Welcome to this edition of [book spotlight]. Today, we uncover the layers of 'WHEN MIDNIGHT COMES AROUND,' by Gary Green (published by STANLEY/BARKER). We'd love to read your comments below about these insights and ideas behind the artist's work.

As the sun set over New York City in the late 1970s, a different kind of light began to glow in the gritty downtown clubs of Manhattan. Amid the dimly lit venues and smoky air of places like Max’s Kansas City and CBGB, a young photographer named Gary Green found himself drawn to the raw energy and rebellious spirit of the burgeoning punk scene. By day, Green worked as a photographer’s assistant, but by night, he immersed himself in the chaotic, electrifying world of music that was destined to leave an indelible mark on culture and history.

Equipped with his trusty 35mm Nikkormat camera, Green navigated through the crowds of eclectic fans and legendary musicians, capturing moments that would later become iconic. From the wild performances of Joey Ramone and Patti Smith to the enigmatic presence of Lou Reed and Andy Warhol, Green’s photographs offer a candid and visceral snapshot of a time when New York City was the epicenter of a musical revolution. In his new book “When Midnight Comes Around,” Green invites us to step back into those nights, reliving the sights and sounds of an era that redefined the boundaries of music and art.

Entering the Scene: What drew you into New York City’s downtown music scene in the late '70s, and how did you gain access to such iconic venues like Max’s Kansas City and CBGB?

I began listening to alternative music in high school and later college. I had a friend in high school who was way into David Bowie and the Velvet Underground and played all their records at his house. Then in college I became familiar with The Modern Lovers, The New York Dolls, Ramones, etc. We got Patti Smith to come to my university during my second year by stuffing the ballot box on the concert committee vote. I couldn't wait to go back to New York (I grew up around 40 minutes from Manhattan) and start seeing the bands that seemed so fresh and fun. During the summer we'd go into town and go to CBGBs and Max's. They weren't iconic so much at that time, although Max's Kansas City was already known as a hangout for the Warhol gang and others in the avant garde such as Robert Mapplethorpe and Patti Smith, CBGBs was a dive bar on the infamous Bowery and was right next to an SRO (single-room occupancy hotel) whose clientele blended in somewhat with the punk fans hanging out on the sidewalk. I started photographing people and getting introduced to others. The camera was a bit of a crutch for me because I was very shy at that point.

Photographic Approach and technical choices: How did you decide who to photograph in such a vibrant scene, and what was your approach to capturing these iconic musicians and figures in a candid manner? Given the challenges of low-light venues, can you discuss your technical approach and choice of equipment during these shoots?

In 1977 I started living in New York City and going out every night or nearly every night. I became friendly with Sylvain Sylvain of the New York Dolls, who eventually invited me to live at his apartment in the West Village. I was working for a photographer as his assistant and he soon started letting me use the studio when he wasn't there and allowed me to use the darkroom as well. He actually taught me a lot of technical stuff that I still rely on today and use in my teaching. I was shooting with a 35mm Nikkormat camera with a 50mm lens that I bought when I first went to college. The camera was used but it lasted me quite a while. I would use a flash to photograph in the dark interiors of the clubs and other places I had access to. My idea was to soak the scene with light and simply record it. You can do a lot with that simple equipment. Even still, it's a challenge to get everything you want, but the darkness of the prints at times was appropriate.

I never quite thought of those photographs as exactly "candid," since most of the photographs expose the performative nature of these types of pictures. Even when the subjects of  photographs weren't looking directly into the lens, most of the time there was an implied permission by the fact that I made my presence felt in one way or another. There are exceptions and there are times when that didn't work. I most often would ask people if I could make a picture of them and they would usually agree. In a way, this was all a kind of showbiz so most of the people on the scene wanted to be known for one thing or another. After a while people knew who I was and I gained more confidence in approaching them. I started taking my photographs around in an old photographic-paper box to magazines, fanzines, musicians who were making records, etc., and started to get the work published. I would then sometimes get assignments that would give me access to someone who I had never met. That was very exciting to me. 

Memorable Encounters: Of all the personalities you photographed, could you share an encounter or moment that stands out for its impact or the insight it provided into the music scene?

That's a tough one. There were certainly moments that were impressive to me and taught me a lot about the music scene and about life itself. There were quite a few musicians and singers I enjoyed meeting—I met and photographed Carl Perkins backstage at a club and returned the next night to give him a print and have him sign one for me. It has since been lost. Seeing the Ramones live for the first time from about three feet away from the small stage was enough to nearly blow my head off! Meeting Ronnie Spector, who I adored, showed me the ravages that the music business can create. More than anything, though, I saw life at a pace and depth I hadn't experienced until then. I saw frustration, despair, violence, and the whole world that spun around me in New York was truly overpowering. I learned a lot during that period and I've since learned a lot about myself as well. It was a seminal time in my life and I found it both exhilarating and challenging. I certainly learned to see the difference between what somebody did and who they were. 

