bowery
I first started taking Polaroids at the age of nine. I loved the instant quality of those tear-off strips that had to be kept warm for one full minute under my hairless boy armpit. My first subjects were my dog, cars, birds in flight. In the ’80s, I was sponsored by Polaroid UK Ltd., who provided me with three fabulous cameras and a non-stop supply of film. Imagine my surprise when, at £1 a click, a postman came knocking at my door with box after box for me to use. I was sponsored for 10 years, and [I] documented with a variety of Polaroid mediums. I loved the fact that people could personalize their images. Of course, there was a slightly ironic touch to using a Polaroid camera–my feeling was that the medium was trashy and disposable, like so many of the people. Oh, I was so cruel back in those days.

1979: The Fist Fuck Guy, Earl’s Court, London
My first subjects were clubbers, and queers. Hard-core queers. I was an instant hit with the fist-fuck set. S&Mers loved the idea of a teenager documenting them, and they still do. I heard this guy died soon after this picture was taken, found in an appalling condition. Maybe a queer club rumor,
I don’t know.

Paul Hartnett, Self-Portrait, 1988

Listening to Kutiman’s self-titled debut, you’d think that funk has been an underlying theme throughout his entire life. Yet the producer discovered the sound just six years ago, when he left his childhood home of Zichron in the north of Israel to live in Tel Aviv. Thanks to newfound friends, his young ears were exposed to the wondrous sounds of James Brown, Sly Stone, and Shuggie Otis. Given the heavy grooves and obvious lean toward ’70s funk and soul on Kutiman, the man also known as Ophir Kutiel has proven himself to be a quick learner.

“Growing up, I didn’t really have the chance to listen to anything but the radio and some flamenco records that my father had,” he says. “In high school I was introduced to classics: Led Zeppelin, Hendrix, Nirvana, Pink Floyd.” His song “No Groove Where I Come From,” a Curtis Mayfield-inspired jam complete with lilting flutes and soulful saxophones, is a tribute to those days.

There’s plenty of groove on that track, not to mention every other one on the record. Soon after moving to Tel Aviv, the multi-instrumentalist joined an Afrobeat band called Anikuki–without ever having heard a lick of the style. Someone passed him a Fela Kuti CD, and his life changed once again. “Shortly after this great discovery, I locked myself in the studio and recorded my album,” he says. “I can find things that I love in any genre. If I feel it, I don’t care what it is.”

Kutiman went on a tear, consuming jazz, Afrobeat, and funk to complement his rock background, and it’s most noticeable on heavier, percussion-led jams like “Losing It,” featuring the screeching vocals of singer Karolina. To balance her caterwauls, Kutiman invited Elran Dekel, a more sensual and iconic-sounding soulster, to contribute to three songs. But perhaps the greatest guest spot is singer Chaka Moon’s vocals on “I Just Wanna Make Love to You”–a track that would make Barry White proud.

Given Kutiman’s penchant for wide-eyed musical globetrotting, don’t expect a funk follow-up anytime soon. A recent trip to Jamaica with his good friend and musical collaborator DJ Sabbo yielded important inspiration for new projects. “It not only changed my approach to music, I think it changed my approach to life,” Kutiman offers. “The thing about Jamaica is that music is everywhere. It was the biggest music school that I could ever ask for.” (Selling a few riddims to the Marley family will change a man.)

Besides his forthcoming reggae-heavy record–the result of nine months of recording and producing artists on the island–he’s got a live Kutiman orchestra in the works (perhaps à la Quantic), as well as a new soundsystem for club dancefloors. In the meantime, we have his self-titled stunner to listen to. Recorded in his Tel Aviv apartment with Sabbo, it was chopped, spliced, and edited “purely on Acid.” It’s highly believable that he was lysergically aided on this kaleidoscopic voyage, but he is quick to augment his remark with “…the software.”

One can only wonder.

Paul Hartnett’s first photographs depict starfish, donkeys on the beach and other scenes from the British seaside resort at Clacton. Subsequent flicks were a sight more tawdry. As a teen, Hartnett rebelled against his Catholic school upbringing and became obsessed with the glittering denizens of the London underground. His career path was altered when, at the age of 18, he photographed punk icon Soo Catwoman at a London club called Bang Disco. What ensued was 30 years of documenting the dramatic highs and seedy lows of youth culture, particularly in queer clubs like Taboo and Naïve, a drag king party he started in 1995. We caught up with Hartnett at his home in an old brewery in Haworth, West Yorkshire, and talked to him about style, substance, and why the internet is shit.

XLR8R: Have you ever taken a photo that you felt couldn’t be shown because the emotional content in it was too embarrassing, painful or disturbing?

Paul Hartnett: I tend not to take photographs that are in any way manipulative or exploitative. When I have, for example, photographed someone who has been drunk or drug-fucked, I will often edit these out of a presentation as they can be demeaning. I do not do nudes. Sometimes I have photographed dancers who look so lost, and these images tend not to get published as I feel a camera can be invasive and that is not my intention. I feel very protective about my subjects.

Does your style change when using different cameras or are the cameras just a means to an end?

I keep everything basic. I like to see lots of “information.” I love clarity. For me it’s all about the face, and details… the stitch of a hem, customizing, adornment.

If you could travel back in time to any era in history, which would you choose?

As a collector of Victorian and Edwardian photographs (check out the “Vintage” section of paulhartnett.com), I would have loved to photograph Oscar Wilde and his crew of dandies, or Quentin Crisp at the time of his arrest, when he was a sex worker in Piccadilly.

Who is your style icon?

I do not tend to have a style icon who is a major name, but I tend to adore a muse from time to time. The musician NIYI is a fascination. The artists Pascal Herren (of Fanklub in Antwerp) and Matthew Stone in London are amazing people–so articulate, so fastidious. Not lazy thinkers!

How much influence did your upbringing have on what you decided to do later?

The Benedictine monks who taught me (so little educationally or spiritually) were a massive motivating force for so many years. The school I attended certainly failed the duty of care. This worked out in my favor once I self-repaired the internal damage. Maybe that’s why I photograph the people I do.

When did it dawn on you that you could be a photographer for a living?

When I was 18. It was the time of punk, and there I was with a camera. It beat working in a cafe, although I think a towel around my waist would have been quite a look.

What do you think was the most resonant look of the ’80s?

Big bad hair, big bad make-up… suiting the bad manners.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?

“Ouch, that hurt. Slow down!”

How is club culture different now than inthe ’70s and ’80s?

I feel that MySpace, YouTube and the internet in general is actually killing creativity. I wish Osama bin Laden would blow up the Internet!

Does fashion have to have meaning to be interesting or important?

Fashion and style should not be lazy. It’s all a code. Nowadays there are too many H&M zombies out there.

In your mind, what constitutes a great party?

A great looker, a great dancer, magic in the air. These things cannot be bought.

Who is your favorite photographer?

Probably a forensic photographer, or some random guy with a studio in Turkey or Tunisia… or a photobooth. Really.

Is there one piece, or artist’s body of work, that changed the way you viewed what art could be?

At school I used to stare at the walls when the teachers talked. We had a lot of Matisse about, and Renoir.

Where is your favorite public place to be in London?

Hyde Park, feeding grapes to the crows. The section near the Peter Pan statue is good for that.

Paul Hartnett at PYMCA.