The energy was high during the early August day-long celebration of Linda Austin’s Performance Works Northwest, marking 25 years of creative space for the dancemakers of Portland. I walked up to the studio’s backyard area, where I was met by dance artist Danielle Ross at the door, who welcomed me to join the festivities — complete with beverages, laughter, and patrons chatting animatedly.

Frequent PWNW collaborator and performing artist Allie Hankins was drawing portraits as others lingered casually. As 7 p.m. arrived, we filed into the theater in a commotion of sound. Loud voices rang as faces, warm with sun, filled the chairs and floor seating, crowding the side areas and ready for action. The front door closed, and the crowd cheered as Linda Austin took the stage.

“I’m trying to do a performance,” she declared with a chuckle, stepping onto a stool, books, and other items while an image was projected behind her. “Hello, Linda from 2000,” she said to a projected photograph of herself. “I’m Linda from 2025.”

During her short piece, Austin went on to talk about how the Foreman Fest series was a mainstay of Performance Works Northwest’s early programming. Named after American playwright Richard Foreman, Foreman Fest sees various artists come together to create short works during a limited time frame, all based on selected texts from Foreman’s online public domain database of notebooks.

Linda continued, opening a “present” in a paper-wrapped box. As she unwrapped it, it sounded with music and Austin sang, “How is it possible to be so absolutely odd … I escaped from one birthday party to this birthday party … A hole opened in the sky,” while playing a noisemaker from inside that box.

The performance kicked off in true Austin form — she perched, singing, and exploring, as the audience remained riveted. This is the joy of Austin’s work, of PWNW as a whole, and the soul of its community — every audience member enthralled to see what will happen next.

Here, we get to see not only performance or dance for the sake of doing, but an individual experiencing existence in the moment.  Each moment is a jewel that both exists and does not, simultaneously, due to the fleeting nature of performance and other conceptual considerations. 

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“My whole body … a thinking machine … I don’t know how to use…” Austin went on. She finished performing and began explaining where she purchased the dress she wore in the projected photograph. As she did so, many realized she was standing before us in the same dress.

Foreman Fest Redux continued with a slew of unique and exciting performances. Mark and David, a pair of performers who donned party hats, were equipped with a pickleball net and balloons. “This is the birthday party,” one said. A knock on the front door came, and they opened it.

“We just escaped from the other birthday party,” an arriving guest said. This type of satisfying repetition would be evident throughout the night, as Foreman’s words were creatively used and recycled to develop a through-line for the evening.

After a short talk from Stephanie Levon Trotter, Longdrive Theatre performed. Violinists tuned up as two dancers touched hands and spun around each other. One walked to a rolled-up paper. As she unrolled it, she said, “There are crows in the box.” (Later, it turned out that there were, indeed, crows in a box wrapped as a gift.) 

After intermission a band set up, complete with drum kit, mics, amps, and decorative red cloth. The audience joyfully filtered back into the theater, some still wearing party hats from previous pieces. The band presented its debut performance, featuring shouting, jumpsuits, and flashing lights in a pseudo-metal industrial genre.

During the evening, Allie Hankins and keyon gaskin rolled out a green-covered projector cart. Hankins wore a neon top and shorts, with gaskin in red. Their outfits were covered in text. “Let’s assume a cloud slides over the sun …” they began to say to one another, “… a recapitulated urge … the intensity of a look.”

As Hankins and gaskin performed together, the undeniable humor of the piece flowed through them seamlessly without being overbearing, and they looked into each other’s eyes with a glimmer that suggested they have a secret they’re going to let us in on — if we’re lucky. As the work went on, they wrote on the overhead projector, delivering a slight comedy of errors as they took the word from “AWED” to “A ED” to “ODD” to “ODDITY” … playing with shape, language, sound, and audience acknowledgement to execute Foreman’s text.

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After additional performers presented, Pepper Pepper completed a Mad-Lib style fill-in-the-blank with the help of the audience before Austin said a big thank -ou to the crowd and everyone who was helping to bring to life the 25-hour-long celebration of 25 years of Performance Works Northwest programming.

Foreman Fest Redux, which punctuated just one of the evenings during the weekend celebration, was a vibrant reminder of why Performance Works Northwest is so important — not just to the artists it houses, but to the community as a whole.

Austin’s organization has provided rehearsal opportunities, performance space, community gatherings, and various engagement opportunities to artists in Portland, often at an affordable cost. It has become a rare and valuable resource that many dancers, musicians, and performers use to further their personal and professional endeavors, and continue to rely on for their ongoing practices.

Here’s to 25 more years of a Portland staple.