Hardin's Magic Brain

Absolute Magic
A Model for Powerful Close-Up Performance

Derren Brown

MAGIC BOOKS
5

Author's Note

Those of you who have seen me perform will be aware that I have
moved away from conjuring material to work with the area of our
profession that deals with mind reading and psychological effects.
This type of performance has always interested me more, and the
development of genuine hypnotic, suggestive and persuasive skills
has come to mean more to me than learning sleight-of-hand.

This is, however, a book about the presentation of more traditional
magic, which constitutes my backgrow1d and is still something I
enjoy immensely. The reader will detect a strong leaning towards
mental effects in my writing, but although much will be said to
interest the mentalist, this book is not designed to be purely about
such things. Mind reading, for me, is immensely personal: the style
and approach I developed were born from my feelings towards the
presentation of magic as a whole. I tend to keep the details of
methods to myself in this area: I would hope to let my performance
efforts speak for themselves.

If a non-magician has found his way to this book through Her
Majesty's Internet and wishes to know how I perform my mind-
reading or learn more about 'mind control' techniques, he will be
very disappointed, and infuriated by the fact that he had to pay such
an unreasonable amount of money to be so let down. If a magician
has picked this up to learn some new tricks, then again he has been
misguided in his expectations, for I don't teach any here. I hope what
I have to say will be of more value.
6

This is a book about powerful close-up conjuring, and I imagine it
will be the last word I shall offer on the subject for a while. My
interest in the psychological aspects of magic, combined with my
desire to utilise my other background as a hypnotist, has led me to
new waters. But I felt there was still much I had to say on the subject
of commercial close-up magic, and I trust it will be of interest to the
keen performer.

Derren Brown
Havana
2001
7

Brief Notes on the Second
Edition
December 2002

I was tempted, as with Pure Effect, to remove a couple of chapters
from this printing just to cause the same kind of furore. But I didn't.

I feel it worth clarifying that since writing this book, my move into
performing only 'psychological illusions' has seemed to me to be a
progression - probably in part my way of resolving the frustrations I
felt with magic, which come through in these pages. Of course given
the nature of my television work it would have been incongruous
and confusing to continue to include conjuring in my repertoire. 1
should add that I have never for a moment missed it.

However, in that the following work was written at the peak of my
involvement with traditional magic, and because my 'psychological'
material is still born from the same beliefs and passions set out here,
I hope it stands as a worthwhile volume on the subject.

A couple of important notes. Some people took exception to jokes
made in the first edition about the character of Guy Hollingworth.
When this was brought to my attention I realised my comments had
certainly been misjudged. I'd like to state publicly that Guy does not
snort, nor has ever snorted, cocaine before performing or indeed at
any other time, and that he is not even the vulgar, flatulent
ragamuffin that I occasionally and ironically portray him as here. He
is a gentleman and a friend, and apart what seems to me to be a
8

disappointing taste in music there's nothing I can say against him.
Apologies for any embarrassment caused.

On a similar note, it was also mentioned to me that an indelicately
turned phrase regarding the superb performer Noel Britten's
employment of Stanislavski's "Magic If' had caused offence to a few
people. Upon re-reading it, I realised it could be taken to mean the
opposite of what I intended. I wrote that he had employed the
technique 'doubtless unawares,' meaning only unconsciously: I
wanted to credit his superlative intuition as a performer in absorbing
this technique and making it second nature (as it seemed to me), but
inadvertently suggested that he was just plain ignorant of it. I hope
my meaning is now dear, and I have removed the ambiguous
phrase. Apologies.

Some have complained that I use unnecessarily vulgar language,
especially at the very start of this book. I would simply refer the
reader to the first draft edition of Tarbell, which was littered with
indelicate cartoons, lewd references to Mrs. Tarbell, and rife with the
language of the cloaca. No one got upset about that.

I have made one or two other changes, which irritated me from the
first edition, and generally speaking these are all typographical.

Other than that, this book is splendid.
11

This book is dedicated to my friend Teller, whose eloquent and erudite
correspondence gave shape to my understanding of the relationship behveen
magic and theatre. l think no one 11nderstands that dynamic more than he,
nor creates magic as artistically resonant. This book has its genesis in his
thoughts.
13

For Your Reading Pleasure
AUTHOR'S NOTE ......................................................................................... 5

BRIEF NOTES ON THE SECOND EDITION ...................................................... 7

PREFACE ................................................................................................... 17

PART ONE· ................................................................................................ 19
STARTING POINTS ................................................................................. 25

MAGIC AND THEATRE ............................................................................... 31

MEANING AND VISION .............................................................................. 49

PART TWO: ............................................................................................... 59

WITHHOLDING THE POWER ......................................................................61

Suggestion and Presence ..................................................................... 6/

Suggestion and Character.................................................................... 73

THE DEVIL'S PICTURE-BOOK .................................................................... 77

ENVTRONMENTAL ISSUES .......................................................................... 83

DESIGNING WITH CAUSE ........................................................................... 91

RELATING TO PERFORMANCE .............................................., .................. I I 0

COLD AND NASTY ................................................................................... II7
14

SETTING THE STAGE ............................................................................... 127

A DIFFERENT LOOK AT PICK-POCKETING .............................................. 133

Outside Pocket ................................................................................... 143

The Watch Steal ................................................................................. 147

The Cigareue through Shirr as Misdirection for Extensive Thievery 151

Unnerving Reveals ............................................................................. 157

RECREATION AND REPETITION ............................................................... 163

ACTING TECHNIQUE - REMEMBERING TO FORGET ................................. 167

PART THREE: ........................................................................................ 177

CREATIVITY IN ISOLATION ...................................................................... 179

How To BE YOURSELF........................................................................... 189

