Aaron Kahn
Improviser, ACtor
Aaron Kahn is a Paris-based performance, sound, and vocal artist working internationally for over two decades. He is the founder of Précisément Par Hasard, a French Neo-Futurist ensemble focused on ethical, non-illusory performance. His work—more Socratic than critical—investigates the dynamics between artist and audience, with an emphasis on presence, process, and political inquiry.
Aaron trained at the École Jacques Lecoq, Dell’Arte, Université de Paris 8, and USC, and has worked with Peter Brook, Judith Malina, and Goat Island. His sound-performance The Breaking String was shortlisted for an IRCAM residency, and he was a devising performer in the creation of Bad Weather/Navigations, winner of the 2020 Carapelli for Art Prize.
On screen, Aaron has appeared in The Substance, The New Look (Apple TV+), Emily in Paris, Monsieur Aznavour, and Along Came Love, and has voice credits in both film and television.
He lives in France where he is represented by Talented in Paris.
WHAT DO YOU LIKE BEST WHEN YOU TEACH?
I love the energy of collective discovery. I also love seeing the results from the application of constraints in creativity and making. I've been in professional theatre since 1986 and worked in a dozen countries but I'm not a university professor. So it's really gratifying to be able to share my knowledge with eager students like those who take our Impro Academy classes. I am happy to share the physical-first approach I learned in puppetry and at École Lecoq. (I also have to admit that it is very cool how fast the time flies when a group of people gets together to improvise. The 2.5 hours feels more like 1 hour.)
YOUR FAVORITE IMPROVE QUOTE?
I've got 3 🙂
Sri Baba Hari Dass
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”
Martin Buber
Moshe Feldenkrais
WHAT DO YOU DO APART FROM IMPRO ACADEMY?
I am a voice in a body.
The list of the things I do is so long that a French marketing guy in Avignon once told me it could put someone to sleep. He advised me to just say "Je suis une voix dans un corp." (I am a voice in a body.) Which fits, to be honest. If you want the whole story:
Recently I discovered the throughline in everything I love and do professionally is that mobile phones have no place in the things I do. I am happy about this. Choral singing, acting, directing, rehearsing and teaching are all interrupted by or degraded by technological intermediation. In everything I do, the phone is off or on airplane mode.
I act (theatre; TV; film; improv), direct (theatre), write (theatre and criticism), teach (improv; yoga; Pilates; acting; dialect coaching; voice), do voice over, podcasts, make music and experimental audio. I am also an activist and a critic. I practice yoga in traditional ways. I am a triptographic cartographer. I attend a lot of performances. I play with my cat, Lulu, and hang out with my wife, Monika. I used to travel a lot. Maybe too much. These days I prefer mountain camping to flying all over the world. I sing a lot. I workout my voice like a circus artist trains or an orchestral musician practices. I watch The PBS News Hour every morning. I cook and clean quite a bit. My wife has a legit full time job so somewhat often I am a bit of a house husband.
I am the founder of Office National des Parcs et Jardins, the first French association established to develop and diffuse Neo-Futurist theatre. Since 2017 I've been implementing our French edition of The Neo's The Infinite Wrench called Précisément Par Hasard an ever-changing attempt to perform 30 short original plays in 60 short minutes in an order determined by the audience in real time. It is a "living newspaper" published by a diverse group of wildly prolific makers in constant dialogue with the audience and the city.
Can you share an unforgettable moment during an improv show?
On my 20th birthday in 1995 I got to see one of my favorite musicians live. Maceo Parker (James Brown's original band leader) at The North Sea Jazz Festival in The Hague. During Maceo's 55 minute set a terrible buzzing hum overtook the left speakers and threatened to derail the funky flow. Maceo approached the speaker bank while his band continued to "fill." He cupped his hand to his ear to listen to the destructive buzzing hum. He then shouted to his band "Take it up to a G, y'all! Play it in G!" The band modulated, the hum disappeared into the background and became an accompaniment to the tune they were playing. It sounded like a constant drone from a baritone saxophone or a bassoon stuck on one note. The crowd went bonkers. Maceo didn't lose even a minute of his set. I later saw him in the U.S. and twice in France. He is a legend.