San Francisco, we’re gonna love you so hard.

San Francisco, we are working so hard for you! We are rehearsing, we are getting new haircuts, we are doing pushups.  We are hassling strangers and they have proven to be kind & helpful.  We are having anxiety nightmares and spending too much time in the soap aisle at the store.  We are bringing sweaters, and nobody hates a sweater more than a Minnesotan in June.  That’s how excited we are.  So here is a little gift for you:

Mad King Thomas meets San Francisco, June 2012: Workshops and Shows

Mad King Thomas is delighted to be performing and teaching workshops in San Francisco June 23-30!

First, as part of the National Queer Arts Festival and Verge3:

A mermaid, ballerina and jazz dancer on stage.

All-Stars 3 along with Sara Yassky and Rodrigo Caldera   at The Garage 715 Bryant Street Saturdays June 23 and June 308pm   $10 with code “mad king thomas” on brownpapertickets or $15 at the door.    The World is Your Oyster, Eat Up, Little Pearl is a dance in which a god-like mermaid, a gender-confused ballerina, and a giant slutty trash bag share their beautiful broken queer family and delve into self-determination, sexuality, and rule-breaking. Armed with penis jokes and sparkles, Mad King Thomas deliver “a brilliant and beautiful fugue of dark humor, despair, and resigned absurdity” (Twin Cities Daily Planet).
  More info at http://queerculturalcenter.org/NQAF/performance/allstars3/   Most importantly, buy your tickets now! Then, tell us you’re coming on the facebook! RSVP here. Invite your facefriends!  

Next: a couple of workshops!

“A is for Authority, A is for Anarchy, A is for Alive”
Monday, June 25 from 6-9pm
at The Garage, 715 Bryant Street, San Francisco
Sliding scale $1-25

This is a process-based workshop by Mad King Thomas for dancers, performance-makers and thinkers of all stripes. As a group, we’ll investigate questions of authority, authorship and subversion: What does it mean to make? How do we give and take authority over our work? How do we borrow, and what do we claim? What is the value of chaos? How can we subvert authority? How can performance be revolutionary (on a societal or personal scale)? Come with questions you’re interested in and we’ll find ways to answer them together.   The workshop will involve movement, writing, improvisation, discussion, and experimentation.  Participants of all backgrounds and levels welcome. Please wear movement-friendly clothing and bring something to write with and on.   You can promise to come on facebook here

“Making Things More Awesome”
Saturday, June 30 from noon-3pm
at The Garage, 715 Bryant Street, San Francisco
Sliding scale $1-25

This workshop investigates embodiment and intellectualism (aka embraininess, aka thinking about stuff) in this workshop for dancers, choreographers, performers, and art-makers. Predicated on Mad King Thomas’ flippant (but earnest) mission statement, “Making things more awesome,” this workshop asks: What is the stuff of life? How do we transform it into the stuff of performance? How can we make art that works, not in a bringing-home-the-bacon, capitalist way, but in a way that subverts the status quo and makes the world more as we want it? How can we use our bodies, the vehicles of everyday existence, to make that same everyday existence even better? We will focus on the body as an intelligent being and the mind as an articulate and engaged part of dance-making. Participants should expect to move, speak, write and improvise. Movers and makers of all experience levels and styles welcome.  

Nothing says “Yes, I want to be there!” like RSVPing on facebook!      

Way too much information.

So, I have no idea if we’ve mentioned this publicly yet but we’ve been accepted to the Art(ists) on the Verge 4 program, which (I know, I know, names with mid-word parentheses but give me a minute, this one is awesome) is this program designed to support artists “working experimentally at the intersection of art, technology, and digital culture with a focus on network-based practices that are interactive and/or participatory.” So yeah, you’re probably like, “That’s hilarious because nobody is as bad at technology as Mad King Thomas”. But actually! Well actually you probably didn’t think that. Probably you’ve just never thought about us in relation to network-based practices and digital culture. Or… you know what, I’m just gonna leave this one alone. I have no idea what you’ve ever thought about us in relation to any part of the previous paragraph.

BUT ANYWAY: We’ve been kind of feeling homesick (which is my way of saying we are permanently sad about living so far from our homes, even as we make new homes). 