Documentary Intent: Did you begin this project with a documentary intent, or did the significance of these photographs as historical documents become apparent over time?

I think I always thought that the photographs were a document of sorts—as much as a photograph is a document—of that time and place. And of course, it's also about myself, being in New York City those years, trying to grow up, etc. The work was published in small rock magazines and a few national and international magazines but I had always hoped that over time it would find a bigger and newer audience. It took a few decades but eventually that happened. The work is very personal to me, though that's probably what I did not realize at the time I made it. The self-portrait-ness of it is clear to me now, as is the journey through the night, which took me many places—some were great, others not so much.

Cultural Impact: Reflecting on the era you documented, what do you believe was the lasting impact of the NYC punk scene on music and culture as a whole?

That era remains a touchstone for a lot of the DIY world, including a plethora of zines, self-produced music and books, and a whole range of indie bands that all owe a debt to the raw energy of The Ramones, Patti Smith, The Velvets, The New York Dolls, The Sex Pistols, The Clash and so on. I think a lot of those bands demystified putting together a band and making records. I think it's more democratic, more equitable. There is of course still the commercial mainstream but even there artists have broken through thanks to computers and social media. There are more opportunities than ever and a lot of that started back in the 1970s when bands started making their own 45's getting them played on college radio.

Personal Evolution: How has your photography evolved since those early days in NYC, and how did those experiences influence your later work, teaching, and projects?

That's a long time ago and my work has evolved considerably. However, in time, I have seen how much more was in that work than I previously thought. I can see better now. I can read photographs more critically and analytically. The old work still surprises me at times. However, my interests and intent now is very different and my approach to making photographs is more complex. My work since I went to graduate school in 1991 is much subtler, quieter, and way more diverse. I have been making landscape photographs for many years—of the prairie, the built environment, the natural world. More recently I've been combing genres more fluidly or, I guess erasing them completely, and making photographs that interest me and letting the theme sort of result from that process. I will be going on-press later this month to print Almost Home, my third book with L'Artiere Edizioni in Bologna. The selection of photographs is from a sixteen-year-long project about the landscape in central Maine, where I have lived for almost that long. I don't see the work as a document of any sort, like I did with the seventies work. It is more of a pastoral of sorts, a journey through the years and through the streets and places near where I live. It's about change, death and rebirth, perseverance and hope. It bears witness to the world and our existence at this time and in this place as I observed it and photographed what was in front of me.

Preservation and Legacy: As someone who captured a critical moment in music history, what advice do you have for photographers today on preserving their work for future generations?

That is an excellent question. As a photographer who has worked a long time, this is critical. I'd say start early and keep up with protecting and organizing your work, whether it's on the computer, on paper, in boxes, or all of the above. Use the best materials you can afford to protect completed works. If you're shooting film, create a system so you know where each negative is and keep them all in archival boxes or binders with archival sleeves. If you're shooting in the digital realm, keep even better track of your work since there will probably be more images. Make master scans and use copies to make prints, books, etc. Back-up all your digital material on a safe drive or drives. It doesn't matter what your system is, create one and stay with it. Make it as simple as possible. Perhaps a single log with dates, places, and location of film or digital files. Most of all and this is obvious but essential: keep all your work safe from harm, extreme temperatures or humidity. It's all about order. Having said that, the work that I did is the least organized of any of my work since. I was young, busy, and not prone to order. Even now, my systems aren't perfect so do we do the best we can. 

In addition, do what you can to get the work out of your archive and out into the public, where the potential to have it placed in good collections is quite a bit better than having it in boxes. If you can, show it to curators if you can. Make appointments, propose exhibitions, make deals, publish it online, Instagram, whatever you can use to get your work in front of the right eyes and into private and public collections. That is where it will be preserved for later generations to see. 

To discover more about this intriguing body of work and how you can acquire your own copy, you can find and purchase the book here. (Amazon, STANLEY/BARKER)

Gary Green

Gary Green is a distinguished photographer and Professor of Art at Colby College, where he has been teaching photography since 2007. He holds an MFA from the Milton Avery Graduate School of the Arts at Bard College. Green’s work is featured in several prestigious collections, including The RISD Museum, the Portland Art Museum, and The Amon Carter Museum. His notable publications include “After Morandi,” a visual conversation with the Italian painter Giorgio Morandi, and “When Midnight Comes Around,” which chronicles the New York City music scene of the 1970s and ‘80s. Green’s upcoming photobook, “The River is Moving / The Blackbird Must be Flying,” explores contemporary landscapes and will be released in late summer 2020. Currently, he is working on a series of photographs capturing Long Island, his childhood home. (Website, Instagram)

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