Improv Is Easy!

(Then why is it so hard?)

13 notes

improvisorsimprovisor:


How do you stop reliving your worst scenes in your head, even when you try to ignore them? - filmstudentwithacomputer

Improv is like toilet paper. It’s not meant to be saved, it’s meant to be thrown away as soon as we’re done with it. There’s two answers to this question. First, the hard-ass answer. I’m sorry, I gotta be rough on you.
Stop. Just stop doing it. Get over yourself and whatever is going on in your life that makes you feel the need to dwell on a scene long after it’s over. Save your regrets and wishing you could change the past for something more important than the most ethereal and transient of art forms. The scene is gone, get up and do another one.

“Fuck it. People don’t judge my mistakes unless I telegraph that I’m an idiot.” - Susan Messing

And now the nice answer. Take that scene, and imagine it’s a weird funk of gas floating around you. Become a gravity well, and draw all of that gas towards you and coalesce it into a tiny star. Imagine it floating in front of you. Manipulate it with your hands. Push it around, toy with it, become its master. You are its god, you control its properties. Make it lighter than air. Take it, raise it up to the sky, and push it away. Let it go rise up and fly away. The scene is gone. Get up and do another one.

“The best thing about improv is that no matter how bad your show is, it’s only 30 minutes, and never exists again. The worst thing is no matter how good your show is, it’s only 30 minutes, and never exists again.” - Mick Napier 

And start doing scenes that you love doing, whatever that means. The minute you start loving the smell of your own shit, the minute you start loving everything you do, you’ll stop doing so-called “worst scenes.”
Rebloggable version.

improvisorsimprovisor:

How do you stop reliving your worst scenes in your head, even when you try to ignore them? - filmstudentwithacomputer

Improv is like toilet paper. It’s not meant to be saved, it’s meant to be thrown away as soon as we’re done with it. There’s two answers to this question. First, the hard-ass answer. I’m sorry, I gotta be rough on you.

Stop. Just stop doing it. Get over yourself and whatever is going on in your life that makes you feel the need to dwell on a scene long after it’s over. Save your regrets and wishing you could change the past for something more important than the most ethereal and transient of art forms. The scene is gone, get up and do another one.

“Fuck it. People don’t judge my mistakes unless I telegraph that I’m an idiot.” - Susan Messing

And now the nice answer. Take that scene, and imagine it’s a weird funk of gas floating around you. Become a gravity well, and draw all of that gas towards you and coalesce it into a tiny star. Imagine it floating in front of you. Manipulate it with your hands. Push it around, toy with it, become its master. You are its god, you control its properties. Make it lighter than air. Take it, raise it up to the sky, and push it away. Let it go rise up and fly away. The scene is gone. Get up and do another one.

“The best thing about improv is that no matter how bad your show is, it’s only 30 minutes, and never exists again. The worst thing is no matter how good your show is, it’s only 30 minutes, and never exists again.” - Mick Napier 

And start doing scenes that you love doing, whatever that means. The minute you start loving the smell of your own shit, the minute you start loving everything you do, you’ll stop doing so-called “worst scenes.”

Rebloggable version.

(Source: speakeasyimprovnyc)

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