Every link in this essay transports you to a different flash mob experience. Enjoy the goosebumps!
There is something about a flash mob that gets me every time.
The hair rises on the back of my neck.
I cry a little. I smile a lot.
Watching a flash mob unfurl in all its synchronized glory always makes me think the world is a better place than I imagined—a world where good things are possible and love can still conquer all.
Flash mobs1 reveal art’s capacity to surprise and delight us, to move us, and to transport us away from the ordinary into a realm of the extraordinary.
A well-executed flash mob immerses us in a tantalizingly brief taste of artistic perfection.
That taste begins with the element of surprise. One minute, you’re deep in conversation, or drinking wine, or shopping for shoes…and then, mere seconds later, your entire focus shifts in response to unexpected stimuli: a loud percussive thwack, a snatch of violins, a voice rings out, someone begins spinning.
You’re surprised, too, by people transforming before your eyes: A barista bursts into an operatic aria. A woman on a scooter hops off to play the flute. A tow-headed kid breaks out incredible dance moves.
Suddenly, there’s magic in the air…
Art is all about forcing us to pay attention and the surprise start of a flash mob never fails to grab us by the throat and force us to do just that: tend to the sights and sounds, the vibrations set in motion by this sudden explosion of unanticipated actions.
Surprise yields to joy, as singers, dancers, and players claim their cleared-out space to perform. The world around you reorganizes with astonishing speed: You are suddenly a member of an audience—co-opted to bear witness to the birth of something bordering on wondrous.
You didn’t seek out this role, and yet you welcome it. You didn’t expect this moment, which is suddenly upon you.
And why joy? Why this surge of happiness while witnessing a flash mob?
Because it’s a rare opportunity to safely cede control—of your emotions, of physical surroundings—without any premeditation. Witnessing a flash mob entitles you to the ecstatic freedom of performance—and in turn you are set free by it.
I do think ecstasy is the essence of the flash-mob experience. The word derives from ancient Greek, suggesting “displacement, mental distraction, astonishment, trance.” The far reaches of ecstasy can “drive out…one’s senses.”
Art succeeds when it enchants the spectator so thoroughly, the boundaries between the conscious and subconscious temporarily dissolve. You become one with the experience—distracted and entranced.
In the midst of ecstasy there is also the element of awe, as you watch something cohere from nothing. A flash mob requires intensive collaboration among a variety of individuals. Watching bodies move in harmony, making one out of many, multiple minds behaving with one mind, reveals the grandeur of collective experience.
Now a confession: I’ve never witnessed a flash mob in real life, only online. (Perhaps I don’t spend nearly enough time in airports or shopping malls.) I long to be in the right place at the right time one day—to be recruited to the ecstasy and awe embedded in the moment as this happening unfurls around me.
In the meantime, I will continue to dwell on this fascinating art form, which raises questions about my ability to make art that transports the recipient.
· Can I create feelings of surprise, ecstasy, and awe in my own creative work?
· Can I engage readers so deeply in my text, they lose track of time and space?
· What will it take—what tools, attitudes, concepts, sacrifices—to write something that captures even a fraction of flash-mob joy, whether on my part or the reader’s?
I don’t have answers to any of these questions, and perhaps I never will. But they seem like great questions to ponder.
For all of us managing self-doubt about our creative abilities and intentions, absorbing flash-mob experiences is a wonderful way to reconnect with the happy upside of creativity. If I can feel like that for even one minute of the day, all my efforts (and doubts and agonies) are worthwhile.
Don’t give up early on this one.
Thank you for your amazing generosity in compiling all these flash mobs!!!! I laughed and cried at every single one of them - floods of happy tears for the proposal in particular. I've watched the Ode to Joy flashmob every few months for years, just for a dollop of happy. I, too, long to be present when a flash mob breaks out - I'm still hoping! Yes, let's find a way to inject this unadulterated joy into our work. A million thanks!
Thanks for this! So much joy, it made me tear up.