Sunday, June 9, 2013

What it means to be "self-taught"

I've been thinking a lot about my improv experience lately.  In a historical, critical way I mean.  I usually think about my own improv all the time.  (PS, the scene I played in last week's Ferris Wheel was the highlight of my recent improv career.  God, I loved the ugly cry).  I've been really focusing on improv lately, mostly thanks to my boring-as-hell data entry job which allows me to listen to improv podcasts for 8 hours straight.  And then 3 days in a row of improv class and play time every week.  And then eight-thousand workshops.  I have a hard time going home and focusing on anything other than my experience playing pretend with other adults.  I day dream about scenes.  I'm a 7-year-old trapped in a 24-year-old body.

But I digress.




I've been thinking about what my training and my experience means to me, and how it can affect those I play with and my career trajectory.  Most of the people on the podcast I've listened to, Improv Nerd, have trained with and/or taught for at least one of the big name improv theatres in the United States: Second City, iO, Annoyance Theatre, UCB, etc.  The vast, vast, vast majority of the people I play with in WIT have trained through the WIT courses and play through the established style of the group.

Until recently, I haven't trained with anybody.

Ok, that's sort of a lie.  I've taken a few workshops here and there, but I mean I've never committed to one theatre or coach to teach me week after week.  Unless you count the people in the groups where I started, but really we were all figuring it out together.

So basically, all my experience, for nearly 7 years, has been my friends and I playing by trial and error and taking a million years to figure anything out. 

That doesn't scare me, though.  It's forced me to develop my own style.  People here in New Zealand talk a lot about Keith Johnstone's work, and I heard nothing but "Del Close" back in Kansas.  I've been influenced by both in my workshops, yes, but ultimately my style is my own.  I have my own way of approaching the stage.  The basics are all there, but if someone asked me to host a Johnstonian workshop or a Close-style workshop, I would have no idea where to start. I see myself as independent and dynamic.  By being able to learn on my own, I know what works for me because I've tried so many things in just feeling it out.  I'm also able to quickly adapt on stage.  I can bring truth to my work and I know how to build a laugh.  And I am particularly proud of the emotional reactions I'm working on.  Ugly crying is awesome.

I'm taking classes now with WIT, and I love them.  I've had several "lightbulb" moments and I feel like the classes and workshops have really solidified and organized my work. I started taking classes with a head space where I had a huge collection of crap that was strewn about my mind, instead of coming into the class with nothing and collecting each piece as it comes.  I already had the stuff - now it's being put in its place.  I want to continue to work on my own take on the craft by creating formats, exercises, etc, and recording it for posterity.

Maybe one day, they'll be teaching "Maggie style" improv across the globe.

Yes, unique style...

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