For Northern Spark last year I stuck to St. Paul—just the riverboat, really, and that’s a gentle just. It was an absolute blast, and I was super bummed to see no jug band riverboat action on the agenda for 2012. But it did mean I’d have a chance to see everything else.
Bikes in tow, brother Rob and I zoomed all over the gorgeous Minneapolis night for street tacos, impromptu dance parties, flame-thrower bicycles, giant puppets, wee shadow poppets, critical mass traffic jams and games with light and sound.
I got some coins.
Flooded Rob with Art.
Laid beneath HOTTEA’s glorious sun.
And plain darted around.
I regret not getting any crowd shots. It was state fair, pride parade, mosh pit density. God we love our festivals, our feet on dirty streets too many months filled with slush, fitting all our life lust, wonder and exaltation in a mere three–four months.
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