Few figures in Berlin’s underground scene command the same level of intrigue as Sven Marquardt. The heavily tattooed, silver-bearded sentinel of Berghain’s infamous door has spent decades curating the club’s inner sanctum, ensuring that its energy remains intact. But beyond the velvet rope, Marquardt is also an artist, photographer, and a man deeply embedded in fashion and Berlin’s creative landscape.
Photos by Shanelle De Melo for Playful Magazine
We go deeper into the philosophy behind his selections at Berghain, his evolution as an artist, and how his sharp visual aesthetic bleeds into both his photography and his personal style.
The Art of the Door: Who Gets In?
For those outside the scene, the Berghain door policy is wrapped in myth. Stories of arbitrary rejection, whispered ‘rules,’ and the club’s near-mystical reputation have fueled countless Reddit threads and viral TikToks. But Marquardt’s approach is neither random nor formulaic—it’s instinctual.
“People assume there’s a checklist. That it’s about what you wear, or who you know. But it’s not that simple. It’s about energy. If you don’t fit, you don’t fit.”
Over the years, Marquardt has become a master of reading people—not just how they look, but how they carry themselves. It’s a skill honed over decades, first as a teenage punk rebelling in the East Berlin underground, then as a photographer capturing raw, human emotion.
“Berghain is a space for those who understand it. You can’t fake it.”
He’s seen it all—the posers, the tourists, the ones who try too hard. And yet, some of the most unexpected people have walked through the doors and belonged instantly. It’s not about exclusivity. It’s about protecting the essence of the space.
Sven Marquardt, the Photographer: Capturing Berghains Soul
Before he was the face of Berghain’s door, Marquardt was behind the lens. His photography—stark, intimate, always in black and white—chronicles Berlin’s ever-shifting identity.
Growing up in the GDR’s punk and new-wave subcultures, he started shooting as a way to document his surroundings. The images were raw, rebellious, full of tension. Decades later, his work still carries that same emotional weight.
“I don’t do nostalgia, but I respect history. I shoot in black and white because it strips away distractions. What’s left is pure feeling.”
His exhibitions, from Friedrichstadt-Palast’s ‘Stageless’ to international gallery showcases, explore themes of intimacy, identity, and Berlin’s ever-present undercurrent of reinvention. Whether he’s shooting a seasoned clubber at sunrise or a model in deconstructed couture, the result is always the same: a moment frozen in time, yet vibrating with life and deep emotions.
Fashion as Identity and Aesthetic
Marquardt’s fashion sense is a visual extension of his artistic vision. With structured silhouettes, a bold interplay of textures, and a preference for avant-garde designers, he embodies Berlin’s uncompromising aesthetic.
“Fashion is movement. It’s the way we tell people who we are—without saying a word.”
His wardrobe is a mix of brutalist minimalism and high-impact statement pieces. Think Rick Owens, Yohji Yamamoto, vintage Helmut Lang. And yet, just as he rejects strict formulas at Berghain’s door, he refuses to be boxed in by any single look.
“You evolve. What I wore in the ’80s isn’t what I wear now. But the energy is the same.”
Whether it’s neon details, his collection of eyewear, or his embrace of new designers pushing boundaries, Marquardt approaches fashion the same way he approaches photography: with precision, intention, and an eye for the unexpected.
Berlin Now: A City in Flux
Marquardt has seen Berlin through seismic shifts—from the fall of the Wall to the techno explosion of the ’90s, the gentrification waves, and the post-pandemic clubbing landscape. The city’s energy, once defined by grit and rebellion, is now facing new pressures.
“Berlin needs to remember where it came from. Creativity isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about resistance.”
As clubs fight against rising rents, over-policing, and commercialization, Marquardt believes the next generation must protect the scene’s raw, unfiltered spirit. It’s not just about keeping Berghain’s door strict—it’s about keeping Berlin, Berlin.
“If the new generation stops fighting for it, the Berlin we love won’t exist.”
The Keeper of Energy
To some, Sven Marquardt is a gatekeeper. To others, he’s a curator, an artist, a protector of something bigger than a club. Whatever title fits, one thing remains clear: his presence, whether at the door, behind a camera, or in a gallery, shapes Berlin’s underground in ways few others can.
“Every crisis contains a chance for positive change.”
And as long as Marquardt stands at Berghain’s entrance, that change will be on his terms.