[URBAN NOTE] "Preventing Another Oakland Warehouse Tragedy Means Supporting Artists, Not Punishing T

[rfmcdonald]

The Village Voice's Sophie Weiner argues that the aftermath of the Oakland Ghost ship fire should not lead to a crackdown against artists crowded in unsafe buildings, or at least that this should not be the only thing done. There needs to be affordable places for artists to live and create.

As the death toll rises from a devastating fire that tore through the Ghost Ship arts space in Oakland, California on Friday, opportunistic publications have begun spinning. Their assessments of the tragedy emphasize the illegal nature of the space, which was neither zoned for housing nor permitted to host events. The New York Times called it a "fire trap;" the Daily Mail, always searching for opportunities to sensationalize, called the space a “death trap” and a “commune”, describing the party as a “rave”—a term that’s nearly impossible to define.

To those outside this tight-knit scene, it may seem bizarre to attend a party in an unpermitted warehouse without sufficient exits or even a proper staircase. But understanding why spaces like Ghost Ship exist—and why they’re so important—is essential as we grapple with the future of grassroots arts spaces in the Bay Area, New York, and beyond.

The party Friday was a showcase for the Los Angeles-based electronic label 100% Silk, whose artists focus on updated versions of classic house music, the genre from which nearly everything we think of today as dance music has evolved. It began in Chicago at a utilitarian venue called The Warehouse, opened by the promoter Robert Williams in 1976. DJs like Frankie Knuckles used multiple turntables to piece together disco songs into a continuous, thumping beat. This style became known as “house music,” a name derived from the venue where it was born.

From the beginning, this new form of music was demonized and persecuted by authorities and the public. "Disco sucks" became a rallying cry among mainstream rock fans, who said they simply disliked the sound of the music but often actually hated it for being effeminate and flamboyant, and for its fans, who were in large part queer people of color. Even openly gay discos sometimes turned away black patrons.

The Warehouse, on the other hand, was based on inclusivity. "My fondest memory is the mixed crowd. Racially, ethnically, sexually. That was the best thing,” Frankie Knuckles told Resident Advisor in 2012. For these people, The Warehouse was a utopian escape where, for a few hours, all that mattered was the music.