It’s then no wonder that Joaquin Valdes, one of the two architects and designers of RAUM, received his inspiration for the club design from Foucault’s concept of a "heterotopia", which he links to the queer space: ‘I love the concept of a heterotopia for a queer club, which embodies the idea of spaces that challenge and defy the social norms imposed by heteronormative society.’ 

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The concept of a heterotopia has, other than you might think, nothing to do with sexual orientation but was used by Foucault to describe specific spaces and their characteristics. The concept derives from that of the "utopia". Utopias are perfect spaces that contradict all the other spaces. In Foucault's words: ‘They present society itself in a perfected form, or else society turned upside down.' Foucault describes utopias as unreal spaces that will never come into existence.

Heterotopias, on the other hand, are spaces that contest, like utopias, all other spaces, but that are actually real. It’s an ‘effectively enacted utopia’. 

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One of the heterotopias Foucault describes is the heterotopia of deviation, in which people express behaviour countering the norm. At RAUM, you can find two of these spaces combined: the club space and the queer space. The club space deviates from daytime norms of work, domesticities and tempered behaviour. On the queer space Joaquin remarks: ‘In this [club] context, the queer space transforms into a sanctuary—one where traditional gender roles and corresponding behavioural expectations are suspended, and free expression of sexuality is secured. It becomes a haven for freedom of expression, creativity, and individuality, celebrating the diversity and uniqueness of those who inhabit it.’

RAUM and the queer heterotopia 

These two spaces, the club and the queer space, don’t come together naturally. ‘If you have such strong values, it's really hard to translate those to a space if the space is not yours’, explains co-founder Sven Bijma. ‘Every club loves to work with a queer organisation until they need to do the work.’ This is why finding their own venue was so important; it’s where their vision could really take shape, their demands could be met and where they could accommodate both the queer and club heterotopia.

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Almost a year ago, co-founders Sven Bijma and Diego Meijers inaugurated their two-floor club space RAUM in Amsterdam. In its earliest purpose, the building served as a book bindery, and traces can still be seen in the upper room Studio, where staples are now part of the dancefloor. The club came into being after six years of hosting their queer party SPIELRAUM at several venues in Amsterdam, with which they aimed to fill the gap of techno-focused queer parties. Since its first edition in 2017, they established themselves as a renowned party with an audience and fanbase that has grown steadily. In 2023, they found their permanent home in Amsterdam-West. ‘We have a big ultimate goal, which is our utopian idea of what this could become', Diego reveals when meeting the two founders in their office at RAUM.

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What are the functions of a club space? What should it provide and ‘do’? And how can this be seen through the heterotopia lens?

‍Sven: ‘A club space functions as a dynamic and immersive environment, offering more than just a place where people can dance. It can be a space that manipulates its visitors, meaning it can provide a realm where people can disappear into different worlds—they forget about the mundanities of everyday life and become completely absorbed. There should be an adventurous atmosphere, encouraging a constant flow of movement, where guests keep walking, exploring, and engaging with the space in perpetual motion. This makes it a heterotopia, a place that exists outside of the regular social order, where new experiences are found.’ 

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Could you explain your RAUM dream? 

Sven: ‘My dream for RAUM is to create an ever-shifting cultural space, where unity is essential and curiosity thrives. The vibe is one of constant movement—dynamic and evolving—to reflect the energy of the queer community. RAUM is a venue for queer parties and queer excellence, a space where queer people can take ownership and show the world that they can create something beautiful, unique, and impactful.’

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Diego: ‘I want RAUM to highlight the incredible talent, excellence, and high standards within the community. Many things queer people create are often appropriated by straight culture. We want to show we have always been at the forefront of innovation.’ 

Speaking of highlighting talent, you recently published an open call for a paid artist-in-residency programme aimed at ‘emerging artists, writers, researchers, designers, interdisciplinary creatives with a strong connection to queer and night culture’. Could you elaborate on your ideas for RAUM during daytime hours? 

Sven: ‘We want to transform our club during daytime hours into a night cultural incubator. The concept is to provide artists with affordable studio spaces where they can create and experiment during the day. In the evenings and during club nights, they can showcase their work in the club. This could range from visual art and installations to performances that align with the club’s creative and cultural identity.

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We also want to activate the club spaces in new ways during the day—such as hosting theatre performances or other events that appeal to people who may not go clubbing anymore but still want to engage with the space.’ 

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Diego: ‘What makes this concept unique is that we would be the first officially recognised night cultural incubator of its kind. While there are artist incubators throughout the city, none are combined with a nightclub. This setting is particularly well-suited because clubs already function like museums of nightlife culture, bringing together multiple art forms—sound, light, design, and performance. With our infrastructure, we’re in an ideal position to offer residencies for artists who could not only create work here but also present it during weekenders and club nights.

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Ultimately, this initiative allows us to build a bridge between nightlife and daytime culture, making the space more inclusive and accessible while celebrating the creative potential of both worlds.’

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Sven: 'Part of this night cultural incubator is the artist-in-residency programme, which our art director guides. There are three programmes of each three months, ending with a SPIELRAUM event where participants can present their work.'

It’s not often you see a club open its doors outside of club hours to offer a workspace. What does such a night cultural incubator mean for a club? With this concept, RAUM seems to break with the binary opposition that a concept like heterotopia can imply. RAUM as club space is not merely a club space. It functions as more than that: a breeding ground for artists.

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Sven continues visualising future endeavours for the club: ‘I want to have concerts, video screenings, listening sessions, workshops. There are so many DJ workshops, but where are the light operator workshops? There is a big lack of FLINTA sound operators. Why don’t we foster that? Why don’t we teach people how to do that?’ Within their team, RAUM actively makes sure FLINTA and queer bodies take centre stage, such as within their tech team.

