It was while lying in a hospital bed in the mid-1990s, his body racked by pain and paralysis, that jazz pianist Carei Thomas came up with the idea of the Gift Shop. Besieged by Guillain-Barré syndrome -- created by his immune system attacking his peripheral nervous system -- Thomas' mind searched for succor, and found it in the dream of a community openly commingling its arts and crafts.
"The idea is to create a beautiful series of interacting events," he said. "Get the lady at church who makes apple pies, the guy who tells stories to his grandsons, the hellified poet and the beautiful musicians, plus the guy who does marvelous things with flowers and the master chef. Put these people together and let them engage -- that's the Gift Shop."
Twice now, he has seen the concept through to fruition near his home in south Minneapolis, including a three-day extravaganza five years ago at Intermedia Arts. Last December his wife, Joyce, began planning another Gift Shop, without his knowledge.
On Thursday, one day after his 70th birthday, Walker Art Center will host tribute performances featuring poets and puppeteers, dancers and designers, textile and paint artists and nearly nonstop music. Afterward, there will be a party and more music at the Dakota Jazz Club. Fittingly, all of the performers have played with Thomas or been directly influenced by him -- and both shows will be free.
It seems like a case of positive karma coming home to roost, something that Thomas, a practicing Buddhist, can appreciate. Greeting me in his home, he exudes artistry -- his pinkish-red T-shirt printed with an original drawing of doughnut shapes and a helix that form an image of a snail, spinning off musical notes. Later he hands me a paper with the same drawing and a poem ("Alone in the Helix, Too") on the back.
Courting serendipity, chaos
Thomas moved with his family from Pittsburgh to Chicago when he was a teen, and his longstanding relationship with the Windy City's renowned Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM) exerted a profound influence on his conceptual approach to art. Perhaps his best-known wrinkle is "Brief Realities," which inverts the standard jazz practice of composing a framework and then letting improvisation be the connecting tissue.
"I like the idea of something being free, and then, in that pool of freedom, there can be an island or cells of composed things," he said. He courts serendipity -- and chaos -- by broadening the possibilities of human interaction via different skill levels, artistic disciplines, moods and textures.
