Instant Stooge

If you ever need assistance amazing anyone, ask me to name a card. I'll always say the four of hearts.

Why, you ask?

Well, I'm a Warren Zevon fan. And the four of hearts is mentioned in the remarkable story in the link I just provided.

The author and the subject of the article are both deceased, and I'm not feeling so hot myself.

Theory and Action

I used to have long discussions on magical theory with a friend. We would talk about word usage, effect selection, performance persona, attitude, body language, whatever. He then took off to parts unknown (well, Malone's bar) to try his hand at being a professional magician. We've (sort of) kept in contact, and in one of his emails he seemed to discount those theoretical discussions as being of limited value. I'm hoping this is due to his enthusiasm for the current 'hands-on' nature of his position and not a permanent philosophy change.

Performing magic without (constantly evolving) theory is just spinning your wheels. Changes in your act, if any, will be random and as likely to make it worse as better. Conversely, theory without constant testing under fire is just posturing. Magic is not an exact science. I've seen too many people make too many mistakes because their theories (if any) are cast in stone and are not revised by real world trial.

I know there are exceptions. Don Alan was an incredible performer who apparently had no time for theoretical discussions. And if you read Mind, Myth and Magic chronologically you can see T.A. Waters' evolution as a theatrical thinker even though he was pretty much purely a theoretician and not a performer. Most of us aren't these kinds of exceptional people and should probably use all of the tools at our disposal.

The theory can start from a number of sources (books like Leading With Your Head by Gary Kurtz, web sites like this, discussions with friends), but should always be refined by testing in performance. This doesn't have to be professional performance. Just about every Sunday my wife and I go to Buffalo Wild Wings. The wait staff knows I do magic. My wife goes fabric shopping across the street and I always have something ready to perform. I won't do so unless asked because this is their job and I don't want to jeopardize it, but it's rare someone doesn't ask to see something. These mini-performances give me a chance to test new material and refine my theory. In turn, refining my theory has helped make my performances better.

So hey, don't knock the theoretical side of things. And if you want to be a performer, perform as often as you can, then analyze those performances against what you know. This is one way to improve your magic.

In theory.

Tales of Mystery and Imagination

You may know Lance Pierce as the author of Roger Klause in Concert or The Award-Winning Magic of John Cornelius, or his own World-Famous Bowl Routine, or perhaps from his entertaining and educational posts on The Magic Cafe and the Genii forum. I know him as a friend.

I strive to be a good magician, writer and person. In all these areas Lance sets a mark I may never achieve but am happy to try. The poem below is Lance's and it is wicked funny. I'm reprinting it here with his permission.

Without further ado, I present Lance Pierce's take on Edgar Allan Poe. Enjoy.

Quoth the Maven . . .

Once upon a session dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
Over many a packet trick
With stories, poems, and more
While I plodded, nearly snapping,
Suddenly, I thought of lapping
Would this catch the audience napping?
I propelled them to the floor
'Tween my knees with naught a breeze
They softly hit the floor
Lain dormant evermore

Ah, distinctly I recall, in Xeroxed lecture notes I saw
This artful, dartful stratagem
Method wise and more
A Goldstein treasure sure to pleasure
Most amazing by any measure
But could I shape it to my leisure
To meet my skill so poor?
To bring the handling further ease
and meet my skill so poor?
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

Standing sudden, quite uncertain, I looked around me, behind the curtain,
Underneath the table, and peered around the door
As I thought, I was alone
But little had my small faith grown
Could I whittle his masterpiece
But still retain the core?To rid the work of each half-pass
Each triple lift and more
For that rare and radiant packet trick
With the Goldstein touch of lore?
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

"Sir!" said I, "or Max, please consider all the facts
When I express my admiration,
Your forgiveness I implore.
But your wonderful trick, a neo-classic
Is to me a touch Jurassic
But I have a thought that Copperfield would pay a million for
And give us both the fame and fortuneWe both are yearning for . . ."
Quoth again the Maven,"Nevermore."

