Monday Mailbag #43
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Your six year anniversary is coming up [Note: It’s today, actually.] Congratulations. I’ve been reading from the beginning. You may not remember, but I wrote you in June of 2015 saying I was shocked and impressed by your ability to write consistently for a full month. And now it’s six years later and you’ve added newsletters and books to your output and yet I’m less surprised that you’ve maintained your publishing schedule these days than I was back then. So that shows you what consistency gets you.
In all seriousness though, thanks for keeping the site going as long as you have. You’ve become a fixture in my magic world and I appreciate knowing the site is here, especially as an escape from other things in life that are frustrating or depressing. We all need those things that are just purely positive, and that’s what your site is for me and many others I’m sure. —SD
Okay, normally I don’t post positive emails about me or the site, but I’m posting this one as a stand-in for the other kind emails I’ve received about this site’s anniversary (and the ones that typically come this time of year). Thanks for the nice words. I’m glad people are still enjoying the site.
There is a big report coming out next month that will confirm the existence of UFO's.
I wonder if this could be a new context that magicians can make use of?
Instead of claiming magic powers - or being experts in psychology - we can claim to be... aliens. —JM
I don’t know how seriously you intended this suggestion, but I for one would definitely be intrigued by seeing someone who claimed to have powers because of having an alien ancestry. I’d certainly rather see that than another person who is an expert in “psychology and persuasion.”
Although it wouldn’t work that well for the amateur.
For the amateur performer, these all have the same issue:
“I have magic powers.”
“I’m an expert in psychology.”
“I’m an alien.”
They are all proclamations about the performer. So all the tricks become “performer-centric.” And because the amateur is generally performing for friends and family, he is performing for people who know none of these things are true. So the first thing he’s asking them to do is treat him like a character, not as the person they know and (hopefully) love. I find that to be a fairly off-putting way to present magic.
I’ve found people to be incredibly comfortable with the idea that the story and the situation you’re spinning is a work of fiction… so long as they know that you’re you and your relationship with the person is your relationship with the person.
It’s when the fiction extends to you playing a “character” in a social situation that it can become unsettling and/or pathetic.
That’s why my identity as a performer is essentially: “someone who is interested in magic and the mind and strange things.” It’s just an interest I have, and I get to share these things with people, and it’s not all about me. There is usually some sort of fictional element to what’s going on, but that’s just for fun. I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything. In my experience, that’s just the right mixture of reality and fantasy, clarity and mystery.
So while the coming alien announcement (which is certain to be a dud) might influence some of my presentations, I don’t see myself going full-on, “My name is Blaggorn-X, from Cygnus A. One time while orbiting Alpha Lyrae, a Glöörptian hustler asked me if I wanted to play a game using cards with red and blue diamonds on them.”
So, here's a side effect of being in the Jerxian orbit for a few years now. It really saves me an absolute shit tonne of cash. There was a time when my interest in methods and deception meant I was buying a lot of tricks and books. Nowadays, whenever I see the new hotness, I still get the "How did they do that?" urge - but it doesn't have anywhere to go after that because almost everything is bullshit in terms of an actual effect, for the sorts of casual magic I do.
Maybe that would have come in any case with a maturation of the performing I'm doing, but it's a very conscious process now. I often find myself thinking "Is this the sort of trick where I send Andy an email to say 'Hey mate, I just spent $150 on this cube that goes into a bottle and ... I just don't know why that would be interesting. Can you do something with this?"
Once I start thinking about the story, and the reason I might actually want to push a puzzle into a jar it doesn't fit in, I end up in a very different place. And generally I realise I don't need that particular prop to tell that particular story. It's a much healthier relationship to magic, as well. —MJ
Nice. I will be the scourge of magic dealers everywhere as the logical conclusion of my preachings drive people away from meaningless magic purchases.
But probably not though, considering I still make a lot of meaningless magic purchases myself. So clearly my message can’t be that powerful.
The big difference for me is that I no longer feel like I’m chasing that perfect trick. I spent a lot of years performing magic that felt, at best, 80% great. And I kept thinking maybe this next trick I buy might turn out to be the one that’s really 100% great. But what I now understand is that 80% is really the limit for a trick by itself. It’s when you can take that trick and incorporate it into something that feels meaningful or personal and somehow bigger than “just a trick,” that you get the 100% great experience.
One thing I used to think is that you just needed to start with the strongest effect you can, and then you build on that with presentation and context to maximize the power of the effect.
But what I’ve realized is that some tricks are actually weaker than others, but they might be better as the raw materials for a magical experience.
Spectator Cuts the Aces may be a 6 out of 10, in regards to the strength of the trick by itself. But I have so many ways I’ve come up with to present the effect that easily allow me to make it a 9 or 10 experience for people.
Cube in Bottle may be an 8 out of 10 by itself—stronger than spectator cuts the aces—but it doesn’t offer much to build upon. So you’re kind of stuck at an 8 out of 10. That’s still a very powerful effect, of course, but if people have become accustomed to seeing something from you that offers more than just an impossible moment, then showing them something that is “just” an impossible moment can make it feel weaker than it really is.
Here’s an analogy I’ve found valuable: Impossibility is like beauty. When I was a kid, the girls I were into were essentially just the prettiest girls in school. I wasn’t concerned about their personalities, or if they were fun to be around, or if we had good chemistry. If they were hot, that’s all that mattered. But as an adult, I’ve been in the company of world-class beauties that I wanted nothing to do with after an hour together.
Physical beauty is the most immediately seductive component of attraction. But if that’s all you have, you might feel a lack of connection with that person.
Impossibility is the most immediately seductive component of a magic trick. But if that’s all you have, you might find the trick doesn’t connect with your audiences as you would like.
This is especially true for the audiences you perform for as an amateur. Seeing something that’s “just” impossible is probably enough for someone who never gets to experience close-up magic. But when an audience becomes accustomed to seeing you do the impossible, then you will find that you eventually need to give them something more than that in order to keep them enthralled.