And I personally am so frustrated by the fact that you have to go sit in a specific room at a specific time to watch dance. I mean, I know that’s the best part about dance & performance, but I’m kind of a hermit with an addiction to spontaneously deciding to stay home, so it makes it hard to see shows. When I really WANT to see shows is in the middle of a bad day at work, or at two in the morning (of course you can find dance anywhere anytime, as described in this great essay by Lightsey Darst, which deserves more commentary than just this parenthetical but let’s not get carried away). 

So, as I’m swimming farther up the internet stream (guys, I’m learning PHP) and as I’m feeling more and more homesick and also veering wildly between loving & hating dance, it seems like a good time to figure out how dance & the internet can get a little more cozy. Which means we’re making telephone dances, by which I mean dances through a telephone, by which I mean…well, we don’t know what that means. If Monica or Theresa were writing this, you’d probably get a completely different explanation, so hopefully they will and you can hear all the ways in which we don’t know what a telephone-dance is.

It’s maybe a bit retro-fetishist, unless of course it involves smartphones & skype & videophones and whatever, but it might not involve those things, in which case it probably is retro-fetishist, and I have way too many thoughts about that to stick them in here. But in any case some of that is seeping into this project, where we are going to have breathing and liveness and also distance and intimacy.

ANYWAY I actually came here to write about our first AoV4 meeting, with the directors (Steve Dietz & Piotr Szyhalski) & the other artists (Asia Ward, Chris Houltberg, Anthony Warnick & Sarah Julson). And you know, I’m sometimes kind of judgey about people & their art and stuff, which is why I don’t have as many friends as I’d like, but can I just say…I’m really really excited not only about our project but about their projects as well.  Because they’re awesome is what I’m trying to say. Here are notes I took from the meeting, to show you how great this is gonna be:

Making dances on found phones. 50s & 60s party lines, where you call in and talk to a bunch of strangers. Cell phones vs. anchored phone lines, the visceral experience of. How long seven years is. Maholy Naj/Electronic Cafe. How people interact with art. Making landscapes that are less static. Disneyland (not fair of me to bring it up since I love it so much). Thomas Hirschhorn & caves of duct tape. Shamanic power & google. Divine knowledge. Church lights. We are all already interacting with these systems. What is given vs. what is taken without our knowledge. Facebook. Google. Corporate personhood. DIY Art kits & famous performance works. Medium-agnostic (my new favorite phrase). Fake institutions vs. investigating real ones. UN headquarters vs. easter egg hunts. HTML on a chalkboard on a frozen lake. Is it okay to be a Luddite? Ideological soccer match (sounds like an ideological boxing match).

I mean, come ON.  Awesome.

Anyway, now I’m off to see First Position, during which I will undoubtedly cry about my lost childhood and/or lost future a little bit, or a lot. But guys, the trailer has sparkly gold intertitles!!

Pro-tip: I do not actually fit inside either Monica or Tara

So as usual, I am about a month late, but please, let me not allow feelings of guilt and tardiness stand in the way of me sharing possibly the BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT I HAVE EVER BEEN GIVEN: 

Yes, they are custom hand-painted MAD KING THOMAS STACKING DOLLS!

Gift-giving has been made officially defunct. I cannot compete with this. My girlfriend is the best. But I am going to have to break up with her before her next birthday, because I cannot possibly give her anything that even pretends to be a worthy return.

And to give artistic credit where credit is due, Beth commissioned these from her caricature-artist friend, Amanda Mathenia, whose website is http://www.hellosaintlouis.com/art/amanda_mathenia/33711/.

Get your vegetables!

ha ha this carrot has a vagina. ha ha. ha ha.

yes i know i’m a teenage boy, but seriously!?! this carrot is totally self-sufficient. vagina and dildo in one!

i love carrots.

Biiiiicyle! Biiiiiicycle! Biiiiicycle!

This week I am not performing with Mad King Thomas for the First. Time. Ever. (Sort of.) Tonight, I’ll be in the house watching the incredible Joanna Furnans do my part, because I’m still healing (but! My scab fell off last night. Progress!)