PRESTIGE AND DISILLUSIONMENT .......................................................... 195

A NOTE ON PERVERSE SPECTATOR HANDLING ...................................... 203

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME................................................................. 21 I

EPILOGUE: ............................................................................. 213

AN ESSAY CANMAGICBEART?NEWTHOUGHTS.................... 2I3
15

CAN MAGIC BE ART? NEW THOUGHTS .................................................... 215

Art as Representation ......................................................................... 220

Art as £tpression ............................................................................... 222

Art and Form...................................................................................... 227

Art and Aesthetic Experience ............................................................. 232

Against Definition .............................................................................. 235

Conclusions: How We Define Art ...................................................... 237

Magic and Art .................................................................................... 239
17

Preface

H
aving emerged, disillusioned and visibly upset from the
gruelling, unhappy period of my life that constituted
writing Pure Effect, already described by the London Evening
Vagina as 'this sweaty mouth-load of faggy arse-gag,' I am pleased to
announce to you, the angry reader, that you hold once again in your
hands or feet a collection of my personal choice of words, chosen
from my brain and mind, blobbed together into sentence-children
and allowed to play violently with each other to form a kind of
enormous word-idea, wrapped around cut-up paper and weighing
about the same as a fat hamster.

Madonna, surely the world's best female performer after Jeff
McBride, once said to me, "Out. Get out." Her words have come to
form the backbone of this book, which I know has been a massive
conceptual challenge for the printers. As is common with writers, an
affection has grown in my heart for this work. My passing it to you
is an intimate moment of sharing: in many ways like a sex-act of
ideas, except without all that fumbling and flatulence and the girl
not being able to find your wotsit.

The aim of this book is to set out, qwte unapologetically, a model for
performing magic in such a way that it feels real to the spectator -
even though he may intellectually rationalise it later. In order to do
this, it is not enough for me to provoke questions in your mind: I
must describe the idea that I have, an idea that is borne of my own
passions and beliefs. On the one hand I know it to be only my set of
answers, and I know that any serious performer out there could
never make his own magic entirely fit the model I describe. Yet set it
out I must, for I would like this to read as something of a tract: a
record of my thoughts as I see them now, rather than a series of
18

disparate essays on presentation. However, I am wary of being
presumptuous.

I can only talk about my magic, and the v1s1on of magical
performance that I have. In exploring my particular vision, I will
have to move from discussion of an ideal, to the role that the ideal
has in actual performance. It is not my place to dictate what is right
or wrong in magic - I am, I repeat, merely setting out my own
model, albeit it one which is founded on some strong opinions.

So do not mistake my apparent singleness of vision for a conviction
that I have found The Way. I am merely describing a journey, and
trying to be as honest as possible about it. I am still young and
handsome, and realise that in future years I may look back on this
book and cringe. But it feels right now, as I push thirty.

So if I appear to be demarcating your creativity, then pay me no
attention. Step back a bit and see it for what it is: just my current
understanding of our wonderful profession. These things are what I
passionately believe, and I can only set them out with the conviction
that they inspire in me and the importance that they have in my life.
Make of them what you will, and take from them what speaks to
you.

I wish you all the best with your magic and hope that you constantly
re-discover it.
19

Part One:
Aims and Prioritie s
21

In most magic, as far as I can see, the plot is, "/ wish for something. l get it. And
it's what I want (though many right-thinking persons might well ask 'What
earthly use does tlrat raucous geezer have for a dove?')"

The ·cause· in this rnse is tire "magician's will.· He wills it; it comes trne.

77,is is not a drama about a l111ma11 being. It is the depiction ofa god, generally a
capricious and trivial one. And it's just as dull as tire biography of any
omnipotent being would be. It contains not a smidgen ofgenuine conflict (again,
think of standard cardfan productions, however proficient). And wit/rout this
conflict, tire magician in a position ofgod-like powt.7 at all times l1as 1101 aflicker of
humanity.

.. . Now, lest you //rink I'm talking about staging everything as a ·magic play·
(which generally revolt me) let me say at once: to be tme conjuring, the scene
must be here in tire theatre or the cabaret or the room; the time 11111st be now al
7:10 p.m. Pl,iladelphia time. 77,e characters must, at least in some sense, include
tire magician, tire audience, tire stagehands, ideally the security guard. Here and
now is all part of tire grammar of /Iris art fon11.

Teller - from our conversations, Feb 2000
23

Act I Scene I

Enter Godot
25

Starting Points

"Excuse me, Sir, but did you lose a white penknife?"

A
nd with these words, the magic Jell stillborn from the womb. From
then on, there was only tolerance. Excuse me, you rude, shabby
man, we are enjoying an evening together. I think it not
unreasonable to expect that we could enjoy our meal and each other's
company without an arse in a bad tuxedo asking if we know that black cards
are heavier than red cards. TheiJ are not, and even if they were, l think that
you are mistaking me for someone who could, with a gun aimed at my
temple, give a damn. There are waiters here who have learnt a marvellous
sensitivity to their patrons, who are deft and subtle, charming and
professional. You make my wife and me want to leave. And for the love of
God why do you humiliate yourself like this? So that we can watch you
make coins move from hand to hand, and listen to you talk rubbish? And
get that fricking mouse-mat off our table. Have you absolutely no
manners?

