CAPTURE CHALES
Capture Charles: Right Place, Right time
It starts small. A second hand film camera. A warehouse party. A gut feeling that there’s something worth holding onto in a fleeting moment. For Capture Charles—a London-based Australian photographer—those early instincts have grown into a body of work that now spans some of the biggest names in electronic music.
Capture Charles is a pen name the photographer uses, a kind of cloak that allows him to capture moments in their rawest form. By keeping his identity off record, he stays unobserved. The camera becomes less of an interruption, more of a witness. His work revels in the moments that almost didn’t happen. The club nights that live on via the sweat that seeped into the venue walls. The shots that hold power on a roll of film, unposted.
We’re not here to blow cover. Instead, we’ll tell you some of the best stories behind the shots.
A Close Encounter at KOKO | Skepta
“I get there insanely early. Like, no one's in the venue yet. I walk in and it's just me... and Skepta. Alone in the venue.”
The venue was KOKO, a red-velveted, Gatsby-gilded theatre in London. Charles had been granted a media pass for the show—a favour from someone he’d worked with before. What followed was the kind of night you don’t plan, but somehow step into.
“I shot the whole show. I went up to him after and said, 'Yo, thank you.' He didn’t want to talk. Just ignored me. I was like, cool—if someone’s gonna ignore me, I’ll let it be Skepta.” Then came the twist. “I left London, I’m shooting a festival in Italy and I refresh my phone and see Skepta posted one of my photos. Just screen-ripped it and threw it in a carousel—right next to one of him with Dua Lipa.”
He tracked Skepta’s movements. Milan. Circoloco. Capture Charles hopped on a train from Pisa and took a gamble. “I get there, argue with the door staff for like an hour. Eventually they just let me in. I’m thinking, how the fuck do I get to stage?” He starts feeling disheartened “What am I doing? This is so stupid.” he thought to himself. Moments later, Skepta’s Merc pulls up. He walks up, shows Skepta the photo he screen ripped “I took this photo”. “He just looks at me and says, 'You – come with me.' I follow him straight behind the booth. His manager points. 'You, you stay here.' And that’s how I’m standing next to Skepta while he plays Circle Loco.”
Wristbands at Printworks | Skepta & Peggy Gou
The final weekend of Printworks was always going to be a moment. Charles had tickets for Friday and Saturday—but Sunday’s closing event? Not a chance. “I kept my wristbands from the other nights. I just walked up, put them on, and showed security. They let me in.”
Inside, the night unfolded like a dream. “I was wandering through the back hallways. It was really quiet. Just me. I turn around and see Skrillex in this big puffy jacket. I text my mate like, 'What the fuck do I do?' Then he disappears. Gone.”
Charles assumed he’d missed his moment. The night ends. “Everyone’s leaving, I go upstairs. And there they are—Peggy Gou and fucking Skrillex, just talking.”
“I ask Skrillex ‘Yo can I take a photo of you guys’. I take a few head shots of Skrillex and Peggy says, 'No, you gotta take one of both of us.' So I shoot them together. I’ve only ever asked for two selfies in my life and Skrillex was one of them.” That night Capture Charles stayed out until his flight to Vienna the next morning.
Skipping Cities for a Boiler Room | Charli XCX
Boiler Room had Charles on for a Thursday warm-up in London. “It was cool they brought me on for that. They were doing this club series, Champion Club.” Charles knew Charli XCX was doing a Boiler Room the next day. Not a paid job but he still managed to get on the event list last minute. Only issue.. Charli’s boiler room was in Bushwick, Brooklyn.
“I was with my girlfriend. We were just like, how do we get to America tomorrow? We booked the last flight from Bristol. We literally bought accommodation on the bus ride home.”
The next morning, they flew out. Charles ends up with a wristband. He’s on stage taking photos for one of the biggest moments for dance music in 2024. “It was such a big moment for pop. Like, say what you want about Boiler Room or pop culture or Charli—but that night was joy. She brought joy. And that shit matters.”
These are the kinds of stories you can’t fake—or forecast. Charles didn’t start with clients or campaigns. He started with Thursday night posts that got 30 likes, working warehouse shifts and calling his sister to borrow $180 for a camera he couldn’t afford.He shot obsessively. Posted religiously. Worked in tiles. Quit. Bought another camera. Booked his own flights. “It doesn’t matter if you’re staying in hostels. If the photo happens, it’s worth it.”
London is the backdrop now—where a party might lead to Burberry. But the message stays the same: it doesn’t matter how small you start. What matters is knowing how to hold the moment when it arrives.
What sets Capture Charles apart isn’t just access or archive. “I’ve never gone more than two weeks without taking a photo in the last five years. But I’ve only posted around 300 times.” There’s a quiet discipline in that—rolls of film left unshared, because his job isn’t just to get the shot, but to give someone a version of themselves they didn’t know was real.
He doesn’t always get paid. He books flights walking home from gigs, sneaks into shows with recycled wristbands—not to bend the rules, but to move through the cracks with instinct. Whether it’s through his self-run magazine Momentum, exhibitions in Ibiza, or the queer community parties he captures with care, Capture Charles is sketching a new blueprint for music documentation: emotional, respectful, and grounded.
So no, you might not know what he looks like. That’s the point
Rapid Fire with Capture Charles
How do your friends describe you?
“Calm. Excited. Interested.”
Something you know way too much about that no one expects?
“Uuuh fuck I don’t know. Yeah, tiles maybe - I sold them once.”
Go-to breakfast?
“Egg scrambled on toast with Vegemite.”
(Capture Charles has been shamelessly ripping his housemate’s Vegemite jar, a rare commodity in London.)
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