Flashback Frames: Sharon Smith’s 1980s New York Nightlife Through the Lens of Polaroids

‘I walked into the Ritz, presented myself as the ideal individual to enhance the atmosphere, and they accepted,’ recounts Sharon Smith, sharing the origin of her ‘camera girl’ identity and entry into New York nightlife, through the East Village club (later famed for MTV’s ‘Live at The Ritz’ series), around 1980. Previously a prom photographer at the Copacabana, capturing young people with a hefty press camera (her technician supervisor would be stationed in the basement below, developing images in real time), for the Ritz, she transitioned to the Polaroid SX-70, and thereafter spent the 1980s traversing various dancefloors, vending snapshots to elegantly dressed attendees and often, snapping pictures of celebrities.

‘There were individuals wielding small point-and-shoot cameras back then,’ Smith proceeds, ‘but I was the sole person executing what I was doing.’ Over nearly a decade, the photographer captured thousands of Polaroids, initially selling them for $3 each, and later for $5. Now, four decades post her initiation at the Ritz, IDEA Books has released a new monograph of Smith’s images, entitled Camera Girl and curated by the former editor-in-chief of LIFE magazine, Bill Shapiro. ‘When I examine these old Polaroids, what resonates with me is creativity and community, freedom and indulgence, exhilaration and jealousy,’ remarks DJ Honey Dijon, who conversed with Shapiro for the book’s preface. ‘These images communicate with me.’

Indeed, there exists a vibrancy in Smith’s photographs that renders them distinctive to the period; a time when, following a harsh financial downturn in the city, creativity was thriving, manifesting most visibly in the recent emergence of disco, hip-hop, and punk. There’s a dynamism and an intimacy in the images that would be challenging to replicate with a smartphone today; perspiration stains are not uncommon, while postures appear less staged. ‘I would engage in conversation with people, and if there was someone particularly intriguing who I felt represented something about that specific era, I would ask if I could take a photo for my collection,’ shares the photographer, reflecting on the way she built her archive. ‘Almost always they consented, even celebrities. It was a completely different context – you don’t see celebrities frequenting clubs anymore; they are cordoned off. It’s not the same.’

While well-known musicians, many merely embarking on their careers, were captured by Smith’s lens – among them Madonna, Grace Jones, and Iggy Pop; with Jones notably making multiple appearances throughout the book – Smith’s greatest thrill was photographing David Bowie, she expresses. ‘Perhaps because he was just an extraordinary, brilliant individual, and very kind in the moment I took his picture.’ Emphasizing the photograph’s physicality, adjacent to his portrait, the reverse of the image discloses Smith’s administrative method, featuring a handwritten name and date (by 1981 she had upgraded to a stamp). ‘That was Bill’s concept [for the book], and we chose to implement it with all the celebrities, as a nod to the reality that these are not digital entities – they’re physical objects, artifacts.’

Less immediate but just as captivating as those recognizable faces are the fashions that radiate: in some images a face isn’t even visible, merely a torso or the rear of a head, adorned in satin magenta or painted pastel pink, respectively. ‘Numerous individuals dressed up; there were many celebrity imitations, while others were innovating fashion,’ points out Smith. On the book’s cover, a figure is captured in glittering disco trousers and a belt resembling a cummerbund; it’s a remarkably effective initiation, establishing the book’s atmosphere. ‘Spandex was incredibly popular in the 80s; everybody donned those shiny pieces,’ states the photographer. ‘To be honest, that’s a photo I initially didn’t pay much attention to until we were curating the cover, but I wanted something evocative, symbolic of the era, and that felt somewhat sexy and alluring.’

‘My personal identity developed perhaps six months later,’ she continues, hinting at her own fashion preferences. ‘I referred to myself as Rose, wearing these sleek black dresses and lace fingerless gloves. I don’t suppose it was entirely deliberate at that time; it certainly evolved alongside the work as I took on a role like that, providing me some distance and perspective.’ Equally significant in navigating the environment was her equipment, and the interactive nature of the Polaroid. ‘It teaches you a great deal about how to approach individuals,’ reflects Smith. ‘There’s a humanity present, rather than simply snatch and run, which is how numerous photographers tended to operate. But these photographs now serve as keepsakes, and I hold a great fondness for those individuals, for that period in our cultural history. It will never be replicated; it’s finished. It’s over.’