Hello, Reso-nauts, spacetime drifters, and people who definitely meant to buy their ticket last week, Let's not bury the lede under a pile of whimsy this time. Well, a small pile. A tasteful mound. But the point is this: September 1 is coming, and it is carrying a few things you need to know. Nothing relative about it. Tickets: Still Real, Still Available, Still Closing September 1 We said it before. We'll say it again, because rumor travels faster than a theme camp rumor abo

Dear Radiant Relatives, As the calendar pulls its favorite relativistic trick; the closer September gets, the faster the days fly; we wanted to pause, take a breath, and remind ourselves (and you) exactly why we're all dragging coolers and dreams out to a field in Kansas. Reso 2026 is not a festival. It isn't a concert, and it isn't a vacation though you may very well come home smelling of dust and possibility. It's about art. Not the kind you observe politely from behind a

Greetings, Reso-nauts, spacetime drifters, and people who definitely meant to sign up for that volunteer shift last week, Everything Is Getting a Name (Relatively Speaking) We've been out here naming things. Not because things need names, a parking lot by any other name would still smell faintly of sun-warmed dashboard and forgotten granola bars, but because it's fun, and the theme is "Everything is Relative," and we have exactly zero impulse control. So. Without further ado,

The Great Convergence of Deadlines Hello, Chronic Procrastinators and Eager Planners Alike, There comes a moment in every event cycle when the soft, gentle "hey, whenever you get a chance…" transforms into something sharper. Something with a date attached. Something that doesn't care about your busy schedule or your waiting-for-payday strategy or your "I'll definitely do that next week" mantra. That moment is now. September 1 is bearing down on us like a very organized freigh

The Reso 2026 Newsletter ; This week's name, getting our hands dirty. Hello, You Gloriously Able-Bodied Creatures, The event is close now. Close enough that the to-do list has stopped being a list and started being a countdown. Close enough that we can feel the Kansas sun on our necks and the satisfaction of hard work in our bones. Close enough that we need you, yes, you, to show up and help push this thing across the finish line. So let's talk about Saturday. And tickets. An

Hello, Motorized Dreamers, Let's begin with the hard truth, delivered softly: Your vehicle is not allowed to drive during the event. There. We said it. Unless you are arriving. Or departing. Or moving your things from your car to your camp. That's it. That's the list. Your car is not a shuttle. Your truck is not a taxi. Your ATV is not a whimsical errand-runner. Once you unload, you park. Once you park, you stay parked. Your vehicle becomes a stationary sculpture, a storage u

🌀 The Form That Warps Spacetime Behold, the Early Entry & Late Exodus Pass form: forms.gle/GCBjAzV45fU1n4sg8 It sits there patiently, a humble Google Form, entirely unaware that it holds the keys to the temporal gates. Fill it out. Love it. Send it into the digital ether. Then wait for the universe (and possibly a human with email access) to get back to you. ⏰ Early Entry: The "I Need To Be There Wednesday" Situation Early Entry is for people with a reason to arrive before t

The Reso 2026 Newsletter This week's name, subject to change at any velocity. Hello, You Luminous Dust Motes, We are now firmly in the gravitational pull of September, and things are accelerating. Forms are opening. Deadlines are approaching. The event is no longer a distant blip on the horizon, it is barreling toward us with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever who just spotted a tennis ball. Let's dive in, shall we? Relatively speaking, we have no choice. 🛸 If It Moves an

A Statement Regarding the Name of This Publication In keeping with our proud and deeply unserious tradition of treating permanence as a suggestion rather than a rule, we hereby declare: This newsletter will be renamed on a constant basis. Next week it might be something else entirely. The week after, something else again. We might name it after a feeling. A physics pun. A stray cat that wandered through camp. A phrase overheard at 2 a.m. that sounded profound at the time. We

The Sunflower Signal Your whimsical dispatch from the dusty frontier of Reso 2026WHERE TO PARK YOUR WEIRD LITTLE SELF: A CAMPING GUIDE You've got your ticket (if not get it). You've got your glitter (testing to see if any of you actually read this), and at least three items you can't explain to your non-burner friends. Now comes the eternal question: where do I actually sleep? Fear not, dusty dreamer. Reso 2026 has a camping zone for every flavor of human, from the serenity-s

Your whimsical dispatch from the dusty frontier of Reso 2026 WE WANT YOUR ART. ALL OF IT. YES, EVEN THAT. Listen closely, dreamers. Can you hear it? That faint, persistent hum on the wind? That's not a tractor. That's not a distant radio. That's the sound of an empty Kansas field, and it is hungry. Hungry for towering sculptures that catch the sunset just right. Hungry for interactive weirdness that makes strangers stop, stare, and then burst into involuntary laughter. Hungry

THE FLOODGATES HAVE OPENED, SWEET DREAMWEAVERS Grab your goggles. Lace up your most questionable boots. Slather on sunscreen in places sunscreen was never meant to go. Because everything is happening all at once, and we couldn't be more thrilled about it. TICKETS. ARE. LIVE. Yes, you read that correctly. And no, this is not a drill—though it may be a glitter cannon. Adult tickets are 55(a steal for four days of transformative weirdness), youth 13 and under are $25, and vehic

Calling all whimsical wizards, serious saints, practical goblins, sparkle-powered organizers, and generally helpful humans! Reso is looking for volunteers for a whole variety of roles, and we want you to help make this strange and beautiful machine come to life. Whether you are fun, funny, earnest, efficient, deeply competent, delightfully theatrical, or just willing to show up and lend a hand, there is a place for you here. It takes all kinds to build a world: the silly, the

ntroducing the Temple of Collective Care Dear dusty darlings, tender-hearted chaos sprites, and glorious citizens of our temporary wonderland, We are honored to introduce the temple for Reso 2026: The Temple of Collective Care. This year’s temple is a tender monument to support, resilience, and the quiet magic of holding one another up when the world feels heavy. A great hand rises from the earth, open and uplifted, as if offering both shelter and grace. Beneath it stands a w

Hello friends, dreamers, schemers, artists, volunteers, and those of you who somehow end up in leadership roles because you “just wanted to help once,” Welcome to the very first edition of the Reso newsletter, your one-stop source for updates, deadlines, announcements, and the occasional lovingly delivered reminder that this event does not build itself. This newsletter exists to keep the community informed about all things Reso 2026, from tickets and volunteer needs to art op