Bovine Metropolis Theater

There were a flurry of emails after the 24 hour improvathon.   I grabbed them and posted them in order of receipt.  I have removed everyone’s names, but I was so moved by the emails I wanted to post them:

Eric and Bovine Crew…
I’m waiting for my flight back to Madison this morning and just wanted to drop a line to thank you for your fantastic hospitality and flexibility in allowing me to perform as part of your Family Tree Fundraiser Improvathon.
Performing in a new setting - with unfamiliar people - who have been performing for 12 hours straight was…  awesome!
From “AIDS Turtle” to “Tazer my a**hole”, I really enjoyed the chance to perform with such gracious, talented and creative improvisers…
If any of you happen to be in Madison, WI - please look us up.  We’d love to return the favor.

That was the best bonding experience I’ve ever had in all my years of performing.

It all feels like a dream..and Brian was there, and Michael and Kathleen and Nanna, and Steve and Dave and Keith…..I am in awe of you all.

It certainly does feel like a dream.  

Yesterday (Sunday) seemed viewed through a filter.  A filter of support, connection, love and laughter.  A lot of laughter. 

Looking forward to seeing everyone Thursday and Saturday.

I feel like a kid who just returned from a week of summer-camp and is going through fun withdrawals.

My brain feels a little different like mooshy but in a good way.  A couple thoughts/responses to people yesterday rolled out in a strange easy way, not just effortless but completely un-managed.  I like brunch too, but it was too late by the time I got it.  hollandaise.  egggggggs.   

I love you guys.

I had so much fun with you guys. At times I was pretty delirious laughing my ass off, and it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time…And I have fun a LOT.

Thank you guys for being you, and welcoming me so warmly into this amazing group.

Sunday was hazy and felt like the day after finding the girl of your dreams and she didn’t exactly reject you but left room for interpretation of her door slam at the end of a tear filled argument about Diet Coke versus Coke One. I can’t even begin to know all the ways I was touched by the time we were playing. Man, it was pure and had a theme of unified anarchy. Many times I sat in awe of what took place on stage  and wondered how what just happened, happened. Smoove.
Throughout yesterday I caught myself laughing without any apparent reason. My wife would ask what the deal was and I would try to explain the Russian family or “why we had all been called here tonight”. I loved it all and am so grateful to all for your time and openness. So many incredible things happened. I feel like something happened to all of us that has no explanation but that we all know.
Special props to our fallen sister. She went out at the top of her form and took one harshly. It was unintentional but I think that a message is buried within: had she been in a group hug at the moment of contact, the injurious blow’s power would have been spread out over us all. A lesson for our futures. (Hope you’re okay!)
Love to all.

Thanks!  Sorry I missed the rest of the ‘athon thanks to my Marsha Brady incident.  I went home and kept icing it, and I didn’t wake up horribly disfigured. Today it feels numb, like I got a shot of novacaine.
Up until that point, I was having fun!  I think I might have been wearing a wizard’s hat when it happened. Perhaps I angered God.

Hey everyone!  I haven’t joined in on the whole 24 hour commentary so far, but I did have a fabulous time.  I felt so sleep deprived, and I am pretty sure that I’ve forgotten about 80% of what happened on stage.  But that 20% is totally worth it!  I’m finally feeling like I’m back to normal, which is great.  Turns out I’m someone that requires a LOT of sleep…

Sam Tallent performed with SansScript  for nine hours during the improv-a-thon, and it was some of the funniest improv I’ve ever been a part of.Here’s what Sam had to say about it:

