“Heaven Has a Smoking Section and a Bar": At the Harley Davidson Homecoming

August 02, 2024

There are only two things that make me patriotic: the Olympics and Harley Davidson. Judging from the fact that I counted two fresh Harley Davidson logo face tattoos and one ankle monitor, I’m not alone in this sentiment. Last week’s Harley Davidson Homecoming was a celebration of sick rides, rock and roll, and our hard-fought right to fill our bodies with nothing but pulled pork and beer. The week prior, the RNC landed in Milwaukee and completely by coincidence, Grindr usage increased exponentially. Closeted Republicans. Bikers wearing shirts that say “Submissive and Breedable.” Is this the America(na) that Lana del Rey sings about? We may have only been in Wisconsin, but between the cowboy hats and the cloud of not-quite-legal smoke above the Cypress Hill set, it was a real outlaw kind of weekend. Save a horse, ride a Harley.

HD Homecoming also marks my triumphant return to the Midwest. I take “homecoming” a bit too literally. The last time I was in Wisconsin was my earliest memory — me, preschool-aged, watching Law and Order on our box TV. Now, when I land Thursday night, I’m welcomed with a $12 Twisted Tea. I’m already scoping out the scene for someone who looks like they’ll let me on the back of their bike. There are so many mullets here, but I’m the only girl with one. Bushwick quakes in fear. I end up at a Target right before closing. It’s always like this. Ninety percent of the time in the Midwest, there’s nothing to do other than go to Target. I spent my thirteenth birthday in a Walmart parking lot. Now I’m back in the land of superstores and non-walkable cities, chatting it up with an employee with “BIMBO” as her name tag. She’s wearing a DARE shirt. God bless her heart, I doubt she’s ever heard the phrase “indie sleaze” in her life. This is an untainted part of culture that Harley Davidson preserves.

Words and photos by Izzy Capulong

Friday. 3 pm. This is luxury. Friends is on the hotel TV. I’m eating a burger in bed. New York is far behind me. My only worries are the possibly-infected cut on my finger and whether or not wearing my flea market “LADY RIDER” leather vest would make me look like a poser. At the festival, the Veterans Park bartenders know us all intimately. When people tipsily fumble with inserting their credit cards, the bartenders joke about sticking things in the wrong hole. I get my favorite flavor of Smirnoff Ice (that my deli doesn’t even carry). The bartender doesn’t say goodbye — she says “see you later.”

The buffest guy here is worried about getting bloated. “No more lemonade for me,” he resolves. TV got it all wrong about bikers. In any situation, I’d rather go to a biker than a cop. Priscilla Block sings and makes me realize that country songs and my cosmopolitan party-poetry aren’t really that different — we both write about drinking and running into exes. Maybe country music is my fate. Priscilla chats it up with her fans: “I see your wrist. Did you get my signature tattooed on you? I don’t even know if I love my dog that much.”

5 pm. There’s a Zyn tent in the middle of the park. “What the fuck are Zyns?” I hear someone ask. We both turn around to see the line wrap around the tent twice. It’s still light out and one of the Nitro Circus guys is flying off a ramp while seated in a recliner. “Give it up for Tyler Roberts, who is lying on the ground because he just jumped a couch.”

8 pm. HARDY gets real American. “If you’re in this country and you’re not proud of it, FUCK YOU!” Everyone’s booing these hypothetical anti-patriots. I find myself clenching my Smirnoff Ice amidst an emblazoned crowd chanting “USA! USA!” People notice me not chanting. I keep my eyes to the ground and wait for the country music to start.

I’m wondering if I should’ve done pushups in the hotel room when I hear someone behind me ask, “Have you ever been in a mosh pit?” Some kid whose age is definitely still in the single digits answered: “Once.” A girl finds a motorcycle-shaped chip in her bag. Her mom reacts in a way that reminds me of the grilled Cheesus scene from Glee. She claims the Harley chip is a sign from god. The girl eats it without hesitation. Someone hops the fence from GA into VIP. For the first time since that chant we all share a single look of solidarity — a look of ‘I don’t know what the fuck that was but it’s not my business.’