Having little better to do, I thought I would make this introduction a
rant, and mention some basic problems with magic as I see them. I
shall risk seeming arrogant in order to set out some of the issues that
this book will deal with. I shall win you back later with my
delightful wit and appealing narrative voice, just wait and see.
26

If there is one thing that most contemporary western close-up magic
generally lacks, it is the experience of magic. There are many skilful
displays, there is much bad comedy, there are many amusing
puzzles to solve, but very little magic. Very little rich, resonant
magic. Rarely does the performer have an air about him of intrigue
and withheld potential of something marvellous. And hardly ever
does he take a fascinated spectator by the hand and lead her into a
Never-Never Land where she can glimpse a level of enchantment
that touches and changes her a little. There are many tricks, and
many effects, but rarely a Grand Effect. There are many entertainers,
but few real magicians. Many technicians, but few artists who use
their art to explore their vision.

This book is about performance, and about that peculiar area of
performance that exists when the material itself is removed. If the
tricks are removed from the equation, what remains? I believe the
bulk of the performance should remain. This is the area where the
artist's vision is realised and where the transportation occurs. It is
where the vast numbers of conscious and unconscious, verbal and
silent communications of the performer create a grand framework
and a magical character that is the Greater Effect, the home of true
magic to which the tricks are merely signposts.

This book is also about realising this model and making it
entertaining and commercial, for some of us are lucky enough to
earn our livings giving people a glimpse of true enchantment and
must keep our clients' wishes in mind. Within the unthreatening
constraints of entertainment, which form the starting point of the
magician's performance, the audience can be seduced into the
experience of something far more wondrous than they expected. The
point where entertainment and real magic meet is that of drama.
27

When magic is dramatically resonant, it can entertain and affect in
the way that good theatre can.

Theatre and magic are inseparable constructs. There is a raw, natural
theatre a:t the close-up table that can be manifested if the performer
wishes to transcend mere trickery. Much has been written on
'showmanship,' but showmanship i.s a cheap substitute for drama.
Drama is not about applause cues. Sometimes the magician will
prefer to provoke a deep silence or a subtle response, rather than
immediate and enthusiastic noise. It is the moment before the
applause that is important: it is the audience's understanding of an
emotional meaning that shocks and surprises with its unexpected
clarity. That is drama, not showmanship.

Magic is bad drama. It is theatrically unsound. As Teller writes in the
piece quoted, we have in magic a god-figure, who clicks his fingers
and fantastic things happen. It is all about effect. In theatre, there is a
hero. He is interesting because we see in him something of our own
humanity, his vulnerability. The hero has a purpose, but his purpose
is thwarted by the world into which he ventures. When the conflict
is resolved, the hero's character has changed a little: he has learnt
from the conflict. We have followed him on that journey from the
safety of our seats, and hopefully learnt something with him. Theatre
is not about effect, it is about action: it is about cause and effect.
Magic is massively flawed as theatre.

Magic can, and probably should, sometimes involve virtuoso
displays of skill and visual jokes in tl1e same way (to borrow another
analogy from Teller) that a symphonic score may include an
impressive cadenza for a solo instrument to impart a shift in texture
to the piece. But true art in music does not reside in those moments,
however necessary they may be to the whole. They have a context,
28

and derive their value from being placed in that larger movement.
The value of a virtuoso sequence is precisely its relationship to the
seriousness of its musical context, and when that seriousness is
lacking, art suffers. We may enjoy Norma's ascent to the mouth of
the volcano and admire the be/ canto fireworks of her charming
nonsense, but trust that Bellini and Bach will never be seriously
compared. There is always room for amusement and we should
ensure that our role as entertainers is fulfilled, but there is a
seriousness in true entertainment and in employing amusement to
greater dramatic advantage. A seriousness, but not necessarily a
solemnity.

The performance of magic is generally pitched at an intellectual level
that is too low. Magicians do not, as a rule, presume that their
audiences are intelligent and sensitive enough to want the magic to
be challenging or cathartic. This is not a healthy starting point, for it
stultifies magic and leaves it too close to children's entertainment. I
imagine that as long as tricks are performed in this way by most
magicians to most audiences, magic will remain a craft perceived as
trivial. Pitching a performance at a higher intellectual level, as long
as the magician's social skills are finely enough tuned not to alienate
his audience, can be a simple way of ensuring that your audience
takes what you do seriously and participates according to your
terms. It is flattering and refreshing to most audiences to be treated
with the presumption of intelligence by a performer. If handled
correctly, it will make them pay attention and have a greater respect
for magic and for you.

Mind-reading effects, of which I am fond, can be amongst the
strongest routines that magic can offer. By this I mean that estranging
mentalism from magic is a mistake, and has nothing to do with the
reality of professional performance. Mind reading can, and should
29

be, presented uncompromisingly and seriously, (according to the
artist's vision) as an application of the same principles that lie behind
the 'real work' of magic. Divisions of classification are amateurish
concerns, unless one is setting oneself up as a psychic. Mind-reading
has great potential for intimate and meaningful wonder, but
generally lacks the aesthetic appeal of visual magic. When the two
are fused, and made dramatically resonant, a very strong
performance tool evolves. The efficacy of the mind-reading need not
be impaired.

You may feel that magic is only about performing some tricks and
breaking the ice at parties. After all, when you are booked for an
event, the hostess is concerned with providing light-hearted
amusement. Indeed, she might be put off by serious talk of Drama or
her voluptuous sister, Meaning, and start to gag. Then understand
that I am not talking about performing inappropriately. To insist
insensitively upon a heavy-handed seriousness and to force your
vision upon the apathetic, mingling middle-classes at these events
would be as wrong as not to have the vision in the first place. You
must entertain and enthral, and not drift into risible pretension or
alienate with an insensitively handled agenda. But you are the face
of magic when you perform. For every magician that has no real
interest in transporting his audience with the warm shiver of real
magic, this art becomes more artless, increasingly mundane, and of
less and less use to anybody. As it is, the notion of performing
seriously becomes (often ludicrously) polarised into the agenda of
black-dad bizarrists and self-styled eccentric wizards, where it
should be the mainstream thrust of our beautiful craft. If this
seriousness is taken seriously, and incorporated into the style and
character of the performer without unnecessary solemnity, and if the
performer is sensitive enough to express it effectively, then he will
30

have a perfectly commercial, unpretentious and socially appropriate
skill in his hands.

