Over the past few days, several staff have been writing on their memories of Merce: Julie Voigt, Senior Program Officer for Performing Arts, recalls working with him here at the Walker, while Phillip Bahar, our Chief of Operations and Administration, tells how watching Merce’s performances over the years totally changed the way he thinks about dance. Finally, watch for a tribute by Philip Bither, McGuire senior curator of performing arts, in the upcoming issue of Walker magazine (out in mid-August).

Julie Voigt writes:

I am one of the lucky ones to have had the extraordinary pleasure of working with Merce and his company over the years. I will never forget his grace, generosity, and strong yet quietly humble presence. I have many fond memories of Merce, but my favorites ones are of some of those unusual small moments that engaged my artistic imagination and gave me a glimpse into this man’s spirit.

There was Fluxarenarama in 1993, where we turned a downtown health club into a performance site to wander through and experience chance performance. The Merce Cunningham Dance Company (MCDC) took on the challenge of performing in the workout area, with their final dance presented on the basketball court.
There was that moment of joy on Merce’s face when he and his company first walked through Art Performs Life: Merce Cunningham/Meredith Monk/Bill T. Jones, a Walker exhibition that recognized the critical contribution he and the other artists made to the history of 20th-century performance.
There was also the 10^th anniversary of the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden in 1998, when MCDC performed a special Event for the Garden on an unusually hot fall day. The company’s shoes were literally melting onto the scorching dance floor, but they continued to dance beautifully across the stage as Merce proudly and calmly looked on.

But my fondest memory was this past September, when we produced Ocean in the Rainbow granite quarry in Waite Park, Minnesota. This site-specific production was by far the largest and most complex performance that any of us have ever done. Not an easy task to take a completely empty rock quarry and turn it into an outdoor performance site for 1000+ people each night. After months of hard work turning this seemingly crazy idea into reality, on the last few days it poured rain on many of the afternoons. All of us were on the edge of our seats, hoping it would stop in time for us to do the performances.

Luckily it did – until the final night, when, toward the end of the performance rain began to fall hard and we had to make the unfortunate call to stop the event. We were all feeling frustrated and very disappointed that the final night was cut short. But Merce just smiled and said to me – in an almost consoling way – that he actually embraced the uniqueness of that evening’s performance and that is was just Mother Nature stepping in to change the ending for him – a chance encounter with forces over and above us all that made that final artistic call.
I loved that moment. Merce told us that this performance experience was one of the highlights of his career. It was one of my personal highlights as well and I’m so very glad to have been a part of it.

Merce Cunningham once said that as long as he was breathing he was dancing. I’ve always thought that this was a remarkable way to live in and experience the world. Of course, the dance and cultural community all mourn the loss of Merce, one of the great choreographers of the last hundred years. Merce reshaped modern and contemporary dance: how it was created, how it looked, how it was experienced. He re-envisioned with some of his closest peers—Cage, Rauschenberg, and Johns to name some of his closest associates—how movement, music, light, and décor could come together to create something wholly new, intentionally unintended, and something that allowed each of the art forms to breathe at its own pace within a larger, more complex organism.

My first experience with Merce was through art history — you can’t take a post-war art course without coming across his innovations, often through the lens of his visual arts peers. However, my first true understanding of his work came a few years later. As a new transplant to New York, I found myself with nothing to do on a Friday night. I came across an announcement for the Merce Cunningham Dance Company season at City Center; out of curiosity I attended. I sat in rapt absorption through the entire show; I had always enjoyed dance, but until that moment I had never experienced it in such a visceral and engaging manner. I returned on Saturday. I returned on Sunday. In those three nights, Merce Cunningham changed my understanding, appreciation, and passion for dance, opening me to a vocabulary about which I was uninformed and which I breathed in wholeheartedly ever since.
While living in New York I never missed a season. From that first performance on, if Merce was in town, wherever I happened to be visiting or living, I was there. I can unequivocally say that I’ve seen more performances by Merce Cunningham (well over a dozen) than by any other single performing artist, and over the past few days I’ve been wrestling with what life will be like now that he’s gone. For nearly 20 years I’ve looked forward to my next experience of the athleticism and magic of his work. I never knew what to expect and relished the anticipation. Would the music be ethereal or intense? Would it be Cage, Tudor, Kosugi, Eno, Bryars, or someone fully unexpected? How would he make his own appearance (I remember the first time I saw his “chair dance,” and also the first time I realized that he would no longer be performing in that way)?