Jelly Roll is on. “God bless America. God bless Milwaukee. God bless the long-haired sons of sinners.” God bless my dead camera. He dedicates his song to “those who tear it down Saturday but still end up in the pews on Sunday.” I think of when I’d leave the club at 3 and end up at my 9 am literature class the next day. “This is for those who love Jesus but still say ‘fuck’ a lot,” says Jelly. He believes that the spirit of rock and roll is with us, here at the Harley Davidson Homecoming. “The spirit of country music is here. The spirit of love is here. God is in Milwaukee. Heaven has a smoking section and an open bar.” A Ziplock bag containing cheese curds and a joint is launched to the stage. It’s an impressive throw. I definitely should’ve done pushups before coming. Jelly gives his ode to weed: “I was only 12 years old when I thought I smelled a skunk in my house. I now know that to be the smell of freedom.”

10 pm. In front of me is a heated argument about spots being stolen. One thing I learned — first from a Patti Smith show earlier this year, then from the Jelly Roll show — don’t mess with middle-aged women’s concert spots. Amidst the arguing, one of the antagonized men turns around to ask me, “Are you here all by your lonesome?” I can barely answer because I’m still shaken from hearing the phrase ‘all by your lonesome’ unironically. His friend turns around to call me cute and ask me for my Snapchat. I haven’t used Snapchat since I was in high school (in Ohio). I’m taken aback because I thought that only girls like Sabrina Carpenter were considered cute in the Midwest.

Machine Gun Kelly rides onstage (in an HD Low Rider ST. Very nice). All weekend, there had been murmurs about his surprise performance of his new song with Jelly. God doesn’t bless my dead camera so I don’t get any pictures of him. Jelly and Kelly debut their song and Kells sings with his emo voice. Jelly thanks the crowd: “You guys took the most average, overweight, white trash guy in America and made him a star.” Jelly shouts out his guitarist — it’s apparently his 57th birthday. “He’s the only person onstage with a good credit score.” Considering all my apartment applications that just got denied, I can’t say the same. “He’s also always the drunkest person onstage.” I find common ground.

The older couple next to me taps my shoulder: “You’re young. Who’s that young, skinny fellow next to Jelly?”

“That’s Machine Gun Kelly.”

“And who’s that MGK that Jelly keeps talking about?”

“They’re the same guy — MGK is just his initials.”

“Oh! He’s quite good. He should be famous.”

A six-year-old boy tears a beer can in half. The burly guy in front of me is wearing a tail. America the beautiful.

Saturday. 12pm. I haven’t taken my meds yet so I’ll take them with some free brisket and an alcoholic beverage like America’s god intended. I ask the bartender if it’s too early for a Twisted Tea. “It’s never too early for a Twisted Tea,” they reply. Truer words have never been spoken.

I’m wearing my vest. Goddammit if I’m a poser. My mullet is wild and beautiful. My cut is definitely infected. While I’m watching the ride-ins, someone from the news tells me they love my look and asks for a photo of me with my bike. “Sorry, I didn’t actually ride here. I just dress like this.” I resolve to pay my loans, get my bike license, get a bike, and ride into next year’s Homecoming to redeem myself. I spend my time in between shows at Nitro Circus, high-fiving the bikers and wondering if I could even pull any of this off in Skate 3.

6 pm. “Welcome back to the party, motherfuckers!” Cypress Hill is on and I can’t tell if the big cloud of smoke is weed or a fog machine. Probably both. Weed isn’t legal in Milwaukee. Rock on, Harley Homecoming. Joint in hand, Sen Dog grants DJ Muggs the title of Greatest DJ In The World. And apologies to all my friends reading this, you guys do not compete for that title. “Are you feeling the vibes right now? Are you feeling alive right now? Are you feeling high right now?” asks B-Real. I make eye contact with Sen Dog on my way to do some shots with some bikers.