The first time we performed Fish on Bikes: A Picture of Free, Untrammelled Womanhood, we were right after a dance by Ikwewag Waci/Terri Yellowhammer. It was our biggest show yet, a full house at the Walker Art Center, and I’m wearing an American flag string bikini and a bicycle helmet. Before or after the Ikwewag Waci/Terri Yellowhammer piece, there was an announcement that their dance was a type of blessing, and if I recall it, a prayer for healing.

Um. Yeah, did I mention the bikinis? It felt a long way from healing and making the world better, and I felt a little bad about that, but as I sat in the dark waiting for our cue, I did what I often do in those dark, quiet moments before performing. I tried to think of why I was doing this, and really, healing seemed like a pretty good answer (even though it sets off all kind of cynical post-modern atheist alarm bells).  Maybe it’s a little about healing our sad and angry thoughts about our bodies. Letting all my jiggliness and all my love ricochet right on out of me and directly into all 700 people we performed for that night. My body works! It’s wonderful! It bicycles! It dances! Fuck yeah!

Now Fish on Bikes is always that kind of dance for me. A big party, a celebration, a dose of medicine that tastes so, so good, like blueberries. 

Come see us! By us, I mean, Theresa & Monica & Joanna! Details here.

Mad King Thomas in Wheel Sexy Cabaret

What: Wheel Sexy Cabaret, a night of sexy, burlesquey, bicycley dances
When: March 1, 8 & 9, 2012, 10 pm
Where: Bryant Lake Bowl, 801 W. Lake St, Minneapolis
Tickets: $10 in advance or with a bike light, $13 at the door

We’ll be doing Fish on Bikes: A Picture of Free, Untrammelled Womanhood.   You know, that awesome dance we have? The one with bicycles & bikinis & Queen’s Bicycle Race? That one.  Come see us! And a bunch of other sexy bicycle lovin’ freaks.

AND…. GUEST STAR JOANNA FURNANS will be appearing in the role of Tara King.  Come see Joanna totally kick ass at being Tara.  She’s so good.

(It’s even better live. Really!)

Dance & Football are Basically the Same Thing

(This is not what I’m talking about. Even though I once owned this shirt.)

I watch football every week: Often three or four games, which is, like…a part-time job (whoa). In case that wasn’t enough, I’ve been watching sports documentaries, listening to sports podcasts, reading about sports…I really like football, is all I’m trying to say.

Gatorade Duet (inspired by Megan Mayer)

Recently I picked up a book called Blood, Sweat and Chalk, which felt… well, it felt like a dance history book.

At its heart, football is one person telling a bunch of other people how to move their bodies in space and time. It’s about creative problem solving and physical intelligence. It doesn’t exist once it’s over, which means if you didn’t see this moment when it happened, then you will never see it the way we did the day of the game:

Replace “football” with “dance” and “game” with “performance”, and you’ll see that football is dance.  But football makes a ton of money and has millions of fans.  Most people I meet will never see me dance or even understand what it is I do as a dancer and choreographer. I want to look at how football got where it is and what lessons dancers & choreographers could take from the rampant success of the NFL.

Football, a hundred years ago, was a motley affair. Teams dissolved mid-season when funding ran out.  The schedules were messy, based more on where they could find a team to play than on any sort of rigid 16-game season.  Some people were really into football and wanted it to exist, even though most people really didn’t care about football. Or even know about it.  Teams got funding.  The NFL was formed in 1920.  Fans & athletes & coaches started proselytizing and collecting and solidifying.  They wrote about plays and strategies, talked about execution and technique and intangibles. Over time, a lot of people spent a lot of time and money slowly converting the original game into a commercially viable activity, constantly thinking and planning how to expand their reach.  More kids learning football, more people watching. The modern NFL isn’t a billion-dollar industry because God made it that way, or because of some natural progression to the most perfect & platonic version of sport.  It’s because people worked their asses off to make a spectacle that people wanted to watch. 

Because of the enormous industrial system surrounding the modern NFL, the billions of dollars and millions of fans, the entrenched media, the school systems recruiting talented young nobodies, the stadium-funding fiascos, the overall culture of trucks and violence and points, the utter lack of ambiguity, it's easy to forget where it came from. It’s easy to feel embittered.  It's easy to feel like the NFL is on the farthest end of the spectrum from art.  And it is.

But none of that is actually football. Football is in the brains and bodies of the players and coaches. It exists for sixty minutes once a week, sixteen weeks a year.

