Girls of a certain age expose their stomachs, and boys expose their underwear.  Those of us who are too old to seek this kind of social status based on sex appeal are more concerned about dressing to project power, authority, and stability.

We select our clothes even more carefully when we are going to present.  Do we dress like the audience?  Do we dress in our finest?  Or do we calculate what the audience will wear and dress slightly more formally?

We agonize over such questions because clothing is one of the languages we speak.  Our first (or second) language is English.  Then we have the specialized language of our industry or profession, which in some cases takes years to master.  We also speak body language, over which we have little control and which communicates volumes about who we are.  Then there is para-linguistics, which amounts to the  impact of our speaking voice (nasal? whiney? fast? sonorous? deep? Brooklynese? Old New England?)

But not to be neglected is what social science calls “Symbolic Communication.”  We choose our clothes, grooming, and accessories to show the world who we want to be.  Thus, in adolescence, soon after the hormones kick in, we drop our drawers and raise our shirts to say, “I have the power of sex appeal.”

And when that phase is over, we climb into our power suits and power ties, wear a lot of black, and keep our hair neat and tidy so as not to suggest anything too playful.

We choose our watches and our cars as accessories, in order to tell others that we are successful and in-demand.  We locate our businesses at prestigious addresses in order to appeal to the social aspirations of our potential customers.  Such choices are forms of symbolic communication.

We do this to earn the trust and respect of others, so that they will give us responsibility and money, and we will therefore be prosperous, respectable, and secure.

I find it fascinating that it is difficult to trust somebody who is not dressed properly.  We want airline pilots, judges, and doctors to wear uniforms.  And those of us in business create our own uniform code of attire.  Blue suits, red ties, skirts at the knee, cleavage in storage.

We don’t want our heart surgeons and pilots to wear torn blue jeans and ripped T-shirts.  We don’t want our bankers to dress like Jimi Hendrix or Elton John.

Clothes make the man.  I think Beau Brummel said that. 

Deep down, we’re all shallow.  Oscar Wilde said that.

I say clothes are either about sex or power.  Guess which type presenters wear?

On June 20th in the Wall Street Journal, in response to the media coverage of Tim Russert’s untimely death, Peggy Noonan wrote in her Declarations column, “When somebody dies we tell his story and try to define and isolate what was special about it–what it was he brought to the party, how he enhanced life by showing up. In this way we educate ourselves about what really matters.”

“In a way, the world is a great liar. It shows you it worships and admires money, but at the end of the day it doesn’t. It says it adores fame and celebrity, but it doesn’t, not really. The world admires, and wants to hold on to, and not lose, goodness. It admires virtue. [...] That’s what we talk about in eulogies, because that’s what’s important.”

Reading this, it struck me that we could say the same thing about public speaking. We make a show of admiring speakers who are clever, rich with data slides, equipped with approved platform behaviors and polished texts. But in the end, what we really like in speakers is character.

Character traits that appeal to audiences are varied, but certainly confidence is one, tempered, we hope, with humility. Genuine interest in the audience is another, or at least an empathetic understanding of their needs and concerns.

Finally, I myself like speakers who appear to be authentic, true to themselves, not working too hard to please me, but are nevertheless skilled at holding my attention.

Think about this. When a speech or presentation is over, which do you remember the longest: what the speaker said, or the impression the speaker created?

Decision makers rarely undertake an important project without first hearing the project leader explain it to them. They are listening for two things–grasp of the material, and the requisite character needed to overcome the inevitable obstacles any large project will encounter.

When a presentation is over, and listeners gather to discuss it and pass judgment, the speaker’s expertise is the dimension they consider overtly. But deep down, their decisions are informed by their perceptions of the speaker’s character.

Effective speaking has many enemies. A partial list would include a speaker’s lack of experience, stage fright, lack of training, no clear point, too much information, and finally, no clear flow, or structure.

We could go on. But the items on the list are only those enemies that hide within the speaker himself. What about the external enemies–the environmental obstacles, including those that hide within the audience?

Certainly one of the most stubborn opponents you can face as a speaker is an audience that has endured a morning’s worth of presentations, escaped into a lunch of heavy food and sweet desserts, only to be herded back into their seats to listen to you!

This is a test that separates the men from the boys and the women from the girls. Such an audience can be somnolent, indifferent, and murderously hard on your ego.

What should you do?