A photographer comes around and has Alex and Stu put me on their shoulders for a photo. Very few words are exchanged before I’m up in the air.

The Offspring comes on. “Milwaukee is a mecca to a beer drinker like me,” says Noodles. “Thanks for being here instead of the beer tent.” All 60,000 of us collectively regress to our pop-punk phases. I say ‘phase’ like it ever ended, but it’s 2024 and I am two-stepping in Doc Martens and holding a digital camera while they play “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid.” Apparently that song just hit one billion streams. “We got like, 200 bucks from that,” says Noodles.

They debut their new song and Noodles tells us, “That is the best we’ve ever played that song. Dexter left it all out there. He really nailed parts of that song.” “Parts of songs are my specialty,” says Dexter. Noodles says something about getting turned on. “It’s like we have a choir of earthbound angels.” He’s talking about us. “Do you know why they’re earthbound? Because they’re a little bit naughty. This is an audience that loves their curse words. Would you guys like to sing and cuss with us?” Dexter says this audience is the best thing that happened to rock and roll.

9 pm. Red Hot Chili Peppers are here. This is the band that all my friends in bands want to be. They bring out Willie G, who’s nearing 50 years at Harley Davidson. Anthony Kiedis is in a cowboy hat. “Take off your shirt!” a man behind me yells. I turn to give them a nod of understanding. “He wants a husband,” his friend explains. Good luck, man. Beach balls are bouncing around. There is no hatred in the crowd right now. I’m content watching the stage through the neck rolls of the guy in front of me. There’s a guitar and bass solo that brings me to tears. Fireworks go off. No one notices. Many of us are listening with our eyes closed, tired and heat-stricken, but willing to bask in the light of Flea, jumping around in a skirt.

1 am. I end up meeting that guy from the night before. Do it for the plot. We did the things you do in the Midwest — drive to the gas station and buy hot food. We waste gas to keep the conversation going.

Sunday. 9 am. Waiting for my flight, there are two guys next to me at the gate who see me editing photos — they’re decked out in Harley merch and cowboy hats, I can only assume they’re coming from the festival. “HARDY was whacked out that night.” Oh yeah. Definitely coming from the festival.

Culture

office people: Willow Defebaugh

July 21, 2024

Over a decade ago, Willow Defebaugh left her native Michigan for NYC to pursue a career in magazines. She was on the verge of leaving the fast-paced industry altogether when she met Jake Sargent in 2019 and started Atmos, a magazine focused on climate issues. What started as a passion project has grown into a global ecosystem of artists, activists, and writers driven by a mission to reconnect people with nature and our shared humanity. Defebaugh's first book, The Overview: Meditations on Nature for a World in Transition, is a collection of 100 essays derived from her weekly newsletter of the same name, released last December.

With stories that mirror her own transition contextualized to address the state of our earth, she tells us that the book "illuminates the wisdom of the Earth and its many teachers." From corals, she learned that her survival would depend on symbiosis; from frogs, to stay porous even when she might want to close up; from rare plants, the beauty of unusual blooms. She hopes that the anthology becomes a way for people to connect with nature, no matter where they are in their journey.

by SAHIR AHMED
photography by JESPER D. LUND

What is your ideal office?

At home surrounded by my plants and my dog.

What is your morning routine?

I wake up and go for a walk with my dog and pick up a matcha. I find that moving my body and getting fresh air first thing in the morning is critical for starting the day off right. If it’s a writing day, I might sit for a tea meditation to allow the words to pour in.

When was the last time a book made you cry?

Every book makes me cry. I’m a voracious reader, and something about leaving a world behind makes me emotional — regardless of the ending. Perhaps that’s why I do the work that I do.

Who was the first person you idolized?

My mother. She taught me to see the world with wonder. She still does.

Where do you go when you write?

First I go in, then I go out.

What is your favorite essay in The Overview?

There’s an edition about crows and ravens — how they have been observed holding funerals — and the universality of grief that comes to mind. Or the one about the mystery of dark matter and dark energy, which comprise the vast majority of our universe and yet scientists cannot identify. And another about dragonflies and incomplete metamorphosis, which came from a deeply tender place.

