Decoration Part 2

Yesterday’s post elicited more positive emails than almost any post in the ten-year history of this site.

I was happy with the response because it’s one of those thoughts I wasn’t sure would connect with anyone but me.

So if that post resonated with you, I want to take the concept a step further.

If we treat “decoration” as something that beautifies or enriches what it adorns—and you connect with the idea of magic as a way to decorate reality—what does that suggest about the kind of material we should be performing?

Imagine this…

You walk into someone’s house, and their walls are covered with objects. Trophies they’ve won, certificates they’ve received for courses they’ve completed, pictures of themselves competing in Mr. Olympia, medals from the 5k walks they’ve taken part in etc.

No one would walk into that house and think, “Wow… this is so beautifully decorated!”

They might think, “Oh, wow. This is impressive.”

But that’s not going to enrich their life, as being immersed in a well-decorated setting might.

This is the problem with the way magic is often performed—it’s so performer-centric, it’s almost impossible to appreciate anything else about it.

If you think I’m suggesting you only concentrate on “beautiful” or “esthetically pleasing” effects, you’re being one layer too literal in your interpretation of what I’m saying.

What I’m trying to say is this: of all the responses a trick can generate—beauty, wonder, mystery, humor, joy, even fear—it’s very difficult for someone to genuinely feel those things if they sense your primary goal is to showcase your abilities, your power, your cleverness.

It’s almost like someone showing you a picture they drew of how muscular they are. It will be difficult for you to get past how self-serving it is, regardless of how beautiful and well-done the picture might be.

Magic has an even bigger problem—and it’s the reason why it is so frequently dismissed as an art form. Not only does it seem self-serving, but also everyone knows it’s fake.

So it’s like someone showing you a picture they drew of how muscular they are. But they’re not as muscular as the person in the picture. And they didn’t actually draw it either.

Or someone walking you through their hallway decorated with fake diplomas, counterfeit awards, and trophies they paid for rather than won.

So what does it mean to perform magic that decorates reality?

It means turning away from tricks that seemingly exist solely to elevate the performer. (But wait… isn’t that every trick? Sometimes it feels that way—and I think that’s the problem.) Instead, it’s about crafting moments that elevate the experience, the interaction, the surroundings, the audience. It’s about creating pieces that live in the shared space between you and your friends—not in the glow of your own spotlight.

It doesn’t mean stripping away skill or cleverness—but hiding those things behind something more generous.

Decoration

Art decorates space.
Music decorates time.
Magic decorates reality.

This is my expansion of a Jean-Michel Basquiat quote.

I’ve argued before that using magic purely for self-aggrandizement is corny. And while that’s true, at least it’s a clear and relatable goal: “I want people to think I’m powerful or clever, so I’ll do tricks that fool them and (hopefully) raise me in their esteem.”

Without that kind of motivation, it’s easy to find yourself asking, “What’s the point?” when it comes to performing magic. Why are we faking doing something impossible?

That sentiment above is my answer.

Magic can be used to decorate reality. It doesn’t actually alter the world itself—it reshapes our experience of it, creating brief, concentrated moments where our perception of reality feels artistically elevated. Done well, this can be deeply interesting, compelling, even beautiful. And it doesn’t require us to pretend magic is anything other than what it is.

Hanging a picture doesn’t change the wall—it just gives us a momentary reprieve from the tedium of blank space.

Magic does the same thing for reality.

A Ranking of the 1991 Genii Magazine Coverboys Based On How Much I Want To Party With Them

Not every issue in 1991 featured an individual on the cover, but of those that did, these are the order in which I’d want to party with them.

#9 - John Fisher

Quite possibly the laziest magazine cover in the history of print.

This guy’s a magician? It looks like he’s cosplaying as a mid-grade insurance executive.

No, I don’t want to hang with this dude. He seems like the type of guy whose idea of a party is inviting you over to watch a documentary on the Parliament.

No thanks. Next!

#8 - Lance Burton

Lance Burton—seen here in his peak “magician as gentle vampire” era—doesn’t strike me as someone I’d want to party with. He looks like he’d rather recite Byron than funnel a beer.

But the goddess in the gauzy nightgown and white thong? She’s absolutely my speed. Please get her my number.

#7 - Stewart James

I honestly don’t know what is going on here. At first glance, I thought it was a simple image of the crypt-keeper signing a bible. But I guess that’s Stewart James?

But who’s the other octogenarian in the back? The one being attacked by (or dancing with) a bird of every color of the gay pride flag? I don’t want to party with Stewart. But the guy in the back seems fun.