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RAUM’s heterotopia thus actively invites working life into nightlife and queer people into a club ecosystem that often exists within a cis-hetero community. This approach was ingrained from the onset when they invited architects Joaquin Valdes and Bram van Grinsven to design the club when it was merely a two-floor empty warehouse in 2023.  

On designing a queer heterotopia

Heterotopia is a known architectural concept, emphasising spaces and their specific characteristics. Joaquin and Bram work for different architecture offices in Amsterdam. Joaquin’s office specialises in social housing, and Bram works in residential housing and hotel facades. RAUM was their first club project, and as SPIELRAUM regulars since the beginning, they thoroughly understand the event and its community. 

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From a queer perspective, what is your idea of mainstream architecture? What are mainstream architecture's functions, logic, and goals, and how does that look?

‍Joaquin: ‘Mainstream architecture often mirrors and responds to prevailing urban processes. In recent decades, Amsterdam's focus has shifted towards attracting wealthier inhabitants and tourists, driving gentrification and transforming the city into a space centred on their consumption. This gradual process often makes it hard to recognise until the changes are firmly in place. By the time these shifts become noticeable, reversing them can feel nearly impossible.

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In this reshaped urban landscape, the underground faces increasing challenges to survive. This makes the existence of a queer club like RAUM all the more vital—a space that resists these prevailing trends and creates room for alternative communities to thrive.’

How is designing a club different from the usual spaces you design?

Joaquin: ‘The two operate on different scales and relate to their environment in distinct ways. For multifamily residential buildings, which operate on an urban scale, one of our main focuses is on how the building connects and interacts with the surrounding city. In contrast, a club operates on the scale of the interior, allowing us to create a self-contained world, disconnected from the outside.’

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And how is building a queer space different from the usual spaces you design?

‍Joaquin: ‘The main difference lies in understanding the community we are designing it for and adapting the design to meet their specific needs. In multifamily residential design, we typically take a broad approach, considering society at large with factors like family size and income level shaping the process. In contrast, designing a queer space involves a more focused perspective. We have a clear understanding of the community, which allows us to dive deeper into their unique needs, preferences, and tastes. This targeted approach enables us to create a space that thoughtfully accommodates and celebrates the community it serves.’

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Bram: ‘I think a club needs adventurous and playful elements, but you must also ensure people feel safe. That’s why it’s important to cater to all the different types of people who come here. For me, it might be nice to walk through a narrow corridor next to a darkroom where I get bumped into a lot by other men, but women or trans people might not find this comfortable at all. People should have the option to walk through there, so there has to be an alternative to that corridor - intimate places with more room to move, for example. However, it’s still challenging to gauge what everyone wants. At a festival I went to last summer, the FLINTA darkroom was circular with soft fabrics, but is that truly what FLINTA’s want?’

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Choice brings freedom, and choice can be designed. When accustoming a club space to a queer audience, options are important to ingrain in the design to make sure every type of person with each their preferences feels safe. At the same time, stereotypes of what certain people might want should be avoided. This is the material manifestation of the RAUM queer heterotopia on the inside. But what about the outside?

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Heterotopia hurdles

The road towards a queer club heterotopia is not an easy one, especially when it comes to architecture and urban planning. The first conversations Sven and Diego had with the Amsterdam municipality about their new venture were back in 2021. However, on the verge of opening the club in October 2023, they faced major bureaucratic setbacks. As the neighbourhood—a port area—was not assigned to accommodate a club, there were tensions from within the province whether the maximum sound the neighbourhood could emit would be exceeded. 

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It’s a poignant example of the underground nightlife having to fight for her place and existence in a city that’s subjected to gentrification. Nightlife and cultural industries researcher Timo Koren comments on this in last year’s published book What is an Institute for NightCulture? ‘Noisy and messy nighttime spaces continue to face the burden of gentrification and densification in an increasingly middle-class city.’ He continues: ‘[Institutionalisation] can also hinder the countercultural endeavours of those who claim space at night—through contemporary versions of jooks, blues parties, and raves—precisely because daytime institutions have (historically) excluded them.’

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The noise wasn’t the only ‘problem’ the Amsterdam daytime institutions raised. Weeks of waiting turned into months of waiting, where RAUM worked its way through a maze of obstacles created by what seemed like an inconsistent and unfair decision-making process from local and regional authorities. From bike parking spots, to fire safety, security staff, and first aid arrangements; many issues were raised. ‘They were thinking in terms of problems, rather than solutions’, Sven comments. Finally, RAUM’s target audience was directly addressed by the police as the way they dressed could clash with the ‘neighbourhood’s character’, suggesting that queer nightlife inherently invites hostility. 'It has always been interesting, to say the least, how local authorities raised safety concerns when it came to our club, while we never experienced anything even remotely worrying when hosting SPIELRAUM at Lofi many times—just 500 meters from RAUM’s location', Sven remarks. It took another six months for RAUM to be able to open its doors.

The holistic heterotopia

RAUM managed to compete with these daytime institutions and will celebrate their one-year celebration in April this year. It will be a celebration of the transcendence of the club heterotopia, where the club space is extended to the daytime with a breeding ground for queer creatives and professionals, moving away from gatekeeping dynamics.

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Could RAUM be at the forefront of a much more dynamic, effective, and efficient functioning of nightlife institutions? What if breaking through the night-daytime division within a space is a heterotopia in and of itself? One that opposes the binary thinking of spaces: spaces for day and spaces for night. Because if night culture challenges day culture, is it beneficial for night culture to stay limited to the night?