When was the last time you fcuked things up? I mean really, did something so left of field, so unlike yourself (so unlike anyone!), so brilliant and wonderful and bizarre that all you can do is feel absolute joy?
For me, it was Sunday.
As you begin transumer: deviate from the norm, you are handed a red bag. In your red bag goes one yellow balloon, one piece of white chalk, and one animal mask. In your hands goes an “i-torch” – a contraption which sees an iPod touch with large headphones sticking up off a large metal torch. Onto the torch, you stick a small, plastic animal friend, who you say hello to, and will get back to later.
In a group of ten, you receive your instructions from a pair of mother fcukers. On the count of three, everyone presses the big red button: Deviate.
pvi collective’s transumer has groups of people walking the winter streets of Port Adelaide for one hour where they are invited to, well, deviate. Defy conventions, tell the city what you want from it, laugh in the face of authority, overthrow the institutions. All while making sure to cross at the green light.
In one hour we wrote on chalk on the pavement, we created an urban home for our animal friend, we did nothing at all for one minute in defiance of the working day. With a yellow ball, we played dodge ball against the monarchy; with yellow balloons, we took part in our own piece of socially acceptable terrorism – blowing stuff up. In a one-minute, sadistic version of the Beep Test we tried to topple a bank by running in to it. Again. And again. Shoulder blades, mine are currently yelling loud and clear, are not the suggested body part for impact.