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Dance-Theater in Hotel Max

by Brendan Kiley

Last Thursday evening, 10 strangers idled in room 816 of Hotel Max, waiting for the show to begin. Performer Lori Dillon encouraged the strangers to rummage through the hotel-room drawers, read text taped to the walls, and mix themselves drinks from the minibar. One young man, in a suit jacket, looked around nervously, like he expected an ambush. "I'm waiting for everybody to turn into vampires," he said.

Dillon, her artistic partner Laura Curry, and guest artist Pamela Gregory are dancers, but they call Performance Memoirs (through March 8) "an interactive dance-theater experience" in which the audience members—or guests or coperformers or whatever—do much of the work. (The $18 ticket price, however, is a sharp reminder of who is supposed to perform for whom.)

The trio aimed most of its choreography at the guests, dispatching individuals to fetch ice and adjust the lighting, or packing everyone into the bathroom for a group photo. Gregory danced briefly—she began Performance Memoirs by splashing around in the tub wearing a vintage bathing suit and, later, staged an epic freak-out, bouncing off the walls and bed to David Bowie's "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide."

Dillon and Curry indulged in some light contact improvisation, occasionally adjusting their guests' limbs. Mostly, they played hostess at this highly prescribed party, making introductions and regaling people with stories about past site-specific works. Dillon talked about sitting for hours in the display window of a Seattle department store, writing backward on the glass to communicate with passersby. She asked one young man what he was doing downtown that day. He scrawled "CRIME" and opened his long coat, which bulged and sagged with stolen merchandise.

The trio crawled into bed. Dillon turned on the television and asked someone to rub Gregory's feet. Curry invited two guests to join them. "Should we take off our shoes?" one asked. "Um," she paused. "Yes, I think that's a good idea."

In an interview the next day, Curry declared, "People are increasingly dissatisfied with tacit observation." This segued into a lot of high-minded jive about "personalized artistic experiences" that has more to do with technology and alienation—say, iTunes—than live performance. (Want a "personalized artistic experience"? Try TheaterSports™.) I, for one, am satisfied with tacit observation, especially of competent artists. I am also satisfied with participation, when the art is substantive.

Curry and Dillon are pitching Performance Memoirs to arts festivals but, Dillon told me, "If they don't accept us, it doesn't really matter." Two years ago, they crashed Portland's Time-Based Art festival, allegedly drawing the ire of TBA artistic director Mark Russell. "We heard he was pissed off," Curry said, "because we weren't sanctioned artists, got a good review, and got good audience." Or guest artists. Or whatever.

Performance Memoirs, Hotel Max, 620 Stewart St, 800-838-3006, $18, through March 8.

brendan@thestranger.com