Suspicious Minds

In an older post on the $10 peek wallet, I wrote this:

 Last year I did some testing where the audience could register as they watched a performance when they thought something fishy was going on. They did this via swiping up and down on an iPhone to register their suspicion. Swiping up meant they were skeptical about what was going on, swiping down meant they were believing what they were seeing. It's like those dials they give people to watch the presidential debates and register if they agree or disagree with what the candidates are saying. What we had after this testing was a little seismograph of audience suspicion that we could play along with the performance and see exactly where they were calling bullshit in their minds as they watched the performance.

I have a number of posts I could write that came out of that testing that I may or may not get to, but there is a broad concept I want to discuss because it has helped me a lot in creating handlings that allay suspicion.

After we conducted that testing (it was me along with two other magicians, one professional, one amateur like myself), we had a ton of data to sift through. And as we looked at the data we saw all these moments during standard magic presentations where suspicion had peaked amongst the audience. So our goal was to find what those moments all had in common, to see if there was a universal trait in things that engender suspicion. I think, as magicians, we have a hard time discerning what's questionable. It's hard for us not to see the "big picture" and we end up justifying things by their value in their secret function in a routine. 

For example, one thing that always raised suspicion in our testing was an in-the-hands faro shuffle. I think intuitively we understand this is an unnatural looking move (in the U.S., at least) but there are a lot of tricks that require it so we say, "Well, fuck it, I'm just going to go ahead and do it." 

So what was the commonality we found in all events that raised suspicion? It's probably not what you think. It wasn't like, "Oh, the magician turned his back, I bet he's doing something sneaky." And it wasn't suspicion that was brought on by poor technique. Here's what we found...

Suspicion is brought on by an unnecessary expenditure of energy on the part of the magician.

I don't think this is just a magic definition. I think it probably holds true in many areas of life. 

Keep this simple example in mind: If you went to the fanciest neighborhood in Los Angeles carrying a plastic Dollar Tree bag with a human head inside it, I don't think anyone would think anything of it as long as the bag was held down at your side by a relaxed, slack arm.

On the other hand, if you walked around with the nicest bag filled with plans to build a soup kitchen for at-risk kittens, but held it up at shoulder level in a tight overhand grip, people would be like, "What's this dude's deal?" They'd be suspicious of why you were unnecessarily expending energy to hold a bag like that.

So let's bring it back to our example of the faro shuffle. Compared to a normal shuffle, it's a studied action that requires your attention (energy) and I think that's why it seemed questionable to a lay audience. They don't know what happened but the moment is questionable to them. And one of our goals should be to eliminate questionable moments because I think each one ends up reducing an audience's reaction by 5 or 10%. When we replaced the faro for a complete deck switch done in the performer's case (with some motivation), it did not trigger people's suspicion. That notion will make card technicians furious. The idea that it might be better to switch decks altogether -- out of view from the audience -- than just do a faro. It seems ridiculous. But I have no ego wrapped up in this, I'm only concerned with the audience's response to things. And if a well executed switch slides by unnoticed whereas an equally well executed faro shuffle raises an eyebrow, I'm going to go with the switch.

But this is not just a question of physical actions. In fact, it's more often a problem of trick structure or presentation. "I'm going to read your mind. Roll these three dice. Then open this book to the page number indicated by the dice and think of the first word on the page. Now I want you to jumble the letters in your head and think of an 'interesting' letter. Oh, and write it on this chalkboard." That's a large unnecessary expenditure of energy to read someone's mind. 

That's not to say tricks can't involve a large investment of time and energy by the performer. I just think you need to avoid the appearance of unnecessary energy. That's what will draw people's attention and erode their reactions.

This is why propless magic/mentalism so often fails. They substitute a quick action the requires little excess energy (choosing a card, writing down a word, etc) with a long process that is only excess energy.

This is a foundational idea for the style of magic I've found to be the most powerful. So get out your highlighters and scribble all over your screen. This is something we'll be coming back to.

