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If this year’s Time-Based Art Festival (TBA) had a goal, it might’ve been to twist our perceptions of the everyday. Angelo Scott’s Omni Rail turned the Pacific Northwest College of Art (PNCA) into an echoing instrument; Freddie Robins’ Apotropaic elevated cardboard and wool into high-concept reflections on folk ritual. San Cha’s Inebria me made religious fervor sexy and queer. Tahni Holt and Emma Lutz-Higgins danced to synth-pop with boulders in Horizon.
That reinventive spirit is classic TBA. The festival celebrated its 30th anniversary this year despite a significant funding withdrawal from the National Endowment for the Arts, and its performances were as freaky and alive as ever. Here are our final thoughts.
Angelo Scott: Omni Rail
A sonic performance led by PNCA student Angelo Scott, Omni Rail opened TBA with a shriek and a rattle. Six musicians armed with mallets and metal chains dragged their tools over railings and across stairwell steps, sending a mix of shrill and delicate tones vibrating across three floors. Commonplace objects gave rise to a totally original soundscape, and Scott’s electronic drones filled the more hollow intervals.
On the ground floor, choreographer Muffie Delgado Connelly directed a dance ensemble’s responsive movement. This component at first felt like a layer of visual interest, rather than a fully realized counterpart. But as the dancers ascended to the building’s upper levels—tumbling, climbing, and weaving across each other—their presence became integrated and vital to the work.
Over 40 minutes, Omni Rail evolved into a layered percussive racket, both improvisational and precise. The piece felt smart in its relative simplicity.
Freddie Robins: Apotropaic
While checking out Freddie Robins’ Apotropaic at Reed College’s Cooley Gallery, I witnessed the taboo touching of a shaggy textile—depicting a giant eye—by another visitor. I’m not endorsing it, but I understood the impulse. Robins, a UK-based radical knitter and Royal College of Art professor, presents fuzzy fiber art flecked with metallic shimmer, mohair horses, and wool weavings evoking Sheila Hicks’ “minimes.” It’s kitschy work, but effective in its humble material usage—the alpaca forms made of cardboard and seashells stood out.
Apotropaic’s strongest successes are its imaginative animal sculptures and tabletop weavings, embedded with clay and flint. A large-scale photographic mural of Robins’ home studio held my interest for a bit, but I’d have loved to see something immersive and tangible, maybe even a recreation of the space itself. Still, the exhibition’s conceptual roots are compelling. Apotropaic’s title refers to protective charms, and Robins drew inspiration from the talismans English villagers once secreted beneath their floorboards. Learn more at her artist talk on September 30; the exhibition is on view through December 18.
Erika M. Anderson (EMA) and Tabitha Nikolai: Memory as a Rock Out of Reach
Projected onto PICA’s warehouse wall, virtual artist Tabitha Nikolai’s digital dreamscape opened with the charred shell of an old vehicle, a gutted laundry room, and pale horses at rest on a playground. As Nikolai navigated the video game-esque environment in real time, new media musician EMA layered in a collage of skewered sonics from her modular synthesizer. She mused aloud on memory’s shape and our place in the universe, her confessional voice drifting between synth drones and guitar.
Built with gaming technology designed for first-person shooters, Nikolai’s depictions of a deserted world felt eerie at first. But Memory as a Rock Out of Reach’s visuals turned toward nostalgia—a Polly Pocket heart inlaid with popcorn ceiling textures, a vintage commercial for workout equipment targeting young girls—and EMA’s experimental soundtrack gave the scenes crucial context. Her narration evolved into a meditation on the complexities of ’80s American girlhood, gendered violence, and femme identity. The material didn’t feel like new ground, but rather a raw, familiar vulnerability pulled to the surface.
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Lindsay Costello
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