Last year’s column about the annual All Souls Procession was one of the most controversial in the history of The Logical Lizard and sparked a spirited debate in which I was accused of being—among other things—elitist. So, we’re going to try and avoid all that this year and only think positive! And in case you imagine that I was, perhaps, criticizing the amazing and wonderful All Souls Procession, please think again and know that was not the case at all. Rather, I was curious and more than a little concerned about what the future might hold for this dazzling and stellar event, as it faces that most terrifying of all propositions for cutting-edge arts events: rapid growth.

Each year I am genuinely amazed when I meet a few Tucsonans who have grown up here and yet never attended All Souls—or worse yet, never even heard of it. Along with the annual gem show in February and the Open Studio tours, All Souls is one of Tucson’s most magical, important and original events. It truly is the night of nights.

As has already been well documented, our fabulous November parade was the brainchild of local artist Susan Johnson, who conceived All Souls as a Tucson artists’ retrofit of Mexico’s Dia de los Muertos. Ms. Johnson’s initial performance in 1990 honored her late father and—as the years went by—the number of participants grew to staggering proportions. Costumes, masks, glowsticks, floats, burning cauldrons, marching drum circles, and a mind bending end-of-procession pyrotechnic blowout by the mighty Flam Chen are all rolled up into a spooky, brilliant, heart-racing, kid-friendly spectacle which nobody who has any interest in the arts, costumes, fire dancing, or unbridled revelry should ever miss.

Marchers begin to congregate in front of Epic Cafe around 5 pm and the procession begins at 6 pm. Bring a flaming torch, or your pet monster, or maybe a bat with glow-in-the-dark eyes, or even a skeleton in a wheeled coffin, and be amazed by what Tucson’s brightest and wackiest artists have come up with this year. And, for the finale tonight, I gather from my agents that Flam Chen has something special in store for us.

It is the 21st annual Tucson All Souls Procession, so bring out yer dead, and throw ‘em on the cart. Long live All Souls! It makes Halloween look like a tea party.

All photographs by Geoffrey Notkin © Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

I was, for many years, actively involved with the Burning Man arts and counter culture festival that takes over Nevada’s Black Rock Desert each year around the Labor Day weekend. I was lucky enough to make my first visit back in 1997 when it was still relatively small and you could actually walk around and see everything. I went on to be a founder member of the Burning Man New York local chapter, and returned to Burning Man in 1998 and 2000. After that I was done. In ’97 there were less than 10,000 attendees. That number has now swelled to 50,000 and bigger isn’t always better.

Burning Man 1998. Black Rock Desert, Nevada

Going to Burning Man is an extraordinary, life changing journey, but it finally got too vast and crowded for me. The art installations and theme camps began—at least in my experience—to be eclipsed by partiers, gawkers and all-night desert raves; the creative elements that are the heart of Burning Man were, to a degree, marginalized.

And now, sadly but I suppose inevitably, our annual All Souls Procession is facing similar hurdles. All Souls is our city’s most fantastic and dazzling event of the year. Read my earlier pieces for TC.com, “It All Started with All Souls” and “All Souls is Tucson’s Night of Nights,” and you will appreciate how much I adore this vibrant spectacle. However, success does come with a price.

Tucson silversmith Lisa Marie of Sirocco Design helps friends with their makeup before the 2009 All Souls Procession

Last night I attended my sixth consecutive All Souls parade, and I don’t just show up with a camera. I walk the walk. I also work on costumes and masks so I can make my own small visual contribution to the parade. Yesterday’s procession was staggering in its size. So many people marched, and there were so many floats and giant puppets that Fourth Avenue was nearly choked, and several times the parade came to a complete standstill. Sidewalks were packed with spectators all the way from University and Fourth to the loading docks across from Toole. And this is what I mean by the phrase “Burning Man Problem.” When an arts event is so exciting and intoxicating that it attracts an ever-growing number of participants and spectators, it faces the possibility of getting so big that it loses touch with the very thing that made it fabulous in the first place. When a unique, cutting-edge, local event grows to titanic proportions, is it possible to remain true to its original vision? I think it is, and I have a suggestion:

