Milk, honey and art

The group calls itself a "syndicate of free equals" from "the temple of the 12." But what exactly is the New Land of Milk and Honey? Short answer: It's a Minneapolis-based artist commune whose dozen plus members don't all live together, at least for now. The long answer? Read on about a creative utopia where Catholic rites, video, knitwear, magical tetrahedrons and sustainable agriculture collide.

The world got a look at this group at its Feb. 20 opening reception and performance at the Soap Factory in Minneapolis. A futuristic, disembodied voice welcomed the capacity crowd to a procession that was half church service, half infomercial. All eyes turned from the wall displays (including a cabbage-print bedspread and rainbow lettering that read "The answer is you") as a man in white with a triangular headpiece (Croix Clayton) and a knit-clad woman (Aby Wolf) introduced the tenets of the NLMH.

Some of those principles are normal commune activities ("exercise," "collaboration"), while some are head-scratchers ("tetragrammatons"). The audience later was divided up by their zodiac signs for a group chant, followed by a tamale-eating ritual that was eerily similar to the Christian Eucharist.

While this all sounds very Hare Krishna, keep in mind that several members of the group spend their days working for the giant corporation commonly known as Target.

The exhibition was created by five Twin Cities designers: brother-and-sister duo Brett and Erin Smith, fashion designer Annie Larson, Target "cool-hunter" Ann Marie de Lathouder Freeman and her husband, videographer Adrian Freeman. The group members met several years ago through the arts scene and their employment with Target. Larson recently resigned from her design job there to pursue her own projects, and Erin Smith currently works her "dream job" at Target as a designer of pet clothes.

Visitors to the Soap Factory exhibit, which runs through April 3, can read NLMH's literature and view its eclectic videos, which are shot in a DIY aesthetic characterized by lots of triangles and lots of outer-space imagery.

Other creations on display include set designs, painting and Larson's knitwear, with innovative color schemes and structured patterns that would intimidate the most nimble-fingered of grandmas.

So, are the members of the New Land of Milk and Honey just ultra-hip subscribers to the urban religion of irony, or are they working professionals who spend their lunch breaks underlining passages of Thoreau? Their aesthetic suggests that the designers take their mission with a grain of (organic) salt, but when asked about it, the members speak with genuine passion.

Brett Smith swears that their manifesto is sincere -- but clearly, "we're making fun of ourselves," he said. "If we could pack up and shift our location [to a farm the group visits in Wisconsin], it would be an ideal situation for us," he added. For now, a real-life commune and all the "Easy Rider" comparisons that would ensue are just a fantasy.

Dead serious about creating community, group members dream about leaving the corporate world for a locavore paradise. They borrow features from both traditional and New Age religions -- song, horoscopes, ritual -- with a goal of creating a sense of spirituality in their friendships. But don't think the exhibition is the emotional equivalent of a Hallmark store. The group's innovatively crafted utopia proves they have genuine talent to share.

If observing all this isn't enough and you want to sign up, you may be in luck. As their literature states, "artists, designers ... moondogs, weird beards, scientists ... survivalists, space cadets, green wo/men, potters, physical phitness phreaks ... and anyone else who has a need to CREATE WITHOUT DESTROYING" are welcome to join in.