These are not just the dangerous, subversive anger-tracts of a parrot-
fancier with a goatee whose only intentions are to shock, disgust and
sexually arouse with preposterous fuming. These are not obscure or
irrelevant ideas. Magic is performance, and performance should
have an honesty, a relevance and a resonance if it is to be offered to
spectators without insulting them. The peculiar aspects of conjuring
to an audience - it's promise of other-worldliness, its incorporation
of skills real and imagined that many people envy, and conversely
the bad experience that many people have had of amateur
performances by a suspect uncle - make it even more appropriate to
take these performance issues seriously.
31

Magic and Theatre

W
ere I writing a book about stage magic, theatrical issues
would seem immediately appropriate. However, this is
not about the wretched, irrelevant dove penetration acts
still, unbelievably, performed for disappointed and bored audiences
in seaside towns and convention centres across God's beautiful
Earth. No, no, no: this is a book about the performance of my first
love (In actual fact, Debbie Boon, Reedham Park Primary School,
1978-9), close-up and parlour magic. Actually, for those who are
astute enough to read between the lines and are well-versed in
nineteenth-century erotica and advanced code systems, the real
subject matter of this book will be abundantly clear.

Talking about close-up magic and theatre needs a little more
qualification, lest it seem an unnatural pairing. After all, we think of
dose-up magic as tricks, as nothing grand, as fun, light-hearted
amusements. Yet we are aware of the importance of creating
moments of wonder, and of issues regarding the engagement of the
audience. Theatre, on the other hand, seems a disproportionate
notion in comparison: a grand, magical fusion of text, performance,
coughing and same-sex unions. Should magic be as resonant as good
drama? Is it reasonable to expect a magician to present something
cathartic or subversive to his audiences?

However high one's ideals, the fact seems to remain that for most of
the time, our performances are barely 'performances' at all - rather
32

impromptu routines given in noisy surroundings where it would not
seem possible to create any true sense of wonder that transcended
mere trickery. Or at least that was my view a few years ago, but now
I no longer believe it. At a recent event, I asked a fellow magician
what he would be performing around the tables. "Oh, you know -
crap," was his answer, an eloquent presumption on his part that
with the pressure of table numbers and the need for effects to reset,
he would not be performing any miracles that evening. Such, I am
sure, is the attitude of many commercial professionals. Myself
included at one time. But since then I have discovered the possibility
of artistry in magical performance, and feel very differently. A
classic situation: the most prosaic, charmless surroundings, and as
you stand at the bar someone nonchalantly says, "Go on then, show
us a trick." Their demeanour is uninterested, the environment is
loud and upbeat, and no particulars of circumstance are going to aid
you in the creation of a moment of poetry. In fact, you abandon any
hope of performing with a subtle and resonant style, feeling the need
to keep in rapport with the mood of the event. But imagine how
much stronger, how much more resonant, how much more magical it
would be, were you to do something utterly anomalous to the
surroundings, and provide amidst all the noise and laughter and
mindlessness of the party a miracle for this one man, a true moment
of wonder that mesmerised and disturbed. Imagine how much more
magical it would be, specifically because of its disconnection from the
environment. It would absolutely lift him out of himself.

The issue here is one of control. When we begin as close-up
magicians, we have no understanding that we are entering the
personal space of our audience and making demands of them. We
do not see how ill-mannered this could be. Instead, we are rightfully
intimidated by the perverse dynamics of the situation and become
insecure. This insecurity, more often than not, manifests itself in
33

ham-fisted ways of approaching groups, and an eagerness to
bludgeon the spectators with magic before they are ready. This is the
activity of a performer who sees the problem, and solves it by
figuratively hiding behind his props. Later, we grow in confidence,
and see that the space of our spectator groups should be respected.
So we develop more natural ways of introducing ourselves, and
rather than hiding, allow our personalities to show. If this
personality is pleasant, honest yet theatrically honed, then it will
allow the group to feel confident in the performance, and to enjoy
the experience rather than resent it. A skilled performer will pride
himself on his rapport skills, and his ability to blend in with any
group, and adapt to their demands and preferences as a group.

However, my understanding of resonant magic and its relationship
to theatre means that this more 'confident' stage is flawed and
incomplete. It is wrong to focus on that ability to adapt to any group.
This is a worthwhile skill to have, and infinitely preferable to the
former option, but I would suggest that the first key to powerful
performance, and to creating the experience of real magic, is
precisely that you make your group adapt to you. Now please don't
misunderstand this. You must develop the ability, if you don't
already possess it, of making any group feel comfortable, and learn
to read their cues and desires in such a way that you can tailor
certain aspects of your performance to them. Approaching a group
cold, your first task will be to get them to like you and feel
comfortable in your company. I feel that at this point, a natural
ability with people is essential. But once that rapport has been
established, and you have gently come into their space with the
respect that deserves, it is now fundamental to serious magic that
you reverse the dynamic and make the space yours: that it now
becomes a serious performance area, on your terms. Only when you
have your audiences eager to see what you will do and happy to
34

stop what they are doing and pay attention according to your rules,
will the foundations be laid for magic that reverberates with wonder.

