The Artist's Way

First of all, I'm seeing a glimmer at the end of the "sucky improv" tunnel. Maybe articulating the problems made them start to go away. Not gone yet, but a little better. The extra practice certainly isn't hurting either! And there are ups and downs with Grandma and other family things, but I'm learning to roll with the tide. I like surfing metaphors lately. Maybe I should learn to surf someday.

The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity is a book with tools for strengthening or regaining one's artistic side. It seems to me a little more directed toward writers - it's by a writer - but it's a worthy resource for any type of artist, or anyone who wants to live an artistically richer life. It's set up as a twelve-week program, of the personal development type, and in fact draws some principles from addiction recovery. It's heavy on the introspection.

There are a couple of non-negotiable structured activities involved: daily Morning Pages and weekly Artist Dates. The Morning Pages are three longhand pages of writing, preferably stream-of-consciousness, as soon as you wake up in the morning. Every morning. For three months. I didn't hit a perfect record either of the two times I've attempted the course. An Artist Date is when you take yourself to do something that gives you a new reference, knowledge, mental stimulation, all of the above. Going to a museum or concert, sketching in a coffee shop, picking wildflowers.

Oh, yes, the author is sort of a hippie without a grasp on the fact that people have to have jobs and earn a living. But she's an employed hippie, with tons of writing credits and a bunch of books published. She does expect you to be willing to give up everything you know to fulfill your destiny as a creative force in the Universe. "Leap, and the net will appear," is how she puts it. That's an important principle throughout the course. At any rate, whether the whole course suits you, or you just half-ass it and read the quotes in the margins, there is something to it. Even half-assed, it helps shake you out of a drought.

Sometime in the near future, I'm going to open up the book and try the course again. I might make it through this time. If not, no harm done. A few years ago, I started the course at the same time as a group of friends, and we met weekly (or as weekly as a bunch of artsy people can meet) to discuss it. If anyone I know is interested in doing the course as a small group, please get in touch. Here's more information:

Official Website: http://www.theartistsway.com/
View available copies at Biblio.com Used Books

Roadblock?

It's been a while since I've written anything about improv. Every now and then I think of mentioning something, but the moment passes before I can get to the computer. Mostly right now, I'm just at a sucky point in the learning curve. My emotional connections have been tenuous, and I'm afraid I used up all my original ideas in a few workshops over the summer, because nothing is coming to me when I need it. On the best of days, I'll hit a couple high notes amid the white noise. Other times it just feels like I'm dead inside. It's been like this for several weeks now. Even when a show or a rehearsal goes pretty well overall, something's still not igniting the way it should.

I wonder if I didn't go into some form of shock when I started doing shows with H7, performing in front of an audience for the first time in years. During the months I played in rehearsal and took workshops with no intention to ever play in a show, everything was fine. I've spent most of my adult life as a behind-the-scenes person, and I thought it was what I preferred. I'm still not sure how much I really enjoy being onstage in front of people. The rush I was getting was from the scenes and games themselves, when they went well, not from the audience response. But I don't hate being onstage. That was a possibility for me. That's why the first show was terrifying - not the chance of screwing up, but the chance of discovering that I'd have been happier staying in the booth.

I'm pretty convinced that external stress factors into the equation. Now I'm doing what I can to alleviate it, and not bring it with me to rehearsal. Another epiphany there: while improv is generally a good stress-relieving activity, it is no match for some stress, and heavier artillery must be used on the stress in order not to fuck up the improv.

I do trust that if I keep working at it, I'll get through whatever the hell went off track. This isn't a position I've taken many times in my life... more often, I've taken the it's-time-to-do-something-else approach. Too many things to try in too short a life. But I don't think my shelf-life in improv is only a year. I don't believe that it will never be awesome again. There were too many times that improv felt like surfing (or, like I imagine surfing would feel).

So, I'm taking the Saturday class at the Roving Imp, rereading Truth In Comedy, and possibly revisiting The Artist's Way. More on that soon, it's an interesting book. Oh, and continuing to watch movies that get me in touch with my inner ass-kicker.