I once had the privilege of sitting at the back of an empty theater, watching him conduct class with his dancers — he was at the barre making subtle movements and directing the dancers, who understood implicitly what he was searching for and more often than not delivered it as intended. (The Company began a series called “Mondays with Merce,” which provided enthusiasts and dancers alike an opportunity to see inside his classes and gain insights into his thinking and working process; they are well worth a look.)

A force of contemporary art and performance has left us and all that’s left for us to do is breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

– Phillip Bahar

• We just uploaded “Merce Cunningham’s Working Process” on the Walker Channel and on YouTube
• The New Yorker has a dance reviews going back to 1976 on its site, including one on the performance of Ocean, which the Walker presented this past year
• The Cunningham Dance Foundation’s Legacy Plan — the Foundation had only recently established “a precedent-setting plan delineating the future of the Merce Cunningham Dance Company (MCDC) and ensuring the legacy of Cunningham’s work”
• Interview with Village Voice dance critic Deborah Jowitt

Here are some behind-the-scenes Q&As from each of the artists to give you food for thought on last weekends’ Momentum shows. What do you remember from the new works? Do these support your vision of the pieces?

Make a list of ten adjectives to describe your work.

Sachiko: contrasting. warm. bright. natural.  manic depressive  windy.  personal.  secretive.  lonely.  lost.

Sally: brave, silly, Fellini-esque,  allegorical, musical, over-arching, ridiculous, still, upright, salacious

Megan: vulnerable, comedic, intimate, musical, endearing, personal, undisguised, particular, candid, bittersweet

How do you title your work?

Megan: For this piece, the title arrived before the piece did. I remember driving in my car and the title just popped into my head. Images of a group work had been playing in my head for a couple of years, and I let the title ruminate a while before it stuck to this particular piece. Typically I title a work after it’s done, or at least at some point during the process. So this piece was a little unusual in that respect.

Sally: This title came easily.  It contains words that I never use– Paramount and Footage.  The phrase had an absolute ring to it, for me and it reminded me of a Fred and Ginger movie.

Sachiko: “The Apple Tree,” because the story takes place around the symbol of nature and its forth, warmth, light, generosity, and gentleness, an apple tree.

Vanessa: I usually start out with a title to help focus the work. The title is inspired by the content that I want to express. Rarely have I found a title after the creative process has started.

What is the intent of your piece?

Vanessa: To celebrate, to rally coming together, to acknowledge a new era, to do something all together.

Sachiko: To spotlight un-heard peoples’ voice.  To emphasize the sacrifice and mistakes people make in life, and loss of youth and innocence.

What have you learned about your process while creating this piece?

Sachiko: I discovered sometimes I am like a mathematician to make sense musically.  I understand much of dance in a musical sense, since it is the nature of Flamenco.   I read emotions and story within music.  Music and dance share the same vocabulary in Flamenco.  I see the light when my vision and ideas integrate with the music in my brain.

Has your piece changed since you began making it?  How?

Vanessa: It changes every day with life’s experience and interaction. In the beginning there is what you know and what you think you know. Then through discovery and research it changes and adapts; the collision of thought, movement, and emotion.

What is your editing process?

Megan: I’ve always been a very visual thinker/processor, so that’s worked to my advantage in this project. I’m able to picture a section in my mind and virtually edit it as we have not had a ton of rehearsals together. I think it’s also a result of shooting digital photos over the last several years; it trains your eye to be more efficient at creating an image as well as framing an image.  I can tell that I’m more aware of the holistic picture of the stage and theater, allowing me to take an almost sculptural approach to making the work.

How does the art form you’re working in express your work?

Sally: The form of ballet is key to this work, even if it isn’t apparent.  The line, the opposition, the polarity in ballet, the tension— they are all describing my reality.  The art form of theater itself is enabling me to transcend some of the literalness by way of layering images and repeating motifs.  I think I have a lot to learn, though.  I would like to harness these art forms more and be able to really bring the audience with me more, so that would know  ”Oh, this was important.  OK, this part isn’t real, it’s just how it SEEMED at the time.”