1. Throw a match on them. Light them on fire. Henry Ward Beecher, one of the greatest preachers in American history, once found himself on a hot day in a town in West Virginia known to be Death Valley for speakers. Sure enough, that afternoon, as he was being introduced, he saw that half the town was already dozing. He rose from his chair and, wiping his brow with a large handkerchief, strode to the front of the platform.

“It’s a God-damned hot day,” the clergyman began.

A thousand pairs of eyes opened wide. An electrical shock straightened the crowd erect. Beecher paused and then, raising a finger of solemn reproof, went on, “That’s what I heard a man say here this afternoon.”

He proceeded into a stirring condemnation of blasphemy–and took his audience with him.

2. Keep it interactive. Ask the audience questions. Ask them to discuss something in small groups for a few minutes. I’ve seen speakers ask the audience to shout in unison a product name whenever he mentioned the name in his speech. They got into it and listened carefully in order to be part of the chorus.

3. Keep it short and sweet. This is true always, but especially true after lunch. Don’t try to take the audience on a death march through your comprehensive analysis of photosynthesis in the genus papaver somniferum.

4. Speak and move with energy and verve. You are the leader, and your followers need to be inspired. Breathe some life into them.

5. Tell stories. The Golden Rule of after-dinner speaking is to make a simple point by telling a whimsical but relevant story. The same rule should apply to after-lunch speaking, even though your audience is not seated at their lunch table but back in the conference hall.

6. Know your enemy. Your enemy is the food in their stomachs that demands their attention, even as you demand their attention from the lectern. You must be more compelling than the food that drags them into the arms of Morpheus. Your talk must be flavorful, adequately salted and spicy with a variety of fascinating facts, insights, and bold opinions that are sprinkled with a dash of style, passion and humor.

In other words, you’ve got to be well-prepared, well-rehearsed, and well-seasoned to capture and keep their attention.

For other highly challenging speaking environments, go to How to Give Good Webinar

You’ve been invited to moderate a panel.  The question is: How can you do it really well so that the meeting is rated highly, you look good, and your chances of being invited back are good?

First, you should look at the job of moderator as a great chance to create a host of positive impressions.  It’s great marketing for you and your company.  Let’s look into the details.

What’s the topic?  Can you change the topic, or re-phrase the title of the topic to make it more appealing?

Who will be on your panel?  Can you invite your own panelists?  Can you prep them so they don’t all say the same thing, so they dovetail nicely with each other?

What is the room like? When can you get into the room to test the microphones and get a feel for the place?  Who is in charge of the logistics?  Can you make sure they are on hand in case one of the panelists can’t be heard, or God forbid, you can’t be heard? Can you have it audio-taped, or video-taped?  Can you distribute copies of the tape?

Can you put a slide up with your name on it?  Can it stay up there the whole time?

How many important people can you invite or at least inform of your role in the meeting?  Can you get complimentary tickets for those you invite?  Free parking?

Once you’ve answered all the above, you should craft some strong opening remarks.  I recommend this outline:

1. Why this topic?
2. Why this topic at this time?
3. Why this topic at this time for this audience?
4. Why this topic at this time for this audience by these panelists?

Only then, after four ringing assertions, should you introduce yourself.  And once you’ve done that briefly and humbly, devote all your enthusiasm to the dignity and stature of your panelists.

Either they are already sitting on the stage, having come to their seats as you approached the lectern, or they wait for you to introduce them before moving a muscle to step forward.

Don’t allow them to move while you’re talking.  Nobody will pay any attention to your brilliance, but instead will goggle at the bodies moving into the limelight.   Panelists need rehearsal and firm stage directions.

Speaking of firm stage directions, your panelists should be instructed to prepare short opening remarks.  Do not let them take this assignment lightly.  The last thing you want is a boring, long winded, meandering, unprepared talk from the panel–it can drain the energy out of the discussion.  If such drainage occurs, it falls upon you to put a stop to it, and that’s hard to do without hurting feelings.

If you’re a stickler, you may even ask the panelists to send you their opening remarks a week ahead of time, and help them do better.  Certainly, gathering all their notes will help you steer them away from redundancy.

Familiarity with their remarks will help you prepare questions, and you can ask them if they have questions they would like to be asked.   You don’t have to oblige, but if the asking will make the meeting shine and illuminate the expertise of the panelist, why not?

Listen to your panelists talk, and interrupt them to ask questions.  Get them to clarify, or expand on particularly interesting or controversial issues.  Get them to stop talking if their response to a question is lengthy.  Moderating panelists is like herding cats.  You’ve got to be quick and alert.  And you have a responsibility to the audience to keep the meeting on track and on time.

