When I sat down to chat with koitz, I wanted to know what keeps a photographer coming back to the same beachy oasis and crowded dance floors for over two decades. He didn’t start taking pictures on Fire Island to build an archive of LGBTQ+ history. In the beginning, he was simply snapping whatever caught his eye.
“I first started going to Fire Island regularly in 2006,” koitz told me. “I didn’t love Cherry Grove immediately it took me a while to find its rhythm and its magic, but once I did, I was hooked.”
By 2008, he was carrying his camera everywhere: Cherry Grove, the Pines, the Sunken Forest, and the Meat Rack. Over fourteen summers, those quick snapshots turned into a massive collection of party photos, candid moments, and quiet days on the beach. That work eventually became his 2020 photography book, koitz Gay Fire Island.
“I realized that I wasn’t just documenting my own experience,” he explained. “I was unknowingly creating a record of LGBTQ+ history.”
Looking for Go-Go Boys and Missing the Script
When koitz walks into an event, he works without a strict shot list. He prefers to let the room settle, keeping one eye glued to the viewfinder and the other scanning the crowd. He avoids directing his subjects, choosing to wait for organic interactions instead.
“I try to keep both eyes open,” koitz said. “I never direct people or manufacture moments. I simply observe and wait.” He paused, then laughed. “And, not to sound too superficial, but for some reason, go-go boys always seem to catch my eye.”
That patience pays off when he sifts through his archives years later. He often finds shots he originally overlooked, along with photos of places that no longer exist.
“I photographed the old Pavilion in the Pines and the old Cherry Grove Hotel before they were lost to fire,” koitz remembered. “I photographed people who seemed like permanent fixtures of Fire Island, until one summer they simply stopped coming.”
Twenty-Five Years of the Underwear Party
One event stands out in koitz’s calendar every year: Daniel Nardicio’s Fire Island Underwear Party, which celebrates its 25th anniversary this season. Originally hosted at the Tides before moving to the Ice Palace, the party features sets from DJs like Johnny Dynell alongside drag acts and dancers.
“Oh, the Underwear Party!” koitz said. “It is without a doubt the event I’ve photographed for the longest, year after year, summer after summer, so I suppose it deserves a chapter of its own in my Fire Island story.”
Some of his favorite memories are completely random. Back on August 8, 2009, he shot a set by a rising pop star at the Underwear Party long before she became a household name.
“Lady Gaga was, to me, simply another performer at Daniel Nardicio’s World Underwear Party,” koitz recalled. “She was fantastic, but none of us could have imagined the force she would soon become.”
Other times, the memorable moments are purely about the wild energy of the night.
“At a recent Underwear Party, I was photographing from the top of a speaker, please don’t tell Daniel, when I looked down and saw two guys going at it, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist,” koitz said. “I had to do a double take.”
Respecting the Privacy of the Escapists
Photographing a haven like Fire Island comes with real boundaries. People go there to escape their regular routines, and koitz keeps that top of mind whenever he selects images for public view.
“I am a very private person, and that shapes the way I photograph,” he told me. “I always ask myself: Would I want to be photographed this way? Would I feel comfortable seeing this image of myself published?”
His ultimate goal is to capture the freedom that draws people off the Sayville ferry every summer.
“Fire Island has a strange ability to dissolve the hierarchies of the mainland,” koitz observed. “I’ve watched very well-known people arrive with all the expectations that come with fame and, within minutes, become part of the crowd: dancing, laughing, flirting, and letting go.”
When I asked him to pick just one photo to summarize the island, he resisted choosing a grand landscape or a famous face. Instead, he brought up a personal favorite.
“There is a photograph of my husband with aloe leaves covering his face, pretending to be a lizard,” koitz said. “It’s funny, absurd, and personal.”
For koitz, that absurd, unscripted freedom is the real spirit of Fire Island. Whether he is perched on top of a speaker or walking through the Meat Rack, his lens keeps tracking the people who make the island feel like home.