An Art or An Artform?

I guess I've tended to treat improv as an artform.

I should clarify that, though. I've tended to treat long-form improv as an artform. But I see improv as an art.

Comparing the two terms, they don't represent the same territory. They mean different things. In fact, their differences in meaning are quite important.

For me, when you do art, you are not subject to any rules. Basically, in art, anything goes. Technically, you can do anything. Perhaps the only things that bound you are laws of physics and laws of your government, and only the former probably really bind you.

However, when you do an artform, you ARE subject to rules. If not rules, then principles. All in all, though, you're subject to something. Why? Because if not, you're not doing the -form of the artform. The form basically is the difference between an artform and an art.

It is this form that means that, No, it's not anything goes. Instead, some things don't go. In fact, some things are preferred, or maybe even required. Else, you can't say you're doing that form.

When it comes to doing Harolds--which I see as an artform--I've long taken issue with the generally derogatory term people have for its standard form. Its standard form is typically called "the training-wheels Harold." After (in theory) mastering "the training-wheels Harold," the definition between scenes is generally thrown out the window. At this point, the artform degrades into art. I say "degrades" because people will say they can do Harolds, but the implication is that they can do a Harold "on-form." In truth, doing a "training-wheels Harold" and making it good is quite hard to do. It is easy to disregard form; it is hard to honor it.

When it comes down to it, doing art is a liberal way of working, and doing an artform is a conversative way of working. The participant in an artform appreciates working with some restrictions. The participant in an art can't deal with restrictions. The products of each may or may not be that different. However, something can be said of the work that comes from doing artforms compared with the work that comes from doing art. In doing art, anything can go, and in essence, anything can be good. But in doing an artform, this is probably not the case; some things don't go, and in essence, not everything is good, esp. those products that fail to be on-form.

As Promised...

The link at the end of this sentence takes you to a place where you can buy fresh from the oven prints of Dyna Moe's* awesome Harold Poster.

Moe's artwork is as ever, superb. Check out her portfolio on her design website here and her flickr feed over here.

Delights a-plenty my friends... a-plenty. More so, let me assure you that her rates for design work are unreasonably reasonable. Just think, your show's flyer could be designed by a woman who owns a puppet cake.

*Also, her name is DYNA MOE. You need another reason to look at her site?

Always & Game

That's an intersection in Improvtown.

I was talking today with an American improv friend of mine (Lisa) who is in London for the summer. We got to talking about improv, specifically the notion of game in the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre context.

I realized in how she was talking about it, whatever was considered the game of an improv scene was something that a character (allegedly) always did. The clue for finding game was listening for the word "always."

For example, say Foxy and I start a scene at a restaurant. I start sharing how I had a tough time getting to the restaurant be-, beco-, because of uh, "Man, I always trip over my words. Because of a nightmare tube ride."

That sentence, "I always trip over my words," is the clue about my game in the scene: I always trip over my words. So the rest of the scene (to an extent) can be "about" my tripping over my words in different ways.

That game may not be all that interesting to watch, so I might play several games in an improv scene rather than just one. And by saying "always" I don't mean literally always but figuratively always. I don't mean thus from start to finish of a scene tripping continuously, (without stop), over your words. I mean doing that periodically, often enough, potentially each turn you take an improv scene, or probably more satisfactorily, at strategic moments. You have to find those strategic moments, and that's part of the art. (It's not a science, as far as I can tell.)

Admittedly, I'm not THAT big of a fan of this kind of play as a total practice (at least I don't think I am), though there's a lot of fun in it, and it can make playing an improvised scene simple (you just make your initial move out to be something you "always" do, and then find ways to do it in the scene).

It is with doing something "always" that we say in improv "there's a pattern." I've tended to teach recurrence and transference as opposed to patterns. That is, make things recur within a characterization, or even transfer some recurring things of one characterization to another character. But I think the "always" approach is a better one. I may try to test it out the next time I teach the UCBT notion of game.

It's amazing how in talking to Lisa I've had some shocking, amazing insights into improv--and I've only seen her a handful of times!