What, after all, is the alternative? Magic, I suppose, that merely fools.
Missing from the scenario where the magician tries to fit in with
what he perceives the demands and preferences of his group to be, is
any sense of creating and sustaining a dynamic, of performer qua
performer and audience qua audience. There is only a trick, and no
one is even being told that it's important. Our friend at the bar or our
group at the table expects little and gets little, and magic means
nothing.

This controlling of the dynamic from the outset, and the
management of spectator response to which it leads, is a
fundamental notion upon which my ideas are based, and I will
return to them in detail later. For now, it is enough to say that my
understanding of the role of 'theatre' and of magical dramaturgy
begins with understanding performance space, and an acute
awareness of the dynamics between performer and audience.

I am not talking about drama that replaces magic. Magic is our end
goal, and my consideration here is how to create magic that feels real
and is as strong as possible. I believe that a certain dramatic
sensibility in the structuring and performance of effects is
fundamental in achieving this, but I am not suggesting that
achievement of dramatic effect is the greater goal: drama must
support the magic, not vice-versa.

Darwin Ortiz warns against this in his marvellous work, Strong
Magic:
35

"While every magic trick tells a story, it's important to realise
that the prime goal of magic is not to tell a story but to create a
sensation ... Some of the magicians and magical writers most
concerned with presentation make the mistake of thinking
that the point of a magic effect is to support a dramatic
premise, much )jke theatrical effects or film special effects do...

If, however, our fundamental premise is correct that the
unique strength of magic is that it gives the audience the
experience of confronting the impossible, it fol.lows that the
point of a dramatic presentation is to enhance the magic. The
magic is not there to va)jdate a dramatic premise, the dramatic
premise is used to add impact to the magic, to make the
experience of the impossible that much more powerful."

I agree with this, and many of us have seen routines which tell an
atmospheric and dramatic story to the accompaniment of a magical
routine. I find these presentations ultimately quite alienating. Aside
from misplacing the focus of performance, they remind the spectator
that he is watching a scripted miniature act, as opposed to watching
something resonant and real. And too often, the weighty story is
pretentiously disproportionate to the 'trick' that accompanies it.
Stories are told as the focus of magical routines to entertain children,
because the performer knows that an entertaining story will capture
their interest more than the shiver of the unreal. There is no need to
continue this with such obviousness into adult magic. Despite the
conviction with which the stories may be told, they are too often
alienating and wearying excursions into self-apotheosis on the part
of the performer.

However, Mr. Ortiz abandons the importance of drama too early.
While he goes on to talk much about such issues as suspense and
character, I think that the issue of dramatic resonance unifies many
36

disparate ideas and brings much into focus. It leads ultimately to a
kind of histrionic sensibility, through the exercise of which, so many
of these issues will fall naturally into place.

The key here is something to which I shall return later: one of
withholding. The importance of keeping the grandeur of
performance withheld in such a way that it is felt rather than seen is
vital to giving it substance. The mistake made by many self-styled
'dramatic' performers who are concerned most with presentation is
that they manifest that dramatic sensibility too much in a way that
becomes ultimately rather daft. Many, of course, may enjoy it, but it
neither draws an intelligent audience in, nor creates real intrigue: it
just presents a caricature. That over-manifestation of sensibility may
occur in character, grooming, or over-indulgent scripting of effects.
The performer is merely portraying a two-dimensional caricature of
an ill-thought-out stereotype. I believe that the type of indulgent use
of drama objected to by Mr. Ortiz is related to this kind of nonsense.

The alternative that I suggest is a histrionic realisation that takes
place quietly beneath the surface, withheld but felt by the audience
in a way that they would find difficult to parody. And at this level,
drama is of fundamental importance. In his The Work Of Art Of The
Future, Wagner writes:

"Every branch of art addresses the understanding only to the
extent that its core - only the relation of which man or its
derivation from man can animate and justify the work of art -
is maturing towards drama. AU artistic creativity becomes
universalJy intelligible, wholly understood and justified to the
extent that it passes over into drama, that it is inwardly
illuminated by drama."
37

As long as we are creating magic and not opera, the issue remains of
how to sustain this chthonic dramatic stratum correctly,
unpretentiously, effectively. In many ways, that is the subject matter
of this book. It leads to two clear areas for consideration: the
designing of routines with a sense of dramatic structure in mind, and
the creation of a character with the same dramatic sensibility behind
it. When character and performance are fused with a magical effect
in a celebration of elegant and subtle theatrical awareness, the
experience of real magic is born.

One of the interesting aspects of considering magic theory is that,
like most of the arts, theory pursues practice, rather than follows it.
The Greek theatre's brightest period was in the fifth century BC, but
Aristotle's Poetics, the grand work of dramatic theory, did not follow
until late into the fourth century. Throughout theatrical history,
theorising has been slow to follow theatrical output, and the great
authors have been, in the main, reluctant to wax theoretical about
their works, aside from a few snippets of obiter dicta here and there in
occasional prefaces. In magic performance, there is no room for
empty theorizing: unless the principles involved have a real and
reliable effect on the spectator, they have no value. Magic is an
entirely pragmatic art. Writing in the fifties, Friederich Diirrenmatt
noted that "in art, anything is possible as long as it works." (Theatre
Problems, 1954--5). Infusing magic with the notions that I concern
myself with in this book has no value unless they work, and do so in
that they extend the magic beyond the experience of trickery and
deception, which is my aim.

