Dancing with Absence: Reflections on Workshops Led by Eiko Otake
Marisa Plasencia
September 28, 2022
I took a workshop with the wonderful Eiko Otake today. The session was part of a 2-class series of workshops in an improvisation class taught at Reed College.* I am highly skeptical of sharing my thoughts through writing as this process can make observations appear fixed, but this entry is an attempt to put the experience into words and, as Eiko mentioned in class, “make time to remember.” Here it goes.
My personal realization, a theme that occurred across the two classes, consists of the following: when I remembered something positive (a person, a time, a feeling) and used that “something” as a score to improvise through movement, I suddenly felt sadness or longing. This does not surprise me, but the awareness that absence and remembering create this affective experience is helpful for my research and practice.
Two examples:
I imagined dancing with an “absent body” (a prompt/score given by Eiko). I decided to dance with my twin sister and automatically felt incredibly frustrated that she, as a dancer, was not with me at Reed College in an improvisation class with Eiko Otake. Physical actions I remember taking as I was improvising: I looked at my face in a mirror in class. I asked out loud, “why is this so somber?!”
During the second class, we were given the phrase, “I remember when…” as a prompt in improvisation. I decided to go with the first thing that came to mind. “I remember realizing. I remember when I learned something new.” I then attempted to work through this two-part response. To dance and research dance have become my ways of trying to learn as much about the world as I can. I thought about the number of books I have read, the number of performances I have attended that I have and have not enjoyed, the amount of labor that is required to finally have a moment in which I “learned something new.” Those moments are fleeting, joyous, and leave their mark—as if I am finally seeing or learning something that either expands my worldview or takes my mind somewhere it has never been before. Seeing Ralph Lemon’s Chorus was one of those moments. Learning about Ana Mendieta was another. In class, I pressed the base of my palm into the floor. I heaved and sighed in frustration to help me feel more comfortable vocalizing in a silent studio. I looked through stage curtains. I used my finger to scan the floor. I sighed with relief.
Training in modern, contemporary, and hip-hop does not, to my knowledge, fill me with the same sense of sadness. I dance because it energizes me and helps me realize/remember how much a body can remember. That improvisation brings up issues of absence and solitude is striking. I find myself wanting rhythm and structure—elements that do not run counter to improvisation.
A list of thoughts that came to mind after the workshop:
I remember that I grew frustrated with theater classes as an undergraduate student because I was tired of watching people trying to be funny. Theatricality and anti-theatricality creeped into this improvisation class. I still love theater.
I am grateful for dance because it has allowed me to learn things I would otherwise miss.
I remember when dancers were kind in this improvisation class.
Improvisation can appear narcissistic and self-focused. Improvisation can also help me physicalize a moment of realization.
Thank you, Eiko, for expanding my worldview and helping me learn something new.
*Eiko Otake led the class via Zoom while students at Reed College gathered in a studio for the workshop. As a current Visiting Assistant Professor in Dance at Reed, I dropped in to the two workshops on campus.