Vanessa: Movement based performance in my opinion speaks to the poetic/subconscious mind and body. It transcends language barriers. This is my chosen form for those reasons and speaks to my desires to work on that level.

How do you respond to your own work?

Megan: Sometimes it’s like seeing an old friend; there is something recognizable and innately familiar to me. Sometimes with a cringe. Hopefully I’m engaged and drawn in to the images. Usually I’m most riveted by the performers themselves. With that said, I often do solo work, so that objectivity is more difficult. If a moment or image makes my heart beat faster or makes me hold my breath then I know I’ve made something successful that I hope provides a visceral, emotional connection for the audience.

A screen is stretch on the diagonal upstage left, the 2 lower corners taut by 2 ballerinas in white tutus and pointe shoes.  The mountain from Paramount Motion Picture Company is projected against it.  Sally is carried out and attached to to a rope that hangs centerstage.  She is wearing a kilt-like cape with an S.  She is flung against the screen over and over and over.  She pounds her fists and feet against it in the same rhythm with the same dynamic for what seems like 3 or 4 minutes- is this a proclamation or penitence?

Photo by Cameron Wittig, courtesy Walker Art Center

The next scene is a circus-like flurry of dancers including Jim Dominick, Taylor Dreyling, Sarah Fifer, Penelope Freeh, Marisha Johnson, Anshul Paranjape, Kimberly Richardson, Sally Rousse, Dylan Skybrook, and Laurie van Weiren. They waltz with flexed feet and spiraling arms.  I see a bullfighter, Michael Jackson Thriller choreography, and a humorous moment when the dancers hit their foreheads with the heels of their hands.  Who are they? What are their roles?

“Paramount to my footage” covers a history of the life of Sally Rousse.  I see that Alek Keshishian, most known for Madonna’s Truth or Dare, was a creative consultant.  Will Sally be just as sexy yet emotionally disconnected as Madonna in revealing what lies behind the public image of an iconic figure?

A lot of territory was covered in 45 minutes.  Some poignant moments for me were seeing a projection of Sally’s father’s eye against the diagonal screen as if he were watching the performance from atop a mountain, Kimberly Richardson’s solo as Goddess of the Wind, a duet between Penelope Freeh and Sally in which they tap dance in their pointe shoes, LVW as an MC asking cliche celebrity questions, and when Sally finally mourned a loss- that of her first husband- and cried into a harmonica.  I wonder what it would be like to explore just one of the many facets of Sally’s life more in-depth for a production? Say focusing on just the story of her first husband? Or the birth of her first child? or just her childhood?  It’s challenging to face a time constraint of a shared evening.

An autobiography can be empowering because one can acknowledge that oneself has been through a lot to get where they are today.  It can be triumphant and a testament to one’s survival through the good and bad.  An autobiography can also be quite vulnerable.  I wonder if I hadn’t read the closing statement that shares the details of the creator’s life prior to the performance.  If I hadn’t, how might the experience been different? How can an artist transcend from personal to universal so that a viewer has a connection to the work? Let’s talk.

5 performers, each in  vintage laden bold colors- orange, blue, purple, yellow, red- stand in a line and stare at the house.  The cast is “introduced” and I don’t need to look in my program to learn  names or backgrounds.  They are highly reputable dancers in this community and each of them is going to shine in Megan Mayer’s production, which is enticingly titled “I Could Not Stand Close Enough to You.” This is my first Megan Mayer experience and I’m reminded of the unique, colorful, clever and detailed work of film director Wes Anderson, who is gifted at working with iconic figures from the Hollywood scene by filming eccentric characters that resonate with a certain familiarity.

Photo by Cameron Wittig, courtesy Walker Art Center

Megan wrote in her artist statement that she wanted to “create distinctive solos for each of the performers inspired by their commanding presences both onstage and off.”  She was successful!   Here’s what I observed:

Greg Waletski’s solo was charming and playful as he reveled in exuberance shouting “Oh my God!” as he climbed the stairs into the house of the Southern Theater.  I’m reminded of joyful first experiences in my childhood- the thrill of the stage, pride in the small successes.