What’s something you’ve learned about nature that other people should know?

Despite the frameworks many of us have been raised with, nature is inherently queer and trans. Countless species exhibit homosexual behavior and exist on a spectrum when it comes to sex and gender — including gynandromorphic birds and insects, clownfish that change sex, and fungi that exist in tens of thousands of different forms of what we call gender. Biodiversity is the hallmark of nature, and what is queerness if not a celebration of that?

Is romanticism dead?

It’s up to us what we let die, and what we let live on through us. I choose to be a romantic. I think I always knew that I wouldn’t survive this world if I didn’t fall in love with it.

Which weather phenomenon best describes you?

I’ve always loved summer storms. Something about the rain and lightning feel cathartic to me, like a release of tension building under the surface that you couldn’t previously place. Maybe that’s not me, but I hope it’s what my words can be.

What have you learned recently about yourself?

That I never stop evolving.

How do you find balance?

I write.

If you could be any animal for a day, which one would you choose?

A hummingbird. They are the only animal that has the ability to hover, which they adapted in order to remain unmoving enough to drink the nectar of delicate flowers without damaging them. I often think about that: how sweet it would be to finally learn to be still.

Culture

"These Days I Pay Attention to What’s Inside Myself": Bruce Gilden

July 16, 2024

Over the past five decades, Bruce Gilden has elevated street photography to the grand arena of portraiture. From his early black-and-white spontaneous shots of New York City pedestrians to his latest color digital portraits of sex workers worldwide, Gilden’s photographic practice can be summed up with a singular question: can portrait photography faithfully capture the essence of its subjects in all their intimacy? This negotiation of truth is particularly poignant in some of Gilden’s recent series, which are simultaneously revelatory and provoke curiosity about his methodology in constructing these intensely intimate portraits. The unstable distance between camera and subject, and the various ways this distance is mediated, takes center stage in Gilden’s career survey, Why These?, currently on view at Fotografiska New York. The selection of photographs, curated by Gilden, spans the analog to digital age, showcasing a quasi-documentary gaze that embraces humanity and the plurality of everyday life.

Why These? is on view at Fotografiska New York, 281 Park Ave S, New York, NY 10010, through the end of September.

By Qingyuan Deng
Donna, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA. 2014 © Bruce Gilden
Images courtesy the artist and Fotografiska.

Hi Bruce. Congratulations on opening a major show! How do you feel?

It’s always nice to have a major show especially since the work is very strong and it looks great, but I have to say that I could have put many more photos in the show without a loss of quality.

You were intimately involved in the curation, what was the process of looking back at your career like?

I curated the show and chose photographs that I liked, some iconic and others less known, showing where I started and where I am now.

Before you were a photographer, you studied sociology. In a way, I view your photography as a sociological study. Would you agree?

I only took one sociology course in college. I photograph what interests me.

You mentioned watching Antonioni’s Blow-Up (1966) as a turning point that decided your pivot toward photography. Does cinema continue to have an impact on your photographic practice?

I’m not a fan of Antonioni as a director but because of the movie Blow-Up, photography became fashionable in 1966 so it crossed my mind that I could try being a professional photographer. I never held a camera in my hand before.

Cinema has always had an impact on my photography. My candid work has definitively been influenced by Film Noir among other genres.

You started with black-and-white photography and people on the streets of New York which you intimately know, in a time when photography was transitioning toward color and increasingly given a political function. How and why did you decide against what was in vogue?

It was in Coney Island that I started my black-and-white photography, and then I worked on the streets of New York.

I see in B&W and I’m not into trends. My motto is “Be Yourself”.

Then you started doing color photography only recently. Why?

I still do B&W, but I felt I needed a change. You can’t do the same thing forever, and when you start something new and different, you feel energized.

You use flash and capture people in their most vulnerable moments. There is a different kind of closeness here. What draws you to socially marginalized populations?

