When I was assigned the article on Michael Chekhov and his acting technique, I was unfamiliar with his teachings. While gathering information, and conducting interviews, Dawn Arnold, artistic director of Moving Dock Theatre Company, invited me to attend a class. Being quite green on the subject, and also a performer myself, I jumped at the chance. Having no training in "The Method" or Meisner, I brought to the class my strong background in improv training, which proved to be very helpful.

The first thing that struck me, upon entering the classroom, was Arnold, who was certified at The Michael Chekhov Association (MICHA) in New York City. Arnold and I shake hands and it's intense; I have the sense that I am meeting someone who is truly in tune with her entire being. Is this what Chekhov has done to her, I wonder, or is she just lucky?

Class begins with the seven of us and Arnold, forming a circle and introducing ourselves. "Today we are all actors and we will all do the work together," says Arnold. Yay, I think, I'm one of them already and I haven't even become a tree or sung a sonnet yet. Arnold continues: "We will be getting into our bodies, and we'll be working on some essential skills, talking about quality and movement." With that we begin to toss a small ball, and this reminds me of an improv exercise.

Throughout the next half hour we do several exercises, slowly bringing our bodies into the work. Soon we are walking around the room aware of our surroundings and mainly of ourselves. We are told to walk with intent and purpose. This is still reminding me of improv, but there is something different—I can't pinpoint what—then the word "energy" is said and I know that's it. We are told to be aware of our energy, and of the energy that surrounds us. We start to toss the ball again as we walk through the room. Eye contact is key, and the ball is provoking an energy surrounding the person who has the ball. It is obvious we all want to be the next person to have the ball; we all want the energy.

We then lose the ball and start walking "powerfully," then "delicately." Both these exercises take time. Soon it is obvious what we are learning: our bodies begin to act a certain way that is beyond what we are thinking, and characters are being developed. This is Chekhov, says Arnold. "You will think about it for a second, then your body will take over and whatever you do is right for you. But," she adds, "it is beyond you and that is when you become an artist."

We continue with energy exercises and by the second half of class we play with three Chekhov qualities: molding, floating and flying. With molding we imagine we are in a room of soft clay and must move through the clay. Upon doing this, our bodies begin to form movements, thus building a character. We do the same with floating, (we are immersed in water,) and flying, (we are literally being whipped around by gusts of wind.) After mastering these qualities, we then secretly choose one and begin to react to one another, forming mini, physical scenes.

By the end of class I have acquired a better understanding of the Chekhov technique, as well as an energy exercise I can bring with me to auditions, rehearsals and performances. In interviewing Arnold for my story, one of the things she said is that "Chekhov gives actors a way to practice, developing wonderful essential skills—basics you'd do like yoga." This may sound silly or even a bit too "mystical," but after taking this class I understand what she means. I was rejuvenated. I felt so much more in tune with my body. Even if I was to never go on to perform in a play again, I feel just this one class has made me a better improviser and artist.

2005 Training Issue

Who is Michael Chekhov?

The Global Spread of Neo-Futurism

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