Kristin Van Loon performed an exquisite solo inverted against the wall to Louie Armstrong  lyrics “I put a spell on you…..”  I was intrigued by the manipulation of her face with her hands to create a caricature of someone devious and determined.  She stopped, took a sip of whiskey, sprayed down her mane with aerosol hairspray, then returned to the wall.  Oh yeah, we get a sneak peak at some striped underwear (a foreshadowing of the closing scene).  She is utterly captivating as a performer on stage with her authentic responses, intentional articulation and total body connection.

Charles Campbell, the performer who ate regurgitated green peas and urinated on the stage floor of Bryant Lake Bowl in a piece I saw back a few months ago (which by the way was unforgettable!), shared a triumphant piece with a trophy.  Napoleon Dynamite only wishes he could dance that well!

And now Megan Mayer, the creator.  Here we go……….. She struggles to find that picture perfect shape then beats the air with her limbs before crumbling to the floor. She’s up and bourres (spell?) offstage and returns with a bar stool to take a seat and sing Elvis’s heartbreaking lyrics “Were you lying when you said you loved me?”  She passes out from the drama? the exertion? the heartache?- we laugh.  She retreats to a hidden corner upstage against the shins.  We see her blue legs as the cast stays centerstage and improvises with crossed legs on chairs.

Drums kick in- a duple meter aerobics routine begins- the 4 performers create a rhythmic machine that rotates and they begin to talk about hmmmm, an inside joke?

Lights and sound out. I hear ventilation and rattling in the Southern. No one in the house moves or coughs.  Megan returns to the space with a light and she illuminates the walls, the grid, the house, and the dancers.  It’s very zen as we all become present to take a moment and examine this space with fresh eyes.

Theresa Madaus is the last to perform a solo.  She is the kid sister of the group, but she holds her own performing a little ditty with finger puppets, running, and finishes by flying home into the arms of her family. Dig the green high tops!

After a mambo routine, the cast takes their clothes off to reveal psychadelic undies.  They line up down centerstage and they synchronistically fall back – a unified group- to the upstage brick wall, pinned, poised, finished.

I’m curious about Megan’s process in relation to the spontaneity of the flow of the performance.  One thing is apparent, there was a strong sense of community and comradre amidst the performers.  They danced together, and respectfully complimented the soloist that took a turn in the spotlight.   I can only imagine that rehearsals were fun and playful. Nice.

Edwin Suarez opens “The Apple Tree” as he gazes into a swirling blue pool centerstage.  Black out.

2 silk screens unfold beneath the Southern Theater’s archway.  I experience a projection of grass with stone amidst a soundscore of wind.  I see elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and finally Water.  Sachiko slowly appears upstage- she is curled in all white and slowly unravels to the gorgeous music created by Ben Abrahamson and La Conja.

Photo by Cameron Wittig, courtesy Walker Art Center

Laura Horn as the Apple Tree comes to life and the two women dance together- spiraling and twisting in both unison and aunison phrases.  Precise shapeshifting unfolds- these Flamenco dancers have an ability to balance fluidity in the core and arms simultaneously with bold strength and rhythmic percussion in their feet.

Sachiko and Edwin meet for a duet.  She now garners a long mermaid tail-like skirt in bold orange, which she exquisitely maneuvers throughout their encounter.  Passion is tangible in the air for a dramatic courting.

3 guys shows up and distract Edwin from his life mission.  They circle him and tease with a 4-count meter of stomp-clap-clap-clap repeated over and over.  Laura and Sachiko twirl upstage behind the safety of the white transparent walls.  The men welcome Edwin back, but back to what?

All is silent and I see a balancing white light projected against the silk screen wall stage left.  I see moving dots in the globe reminiscent of birds.  The tree (Laura) and the girl (Sachiko) counterbalance with one another upstage.  There is tension in their breath.  The girl moves into the globe and then into a tunnel of light on the diagonal from downstage right to upstage left.  And now I am engaged………

Our female heroine moves on this diagonal of light- she is tormented by her past and by the future ahead.  Her eyes can’t stand to stay present- she only looks ahead and behind.  She shivers, lunges and whirls as she closes her eyes to the passion from time to time.  I see a silhouette of her spiraling fingers against her neck, torso and face.  She argues with the tree, and then the shimmering pool of blue light from the opening scene reappears center stage.  The girl is beckoned.  She pulls away and begins a rhythmic shuffling of her feet that is synchronistically executed with the beat of La Conga’s clapping hands.  She succumbs to the water and bends backwards as the tree regrows above her.

