MR Festival 2008: Performance Rampage by Matthew Lyons

by Matthew Lyons
MR Festival Spring 2008: Somewhere Out There

I can appreciate when artists wear their heroes on their sleeves. I remember a friend in college who had a “Prophets” list scribbled on a sheet paper tacked to his dorm room wall. I’ll never forget seeing Kate Bush and The Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Fraser share the page with Mindy Cohn (of Facts of Life fame). At various points in Friday night’s performance of Chase Granoff’s Thank You Boredom, the featured four performers taped to walls of DTW’s southern studio space Xeroxed images of the esteemed artists who directly shaped the piece. Exploring the continuum that links instruction-based action, quotidian movement, deep listening, noise improvisation, and beyond, the work quoted Cage, Rainer, Nauman, Thurston Moore, and many other standout creators. And just as that earlier, collegiate memory of like-minded affection struck me, seeing the image of Pauline Oliveros’s serene comportment as she held her accordion brought a smile to my face. Thank You Boredom segued nicely into the next part of my evening: MR Festival’s Performance Rampage. Leaving Chase’s (free!) performance upstairs, I put my shoes back on and made my way to the sidewalk to be greeted by two larger-than-life Jennifers: Jennifer Miller (of Circus Amok fame) and Jennifer Monson. Charged with leading this crowd from 19th Street through Chelsea, into the West Village, and finally to Washington Square Park and the gymnasium at Judson Church in stilts, tuxedo tails, top hats, and voluminous crinoline dresses, they led the group gradually along the sidewalk amidst the comings and goings of early summer weekend warriors. It seemed to me appropriate that many of us took the opportunity to catch up with one another; I was happy to spend a few blocks each with Clarinda Mac Low and Heather Kravas, among other familiar and new faces. Our elevated guides entertained us with impromptu recorder duets at crosswalks while we waited for the light to change; they stopped in front of one 8th Avenue business decked out with rainbow flags to lead the group in a chant of “We’re Here. We’re Queer. We’re not going shopping.” Along the way, people peeled off to continue their evening, while other joined in. “What is this?” “Where are you going?” “I love New York.” Various performances or actions happened along the way; we watched a group of goblin-like, hooded folk press themselves against the windows of the now ubiquitous, corner bank branches and a Banana Republic while making a unison, downward-moving glissando. At the HSBC on 14th and 8th, they made a human arch under which we all passed to cross into the West Village. At the end of an alleyway off Greenwich Avenue, a small troupe of xylophone players kept in the shadows while playing a light, magical air. Waiting for the light to change at 7th Avenue, a friendly man, one of the rampage’s unscheduled performers, said nothing but simply held the palm of his head out flat while his little, black lapdog stood up straight on its hind legs. It held so still that it was initially mistaken for a puppet. Its smiling owner didn’t ask anything about our message or mission; he simply knew he had just the thing to do while we waited. Once across the avenue, we met Luciana Achugar in a white balaclava and legwarmers, dragging herself along a curved, concrete passageway leading into St. Vincent’s. By the Jefferson Market library branch at Sixth and West 10th, Miguel Gutierrez’s Powerful People, also hooded, occupied all four corners of the intersection and performed a series of energetic yet mournful cheers or salutes. In the final stretch towards Judson, a motley marching band was the final act in this derive and they led the group into Judson Church’s basement gym. Their short set concluded with a rendition of Salt-n-Pepa’s anthem “Push It,” and I understand a dance party was meant to seal the deal for the evening, but I decided to take Chris Peck’s word for it and continued my own solo, sidewalk rampage back home to Lower East Side, knowing that the start of summer in the city had been duly rung in.

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