Improv Came to My Rescue

Not to be dramatic, but my twenties were heavy. I was living in Los Angeles and losing connection to the playful side of myself and others. Couldn’t see or feel it. A coworker brought me along to a black box theater in Hollywood as a possible writer for a live sketch show she was in. The director read my (dark comedy) sample and invited me to join, contingent on performing in the show, which was contingent on taking improv classes, which was scary and, eventually, transformative. I came alive in the unknown. The act of walking off the backline to start a scene each time ushered in a sense of play. And I had found a community of goofy improvisers from all walks and interests.

At thirty, I moved home to Santa Fe to process through writing (and therapy) the weight from my twenties. I mistakenly began to devalue playfulness. Cut to my late thirties: improv to the rescue again. A friend introduced me to Brian Crane, who had studied with Del Close at iO. I fell in love with long form improv and cherished the community of players and audience members. Toward the end of the pandemic, one of those players invited me to her show at Santa Fe Improv. I was inspired by the UCB style of long form and the proper black box stage and how it was being managed. I had to join, despite my post-pandemic reclusive tendencies.

Improv to my rescue again and again, until it finally sank in that heavy and playful living are not mutually exclusive. With improv, they can form a thriving whole self and community dedicated to embracing the unknown in meaningful ways. That’s what I’m seeing and feeling now, moving with my SFI cohort to Level 4 to study the Harold.

By Casey, Educator and Improviser