“The Apple Tree” closed with the young man (Edwin) back at the opening scene- he is haunted by images of the young girl, reminiscent of the previous scenes of her dancing.  He grabs for her in the air and pulls his fists into his core.  They are empty and the lights fade.

I enter the Southern Theater at 7:45pm and  the performance has already begun.  A group of performers, about 50 or so, are circling the stage walking, indifference on their faces.  Their direction is counterclockwise, perhaps suggesting a resistance to time, or even a timeless event- one that could take place at any 45 minutes in history.

Photo by Cameron Wittig, courtesy Walker Art Center

Smart, intelligent, and ambitious to have 68 performers joining a Director on stage.  68 performers who may or may not have experience, and I happen to know a handful of them who are students of mine at Zenon Dance School.  Isn’t that the woman I see at the Wedge each week? And that guy- he’s around Dinkytown, perhaps he’s a student at the University of Minnesota?  These performers are proud to be acknowledged as they revel in their stage time at the Southern Theater.  I am proud of them too.  Program notes indicate that the recruitment took place over 2 months via flyers, emails, and posts.  Bringing dance to the masses. Ambitious.

Obviously, the house is sold out.  If each performer were to invite 2 guests- there you have it. Smart.

The indifference is halted as a member of “En Masse” leaves the group to introduce themselves in the microphone,  ”I am …., I’m from a small town named ………….., it’s that place not far from…………”  I am intrigued by the individuality and history behind the voice of each and every one of these members.  Some in suits, some in sweats, some decked out, others as if they just got off their bike.  There is a projection of the group against the walls of the Southern in a negative imposed image, circling in the same counter-clockwise direction in slow motion, a contrast between a gentle gait and a 90 degree bent angle jog.

The director moves to the center of the group and starts a trot and they join her.  Memories of Grand Central Station flood my mind as they run about, doing their daily business as an unforgettable face in a crowd.  I see a beautiful kaleidoscope of bodies- different sizes, shapes, colors, textures, aesthetics, and backgrounds.

Suddenly the group splits in half- like an atom and the projection is of atoms in space, dots on a map, as the Brian Eno-like soundscore turns way up, way up til I feel it in vibrating in my core.  Riot!!!!  Disease, infection, anger, violence, close proximity is no longer celebrated but becomes infectious.  I see b-boys striking inverted poses, Modern dance heiresses striking tender positions, and others running all over the aisles and house of the theater.  Light emits from 2 speaker-like light rigs that hang just behind the archway. I love it! Is it an alien invasion? Close encounters of the Third Kind? A rave? A concert? A celebration?  I dig those lights- I want more!

Lights out.  I’m afraid of the dark. I hear breathing, steps shuffling, and a frantic urgency to find the collective wholeness of the group.  There is safety in numbers, safety in numbers, safety in numbers…….

Lights up- they waltz.  I wonder what it would be like if in place of these very performers we had members of the diverse dance pools of the Twin Cities dance community pairing up and moving in harmony.

Vanessa emerges from the group- she is lost in the crowd- standing her significance- a duality of invisibility and conformity with individuality and ownership.

The collective evolves into a gesture- I am fascinated with the idea of the childhood game “telephone.” A word or gesture translated into a crowd of 68- the variations and slight imperfections are intriguing.   I find relief when they walk as pedestrians again, that familiar indifference feels satisfying. Stop! thump, thump, thump. A steady pulse that is reflected in beautiful projection against the proscenium, music that matches.   I want more, stop, wait, there it is again. Thump, thump, thump.  The group taps their fingers to their chest, their heart, in perfect synchronicity to the walls and the sound.  Home.

