Santiago, assessing a chalk outline of a tree.
I never realized how strong my anxiety about public speaking was until I attended an improv workshop while in business school. While I think I’m a perfectly adequate speaker and presenter, I’ve always struggled with making real connections with audiences, not simply convincing them of an argument. By removing some of my emotion and presenting rational, well-prepared statements, I was able to do what I had to in a presentation, but I never really felt able to connect to an audience, much less inspire them to act. In the improv workshop, our facilitators, a couple of improv luminaries, led the group in a series of exercises intended to short-circuit our best efforts to prepare for what we were going to say. I hated it. It made me anxious and made me feel actually less confident of my ability to present. I wrote it off as one of the many challenging tasks I faced in business school, the ones in which I was weakest and hopefully would never have to face again after I demonstrated basic competence. But after graduation, I ended up having to do more public speaking than ever and having to do it with less and less preparation time than ever. I didn’t help matters by procrastinating my prep time until the absolute last moment. Worst of all, a whole host of competing egos that I encountered continually knocked me off balance, intentionally or not. So, I decided some type of acting training could at least help me fake being comfortable with all the chaos that I sensed prevented me from reaching my full potential. The method acting class was at an inconvenient time, so I signed up for improv instead.
It took a month for me to stop faking disinterest, another tried and true method of self-protection. Then, the challenge was simply staying focused during the three hour sessions following a typically stressful work day. But when I stayed focused, the strangest thing started happening afterward. My concentration lingered and I felt more connected to the world around me. At the risk of sounding too mystical, there was a sharpness of focus to my mind that don’t remember experiencing so strongly. I started to be more interested in the exercises and enjoying the weird high following class. But I still sucked at improv. So I repeated the basic class again. I’m still struggling with it, I’m still stuck on a plateau after many many classes. But I like the feeling and the high stays longer.
Keith Johnstone is apparently the guru of improv. I actually know very little about the whole subculture of improv, which I hear is robust in Austin. I watch very little of it, mostly due to the incompatibility of hours and subject matter to the life of my 3.5 year old son. But I am told Impro: Improvisation and the Theatre is the bible of improvisation. Most interestingly, Johnstone talks quite a bit about the altering of consciousness that improvisational exercises can effect. He also explains the origins of some of the “standard” games. I strongly recommend reading the book after you’ve studied improv for some time. It helps connect the dots retrospectively. It may actually confuse you if you read it before you practice. The whole section on masks alternates between intriguing me and creeping me out. But between a series of patient teachers and tons of practice, I’ve gotten myself to enjoy the progressively more challenging games, but I’m still a pretty miserable improviser. I’ll be on this plateau for long, long time.
Buy Impro: Improvisation and The Theatre at your favorite local bookstore.