I don’t agree with your statement about “vulnerable moments”. What draws me to socially marginalized populations is that I’m an outlier and not part of the mainstream. I just feel comfortable with them.

Do you feel connected to them through photography?

No, I feel connected to them through life, and photography is the bridge that connects us.

Amber Kensington, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. 2023 © Bruce Gilden

Ocean City, Maryland, USA. 2021 © Bruce Gilden

Jenna, Iowa State Fair, USA. 2017 © Bruce Gilden

Bonnie, Columbus, Ohio, USA. 2014 © Bruce Gilden

Your photography evokes strong reactions from critics and the public alike. Do you ever feel misunderstood for the choice of your subject matter?

I have many people — critics and those in the public who consider me legendary, and others who don’t like my work. Whether you like it or not, it doesn’t leave you indifferent. My pictures are about real people and real life. I photograph what’s inside my heart.

You’ve photographed Japanese yakuza mobsters, sex workers, and bike gangs. Could you say more about such attractions?

Since childhood, I have been attracted to characters, and If you know something about my past (myself, my parents), you’ll know where this attraction stems from.

Do you ever stage your subjects for theatrical effects? Or are you only interested in utmost authenticity?

In my newer face and waist-up portraits mostly in color, I ask permission. All my other work is candid as is some of the recent work (Bikers, Korea, Italy, etc).

Do you pay attention to other filmmakers and photographers? If so, who are you watching?

When I started photography, I learned my craft by looking at other photographers’ work and then eventually I became Bruce Gilden. These days I pay attention to what’s inside myself.

Asakusa, Tokyo, Japan. 1998 © Bruce Gilden

Coney Island, New York City, USA. 1982 © Bruce Gilden

Port-au-Prince, Haiti. 1990 © Bruce Gilden

Lefty Louie, New York City, USA. 1986 © Bruce Gilden

Culture

Synchronicity: Maisie Williams

And who better to speak on personal revelation than an actor who’s grown up in the spotlight, a crucible of self-perception? Amidst the distractions of stardom, the Game of Thrones star’s enduring self-confidence has given her something we all should be envious of: she knows who she is, the path she’s on, and how to traverse the unpredictability of life.

With a range of diverse projects under her belt since the finale of Game of Thrones and a highly-anticipated Christian Dior biopic series freshly out on Apple TV, Williams finds herself increasingly grounded by her own private revelations. She takes the time to explain herself, responding directly and without hurry to my deeply personal questions about meditation, social pressure, and self-perception with honesty and an engaged sense of humble self-assuredness.

By the end of our conversation, I felt a sense of illumination from our time together: like my own philosophies around serendipity and the flow of the universe had been truly seen in a rare moment of human connection across screens.

For this feature, I wanted to present William’s thoughts unobstructed by anything more than this introduction. A snapshot of her current state of mind and own private revelations: perception and epiphany in a beautifully clear understanding of the world.

ON FEELING LIKE HER OWN PERSON

I’ve spent a lot of time alone over the last couple of years and I've spent a lot of time on self-development — a lot of yoga, a lot of meditation, a lot of therapy, and a lot of journaling. From a young age, the way I saw myself was dictated mostly by the way that I was seen publicly, but now I really feel like I can see myself for who I am — how people [feel] who are not in the public eye feel.

I used to think of myself as two people, like the famous side of myself and then the normal side, but now I feel like those two people have become one again. I'd say it's been gradual, [coming to my sense of self]. I think that it's definitely been propelled by meditation and yoga practice. Also, [there’s] something that everyone always says: “You turn 25 and then your brain closes over.” During my 26th year, I could really see parts of my personality or decisions from my past or conversations from my past differently. And that's just something that you can't control. It's just part of growing up, I guess. But for me, that was so profound.