The stage is disassembled- those fabulous 2 speak-like light boards struck, the microphones dismantled. I hear celebration in their voices and steps and gestures.  A task has been accomplished with great efficiency and grace- the power of community effort.

Proof we need a bigger stage in 2010? (photo courtesy of Phillip O'Toole)

Look at all that gear!

This year the stage was packed with gear, cases, instrments, lighting equipment, cable…The bands had so much stuff we didn’t have enough room onstage to store it!   I am still amazed that the backline crew was able to stay on top of what went where and when.

Looking at a picture like this, I have even more appreciation for their hard work on coordinating really tight change overs between bands!

Now that our department has caught up on sleep, we all sat down to brainstorm ways to make next year’s Rock the Garden event even smoother.  Although our list of improvements was pretty long, most of it is pretty minor when you consider how much we are doing in such a short amount of time.

The EMP staff unanimously agreed that shifting the stage 90 degrees up the hill not only made for a better experience for the patrons and ticket holders, but also relieved a lot of pressure on our schedule!  We were able to close the street closest to the Walker 5 hours earlier than years past, the placement of the sound mixing position made a lot more sense and the layout of backstage ended up serving us well for all the additional gear we had this year.  Win/Win!

To name a few off our official List of Items We Hope To Improve Next Year ™:  improving communication here and there, working with vendors to avoid grease spilling onto power cables, more monkey butlers, more sparkling soda…the usual suspects and not a surprise really.

Rock the Garden from above (photo courtesy of Emily Taylor)

Sunset behind The Decemberists (photo courtesy of Emily Taylor)

I was so busy getting lame shots of the set up process, that I really didn’t get any good shots of the event altogether…I have to thank both Phil (backline master) and Emily (Mademoiselle of Performing Arts dept at the Walker- no relation to either the Styx song or the fashion magazine) for allowing me to reprint their excellent capture of the scope of the event.  Thanks guys!

I hope everyone had a good time at the show.  I know that I did despite the heat on Sat, the rain on Friday and the hot-wired golf cart!  It was pretty smooth sailing for me (personally) mostly because we had a great team of people in place that excelled at making things happen, were quick draws on troubleshootin’, and were generally fun to work with on a 20 hour day!  Whew!

Now…to start planning 2010!

Karen Sherman relocated to Minnesota from New York in 2004, and has since become a fixture on the Twin Cities dance scene, both as a choreographer and as a performer in other artists’ works. Her Tiny Town was featured as part of Momentum: New Dance Works in 2006, and she has performed in several other Walker dance events — including roller-skating in NTUSA’s Chautauqua! last winter.

Sherman was kind enough to send some of her thoughts about the Twin Cities dance scene for a story in the July-August issue of Walker magazine; below you can read them in full. John Munger and Carl Flink also shared their insights about the state of dance both locally and nationally: click here for John Munger’s interview; we’ll follow soon with Carl Flink.

“One quality that I feel really defines the dance scene in the Twin Cities is rigor. I think many dance artists here are truly pushing themselves, looking for ways to go deeper into their work and are asking questions about dance as a form in general. There is a desire to find one’s own voice but also to transcend it, or at least to use that voice to say something unexpected in each new project. Maybe the long winters facilitate that kind of concentration — I mean, what else are you going to do all winter? Plus, there have long been some excellent funding sources and fellowships available to Minnesota artists that encourage and make possible considered artistic exploration. Unfortunately, those sources have taken a hit over recent years and dramatically so in the last few months. That’s really a shame because those resources set us apart from other cities and have helped build a creative infrastructure that actually generates hundreds of jobs and millions of dollars in revenue.

Dance artists here are also very aware of what is going on nationally in a way that I don’t see in other cities. The Walker of course enables many local artists to see what’s going on by bringing in national and international artists, but I have many colleagues who fly all over the world to take classes, teach, see shows and so on. There is a real dedication and genuine desire to know what’s going on, to be inspired by other people’s work, and to further one’s own inquiries.

I’ve also been impressed by how artists from different forms of dance take interest in each other’s work. That seems partly due to the smaller size of the TC dance scene compared to New York, where the dance scene is so vast that you could choose one form of dance — ballet, contemporary, modern — and basically see only that all year long. We don’t have that kind of density in the Twin Cities, which is good and bad, but overall I find there is enough dance in general here that you can attend shows year-long, but not so much of one kind that that’s all you see. I almost never see anything but contemporary dance in New York so it’s been nice to branch out in my own viewing.