Not to be so soon defeated, I took my chair and quickly seated
I counted, flipped, and KM-moved in many ways and more
Vainly I worked into the morrow
When finally fatigued with sorrow
I sought to lift my head and borrow
Illumination as before
"Mr. Goldstein, I beseech you
Knowing not if I can reach you
Knowing I have naught to teach you
I beg of you and more,
Please lend some inspiration to my vain infatuation
Before I lose my will to continue."
Came the stony voice, as before:
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

And so I sat, tattered, beaten
Borne of suffering, soul half-eaten
Knowing that I would never be the magician as before
Meddling with an art perfected
The dissector is himself dissected
No more cards would be selected
I moved slowly through the door"
Perhaps a second deal," I thought,
As I hobbled through the door...
Quoth the Maven,

"Nevermore."

-- Lance Pierce

Investment

Back when my bum knee wasn't such a bum I also juggled. One day at the juggling club I ran into a guy who used to be a magician. I asked him why he got out of it. He said he was disappointed that anyone could walk in to a magic shop, buy the props he was using, and essentially do the same act. With juggling he knew he could do something someone off the street couldn't do.

Unfortunately what he said about magic is true for far too many of us. Anyone could buy our props and do our act. Magic has what at first looks like a feature but often is a liability; it has an inherent interest. Even incompetent magic can fool and, barring that, there is always the fun in busting the magician. Juggling, after the first few minutes, doesn't carry such inherent interest.

Why is this a liability, you ask? It means the performer isn't required to invest as much of himself to get a nominally positive response. Buy a dove pan, produce a bunny, get a few "ooh"s and "ahh"s. Instant magical gratification. One can (and many have) earn enough spare change to call one's self "professional" without doing much more than that.

Why are magicians and not jugglers fictionally portrayed as incompetents? Because the jugglers that make it do so based on their act and the work they put in and not on how their props look or work. (That being said, I want to acknowledge some jugglers who have raised the level of their art. Michael Moschen. Viktor Kee. Viva and Olga. And I really want to pass on a personal debt of gratitude to the now-defunct trio Airjazz, for their kindness, professionalism and artistic vision.)

So what does this mean to you, O Worker of Wonders? It means you need to make an extra effort to insert yourself into your magic. Be brave. Open yourself up and let the audience see who you are. Have an opinion, and state it. Make an emotional investment in your art. There is a quote I've always loved regarding how easy it is to be a writer. I've reproduced it below. Make a couple of changes (most acts, for example, don't use a typewriter) and it applies to the ease of being a magician.

There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a
vein. ~Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith

Improving it worse

"He improved it worse." [Al Baker]

The effect known as "botania" used to be a thing of beauty: vines would spring forth from a previously empty pot, then roses would sprout on the vines. Real roses. Then someone decided it would last longer if the roses were made of cloth. Someone else decided the effect could be made more cheaply by covering the pot between each phase, lifting the cover to reveal the results. And so on and so on, ad nauseum. It is no longer a thing of beauty.

Once upon a time I set out to learn the Paul Rosini impromptu thimble routine from The Dai Vernon Book of Magic (now how is "Dai" pronounced again?). I had trouble getting that fifth thimble to cooperate, so I did the effect with four. I figured people who had never seen the effect wouldn't know the difference. The guy who suggested I learn it was seriously unhappy. I got mad at him at the time but he was right.

Don't take shortcuts in your magic. Don't "improve it worse." Take time to work out all the details, and don't succumb to the temptation to cut corners. Our art is worthy of our respect and attention.

By the way, I handle that fifth thimble like a charm now.

Thought for the day

"Success and sacrifice go together. if you succeed without sacrifice it is because someone before you sacrificed. if you sacrifice without success, it is because someone will succeed after you." - Adinoram Judson

To flourish or not to flourish...

...that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to show the five faces of Sybil or to take arms against a sea of flashy flourishes and by opposing, end them.

