Baltimore Improv Group members act out

From today’s b, the paper

You kind of had to be there.

Southern accents, a drinking-milkshakes-when-pregnant debate, a chore-wheel fight — it all was flowing out of a tiny room at Baltimore Independence School in Hampden last week. When the Baltimore Improv Group gets together to practice, things get thrillingly — and thoroughly — random.

“You can’t be afraid to look silly,” said performer Heather Moyer, who also coaches BIG’s Fresh Monkeys troupe. “But you have to play it realistically. We’re all for truth and honesty.”

Moyer begins practice with a set of improv games. “Sesame Street” encourages wordplay. “Tar,” one member says. “Heel,” another responds. They get more inventive. “Loo” is paired with “ting.”

One exercise features four chairs representing a different emotion, such as happiness or anger. Moyer then calls out numbers, and troupe members standing at the chairs convey the emotion on a 1-10 spectrum.

“I want you friggin’ crazy, huge, intense,” said Moyer, calling out a 10. There’s growling, effervescent joy, anguished crying.

Since its 2004 founding, BIG has had a steady audience, eager to reward the group’s attention to such emotional detail. This Thursday-Sunday, BIG will host its second Baltimore Improv Festival, featuring performances from BIG and national improv groups.

BIG Executive Director Bob Carter, who also performs in troupe Mister Licorice, one of six groups within BIG, said BIG usually performs monthly at the Creative Alliance and is looking for a permanent venue to perform weekly.

“We have established a good fan base, a huge group that’s passionate about improv,” said Carter, 27.

Most performers audition or take classes looking for a playful, creative outlet. Performing improv means being vulnerable, uninhibited. Improv is never about delivering goofy one-liners. Performers never know what will come at them. Troupe members have to trust one another and listen, yet be spontaneous. No one performance is ever the same as another. The situations are so random, often off-the-wall, you laugh, want to share, but aren’t sure how to describe it to others.

“[Improv] is extremely challenging,” said Fresh Monkeys member Greg Freitag, 32. “You have good and bad days. Some days you’re on and everyone else is on. That’s one of the best natural highs you can get.”

An exercise physiologist at Johns Hopkins Weight Management Center, Freitag said improv is a stress reliever. Fellow fellow Fresh Monkey Clare Lochary, 27, said she’s a perfectionist while at work writing for Lacrosse Magazine. “What I liked about improv is that you can’t do it perfectly. You give yourself license to be free like that,” she said.

Providing a fun outlet was just what BIG founder and performer Mike Sublesky had in mind when he put up fliers and posted ads on Craigslist four years ago, searching for people interested in improv. About 10 people joined the group. Now there are about 50.

Sublesky started doing improv when stationed with the Navy in San Diego. After a transfer to Fort Meade, he wanted to continue performing. Retired from the military, Sublesky, who lives in Charles Village, is a freelance software developer.

“Humans have an innate storytelling instinct,” Sublesky said. “But it’s hard to train your mind to relax and not be self-critical. It’s hard to get out of your own way. But you do that when you perform.”

BIG isn’t the only improv group in Baltimore, and Sublesky, with a “the more, the merrier” mentality, rattles off others: the now-defunct Early Monday Morning Show, Drop Three Comedy, Mimehunters and the Buttered Niblets.

“We’re at a point where we have everything we need to become a permanent cultural powerhouse in the city,” he said. “Baltimore can become a top five city for this art form.”

BIG member Jessica Henkin agrees that the city is perfect for improv. “Baltimore has in 10 years become so much of an arts town, with young, smart, fun people,” said Henkin, 34, who has been with BIG for three years.

A co-founder of Baltimore’s Stoop Storytelling series, she is a member of troupe Mrs. Uderhall, which was practicing in a room across from the Fresh Monkeys last week, as the group did an exercise called 20 one-minute scenes.

After a one-word prompt — puppies — the troupe’s scenes covered a missing shar-pei, a $50,000 ransom, snooty country club members and a serious therapy session.

And it was funny. You just kind of had to be there.

Jordan Bartel is assistant editor of b. E-mail him at jordan@bthesite.com.

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