The Twin Cities could use more venues that present fully-produced work by local artists, venues with a less commercial bent, ones more akin to the Walker. There aren’t quite enough opportunities like this locally and artists who are making new, full-evening pieces every 1-2 years are limited as to where they can perform them — they tend to show at the same theater every time because the options are limited. At the same time, this has made a lot of us seek out touring opportunities, either on a DIY level or gigs that are commissioned and fully supported. That requires a lot more money and administration to make happen, but it means we get to go a lot of great places and meet so many other amazing artists. I think we have a reputation for this now. When I perform in other cities, artists often tell me that they hear great things are happening in Minneapolis or that they have seen some of my colleagues perform in their city or some other town. They have rarely been to Minneapolis themselves so this speaks to how Minneapolitans get around, but it also means we should figure out more ways we can bring them here to show us what they’re doing. But you kind of have to invite them to come in the summer or it’s just too cruel.”

An interesting side effect of working so many hours in just 2 days to get a show up and down is that after working 21 hours straight you get a little loopy!  For what it’s worth, I took this picture at 3:30am after the show was struck, everything was put away, and the crew was enjoying a quiet moment in the air conditioning of the building:

3:30am (after the strike) Title: Meat and Beer

The only thing I remember about taking this picture is that I thought it was hilarious (go ahead and judge me, I can take it!) and had announced to anyone awake enough to listen that this HAD to go onto the backstage blog.  It made complete sense at the time!  : )

The Decemberists- 9pm on Saturday

Rewind 7.5 hours earlier to 8pm on Saturday night…the EMP crew is changing over into the headliner and almost everyone gets a quick break during The Decemberists set to recharge and get ready for strike.  Its been a good, but long day…and even though everything has gone smoothly, the crew is starting to get a little antsy about starting the strike.

We have a whole new group off crew folks arriving at 10pm, right as the show is ending, to help us take the whole thing down.  The goal is to get the staging, power, cable, cable ramps and everything clear from the street as quickly and safely as possible!

Backline folks pack up the guitars, amps, keyboards and mics.

Audio engineers are packing away the monitor desks, front of house control board and audio snakes.

Strike- 10:45pm Saturday night after the show

MPR and some crew are packing away the gear for the live feed and the recording.

We discover at the start of strike that the rented forklift has a propane leak and we are out of fuel.  Hearts stop.  But luckily Tony is there with his Bobcat to get things started and the head of our department finds a vendor in Golden Valley (on 11pm on a Saturday night!!!) with another propane tank!  45 minutes and a quick ride in the Walker van to Golden Valley later, we are forking on all cylinders!

As soon as we can cut a path through the exiting crowd, we move the Decemberists truck into position and start loading cases and strapping them in.

The bands slowly vacate the air-conditioned band trailers backstage (who wouldn’t want to leave such a fun event!?) so we can clean them out one-by-one.  First to leave:  Calexico.  Last to leave: The Decemberists

EMP takes the left over beer (not much left over this year!) and sends the stuff left behind by the bands.  Left behind this year:  one pair of silver shoes and a pair of ipod headphones.  It takes us a while to clean one of the trailers, though…one of the bands had a real “rock star behavior” day!

The trailers move out of the way so the staging can get broken down and motors bring in the roof.

The RV driving crew (David is back driving “Big Mama”) take a trip down to Shakopee to return clean, empty trailers.

The RV crew in front of "Big Mama", The Decemberists trailer- 1:15am on Sunday morning

By the time we get back, the roof is down and the staging vendor is loading up the truck with all their gear. The vendors are mostly gone and the cable ramps and cable is stacked and ready to be picked up on Monday.
Event golf carts are returned to the loading dock.

Rental radios are returned to master planner, Ashley (minus one antenna, sorry Ashley…we really looked for it!)

The only real casualty of the day was my clipboard.  At some point during the day, it was lost.

And then run over by a couple of trucks.

And found at some point on Monday by some kind woman who found it in the street and returned it to the front desk!