Radar Redux

Transmodern Festival: Opening Night

April 9, 2009 | Radar Collaborators

transmodern Ten minutes later, and I was scurrying toward an indistinct door, ironically, in the same direction as a large rat I had seen earlier from the car, and ringing a doorbell simply marked “3rd floor.” I didn’t know this part of Baltimore well, and judging by the concern my sister expressed before letting me leave the safety of the car, I knew that this was probably an area one should be cautious. Apprehensive, I waited til suddenly a long buzzer sound indicated that the door was momentarily unlocked. When I quickly entered, I saw three people, at the end of a narrow yet strangely bright hall, selling passes and checking IDs.

Although I had briefly gone to the festival’s website earlier for H & H building’s address, I hadn’t really looked over the events and performances scheduled for the evening. As I climbed two flights in the graffiti-scarred stairwell, I prepared myself for an uncomfortably crowded room where I would witness performances with a bizarre-factor equal to Li Wei’s artistic acrobatics. Well actually, my mind was more preoccupied with how I was possibly going to get an interview on camera with these people without it being forced. Just what was it I was going to ask?

When I had made it to the “3rd floor,” I entered a foyer-like space with a line of bikes along one side; two earnest young students welcomed me. I asked my first question, “where is the restroom?” and then ventured forward into the open space, lit by a variety of killa gaudi, orange-glowing lamps. “Straight ahead, down the hall to the left of the kitchen,” I repeated the directions in my head. The performance space wasn’t nearly as crowded as I had expected; in fact, the atmosphere was intimate. The kitchen was literally a cramped apartment kitchen that an old table had been squeezed into to serve as the bar for the evening, and an equally old school fridge serviced the space. I turned down the hall and walked directly into a bathroom. You are correct, I didn’t say through a door; there was no door, and there was no separate women’s room either.

I need not go into detail regarding my communal bathroom experience except to say that it did not involve any exposed urinals. As I reemerged, I felt strangely prepared for anything that might happen that night at the opening of the 2009 Transmodern Festival. Being the Midwest mouse in what is increasingly recognized as a fast-paced alternative arts rich city, I realized that those involved in this event are neither pretentious nor indifferent; rather, the artists and performers were often indistinguishable from the audience who had come to experience the event and engage with its creations.