Local artists Jewels and Ismist with their spectacular 13-foot float honoring Shirley who passed away earlier this year

If you want to watch the parade, then watch the parade from the sidelines. If you want to be a participant, then really be a participant. A rough estimate—based on not very much but walking the length of the parade a few times, and prepared quickly in my somewhat addled brain—told me that at least one in four people walking with the procession were in ordinary house clothes and not bringing anything to it but their bodies. I fully appreciate that All Souls is not only an arts event, but also a spiritual event in which many mark the loss of loved ones during the previous year. As such, of course, it should be open to all. But—and this is a big but—many participants spend weeks or months building marvelous floats and designing elaborate costumes and masks. Out of respect for those who have given up time and money to make something beautiful or scary to bring to All Souls, I propose that marchers either dress up or stand aside. A spectacle like All Souls is only as good as its participants and I’d hate to see it populated by thousands of people shambling down Fourth Avenue in t-shirts and blue jeans. Really, what is the point of mystical parade in which people don’t wear something special?

Tucson fire troupe Flam Chen upped the ante with a particularly dazzling show during the 2009 All Souls finale

Thanks are due to the Many Mouths One Stomach volunteers who devote so much time and energy to making All Souls live, and to the Tucson Police Department, who once again managed the large and excitable crowd with courtesy and patience. And finally, it is important to remember that you live in an arts-friendly community in which a giant flaming cauldron is hoisted into the air by a crane, over a crowd of thousands, on a Sunday night. I really cannot think of another city in the country that would even consider allowing such a wonderful thing (San Francisco banned the original Burning Man from Baker Beach because it got too big).

All Souls is still the greatest, but let’s not lose sight of what makes it great. See you in front of Epic Cafe next year, and please, think about wearing a costume.

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

While our fine city enjoys international fame as host of the annual Tucson gem and mineral shows (and you’ll be hearing plenty about that from me during January and February), tonight is the night that the Old Pueblo is truly at its finest and strangest. The All Souls Procession—Tucson’s hip, weirdo, eclectic, inexplicable and sometimes cutting-edge arts scene’s retrofitted take on Day of the Dead—is the most exciting, inspiring and magical event of the year.

All Souls is already well known to many of you, I’m sure, but I am delighted that this year two of my friends will be experiencing their first procession. If you’ve never seen it, turn off the TV and get yourself downtown by 6 pm. You will not be disappointed. If you’ve watched as a spectator, but never participated, throw on some black and white face paint, don a costume or mask, revel in the ritual, and spare a moment for the memory of a loved one who has moved on to the next world (or whatever you believe in) during the past year.

With local media director, rock star, and bon vivant Caroline Palmer during the 2008 procession

One of my happy annual tasks is designing and building an elaborate mask to wear during the procession. Last year I wore a Hopi-inspired sun god and it was my best-ever effort. I had grand plans for this year—a giant gila monster faceplate was the winning idea—but, alas, the previous two months have been entirely filled by on-the-road adventures filming the new season of my television adventure series Meteorite Men. As such, there was no time to create something new for the 2009 parade. And that, dear readers, also explains why I have been absent from TC.com, lo these many weeks. I missed you, but I am back, and just in time for my favorite, favorite event of the year.

The mighty Flam Chen tear it up during the grand finale to the 2007 All Souls Procession. Photo by Geoffrey Notkin.

I’ll be on Fourth Avenue this evening, likely more than a little fired up, looking forward to bounding through the Fourth Avenue underpass in the company of drummers, dancers, and walking skeletons, watching fire troupe Flam Chen do their amazing thing at the loading docks, and I am hearing rumors of a surprise appearance by Calexico. I hope to see you down there, and I’ll be seeing you here tomorrow as well. I have more than a few tales to tell about life on the road with the Meteorite Men.

Learn more about Tucson’s All Souls Procession