You would do well to recall that panelist number one said something that contradicts what panelist number three is saying.   Interrupt number three, and point out the contradiction.  Or interrupt and ask number one to comment in light of what three is saying.

The whole point of having a panel is to take the burden of energizing the room away from a sole presenter and shift it onto the shoulders of a lively group.  Your job as the moderator is to keep them doggies rolling.  A little friendly verbal jousting will serve your purposes well.

At the end, remind the audience of the beginning.  “Why this topic, at this time,” etc., etc.  Try to summarize, or better yet, synthesize the key themes in the discussion.  Tell the audience where they can find more information.   Invite them to speak to panelists at the break.  If you’re willing and able, offer to provide notes on the discussion.  Thank your panelists and the sponsoring organization.

And then get the heck out of Dodge.

I recently sat down to interview myself on the subject of speaker evaluation forms. Here’s the transcript of the interview.

What’s the use of a speaker evaluation form? First of all, I prefer the term assessment to evaluation. It sounds to me less clinical–less distant.

Sorry. What’s the purpose of a speaker assessment form? To help speakers get better. However, let’s distinguish between the uses of a speaker assessment form at a training course, and one passed out at the end of a live presentation.

What are the differences? A training course assessment form will be more detailed and analytical–more process oriented, more focused on the mechanics of speaking. A form meant to be filled out by audience members after a talk should be short and sweet, focused on what audience members took away from the experience and any suggestions they might have for improvement.

In what areas do speakers need to get better? In messaging, use of PowerPoint, and personal impact.

How should messaging be evaluated? The message of a good presentation should:

• be audience-centric
• define a business problem from the perspective of the audience
• pose a valid question about that problem
• answer that question satisfactorily in a clear and vivid manner
• compare the speaker’s answer to alternative answers
• argue why the presenter’s answer is better
• end by reminding the audience of the problem and asserting the need to think, feel, or do as the speaker suggests.

How should PowerPoints be evaluated? They should follow the principles of cognitive guidance, which are:

1. The Multimedia Principle; we learn better from spoken words and pictures than from spoken words alone.

2. The Coherence Principle; we learn better when extraneous material is excluded rather than included.

3. The Contiguity Principle; we learn better when corresponding words and pictures are presented at the same time or next to each other on the screen.

4. The Modality Principle; we learn better from pictures with spoken text than pictures with printed text.

5. The Signaling Principle; we learn better when the material is organized with clear outlines and headings.

6. The Personalization Principle; we learn more from a conversational style than a formal style.

This adds up a few simple rules.

• Headlines of slides should be short, assertive sentences that summarize the information on the slide.
• The body of the slide should be a visual–a photo, drawing, graph, scheme, etc.
• Bullet points should be kept to an absolute minimum.
• Put the details, or the speaker’s points, in the Notes section of the PowerPoint and hand the document out after the event.
• The speaker should introduce the next slide while the old one is still on the screen.

And finally, how should a presenter’s personal impact be evaluated? That’s a harder question. The simplest answer is she should be evaluated based on what she causes her audience to feel, know, or do. She should be judged by outcomes, not process.

How can presenters take control of the way they make listeners feel? By making a serious, sustained effort to understand how they are coming across and what they can do to improve. For instance, evidence suggests that tone of voice, image, body language, and clothing and grooming play a significant role in our impact on others.

But what role does intention play? You said earlier that messages should be listener-centric. Our intentions are important. We should align them with the interests of our audience. But we often have goals for a talk that are both overt and covert. For instance, ever since President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law, the Republicans have been successful in winning the votes of working class white southerners. Since then, the overt goals of Republican speakers has been to convince those voters that the Republican platform is in their economic self-interest. The covert goal has been to play on their historical racial bias.

So what should A Really Useful Speaker Evaluation Form look like? It should be:

• On one page
• As simple as possible
• Be designed for a specific purpose
• Address messaging, PowerPoint, and personal impact
• Use a few specific criteria for each of those categories
• Leave room for subjective comments and suggestions
• Attempt to measure outcomes

Can you give us an example? Yes, here are two that I find useful. Neither is perfect. One is clearly for training purposes, the other is meant to be completed by audience members after a talk.

Training Assessment Form

And here’s a Speaker Assessment form meant to be filled out by an audience member after a talk. It was created by Cliff Atkinson of Sociable Media.

