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.

For an improvisational artist, what is the value in having a form?

Generally speaking, the value of having a form for the improvisational artist is challenge.

When I layer on a form, I offer an obstacle which the improvisers must take on. If I tell you to enter an improvised scene and exclusively endow the other players, that becomes your form. It is a challenge for you to improvise with that obstacle.

The alternative to form is formlessness: Simply approaching improvisation as "anything goes." That may sound nice in theory, but in practice, it is opening the door to the permission of "serious shit going down" onstage. I think of anarchical-type behavior. I think of hitting people, pushing people's buttons, violating people's personal boundaries, etc.

You may say that that's ridiculous, that that wouldn't happen onstage, but when I ask "Why?," you answer with form. You reveal your form. "Because nobody wants to do anything illegal onstage." "Because we don't want to upset our audience." "Because I love my group and I wouldn't do anything to hurt them." Etc. These are expressions of the form you follow. You avoid illegal activity onstage, or you observe the tastes of the audience, or you support the well-being of your groupmates.

This is just like saying you endow the other players in your scenes, you yes-and all of their offers, and you do three scenes, a group scene, revisit the three scenes, another group scene, then weave everything together. These are parts of the form of popular styles of improvisation. So might be your private interests expressed above.

Ultimately, form is a choice. You choose to comply with and operate within a form. You challenge yourself. The reward is linguistic: You get to say you can operate within that form. You are able to do that form. You are (truly) a doer of that form.

But the better reward is often the fruit that comes from doing a form. Forms are like seeds: You can water one with your ideas, and it comes out in a specific plant, and water another one with your ideas, and a whole different plant emerges. Both might be improvisation, only they yield different species of improvisation.

The point I wanted to make originally in typing this post is a different one on form. It is: With respect to creativity, what is the value of having a form? For another time.

What happens when you start calling something "an artform"

A couple posts below, Foxy talks about the suggestion and wonders why we take one in improvisation.

I feel the answer to that question depends a bit on how you see improvisation. If you see improvisation as an art, then there is little obligation to do anything, as the word "art" tends to imply doing something without rules, and "doing something without rules" is not even a rule.

But if you see improvisation as an artform, then you start getting into obligation. If some practice has a form to it, generally speaking, it has some criteria you have to meet in order for you to properly say you're doing the form. If you miss those criteria, you aren't really doing the form. It would be improper to say you are doing that form.

That's only a law of speech: "You can't say you do something if you don't meet the criteria." And human life generally operates this way: If you don't do this, that, or the other, you can't be called a doctor, or a lawyer, or store manager. Missing those criteria denies you the privilege of being called those things. Some sets of criteria are more accommodating than others, but hopefully you see my point.

If you see improvisation as an artform, the question becomes, "What exactly is the form?" That is, "What are the criteria we need to meet to say we're doing the form?"

It just so happens there's no absolute answer, it really depends on how you define a form. Now, if there is a form-creator, and he lays out the criteria for the form, you are lucky in that you have a relatively easy way to determine the form and what falls within it and what falls without it. (You can still have some controversy because words are sometimes subject to interpretation...) But if you don't have a form-creator, or if that form-creator is relatively lax in his form-ation, then you start to have different artworks masquerading as the artform. Some of these may generally match the artform as intended, while others may drift noticeably away from it.

For example, I'm from the U.S. where we do Harolds, and I'm currently in the U.K, where Harolds aren't commonly done. When I worked with a group Foxy's in, one of the members said they had done Harolds, but for her a Harold was something like three scenes. (I can't remember exactly what she said.) Now, for me, a Harold is a LOT more than that. That is, the form of the Harold has a lot more criteria than that, and this person, from my perspective and my understanding of the form, had NOT done a Harold (relative to the law of speech I outlined above).

With respect to the solicitation of a suggestion from the audience, you have to ask yourself if it's part of the artform. If you don't believe it's part of the artform, then it's understandable to say that you don't need to do it--the form does not obligate you to solicit a suggestion. However, if you believe it's part of the artform, then you NEED to take the suggestion. If you don't do it, you are, to that extent, NOT doing the artform.

I think of drama: You do what's written in the play. If you don't understand something included in the text, you have to find some sort of justification for it. Presumably it is there for a reason that the playwright understands, so you don't just cut it because you don't understand it. Instead, you ask, "Why is this here?"

And I apply the same logic to improvisation, esp. where the word "improvisation" means "improvised theater." Treating improvisation as theater, you subject it to many of the practices of stagecraftspeople, and one of those practices is to revere the text, which in the case of improvisation is the form. And so you understand that I'm not peculiar in my opinion, look to what Elaine May said many years ago at The St. Louis Compass, one of the first U.S. improvisational theaters: "The actor's business is to justify." The comment allegedly came as a response to an improvisational actor who didn't think her character would make a particular choice. It wasn't her business to resist; it was her business to justify. (Cf. Something Wonderful Right Away by Jeffrey Sweet, and look at the interview with Del Close.)

And so, you look at the suggestion, and you ask yourself, "Why is it included in the artform?" The answer(s) at which you arrive may differ from the answers at which others arrive. Some answers might be "right" in the sense the form-creator reasoned their inclusion in the way you answered. Other answers might be "wrong" in the sense the form-creator did not reason them in that way. But those "wrong" answers might purely be "artistic" answers, understandable interpretations of why the inclusion in the artform. That's gonna happen when the form-creator is lax.

If you don't want to be obligated when you do improvisation, don't think of it as or call it "an artform." Else, generally, I'm going to uphold you to certain criteria, certain standards. If you want to be free from obligations, merely think of it as or call it "an art." I will be more open-minded to your work.

Which leads me to a potential future post: For an improvisational artist, what is the value in having a form?