In early March, we canceled our International Improvisational Theatre Festival in Leuven, which was scheduled to take place in April. We were about the first in the improv festival world to face this knot, and that was just before the ban on cultural events was imposed. That was quite an emotional event. Especially also for the guest groups and all the other previous participants in the festival. They often have very fond memories of Leuven, as an improv festival spot on the cozy site of the Romaanse Poort (shout out to Improvisio !) and also as a city in its own right.
This is partly why it was so special that our first in the flesh performance there was one in Leuven. Our beloved city radically chose culture this summer, with the Anderhalvemeter Sessions we were part of.
Meanwhile, it is quite autumn and we are already looking back on seven performances of flesh and blood with some surprise and, above all, much joy.
It was enjoyment, it was laughter, it was connecting and gave so much satisfaction.
At times it was also confusing and almost surreal because of the new circumstances in which all this is taking place.
After all, we are challenged quite a bit before, during and after such performances on the, by ourselves very much, quality of being able to deal with uncertainty, volatility and ambiguity.
And the players for today are.
Half of the times we were already dealing with doubts or cancellations related to own (covid or autumn?) symptoms or those of roommates or other relatives.
Where small dips in health usually don't stop us from acting - the show must go on and To play is to heal - we are extra careful now. Each time it is still searching for where certain boundaries lie.
For freelance players, there is also no financial safety net when you stay at home, so we set up a kind of solidarity insurance among ourselves that we will experiment with.
Magda, kanda?
It is especially just before a performance that we bump into all kinds of contradictions.
The rule about 2 m distance between artist and crew , versus the technician you don't like to see fiddling with that expensive headset on your own anyway. How finely organized everything is in a theater versus in some cases the cozy density in the foyer where the catering part takes place. Seeing colleagues who, by the nature of their jobs, work close together all day taken apart in amazement in the masked audience.
At times, it is an art to not be distracted by this at that moment and to lie around needlessly discussing it among ourselves.
Tell ye...
As performers, we are also rather smoothly given the spontaneous honor of addressing people for not following the rules. "Surely you are about to stand in front of the whole group and you dare to say that" is stated explicitly or implicitly.
The Flemish inability to hold each other accountable for behavior becomes enormously apparent in this context! And it is often funny to see the relief when things are simply named for a moment....
Merci!
Because there has been such a long break and such a great physical distance, everything seems extra intense now in playing with each other.
Besides great satisfaction, amazement and joy, we also feel much gratitude.
Grateful to share the scene back together and feel what a powerful team we are.
Grateful that it didn't take a year or so after all before it could be done - a little - again.
Appalled by every organizer who said "It can be done," and "Our people have a fundamental need for this."
Grateful for the venues, some of whom are working insanely hard to relieve our clients of all sorts of event research and arranging, thus finding the courage to set things up again.
An extensive course of online performances will begin soon. This is and will continue to be a fascinating project and research. We do believe that being able to play for audiences-in-live-in-between performances will only enhance those performances!