The Build-A-Deck Workshop

A few years ago, a group of friends and I rented a cabin in the Poconos for three days including New Years Eve. The idea was to get away from the city for a few days, go snowboarding, hang out, cook, watch movies, sit in the hot-tub, etc. (This, by the way, is the only reasonable way to spend New Years. I used to be like you, looking for some function to attend to keep me entertained on NYE. They all suck. You don't go hang out in a crowded ballroom listening to some shitty DJ any other day of the year, why would you do it on the night that's supposed to be most celebratory? Grab your friends, rent a little house somewhere, cook a bunch of food, watch Ryan Seacrest or whatever goofy NYE show is on, kiss everyone at midnight, it's the only way to go.)

Over the course of the three days we were away, we played some cards, and I did a number of tricks with one of the decks as well (eventually making this particular deck unusable for games). As the days wore on, the deck evolved into a unique and evocative souvenir of this excursion. There were drawings and meaningful words written all over the cards from various tricks. An angel on one of the cards had moved from one end to the other (Paul Harris). The pips on the four of clubs had migrated to the same corner (Doug Conn). The hearts on the three of hearts were now three chosen colors (Me). There were markings up and down the side of the deck (Another PH trick, Big Tiny). This deck that we had used for games, tricks, building a card house, had essentially become a little scrapbook of our time together. It had been "magically" altered in some ways, but the personal alterations of everyone's pictures and "magic words" written on the cards were just as important. When we departed I left the deck with the couple (Maria and Jeff) who had done all the planning and handled the logistics for this get-together. It's a souvenir they keep and cherish now many years later. This is something I've become very cognizant of in recent years: souvenirs of an effect that remind people not just of a magic trick, but of a great time they had. (See the upcoming Jerx Book for a couple of effects that bear this in mind.)

A couple months back a small group of us were getting together for another cabin outing. Again, Maria and Jeff were being awesome about handling all the boring details so that the rest of us could just show up and have fun. I wanted to do something similar with the deck to give them another token of my appreciation, but I didn't want to do the exact same thing, so here is what I came up with...

Imagine

There's a group of six of us at a cabin in the woods. We've just had dinner and someone suggests playing poker. I toss a sealed deck of cards on the table and excuse myself to the bathroom and tell them to deal me in while I'm away.

I'm in the bathroom squeezing out a big, juicy, brown carrot into the toilet bowl. I'm just kidding, I'm not doing any bodily functions. I'm just biding my time in the bathroom until I hear some commotion from the other room. 

I come walking out, drying my hands, saying, "Ahhhh.... now that's what I call launching a butt shuttle... hey... what's up?"

Everyone is gathered around the table with my deck of cards. 

"I don't think we're going to be playing cards much this weekend," says my friend Neal.

"Why not?" I ask. 

"Take a look," he says. And I walk over to the table and see that the entire deck is blank, front and back. 

"You've got to be shitting me," I say.

"What is it?" someone asks.

"Oh, it's just a misprint," I say. "Well, not a misprint, but a mistake at the factory. They somehow didn't print the cards but cut them and boxed them. It's known to happen. And if it happened to one deck that means it probably happened to a whole pallet of them. That sucks. I don't think it's worth going into town to get a deck. Let's just watch a movie."

"We could draw the cards on them," my friend Kristen suggested.

"Hmmm... yeah, I think that might work," I said.

And what do you know? I just happened to have a black and a red sharpie in my bag. That's convenient. 

So, we did sit down to watch a movie (The Green Inferno by Eli Roth. If you like the idea of a bunch of activist college students getting stranded in the Amazon after a plane crash only to be eaten by the Amazonian tribe they went down their to protect, then you'll love this movie) and, as we watched, I also drew a deck of cards for us to use. After I'd drawn the first few I paused the movie and said, "This will probably only work if we're all a part of it [what does that mean?]. So I want you all to draw one card too. What are your favorite cards?" And I gave them each a single blank card to draw their favorite card on. So I would draw a few cards, then hand the markers to one of them to draw their card. I'd draw a few more then have someone else draw her card. Occasionally I'd hand the deck to someone and ask them to add details to the back or face of one of the cards I was working on. It took the full length of the movie, but by the end I had drawn a nicely terrible looking deck of cards. 