#6 - Steve Spill

In reality, I get the sense I’d genuinely enjoy hanging out with Steve Spill. But judging strictly by this cover? No thanks. This all-grey aesthetic is a full-blown portrait in depression.

Honestly, it looks like the final photoshoot a disillusioned Men’s Wearhouse art director arranges right before hanging himself.

#5 - Eugene Burger

Hmm… yeah, look, Eugene was a force of nature in magic. But this cover doesn’t say “party.” It says, “I know when you’re going to die.”

Can you imagine Eugene Burger manning one end of a limbo stick? I can’t. I can imagine him as the headmaster of a mysterious monastery where the candles light themselves and everyone speaks in riddles, however.

You don’t look at someone like that and say, “What’s your go-to karaoke number?” You say, “So, when was the last time you made a pact in the woods under a blood moon?”

#4 - Randy Wakeman

So… like… how exactly did Genii Magazine work back in the day? Was Randy Wakeman like, “So when is my cover shoot?” And they were like, “Uhm, we’re a little busy. Is there a Sears Portrait Studio in your area?”

This seriously looks like a senior picture from my older sister’s high school yearbook. In fact, I’m kind of coming around on the idea of partying with Randy. Sure, he looks like a dud here, but so did my sister’s friends in their yearbook photos and those guys were lunatics in real life.

By the way, Genii, could you put a little effort into the cover? What the fuck is this?

That’s it. That’s the whole headline. Not even "Unlocking the Secrets of Flag Magic!" or "Top 10 Patriotic Tricks to Unleash at Your Next BBQ." Just—Flag. Magic. Period. Is that supposed to entice me to buy the magazine?

I like to imagine there was one young intern in the art department who fought for the headline to be “Waving Wonders: The Dazzling World of Flag Magic,” and some ancient Larsen cousin acting as the creative director was like, “Hey, tone it down.”

#3 - Joe Givan

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. This guy looks like a partier. Maybe a little too much. He’s got the 1000-yard stare of a regular ayahuasca user. And not someone who does it on a spiritual retreat, but someone who does it in a mall food court with his Arby’s beef n’ cheddar.

And that hair? That’s the hair of a guy who’s freebased incense off the album sleeve for Joe’s Garage. He’s a good time, no doubt, but he might be a little too intense for me.

#2 - Doc Eason

I think Doc has got a fun-uncle thing going on here. Sure, there’s no excuse for wearing a bowler hat, suspenders, and a bow tie—unless you’re in the unlikely situation of being cast as a flamboyant 19th-century haberdasher in an episode of Quantum Leap. But I like his energy. That’s why he’s #2 on my list.

#1 - Ramon Galindo

Oh, hell yes.

I’ve never heard of this guy before, but I’d definitely be thrilled to spend a crazy weekend with him.

This is the type of guy who rolls up with a bottle of tequila, a deck of marked cards, and the kind of stories that start with: “Back in '74, I accidentally got married.”

Do I want to party with this guy? 10 times out of 10, yes. Lead the way, Amigo.

The Open Evite

Some scheduling notes:

The Lucid ACAAN will be posted next Tuesday. I’ve finally got the pieces in place and will be testing it out this week.

I’ve been looking into TOXIC force alternatives since I asked about them last month. I will be doing a post on them in the last week of posting in April. I’ve come across a replacement that I’m pretty happy with, and I think is better than TOXIC in some ways.

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In the most recent newsletter, I shared a trick where you intuit the combination to a padlock during a video chat.

In my opinion, magic over video chat is fully back as a viable, fun way to perform. It’s no longer the depressing necessity it became during Covid.

One way I like to lead into a video chat performance is by sending a mass email to a group of friends. For example:

Hey everyone,

I’m doing some research on a new type of virtual safe-cracking, and I could use your help. If you have a combination padlock at home and a few minutes to video chat, let me know. Miss you all!

The key elements here are:

• A very brief description of what you’re doing.

• A low-pressure invitation to help.

• A heads-up about what objects they’ll need to participate.

The benefits of this type of approach:

1. You’re reaching out to as many people as you want in one fell swoop and potentially setting up a bunch of performances.

2. You’re creating anticipation minutes, hours, or even days in advance. This is especially true if you ask them to gather a few random objects: “If you’re free tonight and can round up a deck of cards, a candle, and something that belonged to a dead relative, let me know.”

3. You’re putting your friends in the driver’s seat. You’re not pressuring anyone to let you perform—they don’t feel obligated to do it just to “be nice.” They’re reaching out because they want to see something interesting.

4. You get to reconnect with friends.

5. It helps justify the virtual format because you’re reaching out to a bunch of people at once. If you’re just reaching out to one person you see regularly, it might make more sense to show them the effect in person. But if you’re contacting a group, it makes sense that some of those people might be people you see regularly, and some aren’t—and, for ease of things, you’re offering a virtual performance to all of them.