I once had a colleague who said that everyone is in two businesses: their own, and show biz. He didn’t go far enough. Every business is show business. Business would be impossible without acting skills. Theater artists have the talent to believe in the imaginary circumstances of the script and act so as to induce the audience to believe in the characters and the story. A business communicator must also believe in her product, idea, or service—and speak so as to create belief in others.

As a business speaker, if you are lucky enough to believe in your message, you have a better chance of making others believe—not guaranteed, but a better chance. If you don’t believe in your product, you’ve got to scratch and claw your way into belief. How? How do you hoist yourself into contagious belief? The simplest way is to rehearse.

Find the reasoning. Find the words. Find the attitude. Find the gestures that make you feel connected with yourself and the subject. If you’re not turning yourself on when you talk you’re turning the audience off. I know that when I’m excited about some domestic issue at home, I’m more engaging. If I feel connected to my thoughts and believe wholeheartedly in the power of my reasoning, my demeanor is (if I do say so myself) captivating. My wife and teenage daughter actually listen to me.

My domestic rant may not be the best template for a corporate or scientific presentation, but bear with me. Which is more convincing: a speaker’s conviction or her reasoning? Isn’t that the same as asking which blade in a pair of scissors does the cutting? You need both. Intelligent people will dismiss conviction without clear thinking. And reasoning without an emotional investment by the speaker is busywork—boring, pedantic, and inconsequential to all. You need both—reasoning and conviction.

Rehearsing aloud, you acquire both. And they feed each other. You find words that bring your thoughts to life, and when your thoughts are lively, you grasp them with greater conviction and infuse them with passion. Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “Eloquence is reason set on fire.” Rehearsal can help you find the reason and set it on fire.

So what are the standard excuses that the business presenter makes when she says she can’t or won’t rehearse?

No time! (He’s making slides five minutes before show time, making his performance slide.)
No need! (She’s done the same talk a thousand times; her suit could make it, and often does.)
No sense! (He thinks rehearsal makes him stale. Without it, he’s cooked.)
No standards! (Everybody in her company/industry is mediocre. Why should she be any different?)
No ego! (He doesn’t want to experience the awkwardness and vulnerability of finding his own voice, alone or in front of colleagues. Wimp!)
No show! (She thinks showmanship is unprofessional, which smacks of sour grapes. She’s probably afraid she doesn’t have the gene.)
No guts! (If he doesn’t rehearse, he’ll have an excuse when his talks flab out and fail.)

A good presentation can make a career. A bad one can leave you clinging to the suburbs of success for years to come. Actors get a month; we only get a few days. Let us remember that business without show business is no business. Rehearsal makes our thinking crisper, our language more vivid, and our passion a better ally. Without rehearsal, we have no show. If you have any sense, you’ll rehearse.

For more on what constitutes preparing for important presentations, see Ford Harding’s Blog.

Derrick called and spoke a mile a minute. His boss, the founder of a new hedge fund and the primary money runner had to speak at a capital intro in a week. Could I come and help?

I asked if the boss knew what he wanted to say, and Derrick said yes, but the talk was not developed yet and he (the boss) wouldn’t have time to devote to it until the weekend.

I asked about the boss. Derrick said he was really smart but not all that experienced speaking to large groups and hard to pin down because he was so busy keeping his eye on the markets.

We set up two meetings. The first to hammer out what the message would be; the second to practice saying it. I asked for a general summary of what would be said. Derrick replied, “He’s going to talk about distressed securities.”

“Is he going to say something unusual about them, or is he going to say something predictable but try to say it well?” I asked.

“By that question, I can tell that you are going to be helpful,” said Derrick, assuring me that I would not see any drafts until I arrived.

When I walked in the door, the receptionist seemed to be expecting me. She jumped up and escorted me into a meeting room off the lobby.

Derrick arrived like clock-work. He handed me his business card, made from the thickest card stock I’ve ever felt. I enthused over the feel of his card. He seemed to enjoy that. It broke the ice.

He briefed me on the status of the script and slides (a work in progress) and then in came his boss, backing into the room as he spoke to an assistant down the hall.

Peter was small and intense, with long hair and granny glasses. If Derrick was natty and professional, Peter was rumpled and professorial. Derrick excused himself immediately and closed the door as he left.

Peter had a handful of wrinkled papers in his hand. They were his notes. He did not know how to connect his computer to the projector, or how to use PowerPoint well enough to re-sequence the slides.

However, his knowledge of distressed securities was encyclopedic and his speech was supersonic. He had so many thoughts stampeding from his mind to his mouth that they got stuck on his tongue and toppled over each other.

