NadaDada -Inspire The Self

Someone who needs no help inspires no assistants. We hope to shine as examples of how we can help our selves as artists co-succeeding. We’re all moving in the same direction wherever we’re at. But how are we helping others by helping ourselves?

We’re all in the same boat.  But maybe the lesson is in seeing how we might hurt ourselves if we were to close down and isolate. Our art has nothing to do with how we deal with others. The art is independent but hopefully the artist appreciates interdependence.

I observe events and projects–group movements–and the most unfortunate aspect is when there is a lack of selflessness on the part of organizers and participants. With each looking at the other to provide. Consequently alot of energy gets wasted and unused. Responsibility can be pushed onto the shoulders of others instead of the self. Autonomy becomes non-existent. From multiple perspectives, this is counter-productive.

There are too many that don’t know how to help others. Consequently they hurt themselves that way.

We could talk about charity but that’s not quite it. To my mind, being selfless is a tall order to ask of others and it’s not really a correct request to be made.

It is an internal attitude to work toward selflessness. It’s a personal endeavor for someone but the value of selflessness doesn’t mix well with a corporate-minded American trying to scratch out a living. So we have this challenge. In NadaDada we want each other to succeed because there’s always overflow and intermingling and the better someone in our event does, the better our event does.

Is it a proper sales pitch to say we’re bringing you culture? Dwelling on who it is that benefits most will bring us to the realization that this is a win/win from most any direction. We’re hurting no one. We’re only helping by bringing money and thought to the public in motel rooms. The inspirers inspire.

NadaDada needs your help and I need your assistance. Talk about this show. We have 16 articles in Reno News and Review and the New York Times wrote about us on 6/22/96. 10 years ago NadaDada was birthed by 6 artists and now we’re 300 strong. We’ve had two museum exhibitions and shown individually in multiple countries.

Get motels on board for hosting us. Walk in and tell them the good news you have memorized of NadaDada. Get your foot in the door and show them that artists bring good publicity.

Check out time is 11.

Here’s our event page for tonight (Wednesday’s) get together, NadaNite. We talk.

See you tonight?

But in the mean time, this meeting went quick. It was our first. See how quick?

Warning: The following two vids are the full meeting that took place on Feb. 24th. It’s not the best quality but there’s alot of discussion in there if you need to see what we’re about.

Part 1:

Part 2:

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NadaDada Sharp Edges

Over 300 creatives have expressed themselves through the freedom of the individual. Our collective is an experimental kind. We ask for expressions of ownership and cooperation through our circles of influence. Our connectivity with the public is of blurred lines and ever expanding. There’s not an agenda or theme and the diversity becomes ruler. We are independents. We’re about disbursing the power structure. It’s what we are not that is important. We’ve set a tone of absurdity, anarchy, and peaceful coexistence that reverberates still after a 10 year old big bang in 2007. The Dada movement is a 100 year old wave this year.

It’s a hard thing to wrap one’s head around, this workable anarchy. Conflicts can be a part of this path and coexistence is not a simple thing to harness. Friction can be creative. NadaDada’s beginning was birthed in friction with some professing a challenge to the establishment which is Artown. Others say we’re just an alternative to that route. From a polarity perspective we are opposed but from a dualist view each and all can exist. Either way a new thing has been created in our town.

The last minute nature of motels always tests us to remain patient and fluid. Instability is life for the many and artists exemplify what can be done without firm assurance. It’s hard to keep things together without a cushion but not impossible. We look at how our pyramids of needs are met. There’s so much to focus on but for those of us fortunate enough we have a responsibility to inspire. Our job is to make desire and we share it.

I’ve started calling it our strange attractor challenge, constant adjustment to our game plan(s) being necessary and to “bring it” is required for anyone taking up a new space, a new motel venue hoping to draw a crowd. They had better bring their A game if they want an audience. Everyone is told to think from the audience’s perspective. Make your venue a solid destination.

With clear thinking we can see that the world is getting co-opted into a unified system, streamlined and at odds with character. There can be no sharp edges, they’ll have us thinking. NadaDada is all sharp edges.

Right now we’re looking for motels. You can help. We need cold callers. Let’s talk to motels, get the word out.

Tuesday March 9th is our next NadaNite at Potentialist Workshop, 836 E. 2nd St. Reno downtown, 7pm–8 or 8:30

One Essay and One Poem, Submissions For Harbinger Asylum

The Truth About Nada

The truth is a joke. At least it’s a joke as it’s used here in the title of this essay. There is no truth–there, I said it.

When a word is created an entity is born. Dada proposes absurdity and Nada points toward negation or nihilism, so either a) we stand for the negation of absurdity or b) we’re about absurd nothingness. These are contradictory notions but I plan to dispel neither of these myths.