It was 8:57, the sun was out and Mark Shonsey was wearing a baby
bonnet, sitting in a bathtub spouting gibberish while Steve took
pictures. A half hour earlier, Mark was spread over three audomons in
the lobby dead asleep. It felt like a lucid dream. Or a native peyote
ritual. While the situation was very far-out, it definetly felt right.
And that sums up my 9 hours at the improvathon. Club Sensationzzz had
a prime spot from 10-12. Big crowd, a fully energized Sanscript and a
mouth full of rainbows. We had fun and went to find bourbon. I came
back at 2 AM to guest with the Generals only to find a completely
different scenario-3 people, half a handful of sleepy Sanscripts and a
kinda drunk, mildly sleepy and noticeably disheveled me. The next 7
hours was some of the purest improv I have ever participated in.
Choices weren’t made or rushed, they naturally manifested, and they
were as bold as I have ever seen. Ridiculous things happened and there
was no pause for justification
or exposition; instead they were met head on at a dead sprint like a
runaway locomotive in some brand of action thriller involving Jason
Statham and plutonium/assassins. Scenes were as smooth as a dolphin
swimming in lube. And most importantly, you could cut the fun in the
room with a knife. I laughed harder than I ever have in the Bovine. So
what if I was sleep deprived and powered by hamburgers and well
whiskey. Big deal there was only one guy there from 4 to 7. Who cares
if we did an hour of scenes from the comfort of couches. What happened
was art for art’s sake. And I don’t like to say nonsense like that
very often because it sounds as pretentious as Beluga caviar served
from an infant elephants still-bleeding tusk. The art we created
tasted more like Miller High Life and Arena Football, but it was still
art and damn good art at that. I forget sometimes how improv is a
beautiful pure expressionm. It may be a beautuful pure expression from
the mouth of a turtle with human
inmmmunodeficiency virus or a smooth groovin’ robot with all the
right moves, but it still counts.Thank you Sanscript for letting me play with you. I hope you had as
much fun as I did. I wish I could play with yall again, all the time.
It was really great. And now for a list of my favorite quotes: “Consummate the hoop”
“How are you going to eat barbeque if your teeth are on fire”
“Everybody close one eye”
“Quick, pretend like your asleep”
Man in the Navy: “Actually, we DE-worm dogs.”
Fireman: “Oh, wrong number then”
And my favorite…
“They programmed me to be a SexBot, not a LoveBot”
XXOOXXOO
Dig Digger MaGruff Bixby the Digging Dog

There’s a notion I’ve been kicking around:   

Give up the attachment to the result. 

24 hours of straight improv is a lot.  A lot of fun.  I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much.  As others have stated, there was a time when the audience was one guy, but the improv was pure.   Ergo - give up that which you desire (be funny, please an audience) and exist solely for the purpose/ joy/ love of doing.   

I mentioned to my wife that Buddhist monks can sweep a floor for a whole day and exist in complete peace because all they’re doing is sweeping a floor.  Her response, “they must live in a really clean place”.  Point is: when performing a task/ any task the result shouldn’t be the focus.  I’ll repeat that, when performing a task the result shouldn’t be the focus.  Like I said I’m still working on all the logistics.  

To me, it means if you’re doing the dishes (which I used to hate) place attention on each dish, the warm water, the way your hands move etc…  Don’t think about ten other things, just be present in what you’re doing and you’ll attain the result (a clean kitchen) in a much more pleasant way without it (clean kitchen) being the focus. 

Being present in improv is level one stuff as is: bring something, connect with your partner, commit, have a relationship, give and take, support your friends, have fun etc… 

What I learned from 24 hours of improv is the same thing you learn after a grueling sports tournament.  When you’re tired you fall back on your training, ie - the basics.  Which is a good thing.  The basics of improv are like the basics of life – their beauty lies in their simplicity, and they’re pretty right on.   

Lastly, since putting my finger in Mark’s mouth, I haven’t washed it and it smells like Mark’s mouth, which smells - - - - -  like heaven. 

My wife is an oil painter. Her works are a bit dark and insightful and they lead the viewer to ask: why am I seeing this? Who are these people? Ilove that she does this because it fulfills her, is amazing to see, and allows me monthly spray-varnish huffing sessions. I jest.

She and I have compared our creative outlets before and always come away noting more similarities than differences. We both have moments when we feel like there is a ’something’ bigger than us pushing the moment. We comment on how cliches and expected-ness and lack of connection lead to mediocrity.  We know absolutely that we have to give up what we know for what is yet to be found. There is, however, one thing that is fundamentally different in what we do: hers is a solitary pursuit and she needs hours of quiet and alone time to paint. Improvisation demands the input of and interaction with others. I must have voices and immersion with people to do my creativeness.

 Nothing we do on the stage is without an effect on others.

The improv-athon last weekend was nothing if not a group of talented, fearless people trying (and succeeding) to make what we love happen. Most of it is a blur and I keep dragging up bits from one hour and inserting them in another. I guess that’s improv too.

I watched a lot this weekend and realized that each of us does our craft in our own way. I can’t be Brian or Michael or anyone else. All I can hope for is to be the most real Keith I can. Thanks to all who shared so much.

Even though the theater had only one patron at some point, we never felt alone on stage. 

Hour 18!!!  We’re entering into the home stretch.