For the most part the faces were simple.

I did do one "nudie" card. Here it is for you to gratify yourself to.

I can draw decently if I invest ten times the amount of time a naturally good drawer will use, but I wasn't going to do that in this case. There was no point. Plus my shitty drawings had a certain charm to them.

For most of the backs I just did some random scribbles.

Although I did do one of those corny skull back designs. 

And I did some abstract versions of a Bicycle back.

And, my favorite, the Bulldog Squeezers back.

When it was done I showed the deck to everyone to get their assessment and see if they wanted to play some poker. 

"But you drew the backs," someone said, "so you'll know which cards are which."

"Oh... wait... no...," I said, "We're not going to use the deck like this. This is just like... a rough draft," I said. "Look."

And I spread the deck between my hands, first face-up, then face-down, and continued spreading and turning and flipping and at some point in there the deck transformed into a real red-backed Bicycle deck of cards.

"Let's play," I said, walking into the other room. Leaving my friends frozen and stunned -- five mouths dropped wide-open.

A couple days later when we were getting ready to leave I gave the normal red deck to someone to shuffle. I took the deck back and spread it between my hands and had them each touch the back of any card and I outjogged each chosen card from the deck. I asked them to all cup their hands into one large "bowl" and I stripped the card they chose out and placed them in their hands with my hands on top. I made some comment about what a great time I'd had that weekend and how happy I was to get to spend time with them. Then I lifted my hands and the cards they'd picked had transformed into the cards they'd each drawn a few days ago.

I picked up the deck and with a shake all the other cards transformed into the hand-drawn cards as well and I immediately handed the deck to my friends to examine. Then I added the other five hand-drawn cards that my friends were holding. Assembled the deck together, put it in the case, and gave it to Maria and Jeff as a souvenir to remember the weekend and cemented my legacy as the greatest party guest of all time.

Method

This is really my type of trick. It's unrelentingly magical. There is no straight line explanation. It plays out over the course of an evening, and doesn't conclude until a few days later. And it leaves the spectator with a one-of-a-kind souvenir.

This trick was inspired by different versions of a classic gimmicked deck of cards. You should know what that deck is if you're reading this site.

The problem with that deck is -- as amazing as it is -- no one really thinks it's anything other than a gimmicked deck. Your audience will be impressed, but mainly they'll be impressed that it's possible to gimmick a deck to do such a thing. 

I wanted to do a similar effect, but do so in such a way that the deck was seemingly beyond suspicion. Now, no matter what happens, if a deck of cards changes from one state to another, your audience is going to want to look at that deck of cards. This has nothing to do with your performance. Don't let those fucking dimwits at the Cafe lie to you. If something changes drastically, your audience will want to look at it. That's the sign of a good audience and a good performer. There is no level of "audience management" that can deflect that. If they whittled the deck of cards themselves out of an oak tree and painted the backs with watercolors -- if they made the deck themselves -- and then it changed color, they'd want to look at it. The more convinced they are it's a normal deck, the more than want to look at it. When they know it's a gimmicked deck, then they feel no need to say, "Can I see that?" because they already know what up. 

But while I knew I wouldn't be able to, I thought I could still structure the effect in such a way that they would feel it was a genuinely normal deck (well, a normal deck hand-drawn on blank cards) that somehow changed into a real deck... for a few days. Transforming like Cinderella for a brief moment in time. 

You don't think they really believed that, do you?

No... but, I do believe it was the only explanation they could even entertain. Nothing else fit. Think of it from their perspective. They examined a blank deck. They watched me draw cards on this blank deck. They helped draw the cards. They saw it change into a normal deck. They played with that deck for the next two days. They then saw it change back into the hand-drawn deck which they immediately examined and ended up keeping. 

Even if they hit upon the methods used they don't make sense. "He must have switched the decks... but we saw the deck change." "It must have been a gimmicked deck.... Gimmicked? We drew the damn deck ourselves on blank cards!"

Here's how it was all accomplished. I'm going to breeze through this because if you end up doing some variation on this, you're not going to do it exactly how I did it.

