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March 26, 2024

Gael's Erratic Pigeon Post | The Pineapple Pizza Effect

A newsletter about the pressure of creation, about Infinite Pits of Hell and about pickling

A newsletter about the pressure of creation, about Infinite Pits of Hell and about pickling

Hello everybody and welcome to the late-March edition of this Pigeon Post! Since last month, I've survived IMPRO Amsterdam (yay!), I've travelled quite a bit (whoop!) and I've coached a new duo-show. Let's dive into it, shall we?


Create. Create! CREATE!

One of my favorite thing of being an independent artist is that I have the freedom and joy to create new things all the time, depending on what inspires me.

The shiny side

Last time I talked about the three new duos that I created and how much joy I got from working with inspiring artists like Diego, Katy or Inbal. I also get to create new shows within Flock Theatre, as we currently are on the brink of performing our new production directed by friend and improviser Jenny Hasenack: Bloodline. And of course I also regularly create new workshops and shows when traveling.

Picture of actors dancing, on a stage taped with white gaffa, in colorful lights.
The House of Time | Cast performing the format I directed during IMPRO Amsterdam 2024 (credit: Robin Straaijer)

But one of the most interesting, stimulating and exciting task I have in my daily life is to create new exercises and classes for my regular courses at Flock Theatre.

The reason for that? We believe in the non-linear aspect of learning improv and we therefore have no linear curriculum—no levels, or graduations, or path to follow. Instead, we offer thematic courses spanning from 8 to 24 weeks, spread over three periods during a season. In addition to that, the last period is offered with only guest teachers as we also believe in learning from different people—and it gives us the opportunity to take a course in our own school as well!

Banner for the course "Film into Improv" starting on the 7th of May in Amsterdam, showing a group of people engaged in a discussion.
Quirk, Charm, Whimsy | One of our guest courses starting in May, taught by Christianna Tsigkou (credit: Robin Straaijer)

The other side

Now, the other side of that shiny coin is that it requires constant creation and inspiration. Last month, I was sharing how I feel pressure towards creating stuff in my Arctic residency—thanks for all of the nice messages about that. This pressure of creation is somewhat similar for all of the weekly courses that I'm teaching. Since we opened Flock, I created something like 300+ classes, which is quite a bit, now that I'm counting it!

And with it comes the pressure to keep re-inventing myself, keep being interesting enough for people to want to learn from me, keep offering something new and exciting so that people will sign up and not just brush it as same old - same old.

I am in awe looking at people that seem to be able to come up with new good things all the time, also because from the outside it looks so effortless! I mean, have you seen Forgotten Trades from DAUS?!

Cardboard boxes painted on with multiple figures, and the title 'Forgotten Trades' displayed in a live theatre show.
Forgotten Trades | An improvised show mixing dance, painting and music, by the company DAUS (credit: Robin Straaijer)

Of course, I also know that the reason this show was so gorgeous and beautiful is precisely because it is the result of the work of the three artists' life-time spent working on their craft, without the injunction and pressure to create. Aina, Ursula and Diego are both talented specialists of their own crafts, and willing to make them co-exist on the stage without compromising each other.

It is very scary to fall dry and to not feel like I'm creative enough, so maybe I will try—especially when I feel the pressure—to simply keep exploring and digging deeper into the things that fascinate me and interest me. Maybe I will eventually find my people that are happy and excited to deep dive with me into something a second, third or hundredth time?

Three actors (Dan, Gael and Cédric) making faces and grasping at something in a theatre scene
Just Play | My longest-running show and one that has no equal in how special it is to perform it again and again with these two goofballs, Anananas & Pampamplemousse (credit: Anže Kolar)

The Pineapple Pizza Effect

While coaching ImprompTwo on their new duo show—that eventually premiered in Amsterdam during our Flock & Friend special date—I tried to find words to describe something that has been bugging me when trying to do narrative improv—single story or not. It is both something I've encountered as a teacher, and as a fellow player.

You know that moment in a scene where the actors are invested in a relationship, a story, a game—anything really—and someone makes the grave mistake to utter two words that will bring us all into the Infinite Pits of Hell.

Pineapple.

Pizza.

Then suddenly everyone involved in the scene magically drops every single bit of character, emotional anchor, story or even relationship to solely focus the rest of the scene—if you are lucky enough to not be in a single-story narrative and therefore extend this to the rest of the show!—on solving this important dilemma: 'Is pineapple pizza an acceptable feature?'

Three people (Tanine, Laura and Gael) behind a sound table and a light board, in the tech booth of a theatre
Producing shows also means taking care of tech | The whole technical team during the Flock & Friends performance of last week (credit: Cindy Goey)

Separate from my culinary opinion, what I found interesting is to notice this tendency when improvising to easily put our fingers in the machinery of a single topic that will not only occupy the rest of the scene, but also most of the time erase anything built before in the scene or story.

