“All strip clubs, for me, have been empty shells. Without the girls, it’s mayhem. With them, it’s Narnia”

Vienna-born, New York-based photographer Eva Zar likes to get amongst it. She’s slept with wolves, photographed trans women on horseback in the California desert, and documented 72-hour raves. In her ongoing series God Is a Stripper, she follows the next generation of strippers in NYC. Capturing them not just onstage and in their dressing room, but also in their bedrooms and doing laundry, Zar says the project is about the girls, not just the clubs they dance in. “I was interested in her world outside of the club. Her home, her commute, her life.”

With daydream-like intimacy and a soft focus—sort of like ‘What if Sofia Coppola was interested in baddies?’—Zar renders her subjects as deities, showing stripping’s sacred side.

VICE: Where did your love affair with strip clubs begin?
Eva Zar: I first became interested in strippers when I was doom scrolling TikTok. On my For You Page, a stripper was rating strip clubs in New York City. I immediately fell in love with her. I messaged asking, “Can I photograph you one day?” She responded, “Can you come by the club tonight?”

Tell me about the first club you went to. How did expectations stack up against reality? 
The first was in Queens. While waiting for one of the girls, the bouncer complained about his ex wife. I guess she walked away with the good couch in their divorce. He made me walk through a metal detector and sent me on my way.

All strip clubs, for me, have been empty shells. Without the girls, it’s mayhem. With them, it’s Narnia. They’re able to transform hollow stages into a hidden world that exists parallel to the one outside. I remember one of my girls, Laia, said, “This is a place where you learn to reclaim your sensuality and turn it into power. You learn to speak your truth without shame, transcending fears and transforming them into currency.”

One of the girls remarked that the way you capture them is very “romantic,” and it’s true. Some of the shots make them look like religious icons, almost. What approach did you want to take with the project?
I like that you view my photographs of the girls as iconic, that’s the goal. Strippers are often viewed as objects you can use at your disposal, they’ve certainly been captured that way many times. My goal with God Is a Stripper is to achieve the exact opposite. I’m interested in beauty, glam, magic. I love putting my subjects on a pedestal, making them look and feel like goddesses. In David LaChapelle’s words, “When you take a picture of something, you change the way it’s seen.” I think about that sentiment a lot. 

Tell me more about your thinking behind the title.
The word “God” is so loaded, often tied to organized religion. I think of it more as spirituality, connection, faith. In the strip club, I notice spiritual reminders everywhere. It’s a sticker on a locker that says “the universe is on my side,” a tattoo, a piece of jewelry. I want both the title to reflect and the photographs to visualize that. Many of the girls, myself included, believe in a bigger dream for all of us. We behave like it’s already true, no proof needed. 

“God” is also someone that’s an inspiration, something sacred. It’s important for me to define strippers just as that: icons who inspire through their persistence, strength, intelligence, beauty, and grace.

“I notice spiritual reminders everywhere. It’s a sticker on a locker that says ‘the universe is on my side,’ a tattoo, a piece of jewelry”

The project doesn’t just focus on what’s going on in the club, the camera lingers on the girls afterwards—capturing their commute, their homes, their trips to the laundrette. Why did you want to make that such a big aspect of it?
Totally. It’s always been about the girls first, the strip club becomes one of the backdrops we can play with. It’s like our own little movie set, except it’s real. My first question when thinking about strippers is always, “Girl, what does your life look like outside of these four walls?” I find that so fascinating—these girls live in two worlds. I want to photograph both.

Interestingly, there isn’t a strong aesthetic distinction between the photographs taken inside the club and outside of the club; the vibe is the same because the girls’ energy is what comes across the most.
Exactly, both worlds are part of her. What keeps surprising me is how quickly the girls can turn it on and off, like actresses. And honestly, some of my photographs are staged to some degree. There’s this tradition in documentary photography that you have to capture someone off guard, a candid moment, as an “attempt” to uncover reality. But think about it, we’re a social media-first society. This is reality. Her performance, her pose, the way she does her hair, make-up, nails for my camera… It tells us so much about who she’s trying to be and how she wants to be seen. Sometimes that’s even more honest.

Strip clubs in America often have a geographical reputation—Atlanta, Miami, etc. How would you describe the ‘character’ of strip clubs in New York City, if there is one?
I think what characterizes New York City also defines its strip clubs. It can be gritty and dark, but also very powerful and full of dreams. New Yorkers are true hustlers and we’ll do whatever it takes, no compromise. New York City can be the best and worst place to live in. If you don’t know what you want, it’ll eat you alive. Quickly, and without mercy. But if you know what you’re after, the impossible becomes possible here, those who create on their own terms are my biggest inspiration. Renèe said something that stuck with me: “It’s crazy how New York always puts the perfect people into your path at the right time… us meeting is New York unfolding in the way it always does.”

“What characterizes New York City also defines its strip clubs. It can be gritty and dark, but also very powerful and full of dreams”

Do you have a favorite shot in the project so far? Or a favorite moment?
Each photograph is very special to me, however there’s a moment: Renèe and I were driving up to Harlem. The sun was just setting, we’re on West Side Highway. It felt like one of those movie moments. You’re alive but somehow you’re living out a scene. We’re talking about life, drugs, dreams, clients, sobriety, love—everything and anything, like we’ve known each other forever. Anora by Sean Baker had just come out. I said, you know, I think Sean Baker would like our photographs, for him to see my work would be a dream. Sean is an artist I genuinely look up to, from Tangerine to Florida Project and now Anora. A couple weeks ago, Sean Baker followed my work on Instagram—talk about manifestation. 

Where do you think the project will go next?
I’d love for God Is a Stripper to become a book and an exhibition. It feels like the beginning of something special. It’s the largest body of personal work I’ve created so far and there’s still so much to photograph. In my dream, I’d like the work to live in print, on walls, in spaces where you can sit with it. A little universe we created together. As an artist, you have a longing to transcend and hopefully, my photographs can be that portal into an unseen world.

Follow Eva on Instagram: @evazar