Some notes:

• You want to use this for the right trick. Obviously, don’t use this if the premise is: I have something special I want to show you specifically.

• I tend to BCC everyone if I don’t want people comparing notes.

• Along those lines, I often don’t reach out to different members of the same friend group. Instead, I’ll reach out to one work friend, one old high-school friend, one friend from yoga class, etc. Unless, of course, I want them to talk about it behind my back.

Mailbag #134

I saw a show from the local magic circle. Most of the material was 9 linking rings, Rocky Raccoon with Davis Williamson’s script and stage proofed jokes "No, the clean hand".

But the audience liked it.

So why investing thoughts, time and energy in an immersive experience for the audience?

Isn't "Good enough" - "Good enough"?

What are your thoughts on this?—SD

I think with no talent, no creativity, and very little effort, you could perform a platform magic show that would be “good enough” by copying the work of those who came before you.

I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with that. I don’t think it’s the same as a comedian who steals people’s jokes because—unfortunately—most people seeing a magician in this setting aren’t really expecting anything new or original.

And while it might be “good enough” for a baseline level of entertainment, and is maybe something you could supplement your income with—it’s not “good enough” if you want to express part of yourself or achieve any level of notoriety.

It’s even worse for the casual magician performing for friends and family. If you’re doing standard tricks with standard lines, you’re going to come off as a complete lunatic to the people in your life. Sure, you could probably get away with doing that once a year for the neighborhood Christmas party. But if you want to regularly include magic in your interactions, then you need to do something that feels personal and unscripted and like a genuine human interaction.

There’s no version of the linking rings at a dinner party with your friends that is “good enough.” There’s only “Why is Craig doing this?” and “Should we be worried about him?”

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Been catching up on the Carefree post and had a question: Do you think there is a separation of a lack of tension from natural actions? Natural actions usually lead to a lack of tension. But as someone who used to study some hard sleight of hand, there are some moves I've practiced enough, specifically to do so without tension, that I think could be Carefree for me at this point.

So are there certain sleights that qualify as Carefree? Or do you yourself make a sleight Carefree? —CR

First, there’s no sleight so easy that some magician isn’t out there fucking it up somewhere. (That’s another one for The Jerx Complete Quotes: A Compendium of Magical Wisdom)

Second, while there’s likely some magician who has mastered even the most difficult sleight—to the point where they can execute it with no visible tension or thought—99 times out of 100, it’s the opposite. The magician thinks he’s doing something invisibly, but there’s some giveaway in his actions or body language that feels off to people.

The problem is, you are in the worst position to judge this.

Another magician isn’t much better. They’ll say your move looks good, when what they really mean is: “As a magician, I know you’re doing something funny there. But that’s because I have special magic knowledge. A normal non-magician would never know.” But he’s overestimating what he’s picking up because of his magic knowledge—assuming it’s invisible to a layperson just because he knows exactly why it looks off.

So how do you know if your move is invisible?

Here’s how (you’re never going to do this, but this is how you would):

Record a video of yourself doing the move—say, a Double Lift and turnover.

Now record a video of yourself doing what that move is supposed to emulate: just turning over the top card.

Ask people if they can spot the difference between the two videos, or if they look like the same action. Tell them that in one video you’re doing sleight-of-hand, in the other you’re not. If people are guessing more or less equally, then you’ve probably got an undetectable sleight. If most people are calling out the sleight video as looking “off,” then you know it’s not truly tension-free and normal-looking.

It might still be good enough for most performances, but you don’t have to lie to yourself that comes off completely Carefree.

As for the mental effort it takes to pull off a move? Only you can know if it feels truly Carefree.

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In your last post you said this regarding Steve Brooks:

I always thought the best storyline for the Jerx would involve us collaborating in some way.

I’m intrigued by this 😆 what would a jerx/cafe/steve brooks collaboration look like???—DD

One of the oldest drafts in my blog is titled Saving the Magic Café.

Years ago, I worked with a web designer, a UX specialist, and a brand strategist to create mock-ups for a completely reimagined version of that site—one with real functionality, community features, and modern usability. It would have made the Café indispensable for magicians, magic suppliers, and companies alike, while creating meaningful revenue streams for Steve beyond just static banner ads that never change and no one clicks.

So it was always my intention to come full circle and try to help revitalize the Café—because that was the site that, unintentionally, gave me my start in the magic community by kicking me out all those years ago. But Steve and others at the Café were committed to maintaining an adversarial relationship (which I’m perfectly okay with) so the project never moved forward.