Events & Photos

The first official Cacophony event in Shanghai. The premise was simple: get 20 people together in animal costumes and collect trash around the city in some sort of bizarre parade-like fashion. Four animals arrived. Four. And just like that we came face to face with the sort of vulnerability that often stops people from organizing their own events. But screw it, four animals it is. We walked the streets bumping trap music, collecting cigarette butts, roaring at pedestrians, and joining dancing grandmothers in the park.

Beer Lady, a bar run by some auntie by the Suzhou River, became a gathering point. At night, the river is extraordinarily beautiful—like a silk ribbon drifting across the city, moonlight reflected on the water. Here the Cacophonists would gather for Hot Wheels: fire spinning with iron forks, lighting up the quiet Suzhou night. This is where many members first encountered the Society.

[The official Cacophony designated breakfast. A decadent Saturday enjoying traditional Chinese jianbing street food and American pancakes. From Emperor's Tongue Issue #3.]

Sub-zero temperatures. White body paint. Underwear. For climate change. The annual Polar Bear Pub Crawl saw Cacophonists strip down, paint themselves white with black noses, and brave -3°C weather hopping between bars in the French Concession. Vodka for courage, chants of 'climate change!' on the dance floor, karaoke at My Place, and eventually being asked to leave establishments for being 'unbecoming.' The perfect initiation.

[Bi-monthly dinner gathering for brainstorming and connection. An evening of food and fondue by candlelight. From Emperor's Tongue Issue #3.]

[Coordinated dancing performances on the Shanghai Metro. Members stationed at different stops, synchronized chaos for the morning commuters. Details from Emperor's Tongue Issue #4.]

[Traditional Chinese clothing (Hanfu) meets modern mischief. Using beauty as a theme for improvised creative expression. From Emperor's Tongue Issue #4.]

We put on tutus like ballerinas and went running through the city. In the crowded subway car, we presented carefully prepared gifts to the urban prisoners of a dull existence. All of this surpassed and broke ordinary Chinese conventions of how a person should act. We were bold, unreserved, expressive.

We spent the night picnicking on railroad tracks somewhere in northern Shanghai. As the morning rose grey and heavy, sleeping in laps, backs sinking into the tracks, soft rain and distant conversation drizzling down. A man with a rainbow-colored umbrella walked past. Then a truck was ordered to cart the group and two bicycles back downtown, but the driver wouldn't let us inside. 'This is probably the weirdest 100 kuai the truck driver has ever made.'

Less than two hours south of Shanghai by High Speed Train lies the magical Chinese trade city of Yiwu. Ten Cacophonists answered the call to explore the monumental Futian wholesale market—a five-story bazaar stretching through the city like an engorged anaconda. Treasure hunts through streets of power tools and Christmas displays, hookah lounges with Bollywood-charisma locals, dancing on bars, Colombian bands, and awards for finding the most absurd items (including an anatomically correct male doll).