Hummingbirds beat their wings 15 to 80 times per second, depending on the species. If a hummingbird could speak, that’s how fast Peter talked.

When I asked questions about his meaning to help him clarify what he wanted to say and in what order, he was wonderfully patient with my modest understanding of his discipline, and used analogies and metaphors to explain his point—a sign, I think, of a good communicator.

In addition to speaking like a hummingbird, he did not look me in the eye, and did not relate what he said to the bar charts on the screen. But he spoke with visceral passion and emphatic verve about the coming crisis in corporate debt—and that made up for his other sins as a speaker. He could lift up his whole body and jump into a key word with both feet–giving it real meaning and significance.

When our rehearsal led him to a new thought, he leaned over the conference table, pawing through his wrinkled pages, and jotted  words on a spare corner of the paper.

He was trying to say that the imminent credit crunch would not be like past credit crunches, due to recent care-free lending practices. In fact, due to covenant-light loans, and CCC loans, he argued, we would not get early warning signs of trouble: we would be in the middle of the crisis all at once.

The challenge was to build the story so that the audience would think they were hearing a standard pitch about the potential attractive opportunities in distressed debt, and then yank the tablecloth out from under the meal spread before them to reveal something entirely new and terrifying.

After two meetings, we had cut the slides down to six and the timing down to less than ten minutes. He had no time to rehearse. He promised he would work on it in his hotel room when he arrived at the capital intro. I continued to e-mail suggestions to his Blackberry over the weekend.

I learned from Peter that he did not rehearse until he was on the plane, and then he stayed up most of the night in a panic working on it.

Two days after the event, he called to say it went well, and that my messages had helped. I called Derrick to get his assessment, who said it was a little short—much shorter than the presentations made by other speakers. I pointed out that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

As Mrs. Hubert Humphrey said to her husband after a particularly long stem-winder, “Hubert, for a speech to be immortal, it need not be interminable.”

The question will be whether Peter can:
1. Get attention at capital intros.
2. Keep attention
3. Make a clear point in a memorable way
4. Stand out in a crowded field
5. Move people to come talk with him.

That’s it. He doesn’t have to sell the fund, or close the deal. His job is to generate trust and curiosity.

We often think that the placebo effect comes from the belief that a sugar pill is actual medicine, which leads us to the conclusion that if we believe something is good for us, we get a positive physiological response.

I read of a double-blind study of hotel chambermaids in Paris who were trying to lose weight. One arm of the study was given a real weight-loss product; another arm received a placebo; and a third was told that the work they did in cleaning the rooms was strenuous and burned a lot of calories. The third group lost the most weight.

While medical science continues to debate its causes, there is wide agreement that the placebo effect can also be caused by the attention of doctors and nurses. It is thought that the touching, caring, attention, and other interpersonal communication that is part of the therapeutic setting, along with the hopefulness and encouragement provided by the medical professionals, affect the mood, expectations, and beliefs of the patient, which in turn trigger physical changes such as release of endorphins.

This leads to an interesting parallel with presenting. If we approach an audience as a doctor would a patient; if we diagnose the problem that the audience faces, and prescribe a solution to their difficulty, could we not stimulate the placebo effect?

This would mean that our message would have to be audience-centric. We might not be able to ask the audience questions then and there, but we could describe what we know of their situation, and then, if we gain their agreement that the description is fair and accurate, we could then ask a rhetorical question, such as, “Given that you face these difficulties, what would be the best solution?”

At that point, we are, in essence, thinking aloud about their problem. Of course, we have composed and rehearsed our thoughts. But all our attention is on them as we explore various avenues forward, and because of that, all their attention is on us–the speaker.

And if, like a good doctor or nurse, we lean forward, and express caring and concern in our demeanor and voice, might we be able to trigger the placebo effect?

Yes, yes, I think so. We could have neurochemical impact! Endorphins would flood their bloodstream.

We wouldn’t be talking about ourselves, our companies, our products, our plans. We wouldn’t be doing data dumps. We wouldn’t be talking at them about US! We would be talking with them about them.

And as a result, we would appeal to them, not only intellectually and emotionally, but ethically and chemically as well. They would walk out singing our praises–high on the placebo effect.

And here’s the paradox. Our self-interest is served when we’re more interested in them and their issues than we are in ourselves and our information.

Of course, the body of our presentation would contain all the information we have to impart, but if we frame it around their concerns, we are focused on them, not us.