The question above (usually in simpler form) gets argued on a lot of message boards. The problem with those discussions, like so many, is that people go in with preconceived answers and they don't want discussion so much as validation. What many in these discussions don't take into account is that we are all in different places and are all trying to say different things. Magic is, after all, simply a vehicle for communication.

"So how does this help me, O Wise One? Should I flourish or not?" Depends on what you want to say. You can say, "I'm really cool and can handle a deck of cards (or whatever) incredibly well." Or you can say, "The universe is a stranger place than you can ever know." Now this is not a value judgment. There are times when the first statement is more reasonable than the second. If you and some friends are standing around bragging about your various talents and you say, "The universe is a stranger place than you can ever know," then at best you will get some funny looks.

I consider flourishes to be spices - best if used sparingly. I like cayenne pepper, but a little goes a long way, and then only on certain things. No cayenne on my lemon custard, thank you.

A related issue is that flourishes are not magic, at least as I define it. Magic, by my definition, has to look impossible. It has to seem there is no way to accomplish what just happened. Flourishes can kill that twice: first, they are inherently not impossible in and of themselves (and I'll come back to that in a minute), and second, if you can do a seven-packet running cut, well then hey, it's no surprise the selected card ended up in your wallet.

I've heard flourish artists argue that flourishes do seem impossible, based on the fact that they've heard people say, "Man, that's impossible! There's no way you can do that!" The problem with that is if that's the criteria you then have to include jugglers, acrobats, gymnasts, knife throwers and yoga masters under the umbrella "magicians." People use the word 'impossible' as a superlative to mean 'very difficult.' A little analysis will show a clear difference between a billiard ball roll-up flourish and the sudden appearance of another billiard ball. A spectator might say, "Impossible!," to both, but one clearly has the appearance of defying natural law, and the other clearly does not.

So should you use flourishes? The more important question is, what do you want to say? Figure out what you want to say and the best way to say it, and the question of flourishes will answer itself.

Want a flourish link? Here ya go.

If you would understand anything, observe its beginning and its development. [Aristotle]

True or false: Houdini invented the illusion known as Metamorphosis.

I'm known as a magical trivia expert in my part of the world. I've entered a number of trivia contests and have never lost. In one of the contests it came down to me and a sitting president of the IBM. I won. (In all fairness, IBM presidents are not elected based on their knowledge of magical ephemera.)

What is Professor Hoffman's real name, and what was his (non-magical) profession?

I hate that I'm considered a trivia master. It sounds so... trivial. What really interests me is the history and development of our art. I want to advance magic, and it's really hard to know where you're going if you don't know where you've been. Physicists understand that. Writers understand that. Painters understand that. A lot of magicians seem to have a problem with the concept. Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque could not have developed cubism without understanding the works of Paul Cézanne. There would be no Sherlock Holmes without Poe's Inspector Dupin.

According to the Professor himself, is his common nickname pronounced Day, or Die?

If I'm an inventor, history tells me what's been done before. If I'm a performer it tells me what kinds of acts and characters have worked and what kinds have not. And if I'm involved in magic in any way, a deeper knowledge of magic can only increase my love and appreciation for the art. Trivial? I don't think so.

Name at least three former talk-show hosts who started their show business careers as magicians.

Book 'em, Dan-O

One time our magic club had a "Discuss Your Favorite Magic Book" night.

I was able to narrow it down to 17.

I love books. I love the feel, and the smell, and the look of books. I also love language. I enjoy reading, writing, doing crossword puzzles, and playing word games. And, being a magician, I especially love magic books.

I have magic books in my living room, in a bookcase in my hall, in my bedroom, in the spare bedroom, in my car, and, frequently, in my bathroom. I have titles from the 18th century (reprints, alas) and ones released last month, and most years in between. I've read every one at least once.

