Thoughts on creativity and service
Written to the Bright Invention Ensemble last week . . . .
Good morning Inventors! I have been thinking about our rehearsal Monday night, especially our discussion about "negative choices" and my reaction to the ones I witnessed during rehearsal. I'd like to share some more thoughts about that.
CARAVAGGIO’S NARCISSUS
The lightbulb moment I had that stopped me from abandoning my acting career 20 years ago was this: I came to understand my creative gifts as an opportunity to be of service to people. I had been thinking about the narcissism of the actor a lot. I believe we must pass through a period of intense narcissism in our development, when we are are obsessively fascinated by ourselves, our feelings, our choices, our appearance. I call this necessary creative narcissism. All realistic actor training is built upon it. What am I feeling? How can I use what I am feeling creatively? What do I want? Why do I want it? Exacerbated by the natural tendency of teenagers towards narcissism, the young actor is primed for this exploration, and this explains the ferocity with which many of us attached ourselves to acting at a young age.
My creative crisis 20 years ago had to do with my observation of some professionally talented but personally miserable adult actors through my work and social life in New York and Philly, and my own self-awareness that my acting career had hitherto been all about me, me, me. I connected the dots. The adult actor has to somehow transform that creative narcissism, or add to it, or adjust it somehow, or they become a bitter, neurotic and depressed artist - able to create extraordinary performances, but prone to self-destruction, addiction and broken relationships off-stage. I was plagued by the question: why am I doing this? The only answer I was coming up with is that it made me feel good, and that wasn't cutting it anymore.
The breakthrough for me was the concept of service. I have been given these creative gifts in order to be of service to other people - that's why I do this. What people? Those strangers that came to sit in the theatre (or online) and watch me. My students. You guys. The world. Adopting this point of view leads to some other lightbulbs. I need to believe that I have something worth serving, and I need to believe that in serving it, I am being of use to those who receive it.
Creative narcissism in improv is tempered by Yes, And. I must accept my partner's offer and build on it, so it can never really be about me. And yet, paradoxically (and don't get me started on creativity and paradox), it's all about me. Everything that comes up and out of me in an improv is my invention, not a playwright's, not a director's, not the result of a 3 week rehearsal. Because of this, I have a responsibility for the substance of my creative choices. I can blame a depressing play on the playwright. In a scripted performance, I can blame a negative choice on the director. But the great gift and great burden of improv is that I am actor, director and playwright simultaneously - co-creating with another actor/director/playwright.
In longform, we are eager to explore emotional and performative territory that isn't comic. And we must explore there - that's kind of the point. But we must also remember that we are servants to our audience.
Think about the world currently. What is our audience longing for? What do they need? How can we use our creative gifts in ways that will lead to revelation, healing, hope? Here's another lightbulb: Improv by its very nature is essentially optimistic. That optimism is embedded in Yes, And. It's the product of two or more people performing the astounding act of creating delightful and astonishing theatre on the spot through their total commitment to each other. Sometimes that means our scenes must include conflict between characters. But the optimism of improv means that conflict and negative energy must be transformed.
Think of this way. You and your partner realize your scene includes a betrayal of one character by another. That can't be an honest dramatic event unless someone is hurt, angry, even nasty in their reaction. But it can't stay like that. Something has to shift, change, evolve.
What is our audience longing for? What do they need? At its foundation, theatre (and I'm including improv under that umbrella) offers an audience a chance to see themselves through us - navigating an absurd situation, dealing with an aunt with a crazy voice, and yes, working through a betrayal. Perhaps the greatest gift we can offer is vulnerability. In being vulnerable with each other through our fictions and inventions, and co-creating workable, hopeful, sometime hilarious outcomes from that vulnerability, we are serving up empathy. And God knows we need as much of that as we can find . . . .
“SERVE YOUR AUDIENCE A DELICIOUS MEAL, AND THEN SPILL SOME OF IT . . . “ #IMPROVGOALS
