Art Talk Chicago

Nana Shineflug

Two viewpoints on Links Hall 30/30:

Meg Leary's take on Bob Eisen, Charlie Vernon, Asimina Chremos, Blair Thomas, Poonie's Cabaret, and why performance art is like bird watching
 
Barbara Hirschfeld on Dmitri Peskov, Julia Rae Antonick and Carleen Healy, David Kodeski, Asimina Chremos, Deeply Rooted Productions: Joshua Ishmon and Kathleen Purcell Turner, and her return to the Links Hall of the 90s
Links Hall 30/30: Search for the Ivory-billed Woodpecker
By Meg Leary

I have never been bird watching before, but apparently it is one of the most popular hobbies in America. Experimental performance is not nearly as popular, but it has a lot in common with birding. Both consume a lot of time searching for rare species, which, in the case of performance is inspiration. It is with a birders spirit of curiosity and a keen eye that I set out to experience Links Hall's 30/30.

Links celebrated its 30th anniversary this weekend by offering a lineup of 30 continuous hours of performance at their venue on North Clark Street. You only have to look around outside of the Hall to appreciate the changes that have happened over thirty years that make this a surprising venue for anything other than drunken revelry. But Links Hall forges on with its mission to "encourage artistic innovation and public engagement by maintaining a facility and providing flexible programming for the research, development and presentation of new work in the performing arts." The anniversary program offered a sampling of the types of performance they frequently present including dance, puppetry, spoken word and theater.

(True confession, I only made it through five hours)

I arrived in time for the Friday Night Prime Time Program which was a lot like what you will find at Links most weekends of the year... a mix of ambitious newcomers and seasoned Chicago acts doing their best to ignore the sound of the El clattering by. The opening few hours ranged from modern dance to comedic monologue. Performers were culled from the extended family that makes up Links Hall including two of the original founders, Bob Eisen and Charlie Vernon. Both performed comedic monologues (Bob Eisen's with the help of Russian translator Dmitri Peskov) that humorously dealt with artistic impulses and the need to say something in public forum.

Annie Peacenik

Unfortunately, several of the performances felt unrehearsed and impromptu, which led to the general impression that this was not a "best of" show but rather an open mic night. Notable exceptions included Asimina Chremos whose choreography and stage presence realigned the audience's focus almost by force of her breath. And Blair Thomas and Company who performed St. James Infirmary, an excerpt from their longer repertory piece Paper Love Stories, about a mournful end to a love affair. The thing that set these two performances apart was how they made good use of lighting and space to transcend the white box and connect with the audience.

Next up was Poonie's Cabaret curated and hosted by Jyl Fehrenkamp. In contrast with the earlier program, there was a concrete viewpoint that ran through the program concerning gender, queerness, and adolescence. It began with Tila Von Twirl's burlesque and then moved on to a reading from Jessica Hudson's 3rd grade diary. Maybe the stakes are lower and the audience tipsier at 11pm, but there was less conformity to genre and greater experimentation in the work at Poonie's. In the interest of taking themselves less seriously, the performances took on an air of heightened intensity and joy in the moment. This sensation culminated in the dance/theater work of Matthew Hollis and Jyl Fehrenkamp's NSFW rendition of Phil Collins "Take a Look at Me Now." I can honestly say that I will never hear that song again without thinking of her...

The variety of skill levels, styles and genres on display over the five-hour time period I was present at raises questions about the lack of intention behind most of the programming Links Hall does. Their greatest asset, that it's a come one, come all space, is also its greatest weakness. You never know if you're in for: virtuosity, entertainment or painful attempts. Frequently you encounter all of the above. But how does that experience enter into your decision to try it again?

For those of us devoted to new performance, seeing the forest through the trees is part of the thrill. You never know when you sit down what you will discover.

People who love performance will be there because of a shared belief in the power of collective memory and political promise of liveness. Just like bird watching, after 5, 10 or even 30 hours you go home with a list that might be filled with common blue jays, or the first sighting of an Ivory-billed Woodpecker.
 
Links Hall: Happy Birthday, old friend
By Barbara Hirschfeld
 

Asimina Chremos

I moved to "Chicagoland" in the 90s and started looking for a place to dance.  Living on a private estate in the burbs and working to get a new museum up and running, I didn't get into the city much.  However, I found the basic ballet, jazz and even a little modern dance in the burbs and settled into my routine.
 
My city friends introduced me to Links Hall in 1991 and I went there as often as I could.  It was good for the creative soul - the classes were always edgy, filled with movement and lots of angst. There were moments of beauty.  The dance was sage, intellectual--it was often more performance art than Dance--Pina Bausch was the muse.
 
It was fun, enervating, and left me with a creative buzz.  I moved away in 1997 and for some reason - even though I'm now back in Chicagoland I didn't make it back to Link's Hall...
 
So the 30th anniversary celebration was a treat to attend.  It was a resplendent cast of characters (many from the day), and it was as interesting to watch the audience as the dancers.  The audience has always been so much of the performance.
 
Links Hall on Friday evening for the Prime Time performance was very much like the 90s: performances were varied, extremely personal and bare bones.  It was good to be in so intimate an audience space with the dancers.
 
Dmitri Peskov's Falling Man, a world premiere, was an interesting piece moving from classical to an almost hip hop movement--in my notes I wrote "Icarus" (the boy who flew into the sun and plummeted into the sea).  Peskov's Falling Man also soared and plummeted.  It was often overwrought.  The idea of the rise and the fall came through, but not with subtlety and often without continuity.
 
Angst and the sort of push me/pull you technique also dominated the next piece by Julia Rae Antonick and Carleen Healy.  Again there were moments of great beauty and strength--both women are strong dancers--but often the technique was too visible and strained the piece.  
 
A performance piece by David Kodeski, I thought I wanted to be a Librarian, was a trip through David's photo collection with his personal reflections. The trip was a little too long, and the visuals could have been better, but then again, it was the Links Hall of the 90s the intellect and the pathos were there even if the technology needed work.

Beau O'Reilly

Then for the two exquisite pieces that were right on: Asimina Clermos's solo piece was everything it wanted to be, technically beautiful, each movement flowed into the next without effort. Emotional.  It was  strong.
 
Deeply Rooted Productions with Joshua Ishmon and Kathleen Purcell Turner's Somewhere was lovely, lovely, lovely: from the bright red dress to the perfect extension of her foot, Ms. Turner was exquisite.  It was modern, classical jazz at its best.  Yes, there were a few missed technical points one could find--but only by looking pretty hard.  But who cared?  It was dance, it was Links Hall, and we were all having a great time.
 
I didn't make it back for the rest of the festival and I'm sad about that, but I know the names and the players, many who got their start at Links Hall. It had to be good.
 
Happy Anniversary Links Hall, I hope I can make it to the next party.