I performed less than a dozen times at the Upstairs Gallery, I watched many shows there and (I think) paid for most of them. I didn't find my voice there, I never put up a run, I wasn't on a house team. What the UG gave me and what I learned there doesn't directly have to do with improv or comedy. It has to do with friendship and belonging, kindness and inspiration.
When the UG began I was jealous and resentful. I had some friends doing shows there but felt like I wasn't invited, didn't have a way in, didn't know the secret handshake. The first time I went to a show there I had to bolster myself with liquor. In the beginning I went there sporadically, always felt like an outsider, and I'm sure most times behaved erratically. Then I got sober.
As a newly sober unemployed man I had many hours to kill and I went to the UG with more frequency. I was raw and sometimes scared. I had a reputation, either in reality or in my own mind, of being unpredictable, at times slovenly or cruel. And this gave me some reticence in showing up to places unexpected for fear of being unwanted. But time and time again I was greeted with increasing warmth, at first by Alex's casual and inviting smile, then by an expanding population of new friends. I found that when I put myself out there I was received with affection and interest, found myself responding in kind.
The UG became a place I felt welcome and safe. Not through any overt action but by the nature of its function. The idea and the venue morphed to satisfy the needs of its participates, my needs were interpersonal others were creative.
From artistic direction to simple layout the UG provided a level playing field, a safe zone, a free space. It cultivated openness, risk, honesty, emotion, absurdity, and artistry. You could come and go with impunity, on a great night you shared in the triumph, on a bad night you shared in the irony. You could stay late talking with friends until Alex went to bed or was spirited away in an Uber. Regardless of your level of involvement you were accepted.
In improv the word "community" is bandied about with little discretion and even less meaning. The Upstairs Gallery created and fostered the community we had all been searching for.
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