Generosity
I have been teaching Clowning recently. A key aspect of performance emerged that I don’t think we discuss often.
Generosity.
My angle on this is not especially original or nuanced. Nonetheless, I think it needs to be discussed more, so here we go.
People, while learning, are often understandably very self-conscious and focused on how they are executing certain concepts. Essentially, did I do well? This is a natural part of the learning process.
The problem lies in forgetting that it is not about you.
When we think primarily about ourselves, we often forget about the audience. We forget our scene partner. We are in our heads and, well, to put it harshly, self-involved. We are not in the same room as everyone else. This unfortunate mindset gives a quality of inaccessibility and constriction to the play, leaving the performance feeling asphyxiated.
A performer who gives of themselves to and for an audience is a generous performer. This is hard to do when you are primarily concerned about how well you are doing, especially in clown. This requires vulnerability.
What if instead of being self-involved, we redirected our attention to how the audience is enjoying their experience? This will guide us to a better show, one that is more responsive and has a far more radiant impact than one that takes place between your ears.
What if instead we really looked at what our scene partner was doing and reacted to that? This would allow us to play with a spontaneity we cannot manufacture on our own.
When I was a young actor, I had a fantastic teacher (whose first name was Roger, but I forgot his last) for a summer intensive at the British Dramatic Academy in Oxford, England. Roger was an incredible and generous teacher. His focus was not on himself but on his students. He was insightful, charming, and direct - a rare and uniquely British combination.
He tasked us with performing Shakespearean monologues. I was assigned Paulina’s monologue from A Winter’s Tale. I loved the piece. It was such a pivotal moment in the play and for the character, a real opportunity to display raw emotion.
The moment came to perform. I was so pleased when I was able to cry and weep and tear my voice. I gnashed my teeth and writhed on stage. I was thinking to myself - “I am really in it!’ At the end of the speech, I beamed with pride. I thought I had given an Oscar-worthy performance. Real tears! Now that was acting!
Roger then gently questioned me about why I was so upset. He redirected me towards Paulina’s resolve in that moment and to her strength (not that tears cannot be a form of strength) and, most of all, to what the character was trying to DO. Roger also mentioned that he could barely understand what I was saying because I was in such a state of hysterics. Shakespeare’s words were lost. Paulina’s words were lost, and despite my grand emotional display, I had left the audience confused. I wish I could remember his last name.
That day, I learned that it wasn’t about me, but about representing someone else in a moment of great valor, who did something despite their deep sadness at the loss of a friend.
Being a generous performer means ensuring that the audience is included and central to the work you are doing. It seems an obvious statement, but I think we forget this.
Being a generous performer means that your goal is not to indulge, but to tell a story that is bigger than yourself. You enter into that experience willing to give your voice, your heart, and your humanity to do that story justice.
How many times have you bombed on stage and some oblivious member of your ensemble goes on and on about how great they were in the show, unaware that they were the key reason it suffered? How many times have you walked off stage, kicking yourself over a bad performance, and a trusted friend has told you with utmost sincerity that they LOVED it? You can get locked into your own perspective. If you take the risk to widen the lens a bit, you might become aware of the audience's engagement and adjust your sails however needed.
The next time you take the stage, remember that you are there to DO a job. It is not about you. You may feel many things. Those feelings are all valid and important, but at its core, performing is about connection. To do that well, you must give of yourself. You must be generous.