Obviously, this is also depending on what style we are trying to achieve on stage, but in narrative shows, it became a pet peeve of mine because things have invariably gone into the same chain of events:

  1. Performers trying to create a story / scene / relationship

  2. Someone says out loud "Pineapple Pizza" for some weird reason of the mind

  3. Everyone and everything revolves around pineappling pizzas until the end of times, without hope of escaping it*

* Often there is this one player trying to get the scene out of the Pits of Hell, but is listened to by no one.

Two actors (Mash and Tanine) in close up, closing their eyes and connecting in a scene
Mash and Tanine very much not Pineapple Pizzaing | Showcase of my course 'The (improvised) Improvised Play' in December (credit: Chee-Wai Chan)

I've been looking at my brain and how it works quite a lot in the last few months, and something I discovered seems to partially explain why this is bugging me so much: I care about congruence. In order to comprehend the world around me—and it also involves improv when we are trying to create a story—I need for things to make sense not only moment-to-moment, but also on the bigger scale, with aaaall of the details falling into places in a consistent manner. And the Pineapple Pizza Effect is the pinnacle of inconsequential: no matter what happens, who we are or what is the story, let's drop it all for something that comes out of nowhere.

Obviously, I am well aware that this is a me-thing—like most pet peeves in the world I guess. But I love suddenly finding words to describe something I've been feeling for years!

And because I love theories and thinking about our artform, that leads me to move forward in the recognition of different streams in improv, where some styles might focus more on a moment-to-moment approach, while other styles will put the accent on creating without a script something that could have been written. This is partially why with Flock Theatre, we are now subtitling our shows with the mention 'Unscripted Theatre'.

Banner of the Flock Festival, displaying the dates from June 24 to June 30, with an illustration of a treehouse and different birds around.
Producing some unscripted theatre with a gorgeous cast and guests | Flock Festival's first edition! (credit: Flock Theatre)

My favorite thing about improv is that it can be anything. I love the fact that it's so varied and that there is no vertical hierarchy between the styles, but only horizontal exploration and taste.

In the spirit of me recently often saying that a show can be anything but shouldn't be everything, I looked at a few of the shows I play:

  • Just Play: moment-to-moment non-narrative

  • The Hero·ine Who Got Lost: unscripted theatre narrative

  • What Remains: unscripted theatre non-narrative

  • The Fraltons: moment-to-moment narrative

In conclusion: Pits of Hell or not, I love all of these combinations!


What am I up to these days?

I'm quite busy doing stuff, as usual, but if you're curious and around, maybe I will catch you somewhere!

  • I'm playing my most joyous show Object of Affection with Laura, hosted by our amazing friends of Improtheater Karlsruhe this weekend!

  • I'm performing in the next Flock Theatre production, Bloodline, on April 11, 12 and 13, in our home-theatre in Amsterdam!

  • I'm representing France with my two favorite match fellow-players Cédric and Amel in Munich, for the Impro European Masters on the first week of May!

  • I'm always excited about coaching improvisers, duos, groups to either work on an existing show or develop a new one. If you're curious, send me a message!

Three people (Amel, Gael and Cédric) in theatre-hockey jerseys pointing straight at the camera.
My favorite French team | Impro Suisse show in Geneva in March 2024 (credit: Berzan Sugan)

You want to share your thoughts and feelings about all of this? You have a topic in mind that you want to figure out? You are curious about nerdy shit and don't know what to do with it? You can always hit reply and talk to me!

Have an amazing week!

Gael


The cooking stuff

Winter in the Netherlands is, when you try to cook with seasonal vegetables, a lot of cabbage. Like a lot. Of cabbage. And then some more.

I like most vegetables, but one that I find uninspiring—and that is very common in winter here—is 'koolrabi'. It means chou-rave. Which means kohlrabi according to Google, believe it or not.

So to get through my most recent batch of koolrabi, I've tried something very simple that actually worked so well that I even got excited about it: pickling them. Just chopping them, putting them in a jar with mustard seeds, herbs and stuff, boiling some water and vinegar and sugar and salt, pouring it all on top and letting it rest for a few days.

A full platter of cheeses: Comté, Cancoillote, fourme de Montbrison, Saint Nectaire, Saint Félicien, Morbier, Tomme de Brebis, Brie aux Truffes, Crottin de Chavignol.
I didn't have a picture of my pickled koolrabi, so I just put the cheese platter I could make with the 'few' French cheeses I got sent by my mother a couple of weeks ago. This was a true feast!

Apparently the universe heard me getting excited. Result: at the next vegetable package I bought from the farm, I didn't get one, but two koolrabis! I guess tomorrow is pickling day again...

If you’re reading this on the web or you’ve been forwarded this email by a friend, you can subscribe here. You can also find me on Facebook or Instagram. My latest activity, my classes and workshops to come are here.

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