Under the diffused glow of a full moon, a barefoot woman joyfully stomps through muddy puddles, splashing a dancing man whose skin glistens with rain. The air vibrates with the infectious rhythm of the S.O.S Band’s 1980 hit, remixed and amplified, pulsing from speakers as a DJ, eyes closed in musical ecstasy, spins vinyl and sings along.
Baby, we can do it
Take the time
Do it right
We can do it, baby
Do it tonight
This is the monthly Full Moon party at Lincoln Street Art Park, a clandestine, dusk-to-dawn celebration of music, art, community, and uninhibited revelry. The park’s organizers intentionally keep the event low-key, relying mainly on a casual Facebook announcement hours before, likely to maintain its intimate, yet expansive, atmosphere. On a clear summer night, the party can explode with thousands, but even on a recent rainy Monday under a harvest moon, it drew a vibrant crowd of around 300 – a mix of curious newcomers, college students, and seasoned techno enthusiasts.
Lincoln Street Art Park, a unique blend of sculptural park and recycling center, sits on Lincoln Street at the intersection of Trumbell Avenue, just across the highway from Wayne State University. Transforming a formerly derelict industrial site, the park now bursts with creative energy.
Vibrant graffiti art covers the park’s walls, while striking metal sculptures punctuate the landscape.
On the makeshift dance floor this past Monday, the scene was pure Detroit. A man in a top hat playfully swung a potted tree overhead, perhaps a whimsical gesture to his companion for the night. Nearby, another individual diligently crawled, collecting discarded cigarette butts and beer cans, embodying a sense of shared responsibility for the space. A bonfire crackled in the park’s depths, drawing clusters of people in their twenties, huddled under umbrellas and seeking shelter under tree branches, sharing beers and wine straight from the bottle. Moments of intimacy unfolded too, like a couple kissing in the shadows beneath a railroad bridge near the park’s edge, marked with the starkly painted words “Danger Reality Ahead.” The rumble of a passing Amtrak train drew cheers from the partygoers, a fleeting connection to the outside world that quickly faded back into the immersive atmosphere. At the park’s heart, a spherical structure atop a 35-foot tower spewed flames, casting an orange glow across the revelry. Music and conversation flowed without pause, a continuous current of energy.
For many, the Full Moon party is discovered online, rather than through lunar calendars, drawing individuals and small groups seeking something authentic and spontaneous. It’s a BYOB affair, yet the air hangs heavy with the scent of marijuana. Joints are passed freely, alongside pink and blue balloons filled with nitrous oxide, or “whip-its.” In a moment of raw abandon, a man with long, soaking brown hair, clad in a fur leopard jacket, shed his clothes and rolled in the mud as the rain intensified, becoming a focal point as onlookers formed a circle around him.
However, the Full Moon party at Lincoln Street Art Park transcends mere hedonism. It’s deeply rooted in a Detroit spirit that predates gentrification, rigid organization, and commercial influence.
The park operates on a distinct ethos: nothing is bought or sold on the premises, no financial transactions are permitted, fostering a truly decommodified space. The guiding principle is simple: “share your candy.”
Some attendees draw parallels between this event and Dally in the Alley, the long-running street fair organized by the North Cass Community Union. While Dally in the Alley features local music, art, and food vendors and has been a Detroit staple for decades, Lincoln Street Art Park’s Full Moon parties possess a unique appeal: their impromptu nature, emerging organically with the full moon, free from permits and predefined boundaries.
For some, this lack of formal structure is key. They argue that when community events become entangled in city regulations – vendor licenses, noise permits – they lose a certain magic.
This magic – the fusion of art, music, community, nostalgia, and raw Detroit grit – is precisely what attendees cherish and seek to preserve at these Full Moon gatherings.
As Detroit continues to capture national attention, as construction cranes reshape the skyline, and as bright lights illuminate parking lots of once-underground clubs, these grassroots art parties, like those at Lincoln Street Art Park, persist. They serve as a potent reminder of a time when art was driven by community, not commerce, a spirit that still thrives in pockets of the city.
While not everyone at the Full Moon party welcomes all the changes sweeping through Detroit, they share a unified message about their city: Detroit remains a city brimming with art. And under the glow of the full moon, this party is a vibrant testament to that enduring truth.