I’m trying to think straight enough to write.  Most of the last 18 hours is a blur, but I seem to remember the following:

• Diggety diggins dixbie, the diamond digging bixby digging dog.
• Anatomically correct Hogwarts class.
• A HOA meeting for snakes.
• Oompa Loopa Oil Wrestling.
• D.B. Sweeny school of acting.
• Emotionally Fragile Movers.
• At least 8 appearances of Jesus. (2 more and our 11th is free!)
• Mark starring as “Corky Roboto.”
• Whale babies.

Before the first show, I had the idea for us all to write down predictions of things we thought would happen over the next 24 hours and seal them in an envelope.  The plan is to read them during our last hour. Of of my predictions was “There will be blood.” Just a few minutes ago Kathleen got bopped in the nose as a result of on overzealous tap-out… then a few minutes later Cindy’s nose started bleeding!  If that’s not an improv team that is in tune with each other, I don’t know what is!… and for the record, I was NOT the one who bopped Kathleen’s nose. I’m just the one who saw it.  It will be interesting to see what happens from here on out.

Hour 15, 10 AM

The house is small.  6 people.  Last night at midnight it was almost a full house, but now there are just a few stalwarts.  More people will be coming throughout the day.

10 AM and 6 people in the audience and the improv is wonderful.  An improvised Shakespeare with songs and dance, love and intrigue, and it’s GOOD!  WordPlay is playing with SansScript and it is even and measured.

I am laughing and even clapping between scenes.  And I am not doing it because I am a big cheerleader.  I am doing it because it is fun and good and it makes me happy.

These folks, some of them for 15 hours straight, are putting out quality work right now for 6 people.  They are playing and bringing gifts, connecting and committing.

It doesn’t matter if you’re tired.  The size of the house doesn’t matter.  Play when you play, or get off the stage. That’s the lesson taught to me this hour.

This morning I was cleaning my apartment. I force myself to do this once a week between Friday and Sunday; I know if I skip one week, my apartment will transform into that stereotypical college student apartment. You know the one. The apartment that has so many pizza boxes around they form furniture, and there’s something growing in the fridge that has begun to form sentient thoughts. (“Leave the light on!” it says.)

The time had come for me to begin the ancient ritual of the vacuum. As always my animals ran away and hid. The cat ran under the bed. The dog went into his kennel, and the fish…well the fish just swam in circles as fish do.  While I was vacuuming, however, the something happened. My dog, Butters, came out and began investigating the vacuum. He’d approach it with cautious concern. As soon as it appeared that the vacuum was coming after him (which may or may not have been me teasing him) Butters would run back to his kennel. Sure enough, though, he’d come back up and try again. He had what I call an “anxious fascination” with the vacuum. 

On the one hand, Butters was terrified. He honestly thought this five pound cleaning device would destroy him. On the other hand, the thrill of getting as close as he could, putting his paw on top of the vacuum, and exploring the unknown was so great he almost let go of his survival instincts.

“That’s just like my improv students.” I did not say. However, I did think it later. I have been teaching improv to several students at Front Range Community College for the past year. All of them are wonderful, talented people; when we started training, however, they were like a dog with a vacuum. I think all new improv students are like that, myself included. I remember, I walked into my first day of class with my pre-conventions with what improv was, or should be. What would the other students would think of me? Would they be better than me? Does it matter if they are?

As the training continued, I gained more and more of that “anxious fascination.” I was terrified to try and perform in front of people. What if I wasn’t funny? What if no one bailed me out of a bad scene? What I don’t bail the others out? Yet, like all improvisers, I didn’t quit. Every time I got scared, and ran back into my kennel, I’d come back and get a little closer to that preverbal vacuum cleaner.

How many times have any of us had a bad scene, or a horrible set, and just rub our noses in it. I don’t know about you, but I will obsess about that moment where I denied a fellow performer, or performed a whole scene without giving a single gift. I will run into my kennel and just whimper. I may even stay in there for months, afraid to try again. Like Butters, I do eventually come back out.

We all do. We can’t help it. That fascination with the unknown draws us back, regardless of the danger it may present.

In addition to exploring this anxious fascination Butters had while I vacuumed, we need to talk about why I had to vacuum. I had to clean today, because Butters decided to drag my trash all over the apartment. This was not his first adventure with the trash can, and I am sure it won’t be his last. No matter what I do, he wont stay away from my discarded belongings. He even knows the consequences. He knows that he’ll get a smack on the nose, and then I’ll get the vacuum out and clean. At that point we start this cycle of courage and fear all over again.