I am not considering other performance aims held by magicians that
use magic to promote specialised concepts. Gospel Magic,
Motivational Magic, Trade Show Magic - these things do not interest
me within the scope of this book. Magic can certainly be used to
38

promote a socio-ethical programme, but I find the very idea quite
perverse. Horace raised the question of whether instruction or
delight should prevail in drama. In magic we have a variety of 'uses'
for our art beyond magic itself, which reminds me of the notion of
'art therapy.' The rendering of art inferior to therapy is an interesting
one: interesting in the sense that it makes me want to vomit angrily.
Therapy is one possible product of art: if a work speaks to a troubled
individual in its perfection or inspires another to improve some
aspect of their life, then a good thing may have happened, but art is
indifferent to us, separate and concrete, though borne from very
human passions. Good art connects us with the infinite and promises
to transcend the force of human experience that has necessitated it.
But neither art, nor magic as art, should be subservient to the
delivery of an agenda that exists independently of the performance,
however empowering that may be for the audience. I repeat, the
audience may experience the magic as empowering, but it is not the
role of magic to promote empowerment. That can be left to the
expanding number of gurus in that field. A reaction of true wonder -
that peculiar experience that is part existential but primarily
aesthetic - precludes any appreciation of moral awareness.

An agenda in magic can, however, exist that is one with the
performance, where the 'higher' communication is the Greater Effect
of the performer himself and beyond that, magic as a whole. Then
every moment of bewilderment and every aspect of the performance
can be ruthlessly geared to the promotion of those concepts. I will
consider this at length later on, but for now it is enough to say that in
my opinion, this should be the aim of making improvements and the
true agenda of the performing magician.
39

In his essay, Theatre Without a Conscience, the English author Howard
Barker tells the following tale which nicely demonstrates this
misapplication of performance art:

"A drama teacher, a pacifist, visited me. He told me of his
production of Antigone, in which instead of a set he hung a
massive map of the world on which every war cunently being
fought was illuminated by flaming red light. Of course, there
were lots of these, and the actors played in the glare of them.
At the end, he flung on the house lights and dragged chairs
onto the stage, obliging the audience to engage in a debate on
the so-called issues the production had raised. He therefore
succeeded in eliminating the entire experience of the drama,
humiliated the text by using it as a means to an end, a starting
point for the endless curse of debating things, wrecked the
invention of his actors, turning them into mere didactic
instruments, and liquidated any possibility in the audience
that their structure of feeling and thought could be inflamed
by what they had witnessed - he had reduced the non-
cerebral event of a play into a pack of arguments."

In making this point, I am warning against what I might call 'over-
presentation,' the activity of some performers who rightfully wish to
endow their effects with meaning but do so in a misguided fashion.
Books that deal with presentational issues generally warn against
having nothing to say at all and no appreciation of meaning. I want
also to warn against the dangers of inappropriate saturation of
meaning. I hope I have made it clear that to believe that a sense of
drama and gravitas must be pushed right to the surface is a mistake.
The approach to magic that trivialises it will lead to the display of
transient, amusing trickery or mere masturbatory technique. The
very opposite mistake is to perform an histrionic act of self-love that,
ultimately, drips only pretension.
40

I reiterate, the role of drama in magic is to strengthen the feel and
impact of real and resonant magic. Sometimes it will be appropriate
to perform an effect 'off the cuff,' in a downplayed fashion: what one
might call a whimsical act of change in the primary (i.e. the
immediate) world, which seems to have no connection to a deeper
stratum of hidden mystery. For example, you may walk up to a bar,
pick up a teaspoon and cause it to bend. And do so as if you do that
sort of thing all the time, with no sense of drama played out in the
effect. Yet the dramatic element can be found in the very carefree
attitude with which you play it, and the quiet self-awareness with
which you create a state of total bewilderment in the observer. In
other words, there may still exist considerations of character, role
and audience effect in the most (apparently) whimsical
performances. D_ramatic sensibility, which as I have said should
operate primarily at a subtle level, will guarantee that a supposedly
casual display still has a powerful impact.

However, in an ideal situation, the close-up magician will take a
small group and collectively transport them into the experience of
wonder. Rather than an off-the-cuff demonstration, he will take the
time to set the scene, and ensure that the spectators are playing their
roles properly. The effect would be of a mysterious character using
his esoteric talents to create a moment of real magic, one that
surpassed mere trickery, and mere technique. Indeed, it would not
just be a case of one man's learnt skills: rather he would be a
connection for the audience to something beyond, something a little
disturbing. 1f it were real, the magic would have to come from a
place just beyond the performer, from a place to which he serves as
that gateway. This is the key. When he clicks his fingers and cards
change to the four aces, we know we have experienced sleight of
hand. Real magic would not be quite that quick and easy. Real magic
41

would take investment. Real magic would draw you in, and make
you nervous.

My model for understanding dramatically sound magic is as follows.
The magician's role must change from a whimsical god-figure who
can click his fingers and have something change in the primary
world, to a hero-figure who, with his skills and intriguing character,
provides a link with a secondary world of esoteric power. He must
arrange circumstances in the primary world - such as the correct
participation of his small audience - in such a way that if that
precarious balance is held, a glimmer of magic (only just held under
control for a while) will shine through and illuminate the primary
world with wonder. That requires investment of time and energy
from him and from his audience, and involves the overcoming of
conflict. When the routine is over, something has shifted in the
world, for both spectator and performer. There is a true sense of
catharsis.

It would be inappropriate and laborious to make every routine in a
set conform to that process, but it is something that can subtly weave
in and out of a repertoire. I understand that this may sound heavy
stuff indeed for a bunch of card tricks, but bear with me. Consider
the shift for the role of the magician that it suggests. To be most
dramatically sound, and therefore emotionally most powerful, the
magic has to move out of the realm of effect into cause and effect. Into
a realm where action and effort are vital. I am talking about subtle
and vital changes. I am suggesting that the magician shift his role
slightly to be more plausible and human, to make his magic resonate
more.