That’s not bedside manner. That’s platform skill at its greatest.

Michael Jendrzejczyk died at the age of 53. His obituary in the New York Times reveals a remarkable man: empathetic, principled, and, most instructive for those of us seeking to become more skillful influencers, a very effective advocate for what he believed in. His cause was human rights in Asia.

What set him apart from many advocates,” wrote Elizabeth Becker, the author of the obituary, “was his mastery of the details of his subject, as well as his network of contacts with officials, academics, and dissidents he helped protect.”

“Mr. Jendrzejczyk joked about the difficulty of pronouncing his surname, telling others not to waste their time learning to say it or spell it, but just to call him Mike J. His easy manner was partly responsible for his wide reach.” It’s pronounced jen-DREE-zick.

Susan Osnos, former Associate Director of Human Rights Watch, said he used information to promote his ideas. “Over the years, he evolved into someone who worked well in Washington, creating two-way streets that are the bread and butter of getting things done…”

When the Chinese dissident Liu Qing was released after 11 years in prison, Mr. Jendrzejczyk took him around Washington to explain to policy makers the human consequences of their votes.

He pressed Mr. Harold Koh, then an assistant secretary of state, for countless changes in foreign policy to reflect human rights concerns, but, Mr. Koh said, he was never irritated by the demands.

“You start out in a professional relationship with him and end up considering him a dear friend,” Mr. Koh said. “He was one of those happy warriors who never let you forget that you are holding a job not for personal gain but for the betterment of American policy.”

May I point out the obvious lessons for those of us who want to be more influential?
1. Master and use information to help you promote your ideas.
2. Network, mercilessly.
3. Poke fun at yourself. Cultivate an easy manner.
4. Create two-way streets with those you seek to influence.
5. Make the benefits of your ideas vivid, human, and personal.
6. Be a happy warrior for your cause.

Mr. Jendrzejczyk is survived by his wife, Janet and his sister, Lyn Ashmore. I extend to them my sympathies and trust they will approve of my use of Michael as a good role model for those of us who would like to be better advocates for our causes.

Recently, a client of mine, who is also a childhood friend, left me a voice mail saying that he did not think my short article on the power of gesture to create emotion was appropriate for the market I serve. Essentially, the short piece tried to make the point that speakers can alter their inner emotional state by finding a gesture to do (in private) that can move them out of fear and anxiety and into calmness and confidence.

He said that the suggestion seemed too “pop” and “retail” and inappropriate for sophisticated people. To him, it seemed like something he would find in an airline magazine.

I am grateful for his honesty, and for his trust that I would take his comment in the right way. I know he is watching out for my best interests.

I would like to try to make the point again (and here in public) in a way that makes it more palatable to him and those who might think as he does.

We all agree that just as feelings create physical gestures (happiness puts a spring in your step), gestures can stimulate feelings (raising your hands above your head and punching the air in triumph tends to lift a sagging mood.)

As speakers, we want to present ourselves as enthusiastic upbeat people who are excited about our material. If we happen to be nervous, a few fist pumps, or jumping jacks, or whatever, done out of sight of the audience, will serve to prime our emotional pumps.

Also, while sophisticated people may reject the idea that they could benefit from using creative gestures as an offstage tool to create more positive inner states (even though they admire dancers, actors and singers who use just those techniques to bring their material to life) they themselves might more effectively bring their own complex messages to life with a bit more expressiveness.

I taught acting for many years under the tutelage of Michael Chekhov and his disciples, and I now serve on the board of MICHA–the Michael Chekhov Association. Michael Chekhov was the nephew of Anton Chekhov, and he was considered the greatest actor of the 20th century in Russia.

Michael Chekhov disagreed with Stanislavsky about how actors should create the inner life of their characters. Stanislavsky suggested, for instance, that when called upon to cry, the actor should recall his “dying grandfather” or some other sad event, a technique he called sense memory. Michael Chekhov, on the other hand, suggested that creative gesture can stimulate sensation, and that sensation is the vessel into which we can pour our creative feelings.

I think both can work, but I tend to lean toward Chekhov. The technique of sense memory removes us from the immediate circumstances, and asks us to visualize something that occurred, or will occur, at another time and place.

Gesture, on the other hand, gives me an immediate physical and psychological jolt that arouses my vitality and sense of play. I can walk out on stage with an inner feeling that I have the energy and will to do my best.

The body can speak to the inner life, and when necessary, we can use gesture as a tool to create a more appealing and effective presence.