I spent a year documenting the punk scene in Los Angeles. Born from a deep fascination with the sheer variety and creativity within the community. Punk, in its rawest form, represents resilience, resourcefulness, and the unfiltered expression of individuality.

The scene thrives as a space of passion, defiance, and solidarity, uniting its members through music that educates, mobilizes, and heals. At its core, punk isn’t about rebellion—it’s a movement that channels pain and struggle into love and action, creating a community where everyone feels seen and safe.

Through this project, I was inspired not only by the art but by the resilience, kindness, and intimacy of the people I met. Their collective efforts to educate, organize, and create a sense of belonging deeply resonated with me. For many, the scene wasn’t just about music; it was about mobilizing for change and finding a family in the process.

Punk has an unapologetic focus on issues that directly or indirectly impact the community—poverty, inequality, racism, war, and systemic oppression. Beyond raising awareness, the scene transforms these struggles into opportunities for change. Shows are organized not only as performances but as acts of care and mobilization. Benefit shows organized food drives, community aid, or used profits toward larger causes, while others offer necessities like haircuts or clothing donations.

At the heart of it, the bands were vulnerable, raw, and deeply connected to their work. Watching them perform revealed a striking contrast. Many band members, though seemingly introverted or nonchalant offstage, find catharsis in performing. Their performances are a rush, necessary for their own emotional release. Behind their casual demeanor is an intensity and commitment that speaks volumes about the weight of what they create.

The audience reflects that same complexity. People pay homage to the bands they love with sewn patches and pins on their clothing—symbols of connection and conversation starters within the scene. Despite their tough aesthetics, the community exudes kindness and warmth, offering a sense of belonging to anyone who enters their orbit.

The scene carries the weight of intersecting identities that punk music addresses head-on. The shared struggles of the community—discrimination, economic hardship, and systemic neglect—find an outlet here, where music becomes a force for empowerment. Shows become more than entertainment; they are spaces for organizing, creating, and showing up for one another in ways that systems have failed to do.

As I worked on this project, I kept Nan Goldin and George Rodriguez in mind—two photographers whose impact shaped my understanding of documentary photography. Goldin’s The Ballad of Sexual Dependency portrayed her chosen family, exploring intimacy and emotion within post-punk and LGBTQ+ subcultures. George Rodriguez’s decades-long documentation of the Chicano movement and musicians in Los Angeles captured both the cultural richness and the political struggles of marginalized communities. Their work, a mixture of raw vulnerability and resistance, paralleled the scene I was documenting, where safe spaces became lifelines for those who felt unseen elsewhere.