This story and all of L.A. TACO's Arts coverage is sponsored by Nikos Constant.
When artist and stripper Beverly Western invited me to her gallery opening, in an art show highlighting the creativity of sex workers, there was only one possible answer: "It would be my honor."
99 Warehouse is tucked away in a forgotten stretch of the Fashion District, the kind of block you'd never just wander onto simply because there is nothing else around.
After 11 p.m., when most of Downtown has emptied out, this is where everyone seems to be headed. We learned from our last visit and parked in the sketchy alley (literally on top of a pile of trash). I’ll do anything to not have to walk a block in heels.
Everyone coming to the warehouse inevitably passes a business where the alarm shrieks every time someone walks by. The people arriving don't even flinch anymore.
You could hear Ilee Jo, self-described as “neo grunge for lovers,” playing from outside, their soft yet powerful voice paired with melodic, neo-shoegaze-style grunge, giving off Mannequin Pussy vibes, as the crowd screamed and cheered.
As we entered the space, I saw a crowd gathered around a dancer in the front room, the walls lined with a variety of other dancers' art, ranging from paintings, photography, and costume design. There were easily 100 people packed in, marveling at the work and the beautiful dancers shaking ass while upside down on the pole, some crawling on all fours, taking turns in hitting the pole before standing near their pieces.
The music was loud, and the crowd skewed more toward the freak side this time around. A lot of grills, ranging in style: black, gold, or just sharp. Shaved eyebrows as far as the eye could see.
Neck tattoos abound, including one on artist and performer Zara Moon, who hails from the Appalachian mountains and displays hers proudly: "No Gods No Masters." It's the punkest shit I've ever seen. Less goons and more goblins (not derogatory, complimentary).
Some faces are recurring from past nights. We ran into Paige, the go-go dancer from the recent Michelin-themed sex party we covered, wearing a bikini and thigh-high latex leather boots. She stands over six feet tall, her hair falling past her hips.
Then there's Piggy, a fan favorite, still in his pig outfit but sporting a new set of girls' names scrawled on him. He's trailing L.A. TACO royalty Violet, who occasionally ashes her cigarette into his mouth—and he looks like the lucky one.
Michaela Campbell, who hosted the night's event, told L.A. TACO how she got her nom-de-pole, Beverly Western: "I chose Beverly as my stripper name 'cause I was born in a car on Beverly and Western in Koreatown."
Western’s black-and-white painting depicts skeletal hands with the phrase “something is not right” coming from the side.
"I pull inspo from Salvador Dalí, M.C. Escher, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Tim Burton, Georgia O'Keeffe,” Western tells us. “I love German Expressionism and Surrealism. The paintings displayed are acrylic on canvas."
“I really wanted to host this event because throughout the 10 years I’ve been a sex worker, I’ve met so many talented people who have inspired me,” Western says. “Not only with their hustle in the club, but the beautiful art they make—may it be music, paintings, photos, or other mediums. I realized I have access to a space to show the artistic versatility that sex workers have, and I wanted to take advantage of that.”
Western and Lydia, the owner of 99 Warehouse, bring out a three-tiered tea platter stacked with dollar bills to pose in front of their art.
Lydia's art involves a black cat against a blood-red background, its eyes bulging out, giving it a Furby-like resemblance, and landing somewhere between adorable and demonic. Even if this painting didn’t have Lydia's name in the bottom corner of it, I would be able to tell this was made by her based on vibes alone.
Western gives me the rundown on the other artists showing tonight. Most of the artists met one another dancing in clubs across Portland, Seattle, and Los Angeles.
There's Ilee Jo, who displayed photography, in addition to performing her new album.
“We met dancing in Portland, Oregon. We've supported each other's art in a lot of different ways, so it made sense to have her perform and display her work," Western says.
Niohuru, who is known for incredible costume work and winning season five of “The Boulet Brothers' Dragula,” created a giant, demonic Hello Kitty-like creature for the show. It sat in the center of the room dressed in a ball gown and big fluffy coat, baring its sharp teeth.
"We don't really want to sell this piece, so we priced it at $6,969. If someone has that kind of money, we'll adjust," Lydia tells L.A. TACO.
To the right of the pole, a dog sat patiently while someone slipped him a rubber-banded roll of dollar bills just for being there.
A dancer named Venus also took to the pole, at which point, phones and cameras came out. Wearing a black thong and lace bra, a thin strap wrapped around her neck, Venus is best known for her sadistic-masochistic, but comforting, practically maternal vibe. Her earrings are chain loops that look like they could weigh a pound or two each.
After she left the stage, another dancer came over to help collect all the bills into a pile. That's sisterhood.
The DJ made an announcement over the speakers that there was going to be a performance art piece taking place on the stage. The crowd began to gather.
Hannah Baskin sat alone beneath a cluster of unlit candelabras, missing the first few matches before finally catching a flame and lighting them all. The failed attempts only made the ritual feel more real.
Wine glasses filled with animal brains sat beside her. One by one she carved them apart before pinning the pieces onto her white bodysuit. Nobody spoke: With how still and focused the crowd was—scratching their heads, yet mesmerized—you could hear the bells stitched to her socks between the hymns that played overhead.
It was hot as hell inside the warehouse, and before long you could actually smell the brains, very earthy and metallic, as each piece was being pinned to Baskin’s bodysuit.
“The idea came to me, thinking about my relationship with memory, my current influences are Hermann Nitsch, Pierre Huyghe, and Romeo Castellucci,” Baskin says.
Venus brought us over to her display to show us photos of her in very sharp poses wearing bondage and body contortion.
“The inspiration behind my work is very much inspired by bondage, discipline, love for my sensuality and sexuality, and all there is to learn from them,” Venus tells us about the pieces, which were shot in Albuñuelas, Spain, in her first international modeling job. “Heavy S&M and bondage were my prerequisites which led to me becoming an aerialist and finally finding discipline within and for myself. So engaging with the apparatus in a way that feels constrictive yet free is where a lot of my work stems from.”
Gracie Jane took the stage to perform next, wearing a maroon dress that showed off her sculpted frame, singing songs dedicated to "her kitty"—self-love above all.
By this point it was almost 3 a.m., and people were somehow still arriving. To close out the journey, I got a lap dance from two dancers, Sophia and Venus. Just another day at the office. (I’m always looking for ways to support the arts.)
They danced over me, as I thought, “I can't believe this is my job.” Like a 1950s husband claiming he's working late at the office, except I actually was.
I ran into a young man, somewhere in his early 20s, giving frat boy vibes, eating vegan ice cream straight from the carton, and walking around shirtless.
You'd never picture a guy like that in the same room as Piggy—and yet here they both were. 99 Warehouse proves itself, once again, to be the third space the world so desperately needs.
99 Warehouse is the modern-day Los Angeles version of Studio 54—a room where strippers are painters, painters are performers, and everyone is allowed to be themselves.
Do you also want to feel like you’ve reached nirvana? Follow 99 Warehouse to learn about upcoming events.
