Find a copy of the print issue! Subscribe to print issues! Support us!
In August, Performance Works Northwest marked its 25th anniversary with 25 hours of programming, a fitting tribute to the interdisciplinary spirit that defines the Foster-Powell arts space. The marathon weekend bounced from a dance aerobics workshop to a poets’ cabaret and a late-night karaoke party, underscoring Performance Works’ blend of artistic rigor and play.
Back in 2000, dance artist Linda Austin and lighting director Jeff Forbes transformed a former church on a residential street into an experimentation hub. A little east of Portland’s contemporary art orbit, it looks unassuming from the sidewalk. Inside, Performance Works incubates some of the city’s gutsiest art.
When we met in the venue’s back yard, Austin noted a new ADA bathroom underway as her cats sprawled in a sunlit catio nearby. The scene felt emblematic of her whole approach: grounded, warm, and community-minded.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
MERCURY: How was Performance Works Northwest founded?
LINDA AUSTIN: Well, I didn’t grow up dancing. I fell into it in the ’80s, after I moved to New York City. But I had physical training as an actor. I was a theater major at Lewis & Clark College. I first met [Performance Works co-founder] Jeff Forbes there, on the lighting crew. We didn’t date until we were in our 40s—I ran into Jeff at an Imago Theatre performance. The first thing he said to me was, “I just saw your picture in a book.”
How romantic.
I don’t know if he had a crush, but I thought, “Oh, you look at books about performance art…!” We started cross-country dating. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back to make me sell my East Village apartment. I bought it for $2,000 in 1978. By the ‘90s it was worth money, but not enough to buy a space for dancing in New York. In Portland, I could.
When I returned to Portland [in 1998], a realtor mentioned [the Performance Works building]. It was a Romanian Orthodox church. I thought, “Foster Road. Where’s that?!” At the time, it seemed far from the city center, but it was within our price range, so we bought it.
What was your first year of programming like?
It grew organically. We had a fundraiser called Cabaret Boris and Natasha, our cats’ names at the time. It was salon style, with acts in various disciplines. Jeff and I got married in the space, too. Performance Works has operated for 25 years, but in October it will also be our 25th wedding anniversary. Everything happened for me in 2000.
For many years you were also an English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL) instructor at Portland Community College while directing Performance Works. You were able to keep your creative spirit alive.
Well, I wasn’t a parent. And I worked a two-thirds load, as opposed to full-time. Although I made less money, I figured out that I could survive on that and still do my work. When I retired from teaching ESOL with a tiny [Public Employees Retirement System] PERS pension, my creative time increased. But my administrative time also increased—I took on more, added more programming.
Somehow, I figured out the jigsaw puzzle and was able to do things that might not be possible for younger people to do. I never had huge student debt. When I went to Lewis & Clark College, it was so much cheaper! So I benefited from the timing of when I was raised.
Looking back on a quarter-century of programming, what’s felt most powerful?
The Foreman Festival, which we held a new edition of as part of our 25th anniversary weekend. The last one was in 2012. It was based on the work of the avant-garde playwright Richard Foreman, who was very philosophical. He offered his raw writing drafts for people to use royalty-free and adapt however they wanted. For the Foreman Festival, artists got prompts based on a selection of his text.
How would you describe Performance Works’ role in Portland’s art scene over the years? Where would you like to see it go next?
When Performance Works started, I missed the East Village and New York’s downtown performance scene. So we held Holy Goats! Sunday afternoon improvisations, with bagels and coffee and performances in the daylight. That was basically replicating a program that I’d experienced at PS 122 [now Performance Space New York].
Conduit Dance was in Portland, which was my first entryway into the dance community here. Our space was similar, but also encompassed more of an interdisciplinary aspect. Over the years, that has developed further. We have a music series called Workshop. We’re one of the cheapest places to rent in town, so artists use the space for all kinds of things: installations, theater, music, film. Our residency program is one of our main ways of supporting artists. We’d like to keep doing what we’re doing, but with more support, which feels like a ridiculous thing to say in this climate of funding cuts.
What’s taking shape in your personal dance practice?
I have a new piece in the works called The Waves, loosely inspired by Virginia Woolf’s novel. There’ll be six performers, a couple musicians and some dancers. It’s [also referencing] the stream of consciousness of Woolf’s writing. I’m considering what we can do in a performance language that could be analogous. It probably won’t come to light for two years, although I may do a solo excerpt in the spring of 2026.
What can you share about Performance Works’ programming this fall?
Maya Dalinsky and claire barrera will be in residency for a week (October 5–11) with three workshops and a performance. Their work is partly about the value of friendship. For one of the workshops, you sign up with a best friend, and bring your archival objects or photos.
I’m also excited about hosting Bay Area artists for Beyond Gravity [featuring Allie Hankins] in November. There will be four different pieces by paired artists, sort of like a small festival!
Performance Works Northwest, 4625 SE 67th, pwnw-pdx.org
