It’s Thursday night (or rather, early Friday morning) at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts festival. The gates are not yet open to the public, but a certain unnamed corporation just might have had its beer tent infiltrated. A certain group of artists and crew just may have tapped a few kegs, hijacked a few speakers and run a few cables to form their own private dance party in an otherwise empty 50-foot dome at 2am. Keg stands may have been involved, along with a pretty significant amount of general debauchery. All of these things may (or may not) have happened, but then again, that’s just what’s to be expected when you unleash a bunch of artists who like to work hard and play harder in the hot desert within spitting distance of a tent full of beer. Lots of beer.

And that’s just another day in the life of the people behind the art at Coachella. Don’t believe me? Then you weren’t staying in artist camping, which is like a continuation of the festival itself except with more booze, more fire and fewer (if any) rules. Don’t be fooled by the hype of VIP lounges and hotel suite after hour parties, the best late night dancing and entertainment in the form of reckless shenanigans happens in this five-acre cluster of tents and Rvs just outside the festival walls. If you want to sleep (not recommended) bring earplugs and even then, the best you can hope for is a catnap.

I, on the other hand, took my cues from my campmates, who make cats look like sloths. Joe Martin, for instance, one of the Tesla coil crew, busted his ass every day, driving the forklift and troubleshooting the lightning bolt-emitting sculpture for hours in the hot sun. Then, at night, he would mix records at our camp, inspiring all-night dance parties that lasted until about 7am. I don’t think I saw him sleep, but I do believe I heard Cookie Monster mixed over top of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” at one point, which is something you might hear in a very bizarre dream, so close enough. And the fun didn’t stop there. When I needed to take a break from the, shall we say, more eclectic musical choices, I could pop (otherwise known as “stumble”) next door to The Do Lab’s camp, with its huge party bus and DJ stage, where Random Rab gave an unannounced performance Saturday night. I chatted with and danced next to artists like Matt Moldover, the creator of the Syncomasher, a five-sided interactive instrument, and Christian Ristow, who made Hand of Man, a giant hydraulic hand that picks up and crushes cars.

Seeing how hard these people party made it abundantly clear that with great creativity comes the need for great release—great minds sometimes need great distraction. After huddling around an impromptu propane fire someone lit in the street and watching the sunrise, I ended the night asleep on the couch (yes couch) we fit inside my tent. If I thought I could have had more fun (or been more comfortable) in a hotel, I was wrong.

Words by Christine Spehar, photos by Parts Department