ON DRESSING TO REFLECT A SENSE OF SELF

I think that this kind of idea — of “method dressing” — is not something that I invented, but have definitely adopted with [Pistol and New Look]. I think that I really started to focus on doing projects that I really, really loved — I’ve had such an influx of opportunity come in since being on Game of Thrones, which obviously puts me in a very, very fortunate position, but I think — with these two projects in particular — what’s been really nice is just feeling like they’re very aligned with what I want to do and how I want to be seen.

And so the press surrounding that and [the ability] to tailor my looks to the characters that I play has been just a really nice extension of the creativity that comes with my job. There’s not a lot of creative freedom as an actor: I’m not writing the scripts or picking the looks or whatever. So it’s nice to incorporate that level of creativity in dressing for press and for premieres and so on. I think that — really to get to that point, I think I just grew a lot, in [my] confidence in myself. Now I just feel excited to be in control of my image rather than feeling completely overwhelmed by it.

ON FINDING JOY IN THE SMALL MOMENTS

I love the simplicity of life, really. The things that bring me the most joy are just seeing my post lady, going to my local yoga place, and seeing some of the ladies that I practice with there — just real simple things.

I recently had my pipes freeze over, and so I went to my neighbor's house to take a shower, and I felt part of the community in a way that's just very simple and beautiful. I’ve just been nurturing my circle and my world to a point where I find these little synchronicities, which is really beautiful.

I think when you get really famous, your circle gets really small and you get less trusting and you get kind of nervous or whatever, and I think my circle is still very small, but in this beautiful little world that I feel like I’ve built, being able to being humbled by the water pipes and still needing to go and rely on someone such a beautiful detail in life. I was walking over to her house and right above her door there was this shooting star. I’ve never seen a shooting star before in my life, and I just felt like at that moment everything was aligned to where it was supposed to be.

ON TAKING REAL TIME FOR RELATIONSHIPS

At the moment, I feel really drawn towards nurturing incredible friendships and relationships that have been part of my life forever, but have never been a huge part of my daily ritual. Even though I do spend a lot of time alone, I feel like I have so much more trust and love in my friendships. The relationships in my life were always there, but I think I was too worried to call upon them in my time of need. Now I feel so secure with these incredible people who care about me and want beautiful things for me. I’ve always cared about them and wanted beautiful things for them, but it feels like now there’s a really beautiful flow and that trust is very strong when I’m with those people. I think [it comes down to] just making sure that you’re not just seeing someone so that, in your mind, you have crossed that off a list.

If you’re with that person and there’s something happening in their life where they feel you are open enough for them to be able to share those things and vice versa — I think that’s probably one of the key things that changed. I used to be like, “Okay, I’m going to go home. I’m going to see everyone and I’d spend three seconds with everyone that I wanted to see.” And the whole time I was like, “I’ve got to work on Monday and learn my lines and what was the point really, because no one has changed...” It’s [better] to think about those moments being sacred and being something that you put a lot of your time into or that can take up a real permanent space in your mind as [they’re] happening, rather than being stuck in the past or stuck in the future during those interactions.

ON EMBRACING SYNCHRONICITY

I walk my dog in the same place all the time, and I’ve been talking about how I really want to get a lamb because I have a big garden and I’d love to have a little lamb. I was walking and there’s this lady walking towards me with a lamb on a leash, and I was like, “What are the chances that I’ve met that crazy lady who has a pet lamb?”

Yeah, I just think that what I’ve really learned is that these synchronicities have found me in a really beautiful way, and whenever they pop up, now I really have the space to see those tiny little details that bring me the most joy and keep me on the path and make me feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I can trust in that now and not feel like I’m just floating through time and space, never really landing or sticking anywhere, searching for who I am. I now just feel very present in this moment and am really just drinking it in, when these beautiful simple things happen.

ON THE FLOW OF THE UNIVERSE

I used to see myself as very driven and constantly moving and constantly pushing, but now I can just sort of sit and be taken, rather than feeling that frantic energy of I have to make the future happen. I feel like it’s all going to happen the way that it’s supposed to, which is definitely a calmer way to live life and definitely puts a lot less wrinkles on my face and gray hairs on my head, so that’s nice.

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