Why does he do it then? Why does he pull out last nights left overs if he knows it will end with him cowering in the corner from the horrible Dyson Monster? Because like an improviser, he makes messes. This is what we do. We make messes. 

As much as I claim I hate it, if Butters never did anything wrong, it’d be boring. If nothing happened in a scene, it’d be boring. How do we fix that? We make a mess. We run into old flames, start a fight, or confess a secret. We make a mess of the scene. We then spend the next few minutes in a state of “anxious fascination” watching others (and ourselves) deal with this new mess. 

Whether your a new student to the art, a seasoned veteran, or someone returning from their kennel, I say this. Go out and make a mess of things. Get it dirty. Get it filthy. You can even get scared. We’ll clean it up together!

Guess who are your new Improv Hootenanny Hosts?! Linnea Brutlag and me, Nanna Ogburn. Boo-yah! I’m very excited to take on a new and different role at the theater. I find that once you’ve found something you love to do, you should do it as often as you can. With even more time spent at the theater, I’ll be doing just that! We both hope that we can fill the very large shoes left behind by Carl Wedell.

Hosting is one of those under-appreciated roles at any theater, but a great host can keep the show upbeat, light-hearted, and enjoyable to watch. If a show’s transitions aren’t smooth, or if the between set commentary isn’t that fun, or if the introductions of groups are lackluster… the whole show can feel a little blah.

I’m sure you all know, Carl has does a phenomenal job for SEVEN YEARS as the Improv Hootenanny host, and we can only hope to do him justice as your new hosts. For those of you in the improv community and related circles, there will be a party for him next Monday, July 28th, after his last Hoot. Please come and show this man some love. He’s earned it!
We hope to see you there!

Saturday was a music rehearsal.  I’m amazed by musical ability.  Play by ear, lyrisize, conceptualize song structure; sing etc…  It’s the kind of deep admiration I have for advanced mathematics, juggling more than 4 items, sick offensive basketball skillz, gymnastics, big wave surfing, dp’ing, break-dancing and foreign languages.

I know enough to appreciate the ascension from dilettantency (not a word).  In all these activities lie fundamentals.   You can only get so far without learning a little technique.  Technique comes, of course, from practice and study.  Those with talent have a shorter road.  In Larry Bird’s biography he recalls playing basketball as a child and noticing that his shots kept going in.  Larry Legend , chuch.

Michael Stipe describes creating art as a circle.  You start at the bottom.  Learning the craft is moving from the bottom and curving up to the top.    The top of the circle is the point where the craft is mastered.  To complete the circle you return to its beginning.  The beginning is the passion you felt for the art and its medium.  After making it to the top (mastering the craft) you convex back down to the initial point:  essentially re-engaging yourself with the passion that sent you on the journey.  If there is no craft, than there is no circle.       

Once you’ve got the fundamentals/craft/technique you get to really create.  However, “fundamentals/craft/technique” can be, semantically, infinite. 

You know what else is infinite?  Fun.  You know what’s fun?  Making up and honing songs for a sketch show -   especially with people whose technique and fundamentals are beyond yours.  Like how Lucas hung with Coppola, Aristotle learnt from Plato or how Daniel learned that cleaning can translate to fighting.

Chuch

Originally I was going to comment on Eric’s blog “Thoughts on Improv… and Life”, but my response was too long for a comment.  I couldn’t agree more with everything he said. 

And

Here’s a few to add:

People rise and fall to the expectations placed upon them  

Treat your scene partners like poets and geniuses and watch them rise to the occasion. 

Work from the heart, not the head 

Play the emotion not the joke. 

Here’s a neat thing to try:  At the onset of a business meeting or any interaction think “I love you” as you look at the other party, be it your boss, a mechanic, the information guy at the airport, whomever.  This works really well if there’s any type of confrontation.

When talking on the phone smile, it translates.

Do Work (son) 

To get better at anything you have to put in the work.  Do a solo Harold in your car or when walking downtown.  Get Mick Napier’s book and do the solo exercises in the back.  Treat every rehearsal and show as sacrosanct.

Don’t Misuse Time 

There’s only so much time in the day / in the scene.  Don’t waste words or actions.

Walk Away 

If your scene partner isn’t cooperating and you’ve tried everything to engage them/ make a better scene and nothing’s working - find a reason to leave.

Don’t Judge Yourself 

Listen to notes but transcend praise and criticism.

Always Make Your Friends Look Good 

Have Fun