The River Project

This summer we are building rafts and floating down the Mississippi
River. The catch is that we don't know anything about boats, we don't
know anything about rivers, and we don't have any money. We know we
are blowing crazy hot air, but if the idea makes your eyes glow like
coals then we want you with us.

So listen up: We meet in Minneapolis in late July. We build pontoons
out of empty barrels and oil drums. We lash trash into barges. And we
bring in anything that floats and add it to our junk armada, our
anarchist county fair, our fools ark. Our precious cargo is
everything we hold dear: pieces and parts of the culture we are
already creating. Your zines and your puppets, your sewing projects
and your poster campaign. Your mutant bicycle. Your punk rock
marching band. Plus you and your thoughts and dreams and
irrepressible energy.

Together we float down the Mississippi river, as far as we can -- all
the way to New Orleans -- anchoring here and there to perform, give
workshops, and create the big huge stinking spectacle we wished would
have stopped in our hometowns. And at each place we invite anyone to
contribute performances or workshops of their own.

Our flotilla is built green with recycled materials, compost toilets,
rainwater collection, solar ovens, and steam calliopes. If we make it
right everything will run on sunshine and french fry grease. We want
a floating garden, a bicycle-powered sound system, and wind-powered
lights. We want to steal hippie technology from the hippies.

We are a small group of people with extensive experience making big
insane projects. In the past we have taken 20-person bands to Mexico,
pulled off town square-sized guerrilla theater in Berlin, and fed
hundreds of people with garbage and love. We know this idea is
ridiculous and impossible. That's why we're obsessed with it.

Where are we at right now? We're inviting you. We are starting from
nothing, and we are starting late. Anything you can contribute is
valuable. We need builders and mechanics. We need people who know
something about boats, people who know stuff about the Mississippi,
people who can book shows. We'd take motors outright, but we'd prefer
if they came with someone who wants to make them run on biodiesel and
join us. We need big group camping supplies and big tanks for
drinking water. We need a space in Minneapolis to construct our
rafts, a source for industrial garbage, and a truck to move stuff
around. We could use money, sure, but we know your connections and
your resources will be even more valuable.

Although this a collective project we are demanding a tremendous
amount of self-reliance. You are responsible for building your own
raft. You are responsible for bringing a project that you can share
with strangers. You are responsible for helping us build a ridiculous
floating city -- and for bailing water when it starts to sink. We are
in this together.

Why are we doing this? For a bunch of reasons. For the adventure. For
the impossibility. But for more than this. We grew up in small towns.
We remember the bookmobile and the punk rock band that seeded little
pieces of something else. And now, even though we moved to big cities
and found people like us, we still live in a country that fights wars
so it can consume more. We are taking the urge to flee and heading
for the center. We want to meet people who aren't like us. We want to
meet ourselves at age 16. We want to be a living, kicking model of an
entirely different world -- one that in this case happens to float.
Plus we suspect that there is something wildish about seeing the
stars night after night from the grand old Mississipi. Yeah sure, the
Colorado is prettier, and the Rio Grande is its own divide, but the
Mississippi has always been the main artery of this country. We want
to start where the blood flows straight from the heart.

So what now? Sign up. Commit to five weeks in July in August. Mean
it. Let's start making phone calls and drawing blueprints and testing
vessels in the Gowanus Canal. Let's plan benefit parties and sock
away brown rice and dented cans. We're organizing mostly out of New
York because that's where we live. Expect regular meetings with
working models and field trips. But anyone who wants to contribute is
invited, no matter where you live: You'll just have to keep up with
phone calls and email messages.

There is so much to do, and we can't do it without you.


Callie

Jeff