If a casual bending of a teaspoon is the virtuoso caprice of the first
violin, then the sustaining of tension and resolving of conflict is the
42

driving force of the symphony in which the delightful trill finds its
context. Well-placed in routines, the whimsical display of ability can
work to build or check the tension of the greater piece.

Again I reiterate, these are principles to be subtly applied, and are to
have the aim not of creating great drama, but of involving the
emotions of your audience at a greater level and providing them
with an experience that feels real. Not every trick in a routine need
follow this, for the need to provide an entertaining set will mean that
you must shift to different modes, and to a comic rhythm of sorts to
provide something wholly satisfyin0 . But if your aim is primarily to
provide strong magic rather than just be a jolly entertainer, then an
ultimate fundamental seriousness and plausibility will be of great
importance to you.

A concrete example from my repertoire seems worthwhile at this
point, in order to illustrate how these rather large ideas may be
incorporated into a routine to shift it slightly into something that
has, I hope, a genuinely magical effect, as opposed to one of trickery.

Many magicians, myself included at one time, perform the 'Floating
Bill.' It is a beautiful trick, and has all the necessary components of a
strong and memorable effect. But the effect that remains after the
trick is over is "How did he do that? Was there string? I couldn't see
any ... " and so on. Let's examine this. When a magician floats a bill,
he is playing a god-figure who can snap his fingers and make
marvels happen. Any audience member over the age of six knows
that he can't really do that. They know it's a trick, albeit a very good
one, and it doesn't really pretend to be any more than that. However
convincingly it is performed, a straightforward presentation of this
effect will not move the spectators beyond the experience of seeing a
good trick, and not knowing how it was done.
43

Now, let us take the potential offered by such a great trick and shift
the magician's role ever so slightly so that he is no longer a god but a
hero. Let us make him an intriguing personality who offers a
connection to a secondary world of wonder, which will shine
through momentarily if circumstances are arranged correctly here in
the world which we experience. Let us make this trick have real
meaning for the spectator, and let us give them a little cathartic
journey with it that will not revolve around the mundane question of
'How did he do that?'

I remember seeing Terry Lunceford float a ring on a video, and it
seemed a much more charming idea than borrowing something as
impersonal as a banknote. So my first thought was to use a ring, but
the issue remained of how to invoke a real emotional response and
to make my role warmer and more human than the implausible
nerd-god that many magicians portray. Here is my routine -
meaning and magic inspired by Mr. Lunceford's video:

I sit next to a lady, having obtained her trust and intrigue with
preceding effects and my general demeanour. I might take her hand,
and ask her if any of her rings have particular and pleasant
memories attached to them. After she has pointed one out, I tell her,
unless it is obviously a wedding ring, to remain quiet about the
memory in question, as it is none of my business what it might be.
Then I ask her if I might borrow it for a minute or so.

As I take the ring, I load it onto the thread that is anchored to my
wallet (or some such personal item that would be rude for anyone else to
touch) on the table. For loading details, see the video mentioned: I
want to describe the presentation here, not dwell on matters of
44

handling. Suffice it to say that the ring can be plucked from the air at
the end of the routine without needing to break the thread. As the
loaded ring is placed on the palm of my right hand, I take her hand
in my left and say, "I'd like you to think back for me to that memory
- that pleasant memory. And to help you get back into the feeling for
me, I want you to take whatever you saw at the time as you see it
now, and expand the picture ... brighten it, enrich the colour ... that's
right, and add some spa r k I e ... that's excellent, so that you can
really feel that good feeling inside of you now like a white light." As
I say this, I ensure that she really does get back into the feeling,
which she will. Everything about my verbal and non-verbal
communication is telling her to take this seriously. Because it is a
little weird, suspense and interest builds up in the group.

I continue. "See that white light inside you like a swirling vortex of
good feeling. Really get into this. Now, keep your eyes on the ring.
As you focus, see that light swirling in your mind's eye. Now make
that light move slowly inside you, start to grow and spread. Keep
looking at the ring. Make the light move. Make it" - suddenly the
ring twitches - "move." That twitch is small but clear, and the group
will come in closer.

"No, don't be distracted. Keep your eye on the ring but see the light
shifting too. Make the feeling spread and move, that's right - don't
be distracted by the ring, keep your mind on the feeling - spreading,
moving ... " As I describe this, I let the ring twitch a little more, then
start to slide around a little on my hand in a very eerie way. Of
course, if she has really involved herself in the proceedings, the
movement of the ring will start to control her experience of the
feeling, and as it moves more freely, so she will experience the
spreading of the feeling accordingly. I am still only allowing the ring
to move in a small area of my hand, so that when the moment is
45

most tense, I can say: "You see, I want you to understand what
people mean when they talk about their heart soaring, or their spirits
lifting ... " and suddenly, beautifully, elegantly, the ring floats right
up in the air above my hand. It hovers as I say, "And I want you to
know that you can completely circle and surround that feeling [J circle
the ring with my fingers in a deceptive move given on the tape] with the
knowledge that you can just pluck it out of the air any time you need
it [l remove it from the air] and keep hold of it for the rest of your life
[and hand it back]."

