As you can see by clinking on the link below the show is up and running smoothly.
Portland has impressed us with its cultural scene. Our opening night was a First Thursday when galleries are open free late into the night, as a result the streets were busy and every other unit was revealed to be a gallery of some kind. The Pacific Northwest College of Art is a wonderfully open and engaging place to work and everyone is curious and voluble. My lecture was packed and seemed to go smoothly, honed has it had been though hours of sleeplessness. It’s been described on the festival blog as both ‘scattershot’ and ‘wonderful’, so take your pick, what I really need for the set is ‘wonderfully scattershot’.
I missed the opening massed guitars event in the City Centre but Charlotte I raced to the river with Robin to see a floating sculpture created by one of the College’s lecturers for the Festival. Unfortunately the river was so wide that the sculpture was lost in the distance and, whilst we could vaguely hear some text emanating from it, it was difficult to tell if what was supposed to happen had happed. This disappointment was mitigated by seeing the huge central section of the Hawthorne Bridge, after much flashing of lights and many Tannoy warnings, rising vertically using a vast counterweight system.
Last night Charlotte, Heather, Karen and I caught the Free Tram across town to the University’s well appointed Lincoln Hall to see Vivarium Studio/Philippe Quesne perform a show called The Itching of the Wings whose extremely low key performance aesthetic combined with a warm venue to leave me in head nodding snooze mode. It’s difficult to critique a show you’ve failed to stay awake through. Ultimately I feel responsibility in this matter must be shared.