Dance could be like football, couldn’t it? People have been writing about the execution of the single wing for the past century.  They could write about the West Coast vs. Midwestern somatic improvisation scenes, and in fact, some people are doing this, but I want more.  I don’t blame the writers and scholars. I mean, look at this great piece by Lightsey Darst. Can you imagine if she had a daily column?!  If there were a Best American Dance Writing anthology that came out yearly?!  If every show in Minneapolis were reviewed?

What if you had television coverage of the highlights, because every show had great documentation? Contrary to popular opinion, dance actually can be put on tv well enough.  Here’s a secret: Football also sucks when someone in the stands records it on a shitty hand-held camcorder.  So they don’t do that and pretend it’s enough.  They use iso cameras and HD, which track the stars closely to catch the details, the awkwardly jiggling faces, the beauty, the agony et al.  Check out Pina 3D and you’ll sometimes feel like maybe you really are there with the dancers, the sweat is real, the faces are real.  It’s almost better than the real thing in some ways.  You are closer than it’s humanly possible to be without getting creamed by a linebacker/dancer. 

Dance could have that. I sound like I think we’re just being lazy, but we’re not. We need money to get this kind of equipment, these skills. We need rich friends.  Watch Small Potatoes: Who Killed the USFL? and you'll see billionaires who fund football teams…because they want to. Because they love football (or because they love money. Or both). Once you get the machine started, the right equipment and standards increase the audience & the desire to watch, ticket prices, all around support. Some companies have that support.  What if everybody could have dance videos like On the Boards produces? Like Pina 3D

Sports are, in some ways, easy. There are clear divisions and goals. The leagues have worked to reduce any strangeness, but it’s there if you look.  Artists, on the other hand, tend to work away from clear divisions and goals (though not away from clarity or purpose).  I’m tired of giving everyone a pass: Oh, who the fuck cares, the American people are drugged potatoes trying to make it through the day. Nobody cares about dance anyway.

Bullshit.  Dancing with the Stars is huge. So You Think You Can Dance is huge. There are millions of competition dancers out there who have no fucking clue that there is more to dance than points & judges, and once they leave high school or college, they put dance behind them as if it were Girl Scouts.  I was very nearly one of them, until I stumbled across Judith Howard rehearsing Ophelia and realized: Holy shit. There is something more than jazz hands here.  And here we all are, making really great work, and not convincing everyone in the world to come see it because we, somewhere in our hearts, don't think they care. How awful and sad.  The NFL started in the Midwest.  It can be done here as well as anywhere.

Anyway, enjoy the hell out of the Superbowl! I will, even though I could care less about Superbowl XLIV: The Boring Version of Superbowl XVII.  If you’re destined to go to a Superbowl party and don’t even know what a football is, this piece at the Rumpus will give you all sorts of feel-good things to think about during the game so you don’t kill anybody when you have to watch the 28th truck commercial.

Frogs on your face and your toes and clinging all over you with their sticky little feet.

For sports and games and arts and idleness and leisure. For complication.

For people who define themselves in many ways, or perhaps not at all. For growing tendons. For healing wounds. For glitter nail polish. For cell phone reception.

For resisting but also giving in. For being master of your own destiny, for being in the playoffs, for being the underdog. For learning. For generosity. For experts and specialists.

For one baby step at a time. For print and for web. For all the time in the world. For foam rubber pillows and nicknames and things I don’t understand. For Dana Scully and for Fox Mulder’s sunflower seed habit. For hexagons.

For people doing good work. For working for free. But more for working for pay or love or something else. For the way rules don’t really apply. For rotation & bicycle wheels. For Julyen Hamilton. For old photographs. For small town bars and for jukeboxes.

For long walks. For short, uneven walks. For calluses. For resting because you think you might need it, not because you know you need it. For love, which is forever, and everywhere. For yes. Yes for yes. 

For selling out big time. For poetry and Brian Eno and how they fit or don’t. For snowflakes and CSS and cicadas. For my parents. For being brave enough to write down the whole sentence even if you know where it’s going to end, and for being brave enough to let that sentence die even if you went to all the work of finishing it. 

For remembering that almost everyone is exactly like you, and almost no one is exactly like you.