Thanks, Harry Potter College (or 10 Reasons to be Thankful for the 2016 Applied Improvisation Network Conference)

Turns out, Hogwarts does have magic to share. Though I didn’t speak with any ghostly portraits or pick up any dark arts spells in my time at Keble College, an Oxford University branch used as a model for the famed wizarding school, I did have a blast at the 2016 Applied Improvisation Network Conference.

For six of these past August days, a spirited band of improvisors from around the world assembled at Keble. Each year, we gather to bring the principles of improvisational theater (and music and dance) to off-stage arenas like business, health care, government, education, and personal growth. Each time I’ve been, I’ve fallen in love with new friends, old acquaintances that become friends, inspiring mentors, and treasured colleagues. It’s always bittersweet to leave, but (and!) the positive echoes always linger.

This year, I’m thankful for these magical qualities in particular:

1. Using improv to change the world—More than ever, folks at the conference are looking to leverage improvisation’s playful, resilient approaches to daunting issues facing us all. Marijn walked his inclusivity talk by welcoming a young man with Down’s Syndrome into his troupe—and the new guy has become a compassionate, dedicated, welcoming instructor of his own. Pablo, Mary, Gabe and many others pull together disaster preparedness groups in Africa and Asia so that when climate change disturbance gets real, local communities have the nimble cohesion to respond appropriately. Peter helps folks get at the underlying emotional wisdom in group conflict. Andy leans on improv to get his outdoor learning students “adventure ready” and to instill in them a protective love for nature. The list goes on, as does the inspiration.
2. 

   Drew Tarvin laying down some insight.

   Minds like Drew Tarvin’s—Drew is an introverted engineer turned applied improvisor and standup comedian. The guy’s a hoot, stringing us artfully along for the payoff of a great punchline, and he thinks with amazing clarity. I wouldn’t call myself an organizational slouch, but when I hear Drew talk about business systems and clarity of mission, I realize I’ve got a long way to go in my own practice.

3. The weather—Normally, if I’d thought of Oxford weather, I’d have thought of rain. Turned out, we got pleasant temperatures night and day with just enough sun to keep things joyous and enough clouds to make for changing light and striking photos. It never poured hard enough to prevent us from using outdoor spaces so the quadrangle that could have felt cramped maintained its openness. Thanks, sky.
   

   Keble College’s impressive “chapel.”

4. Keble College—I always wonder if places that look like museums can still maintain a vibrant intellectual energy. In this case, the answer is yes. The hallowed halls of Keble College stunned us all with their beauty—the “chapel” looks grander than many cathedrals in other places—and the staff proved resolutely charming and helpful. I especially loved the way they played well with status. When I missed the “Stay off the lawn” sign on arrival and crouched on the main quadrangle grass to snap an artful photo, a young man appeared within seconds with a stunning balance of deference and insistence: “Sorry, sir, so sorry, but you’re not allowed on the grass. No, sir, not even for photos. I’m so sorry, yes, sir, yes you’ll need to leave the lawn immediately.” I was obliged chuckling inside. (Don’t tell Keble, but I was also happy to sneak back on for a bad boy photo before I left….)
   

   Shhh!!! It’ll just be our little secret.

5. International camaraderie—Even though, the conference pulled together folks from all over—Japan, Hong Kong, Australia, the Philipines, Singapore, India, Estonia, Israel, Czech Republic, Finland, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, France, Germany, Belgium, Spain, the Netherlands, the UK, Canada, and of course, the United States—we snapped into a cohesive group through the shared language of improvisation (and English, thankfully).[1] I love my theatre community back home in San Francisco and it’s a helpful boost of perspective to see and hear globally-flavored exercises and different approaches to familiar standbys.
   

   In this photo alone, you’ve got folks from Hong Kong, Brazil, the Netherlands, Denmark, Bermuda, Washington DC and San Francisco. Love it, love it, love it!

6. Play—I left the conference on such a sustained high from hanging with others who love to play. Every encounter becomes an opportunity to explore, every apparent mistake a chance to recover and discover possibility. One of us tosses out an offer and whoever else happens to be nearby joins right in. In that sense, we feel like a pack of puppies, tails wagging every time we enter emergent scrums of laughter.
7. The town of Oxford—The oldest university town in the UK, Oxford throbs with historic charm. Old cobble pathways, stunning churches and libraries, nearby fields and charming canals, pubs that date back to the 1400’s: it all pulls together to make an endearing setting for exploratory learning.[2]

8. Volunteers and a spirit of contribution—AIN is a completely volunteer effort. Conference organizers put in countless unpaid hours to help everyone else have a memorable experience—and barely get to soak in the wonder themselves. Presenters like myself might contribute a one- or two-day workshop or a 15-minute talk. Others might organize an open-space discussion on a particular topic or activity. None of us gets a stipend or paycheck as a result, and, while I’d be happy to make another buck, I also appreciate the opportunity to exercise my generosity and gratitude muscles.

9. Things to bump up against—It would feel weird for a conference to run perfectly and, of course, I found myself frustrated or beguiled at times. Can we stay on time? Why can’t folks be quieter with their side conversations? Will we need to evacuate because of that fire next door? Must my pub neighbors court death so continuously with their chain smoking? As Zen teacher Jakusho Kwong suggests, it’s these kind of differences in community that help us grow. Rather than exerting the effort to scrape each potato clean individually, put the potatoes in a pot of water and jiggle the pot left and right. That way the little hairs on each potato will scrub themselves in contact with the others. If I’m a potato, I feel well-scrubbed.

10. Improv itself—Though some within the AIN community want to loosen the sense of obligation in tying applied improvisation to theatre creative performance in the interest of making it more accessible or reputable, I thrive on that direct link. It’s a vital, naked refresh of the living principles we teach. Sometimes, it feels like I could lead an applied workshop in my sleep. Helping create a 15-minute, fully improvised musical with a halfway decent narrative structure and a cast of seven who have met each other with only ten minutes of warm-up time? That’s a more difficult learning edge. Real-time on-stage improvisation provides inspiration. It’s a teacher. It’s a practice. It’s a gift. It offers insights that come no other way.

In the end, I met no house elves this past week (sorry, Dobby!). I procured no invisibility cloak (though the Spaniards did have some cool wands). And I rode no broomsticks (witch was a shame). Even so, the AIN 2016 Conference at Keble College still drew well on its association with the wizarding world of Harry Potter: I leave with a whole host of magical memories and portkey insights that will take me to places I have yet to imagine. Thank you to all who made it happen and we’ll see you in southern California in 2017!

 

[1] I recognize the enormous privilege it is to take in such a conference in my native language. And I have great admiration for those who did so—and still contributed!—in their second or third.

[2] On a pre-conference Learning Journey, I took part in a “Quest” with the prompts “red” and mirror”: go out and see what showed up as I looked for those prompts with a sense of adventure. With only that lead, I stumbled into conversations with folks living on houseboats; enjoyed pun-filled, British humor stories about the Four Candles tavern; picked up a few electronic goods I needed; and gathered several images combining “red” and “mirror” that I otherwise would have missed.

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