If the Socratic method were to be applied, no answers would be offered but instead, only questions. Is this some kind of Buddhist koan then? What is NadaDada? What is not NadaDada? How necessary is bureaucracy? What is this, an autocracy? From where does our power come? How necessary is money? Are artists entertainers? Is art a commodity? We all have to make a living, right?

What it is and what it is not get discussed alot but the truth about NadaDada is in the motto: Get a room, make a show. That’s it. I can share this one central tenant of our little art movement and that is the motivation that NadaDada has always striven for since January of 2007. We are a working model of non-central governance–horizontal alliance. In other words we are all our own bosses.

We start to see how endless our unrestricted, individual universes can be. We start to meet the co-creators and our wider audiences: we share in the appreciation. Connection is a multiplier and the gestalt broadens the experience of art. There’s no one to herd us toward what’s appropriate, either in terms of morals or in terms of style. There is no jurying.

The challenge in putting such a philosophy to work is in finding how such an elusive organization as is one made of individual creatives could work toward any singular goal. But this singular goal amounts to opening up an unrestricted flow of freedoms in creative expression–individual expression. You know, fine art.

A commercial commodification has been adapted to the art industrial complex and the danger is in taking this for granted… like I said we all gotta’ make a living but we cannot forget that art is an action, not a thing. If you don’t think that’s true, you haven’t experienced the changes our relationship to art goes through: I hate this piece or artist and then someone enlightens me to the truths/intentions found in this piece or work of this artist.

Maybe our contemporary eyes have latched on to the attractiveness of something in this world that might live beyond our own DNA but the materiality of a painting is the by product of something far greater, something ever changing. Creativity is an action/activity/occupation and as close to the divine as a human can get.

“Creatio ex nihilio”: creation from nothing.

Artists are open to possibilities and what “can be”. Art is transient. Nothing is permanent. We show art in motel rooms. Check out time is 11.


Sugar Dance Dream

Sugar comes from space.

This harnessed specter

painted on somber face

hallowed this nascent grace

This femme framed

held she in place

by hundred yards of dress

this performance space was her nest

her prison

And I, drawn in

at third floor

a wordless behest

for a moment waned a lunar gaze

afternoon from the west

sunlit chest

the enticement of the taste.

This prohibition dream I had

in 1931 from end of the hallway

at an elevator shaft

Riveting was this dazzlement

this suffragette


was this one ghostlike

a confectionary enslavement

enrapt a nimbus

this love a lingua

metastasized between us

the heartbeat found quickened

and when the dance:

a noose.

This luminess

the minotaur

in her maze

and then..

she let me loose.

I’m lucky to be alive

and the cookies were delish.

-Chad Sorg

2 Poems: ‘This Is Not a Journal’ & ‘From My Little Art Desk’

This Is Not A Journal

so I won’t get into it

but frustrations…

I want to be alone sometimes

now, for instance.

Nothing can cure this

but being alone.

Everything is so much easier

when I’m just alone.

I think of women:

I want to be alone.


I don’t think of them.

But these women though

they are the genesis

of stress.

They are where stress comes from.

Women ARE stress.

“Are you mad at me?”

If I say yes, it’s on me;

if I say no, it’s on me;

either way I pay.

Imagine a tangle

black sticky fatal tangle

like from a swamp

or an alien trap.

THAT’S a woman.

I want to be alone on Christmas day, even

because with me

there’s nothing to it.

To deal with anyone right now

that’s more than I deserve to deal with

and take care of

and coddle.

That’s more than I want.

But this woman

who I call

an alien swamp trap

she’s free to say the same of me:

never satisfied

always complicating

so it’s not about the battle of

the sexes

it’s not about “the others”

it’s just the way

it is

for someone like me,


I hate to bring an acronym into it

like clinical cyborg

but this is it

I guess

so simple

analysis shows

what I am, statistically,

and who I am

and how I came to be

I could choose this to be

mad about,

probably safer,

because dehumanization

will never ask

“Are you mad at me?”

I’ll end this riff

Christmas day 2013

but I hope you find it funny,

the frustration of man

(and woman)

because we’re only human

and I know this ’cause

I see our specie

right here

on the categorical tree


just above chimpanzee.


