The Art in Magic

For those who do not know, I am an inventor and creator of magical apparatus. Although this blog is primarily for people interested in coming to see my shows and those who simply enjoy the art form, I do want to address this essay more to the magic community (without revealing any secrets, of course).

It is apparent from watching most magic videos, whether ‘how to’ or ‘looky here’ in nature, that the vast majority of magic-doers (as opposed to proper magicians) are interested only in performing the equivalent of a wheelie on their bicycles. They show their cameras clever ways to hide a coin or else cut up a card to make it do a visual impossibility—Bang! How about that?—and then rush it online for all to wonder over.

They get thousands of views. Fun to watch. Fair enough. Many can even be copied and shown to friends and family—there ya go, time for lunch now.

Nice. Not magic (not really) but nice. Fun. This might better be called a stunt performed by a magic-doer.

What is missing is the Art in magic.

It is one thing to set up a clever ruse and adjust the camera so it doesn’t catch the hidden bits. I’ve even seen magic-doers back into a room in order to hide the fact that they have something attached to their bodies that would otherwise be seen before performing their feat of wowza! It isn’t very fooling, of course, even if the dingus cannot be spotted. We can see that something tricky is going on. The performer is acting oddly just before the voila and behaving normally just after.

To be sure, the hunchy-bunchy, stiff-spined, arthritic-handed maneuverers succeed in producing the desired result—the magic wand appears, some colourful paper coils erupt from the mouth, cards change their spots—but it is not really a surprise. That is, we didn’t know that that particular thing was about to happen, but we did see that something was pretty obviously coming, something that was being hidden in rather a maladroit manner.

It is amusing, yes, to watch such tricks. It is even fun. I enjoy it myself. Uncle Otto has gone to some trouble to give us a moment, and we appreciate it. Thank you, Uncle Otto. We love you.

‘tain’t magic. We might better call it the gladsome rush to deceive. Uncle Otto is upping his game from flatulent ‘pull my finger’ gags or jumping out of dark rooms to startle us as we pass, but these tricks reside within that same ilk of foolery—watch me swallow this thimble, eh? How’d that coin get behind your ear?

Only now Uncle Otto reaches off camera to drag back that coin for his YouTube followers. Magic? erm…no.

Look, I don’t mean to knock well-intentioned people having fun with magic tricks. Practically every magician started out as a magic-doer. It is harmless. It is fun. It’s a way of breaking the ice at a party or demonstrating your affection for your circle of friends and family. Nothing in the world wrong with that.

It’s not wrong to post those videos on YouTube, either. They can always be taken down again if you improve to the point of being embarrassed by those early efforts. The craft of magic will survive it even as the craft of magic has survived legions of awkward uncles, blustering big brothers, and fumble-fingered birthday party clowns for time immemorial.

However…

As a creator of magical apparatus, I have seen a disconcerting middle ground of magic-roisters who reside somewhere between those happy-go-lucky magic-doers and genuinely sincere magicians. The magic-roister thinks himself superior to magic-doers yet wrongly fancies himself a proper magician. He’s the one who logs into magic chat rooms to complain that some trick he just bought is somehow wrong—not broken, not misadvertised, just wrong: It is too something: too big, small, heavy, light, thick, thin, bright, dull, or difficult.

In essence, without exception, they complain that it isn’t magic.

That is, it isn’t really capable of doing something that defies the laws of physics.

They are annoyed that they haven’t been granted a genuine superpower for their purchase price.

Oooookay…

To understand this mindset, it is useful to appreciate that (very generally speaking) there are two types of magic tricks: self-working and skill-required. Now, the skill-required set of tricks can range from beginner-level to mad-plus skills required, but, in every instance, the magician must still practice some sort of manual or verbal or memory or theatrical ability in order to make the effect come off properly. Self-working tricks are more like toasters: unbox, install, & go . . . although even these are greatly improved by theatrical skill in presentation.

Magic-roisters flock to self-working tricks and crowd about the ‘no skill required’ adverts, particularly if other phrases are included such as ‘packs small, plays big’, ‘start your own religion’, and ‘fools magicians.’

The magic-roister wrongly imagines that self-working means ‘no anything required,’ but this simply is not the case.

A piece of magic apparatus—any piece of magic apparatus—is never really like a toaster. It is, rather, like a paint brush. A paint brush does not make the painting. It is the painter wielding the brush who creates the art.

As an artist, I see young art hopefuls marching into art supply stores and laying down their money for the latest sculpting tool or up-market easel, mistakenly thinking that a better tool will make them better artists. Meantime, the artists I work with and around, and whom I most admire, soldier on with their oft-mended, wonky, old-fashioned equipment that they have been using for years and decades. Yet these old, war-horse artists always produce better, more skilled, works than the guy with all the latest hoo-ha from the art store.

Late in 2022, I began work on my Dickens show. I drew on the effects that Dickens used in the 1840s—even had a few pieces from his actual act--one-hundred eighty years old-fashioned! The props needed a lot of TLC; most had to be completely rebuilt or constructed from scratch, but my goal was to present (as much as possible) a genuinely vintage act; what might it have been like to be in the parlour with Charles Dickens while he performed?

My agent calls this a ‘high concept’ approach, and it is worth doing: giving magic a reason to be performed (beyond the magic-doers desire to pop off a stunt).

This brings me to a sort of motto concerning Art in Magic, and it is this:

Anyone can wiggle, but it takes discipline, desire, much thought, and work to dance ballet. The same applies to all forms of art, including magic.