Links Hall eulogy
Links Hall is a small performing arts venue in Chicago that has been a vital home for independent artists for the last 45 years or so. Last week the organization announced that they would be closing at the end of June due to ongoing financial troubles.
When I heard the news, I was walking down a sidewalk in Manhattan and it felt like someone was telling me that our mutual friend had died. If Links were your friend, they would be the kind who is perpetually broke but they still make magic happen. They would be the kind of friend who introduces you to all their other friends, and sometimes those friends would become your friends too. They might not have their shit together all of the time, or even most of the time, but they would always come through when it counted. You couldn’t imagine your life without them because they’re too important to you.
I moved to Chicago in 2017 and during the five years I lived there, Links Hall was the place I spent the most time at after my own home and work. It was cozy, and dark, and friendly. You could see dance, you could see puppets, you could see something you wouldn’t have predicted you would like. It operated in a really pivotal spot in the Chicago arts ecosystem; it was important for emerging artists, like recent graduates from the Dance Center of Columbia College Chicago, and for more established artists, like the faculty members, and for national artists coming through town (often thanks to its status as a National Performance Network site). I remember seeing jaw-dropping works like Big Dance Theater’s Cage Shuffle and Erin Kilmurray’s Search Party, and brilliant artists Rika Lin and J’Sun Howard, and a duet choreographed by Aaliyah Christina for Brianna Heath and Amber Johnson that made the whole city feel electric, and like there was absolutely no better room anywhere to be in at that moment.
I joined the board in 2019 and being among that group of wise, passionate, generous arts advocates made me believe that a board of directors could actually be a good and helpful thing for a non-profit, a balm after a number of negative encounters. At one point I was talking about this wonderful experience during a job interview and they weren’t familiar with the name Links Hall so I was spelling it for them. When I came to the ‘k’, at that second, my brain could literally not think of any words that started with a ‘k’ except for the word ‘kinky.’ Very on-brand for Links, but I did not get that job.
Executive Director SK Kerastas says, “There’s a larger question about what this means for Chicago. There’s this big wake up call, because this space going away leaves a really big, gaping hole for emerging artists and independent artists to experiment and present their work.” I know that there’s a lifecycle for organizations and maybe new things will spring up in the empty, gaping hole that Links is leaving, but I am grieving this community space where people could gather and artists could try new things in a supportive environment. As we weather the storms ahead and the continuing shifts in the landscape, it feels like we’ll need these kinds of special spaces to be together even more. If you have a Links Hall in your landscape, or know an independent artist who could use some shoring up, now is a great time to send some support their way. AND Links itself is raising funds to sunset in a responsible way and take care of its artists and staff in the final months of their final season.
I like these lines from co-founder Charlie Vernon, excerpted from an essay Vernon wrote for the 40th anniversary of Links.
At Link's Hall, there was an actual breeze that drew in the fresh air, inspiration with it-surprising solutions. There was a wall to shadow with. Here, the imagination could fly.
Link's Hall was an incubator. Bob managed the rentals. We painted the ceiling on ladders while inebriated. Bob did a ritual of dry-mopping the floor in striped lines: Grand Union or Carol Burnett?
Morphing: Incorporating.
Audiences required seats.
Were fixtures an over-reach?
An insult to empty?
Waiting in cramped corridor.
Moving morph: Quadruple the size.
Mission expanded. Cultural exchanges. Artist residencies. Tea ceremony.
Even puppets, for gosh sake.
House is open. Plenty of morphing ahead. Shows will go on.
This house will be closing, but I'm sure we still have plenty of morphing ahead.
Sisterly Affection (a bit of Philadelphia appreciation)
Found this extremely endearing, completely analog, community resource sharing-sheet in South Philly. There are a couple of tennis courts in a public park and this sign-up sheet on a bulletin board in the park (pens provided if you don't have one!) is apparently the best and only way to reserve time on the court.
If you are new here, welcome! You can find a bit more context on the 'about' page and feel free to forward along to anyone who might be interested. There is usually a loose focus on Philadelphia and dance/performance-related news bits. Each email ends with a moment of Sisterly Affection, as seen and appreciated while out and about in Philly.