From My Little Artist Desk

From my little desk at the back of the living room

quietly drawing army guys in battles

between the crosses and the stars

with TV crews on the sidelines

reporting on the malay

and on thru the schooling years

when I refused to take art in middle school

because I knew better

I didn’t want to become


& up thru high school

where I made my art teacher cry once

with my snotty attitude

Mr. Platt I liked better

he was laid back

& would give passes during classes

(I got a blow job once on the way to Dairy Queen)

and the murals I painted

in hallways

yearbooks my art graced

and into college

when I took all the prerequisites

up until Life Drawing

which was exciting

but the model was

too skinny

and didn’t strip down

and then I quit

to start my airbrush shop

in Daytona

with my best friend

we lined up hurricane insurance

but it all fell through

and then at 23

I decided


I’d be an artist

no matter what

because I knew

it would be

an uphill, lifelong struggle

but I knew

this was me

Back to college

this time in Tempe

graphic design

a logical choice

all the while still painting


and that feeling

back then

in that most productive period

the feeling that

I’m doing this

and I’m in it

for the long haul

and this was just the


I’m proud that I could see it then

the revelation

that this would never end

And then

a gallery

perspective flipped

now as the middle man

to see

what we,

these artists,

were like to deal for

but mostly a view

of this job, this career

this is an industry

with tricks of the trade

which amount to selling high ticket luxury items

to the upper middle class

and intellectuals

The floor got ripped out from under me

How noble, really

was this shit?

To be an artist

granted, an American,

but still an artist

it had a veneer

even here

that doesn’t hold up

when you work on

pricing for the market

I looked back to the college years

when my appetite for knowledge

had expanded:

the stories from biographies

on artists

I revered

life saving

these stories

in getting to know artists

before me

gave me belonging

and recognition of the fact

that these were weirdos

like me

Ultimate heroes

to rise from the ranks

with their name in lights

and this all came back

to me:

it’s an ego stroking

the whole thing

Comfort food

And so then it was

that fishbowling

came into being,

a study in how comforts

effected my art

I became a wanderer,

a Saint Francis in mobility

renouncing all my stuff

and in that same timeframe

we started NadaDada

and it was in that

that I glimpsed again

what it meant to be

an artist again

in regard to community

and in just what capacity

the journey



We belong to a lineage

our creative output

is our family,

true, but those who come

after us

the creative makers

who have followed our lead

have a need

for the example we share

in finding

own power

This is the gift we give:

sharing the keys

to self empower

because this is a powerful thing

we do

to reflect and examine

through the power of passion

which is something

so nothing

so unrealized

and so unharnessed

in most

This power–passion–is dormant

in every moment

from within every point


it can be made

and should

this for multiple reasons

but to enrich

We take this energy

and we make it work for us


is the method

of transubstantiation

in the alchemist,

the artist,

and along the way


both poems by Chad Sorg, 2013

Fishbowler and Hugo, Oh The Places We Go

So my laptop, he broke today. (why are things usually deemed a she?) There’s been dirt under the screen since I got the computer back from the repair guys. That was back when I was in LA fishbowling in a furniture store display window and I’ve just let it go until today. A piece of dirt has miraculously grown bigger under the glass so I just couldn’t take it any more.

Today I took out the pocket knife that Rippie gave me down in Goldfield. He thought every man should have one and he was absolutely right and now I use it all the time. Anyway I whipped it out and started prying the glass away from the laptop–I call it a lappy. That’s the term a friend from the past had shared with me and I’ve called it that ever since. Anyway, CRACK! The glass broke.

This Macbook, though, its name is Hugo Ball. Hugo Ball was one of the founders of the Dada movement and my Hugo goes with me everywhere I go. Hugo and I have been together now since 2008. That was the year I became single for awhile.

Between then and now I’ve been a kind of wandering mendicant. We started NadaDada in ’07 and since then I’ve been fishbowling and reflecting on the nature of transience and minimizing–you know, getting rid of stuff. Paring it all down was a big process. We don’t realize how much crap we’re dependent upon until the rug is pulled out from under us. Without a studio I didn’t do any painting until I got to Goldfield. Between burying cars, I made some canvases and did alot of writing.

It’s actually the second Mac lappy I’ve had. The first one became the property of someone else–someone I don’t know, but someone I hate. It seems while drinking and wandering bars downtown Las Vegas, I wandered into the Beauty Bar (cute name right?) and it seems I wandered out whilst my lappy stayed behind for a bit. Upon getting my drink at the next bar down the street, The Griffin–and I remember this moment crystal clear–in a flash I realized my accomplice Tristan Tzara (Tristan Tzara was another of the founders of the Dada Movement) was not with me. I dashed down the sidewalk full stride back to the Beauty Bar and, guess what, nobody saw it. It was gone. Poof! Pretty much brand new silver Apple laptop.

Mind you I was drunk and the night that followed became QUITE adventurous in the ghetto of downtown Las Vegas; I won’t get into it. Some other time perhaps. Yes, I quit drinking eventually.