I have books on card magic, coin magic, and mentalism. I have books on stage magic, general magic and the history of magic. I have performer biographies, books on magical philosophy, and things so odd I really can't classify them. I have hardbacks, paperbacks, pamphlets, handwritten notes and various combinations of the above.

Contrary to what a number of today's younger magic set say, I learn better from books. Don't get me wrong; I have DVDs and tapes, and I think they have their place. I just think that books are superior for most of what magicians need to learn. Want to know how much content is on the average DVD? Equivalent to two column inches in a newspaper. That's it - two column inches. A little surprising, huh?

And what do books put in all that extra space that DVDs don't have? Many times, in the best books, they put the things that make a good trick a great one, and a good magician a great one. The author will go into the thinking behind an effect: why "this" and not "that." He or she will go into the thinking behind an effect - the precedents, the false starts, the breakthroughs. Being able to get inside the head of an author like that allows us to really understand an effect. We know where it came from, and why it is the way it is. That allows us to be more thoughtful if we wish to make changes to the effect.

So what are some of my favorite books? Email me with your interests and I'll try to get inside your head a little, and make you think a little about my choices.

The way only good writing can.

October

I love October. Fall is in the air. (Yeah, right. Yesterday it was 92 degrees here.) The good movies start coming out. And one of my favorite holidays happens on the last day of the month.

I celebrate by getting dressed up in an odd costume, attempting to invoke the spirits of those departed, and participating in other odd rituals that would be frowned upon most other times of the year.

October 31st. Ah yes, National Magic Day.

What did you think I was talking about?

...but don't take my word for it...

You'll find plenty of experts on the internet. If you don't believe they're experts just ask 'em. And the qualifications for "expert" seem iffy at best.

An example from MySpace: A young gentleman went on to several magic groups asking how to get booked. He was given several pieces of advice, ranging from really bad to...adequate. A week later this same young man came back to the same groups touting himself as an expert, saying he was going to put out a newsletter with tips on various aspects of the magic industry, including (you guessed it) the best way to book shows.

More than once on similar groups I've seen posts of this type: "I just got booked for a show next month at the Poobah Lodge. What tricks should I do?" People then offer up advice on what kind of tricks they think the Poobahs would like. I don't think I've ever seen the answer I'd like to see: "You mean you took a paying gig without having an act ready? Call them back, cancel, and apologize profusely for wasting their time. Then create an act before ever accepting a paying gig."

Magic is a wonderful hobby, and once you get caught up in it it's only natural to want to share it with the world. And knowing the best way to do that is tough if you haven't been at it for very long. So how do you go about polishing your act, putting on shows, and then maybe even charging for those shows?

I submit that you don't ask in a group on the internet. Read the classic books on magic. Find a mentor. Go to a magic club. Seek out successful magicians and find out how they did it. If you go on to some group and get advice from some anonymous member with a user name like "crayzee4majic" then you're liable to be getting information on what new tricks to add to your first gig next month.

Send in the hounds!

I attended my first magic convention in 1982, the same year I joined the International Brotherhood of Magicians and the same year I got married. 1982 was a pretty good year for me.

The convention was in Dallas. I don't remember the whole thing but a few things stand out really clearly. Vito Lupo premiered a new act there and it was brilliant. The late, lamented juggling troupe AirJazz received a standing ovation on both of their shows (and they also "kidnapped" my wife and had her take them to the Scarborough Renaissance Festival in Waxahachie - it's a long story...) Roger Klause did his usual brilliant lecture featuring the bill switch.

Shortly after I left the Klause lecture an interesting thing happened. A gentleman came up to me and asked if I was enjoying the convention. I admitted that I was, but that I didn't have much basis for comparison. He asked what I had learned. I explained about this bill switch thingie Mr. Klause had taught. Well, the guy sat me down for about an hour and showed me about 15 variations on the bill switch, some with the gimmick Roger Klause had used, and some without. I sat there stunned. He asked if I had any other questions and I just shook my head, dazed.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how I met Karrell Fox.