The reaction to this effect is ten times more powerful than that with
which the 'Floating Bill' met. There is genuine tension at the start,
audible gasps at the first tiny movements, and then the most
beautiful, silent swell of emotion as the ring suddenly lifts. When I
circle the ring with my fingers, a few people start applauding, or
making their enthusiasm known, while others look dumbstruck.
Handing it back with the warm message of being able to recreate this
good feeling nearly always results in the lady clasping my hand
tightly and saying 'Thank You.' That is the most rewarding reaction
I could ever hope for from magic. A heartfelt word of gratitude: an
acknowledgement that she had been transported by wonder. Once
after performing this, a chap said privately to me that it was 'the
most lovely thing he had ever seen.' On other occasions, ridiculous
as it may sound in print, the routine has evoked tears from the
participant - happy ones, I might add. (On one occasion where the
lady did not have a ring and the performance was privately in my
own home, I had her secretly write down a word on a slip of paper,
which would evoke a happy memory for her. The slip was placed in
my hand, and the routine was combined with what became an
accurate description from me of the entire memory, and when the
paper lifted at the end the poor thing burst into floods of joyous
tears. Perhaps a little inappropriate for table-hopping, but evidence
46

of how much more i.mpactful magic can be made when sensitively
handled.)

The question of how the ring floated is neither here nor there. There
is a warmth and a beauty to the effect, I hope, that means more than
that banal question of method. The emotional response is greater
than the intellectual one, which means that when they think back to
the trick, their minds will be seduced by the warm message of the
effect and that emotional reaction, and it will be an enormous effort
to consider it coldly in terms of handling.

Now, let us look at this in terms of its dramatic resonance, for that is
the key to its success. Firstly, I could take the ring and have it rise at
my command. Then I would become the implausible impostor again.
So my first task is to shift my role. In this effect, I am not playing the
omniscient character of the Bill Floater, but rather someone who will
take her literally by the hand and show her how to connect with a
magical realm separate from both of us. That is the major shift that
makes this routine so effective. I am not saying 'Look at me - I can
do this!,' and therefore not inviting any cynicism.

Secondly, I create conflict and tension. I do this by insisting that she
not be distracted by the ring: and by giving her various images and
ideas to juggle. This will involve effort on her part, and vicariously
from the rest of the group. She is investing emotional effort, and
trying to sustain a precarious balance. When that balance is held,
something magical glimmers through. My task as the magician is to
help her maintain that, so that the moment occurs. The tension is
controlled, and as it moves to a crescendo, the attention of the group
has been focussed into a tiny space, and they have become
physiologically geared to perceive and expect very small
movements. Thus, at the peak moment, the ring rises and blows
47

away their rapid intellectualising and leaves them with an entirely
non-cerebral event.

Thirdly, there is cause and effect here, unlike in the classic magic
paradigm of mere effect. But the cause is of a magical nature: it is not
spelt out. Part of the delight of this effect for the audience is
experiencing the movement of the ring as a metaphor, and
understanding that. As they make the connection between the
movement of the feeling in the body of the spectator and the
movement of the ring, without having it explained, there is a resonance
felt. This is quite the opposite of the normal technique of patronising
the spectators with dreamt-up, crowbarred-in explanations of why
the red and black cards are separating or the knot on the rope is able
to slide around. So here I do not talk about psychokinesis, or energy
travelling along her arm and through mine. I just let the effect speak
for itself, and allow the spectators to find the magical and emotional
cause for themselves.

I have loosely structured this book around the model of magic I have
in mind. We have begun with setting out our aims, in the same way
the magician or hero sets out with a certain goal in mind. In the
second part we wilJ look at areas of conflict and practicalities that he
must deal with in order to achieve that goal, and we will finish in the
third by drawing conclusions and ending that journey - hopefully,
like our hero, with a new level of understanding and perception.

From Peter Brook's The Empty Space:

"When a performance is over, what remains? Fun can be
forgotten, but powerful emotion also disappears and good
48

arguments lose their thread. When emotion and argument are
harnessed to a wish from the audience to see more clearly into
itself - then something in the mind bums. The event scorches
onto the memory an outline, a taste, a trace, a smell - a
picrure. It is the play's central image that remains, its
silhouette, and if the elements are highly blended this
silhouette will be its meaning, thjs shape will be the essence of
what it has to say. When years later I_ thjnk of a strikmg
theatrical experience J find a kernel engraved in my memory:
two tramps under a tree, an old woman dragging a cart, a
sergeant dancing, three people on a sofa in hell - or
occasionally a trace deeper than any imagery. I haven't a hope
of remembering the meanings precisely, but from the kernel I
can reconstruct a set of meanings. Then a purpose will have
been served. A few hours could amend my thinking for life.
This is almost but not quite impossible to achleve."

Let us turn to how we might, in our small way, achieve it.
49

Meaning and Vision

What is the magical experience?

"Astonishment is not an emotion that's created.
It's an existing state that's revealed."

"The experience of astonishment is the
experience of a clear, primal state of mind that
they associate with a child's state of mind."

"At that moment of trying to box the unboxable
your world-view breaks up. The boxes are gone.
And what's left? Simply what was always there.
Your natural state of mind. That's the moment
of astonishment."

hose lines are taken from Paul Harris' introduction to his The

T Art of Astonishment, and give a clear and very interesting
model of understanding what the experience of magic might
be. However, this idea that astonishment is also our primal state of
mind seems a little too convenient for us as magicians. It is
dangerously flattering to ourselves to believe that we are putting
people in touch with something primal and perfect through the very
act of performing magic. The problem is the temptation to theorize
and unify a practice that is in its nature entirely pragmatic and
opportunistic. One should certainly have a clear sense of what one
50

wishes to achieve with one's magic, but at the same time when one is
dealing with a craft, and occasionally an art, that is in itself a
beautiful demonstration of how misleading our models of the world
can be, one must be wary of objectifying that vision and mistaking it
for reality.

As far as any statements can be made, I think that the situation is as
follows. The experience of magic is not a universal; it is a direct
result of the communications given by the individual performer.
These communications may be intentional or otherwise. For
example, if an

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