So Tristan wasn’t with me very long, though he was at the first NadaDada in 2007, right beside me, playing music while I drew in my room at the Cortez. With his descendent Hugo I made hundreds of videos, thousands of friends online and have streamed thousands of hours of footage. This is fishbowling. I don’t think it’s out of the question to expect that Apple might like to sponsor my endeavors.

This year for NadaDada I’m working on getting a sponsor to build me a glass box to fishbowl in. I’d love to get some solar power for it as well.

Anyway, today got me thinking about all these experiences I’ve been through with Hugo (and Tristan)..

and all the places that we that did go

All the people that we did know.

Fishbowler fishbowlin’

it ain’t easy ya’ know.

Go fishbowler


The article I wrote in the fishbowl for the Reno News & Review years ago..

2 Lazy Part 2 –NadaDada2013 Wraps Up Post #5



Related articles:

Too lazy to Write at the Moment. NadaDada #4


Townhouse and NadaDada Sign

During NadaDada an artist will be an artist. Room 122 Townhouse Motorlodge all weekend long.

Otherwise, the one place to go for all information regarding locations and times for this year’s art show: or click the following spaceman for hyperspace online di-rect connection to the map and schedule page.


Related articles:

A Few Pigeons -NadaDada2013 Post #3

A few pigeons mill around, lookin’ to bum some cigarettes or a quarter. Pigeons are everywhere though, not just motels. I’m on the sidewalk in front of my Andy portrait outside my room at the Townhouse and I’ve had a few visitors this morning. A real straight guy that wanted to talk about art–he was on foot. Mark. Nice guy. And some burners. Burners are everywhere though too, not just motels.

The motel folk are always diverse and interesting. I heard once you can tell a guy has been in prison by the way he holds his shoulders. I never connected with that statement, I’ve been in jail before, but just now the  image was nailed down for me.

A guy walked by, quickly, B line right straight to the stairway. His hunch over his belongings is what clicked it for me. Instead of his soap, his towel and toothbrush/deoderant, he coveted a bottle of water and cigs and his iPod. Arms, faded, big and were covered in tats. He doesn’t give a shit about art, he doesn’t care about your laptop or getting in your face. He kept his bottom lip in a way that said look I’m straightening my life out, yeah I’m in this ratty motel but I got a job washin’ dishes and life is good.

These are motels and people live in these places because their choices in life are not plentiful. There are freedoms in motels.

A guy liked my Andy painting. I gave him a cig. We talked about the pigeons.


Sorg Doorway Molezzo photo (7) Andy Portrait

All images by John Molezzo.

During NadaDada an artist will be an artist. Room 122 Townhouse Motorlodge all weekend long.

Otherwise, the one place to go for all information regarding locations and times for this year’s art show: or click the following spaceman for hyperspace online di-rect connection to the map and schedule page.


Related articles:

NadaDada2013 Post #2


I came to Gold & Silver this morning, my favorite downtown eatery. Coffee’s good here. Little Mexican guy filling my mug has been here forever. He’s efficient. He’s good. I don’t know his name and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass. He must have filled me up 12 times today while I eat and read this article in the Reno News & Review about us. The waitress said I looked very familiar.

Everybody’s talking about absurdity. The pace of a thing’s evolution and the course of trajectory follow different paths just like that of a pin ball. Is this absurdity? We’ve been showing at the Townhouse yearly since 2008.

Instead of calling Reno absurd, I’d say Reno’s a gamble. That’s not absurd, that’s just playing the odds.

Anarchy is being publicly addressed regarding NadaDada and it’s become a conversation. Maybe we’re just conservationists preserving this little bastion of non coercive organization however we can bite it off for ourselves. Escapists maybe, but we’re looking for self rule. I don’t see absurdity as a theme. Never Ending Absurdity. It’s played out. It makes perfect sense what we’re doing.

Yeah Gold & Silver is a diner. Old ass school. Today’s bacon had seen better days but usually the food’s all great here so I don’t care. I love the stainless steel walls. I love the atmosphere here and a 15 minute stroll from my motel room.

The Never Ending Fishbowler Excursion. Wait, played out. Or is it “unending”, “endless”? In plunking a mess down in my room I’ll be sharing how non-senseless it is to be an art maker. Step right up. The mess feeds me.

Room 122 Townhouse Motorlodge all weekend long.

Spy Photo Gold & Silver

Townhouse Sun plus Cortez
Trash & LampsAdrianne 122Mess Maker


  1. Otherwise, the one place to go for all information regarding locations and times for this year’s art show: or click the following spaceman for hyperspace online di-rect connection to the map and schedule page.


Related articles:


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