Can We Talk?

Saturday morning, I went to a 90-minute dance improvisation class led by Esperanza Spalding. She’s a renowned bassist, singer, composer, dancer, and is the Artist in Residence at Oregon State University this year. Recently, she’s been offering classes to townies like me. Saturday’s class was open to “all body types” with “no experience necessary.” There were 24 of us.

We started with some vocal warm-ups, did some stretches, then standing in a big circle, played several versions of Telephone: passing vocal sounds to one another, copying one another’s sounds, then responding with something new, finally adding movement, until we were all somewhat comfortable doing these things with people we didn’t know.

Then we formed smaller groups of four. Each group was asked to choreograph and create music or sound for a two-minute dance based on a theme of their choosing. All of this was to be done in six minutes. Afterwards, we’d perform our dances for the whole group.

Two of those dances were especially powerful for me.

In the first, a teenaged girl, a college-aged man, a forty-something woman, and a seventy-something woman, began in a tight circle, arms linked at their elbows, knees bent inward as if forming a nest. As we watched, they slowly started to spin, humming in harmony, until they were standing upright, and their circle was spinning apart. Their singing became less consonant until they danced further away from one another with frustration and increased dissonance. Twice, they came together again, re-formed their circle, tried to find consonance, but ultimately turned away. Their dance ended with them in a small circle, their backs to one another, exhausted.

The second piece involved four young women. They also stood in a small circle, but before they began they gave the rest of us one direction: Just Ignore Us. Then they started. Individual dancers moved toward us randomly, face-to-face, saying things like, “Can we talk?” “Come on, we need to talk,” “Let’s talk, ok?” “Please.” It was intense. Ignoring them was almost impossible. When I finally did respond with facial expressions or body language, it was with the same neediness they’d approached me with. A complete turn-off. Sometimes I even looked at the dancer with condescension and sarcasm, as if their need to talk was pointless. It was all part of the theater we were creating. When the piece was over and the dancers were back in their circle, there was a long, loaded silence. One of those moments when you know something important has just happened; that a message has been sent.

The question I left the workshop with was, how? How do we talk? Dancing had worked wonders. But how do we do it when we’re not dancing? How do I?

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When I finish a blog, I look for a picture I can include that feels relevant. Today, I saw these close-ups of tulips I took last night, and they reminded me of two fish gently communicating with one another.