So what do you tell your guys working the door to look for in the line when they decide who comes in?

It’s subjective. Only a few of my guys are allowed to select guests at the door. They have to understand what Berghain is all about first, and I try to give them that foundation. Beyond that, there are no set rules. My people all have their own personalities, and you can see their sensibilities reflected in the crowd over the course of their shifts. You always want friction, though. That’s the theme in any good club: diversity, friction.

When you say you teach them "what Berghain is all about," what do you mean, then?

I feel like I have a responsibility to make Berghain a safe place for people who come purely to enjoy the music and celebrate—to preserve it as a place where people can forget about space and time for a little while and enjoy themselves. The club evolved from the gay scene in Berlin in the nineties. It’s important to me we preserve some of that heritage, that it still feels like a welcoming place for the original sort of club-goers. If we were just a club full of models, pretty people all dressed in black, it would be nice to look at for a half an hour, but god, that would be boring. It would feel less tolerant, too.

Despite your club work, you don’t photograph nightlife or street fashion. In fact, you shoot everything with natural light, predominantly in black and white, and most of your work is posed and produced. Why?

I like to start from a question: Is there a story we want to tell? As far as the film and lighting, that has more to do with my upbringing. It was really difficult to get color film in East Germany, and what was available sucked big time. Now I feel like black and white photography creates a different drama, and has a soberness to it that I like. I still use analog film, too.

I’d love to hear about your tattoos. Which was your first?

A cross of thorns, on my leg. I saw a picture in a magazine of Tony Ward, one of Madonna’s former lovers, and he had a cross like it on his forearm. This was 1983, I was 20 at the time. It was such an adrenaline rush. I got addicted to the feeling. I got more and more tattoos until they were creeping up my chest, my neck, and finally I got tattooed on my face. Usually tattoo parlors won’t go there. I had to convince them.

"You always want friction, though. That’s the theme in any good club: diversity, friction."

Do you feel like the face tattoo changed the way people look at you, how they interact with you?

I’ve never regretted it. I mean, it was pretty much clear I wasn’t going to go into banking.

When was the last time you got a new tattoo?

Just two days ago, seriously. But before that it had been more than ten years.

Wow. What happened?

I stopped ten years ago because the pain of being tattooed just started getting on my nerves. The adrenaline kick wasn’t there anymore—it was just exhausting. But last summer, I was working the door in short pants, and one of my colleagues pointed out, "Hey, you have stars on your calves!" I’d forgotten about them! But there they were—three stars facing up on one calf, and three facing down on the other. Anyway, they were just so ’90s. They had to go. I had them covered up with two chopped-off wings. It has nothing to do with flying—quite the contrary. It has to do with being grounded. Since it had been so long, I experienced the pain like when I got my first tattoos. But I didn’t wriggle or anything. I just totally relaxed.

Photography by Sven Marquardt

"How to Get Into Berghain" has become a subject of fascination on the Internet. There are many sites that speculate on the many and various things one should do to get in.

First, let me say I don’t read that kind of stuff. Myself, I only started using the Internet three years ago. Up until then people had to fax me.

You only started using the Internet three years ago?

I find the anonymity of the social networks annoying…all these spineless, no-name jerks posting their dumb-ass bullshit. My colleagues read the stuff that’s posted and sometimes share it with me, and we joke about it. But I don’t personally care to read it.

I’d like to read you a few of the tips that have been posted online, and get your reactions to them.

[Marquardt looks stone-faced] I’m listening.

Go early. Don’t try to cut the line. Know who’s DJ-ing that night. Dress casually—jeans and a T-shirt is best. Don’t go in a big group. Don’t be too young. Don’t joke or laugh in line. Don’t speak in the line. Or if you must, speak German.

[Laughs, shrugs] We’ve heard all those things, too. But like I said, it’s subjective.

Special thanks to Damian Kastil and Daniel Regut

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