I showed up that weekend with three decks on me. A normal red-backed deck. A blank deck. A gimmicked deck (I'm not naming it because I know it will drive some people crazy.)

The real blank deck was sealed up like a new deck. I tossed it on the table and sat in the bathroom waiting for them to open it and see the condition it was in. 

Once the decision was made to draw the deck, I wait until everyone's attention has shifted from the deck to something else, take the deck, bring it to my room, come back with the gimmicked deck and a red and black marker. I also have 5 normal blank cards on top of the deck.

As we watch the movie, they get the ungimmicked blank cards to draw their favorite card on, meanwhile I'm marking up the gimmicked deck. Occasionally I will hand the entire gimmicked deck to someone and ask them to draw a card back or face on the top card. They do. They're not suspecting anything. As far as they know they've already looked at these cards. 20 minutes ago they didn't know one blank deck existed in the universe. They're certainly not suspecting there's another gimmicked one here now. And besides, they're watching a movie, having a drink, etc. When you perform tricks that happen in the flow of people's lives, rather than as a separate moment where it is a "performance," you can get away with a lot of things. 

As they give me the cards they've drawn on the ungimmicked blank cards, I put them on the bottom of the gimmicked deck. When I have all of them I just take them and put them in my shirt pocket when no one's looking. See the last sentence of the previous paragraph.

When the movie ends I'm ready to perform. I have the normal red deck in my hoodie pocket. 

I show them the hand-drawn deck and transform it to the normal deck. I show the fronts and backs a couple of times. I am now going to count on something I've found to be true. When you show a group of people who know each other well a trick, you are afforded an extra beat after the effect to do fishy stuff. They don't immediately grab for the changed deck, instead they check in with each other first before they turn their attention to you or your props. And in this case the change is so visual and it's with a deck they seemingly helped me create, so there is a good few moments of astonishment while they glance around amongst each other. In that moment I say, "Oh, cool, let's play," and I peel off for the dining room so we can play cards. As soon as I turn the corner into the other room I put the gimmicked deck in one hoodie pocket and remove the normal deck from the other. The change is made before anyone has even unstuck their feet from the floor to move. I hear someone in the other room make the "my mind is blown" explosion sound behind me. 

They follow me into the room and now they do want to look at the deck. Knock yourself out. It's completely normal. I don't believe a deck switch ever crossed their mind. In the context of this trick, the logical notion of a "deck switch" would be that I switched a normal deck for the hand-drawn deck. But they know that's not what happened because they watched it transform. 

We end up using that deck of cards for the next couple of days.

On the day we're ready to go home I ask someone to shuffle the deck. I have the five cards they drew in my hoodie again, ready to be copped onto the bottom of the deck once it's returned to me. Once I have the deck back with the cards added to the bottom I have them each point to a card in the face-down deck. I ask them to all cup their hands into one bowl formation. I strip out the selected cards and switch them via Dingle's No-Lap Switch for the hand-drawn cards. In the same motion I turn my left hand over into my friend's hands, apparently dropping the five selections, but my hand hides that it's really their hand-drawn cards. I say some nice words about our time together and put the normal deck in my pocket while all attention is on my other hand and the cards beneath it. I reveal the change, and while they're reacting I remove the other deck from my left pocket.

What other deck?

Haha. Okay, remember that original blank deck they were playing around with that first night? Well, over the past few days, when I've had some moments alone, I've been making an actual hand-drawn deck out of that deck. I've matched up drawings from the gimmicked deck I drew a few days earlier. And I've copied some of the elements my friends drew on that gimmicked deck on this ungimmicked one. Now, in addition to this ungimmicked hand-drawn deck, there is a gimmicked pair from the gimmicked deck that has been split and is sandwiching this hand-drawn deck -- with the normal back on top, and a normal face on the face of the deck. Can you picture it? In other words, what I hold in my hand looks exactly like the normal deck they just shuffled, but it's anything but. 

I now draw all attention back to the "normal" deck in my hands. I give it a shake (a pass) and it morphs back into the drawn deck and I immediately hand it to someone. Why not? It's one measly gimmicked pair of cards (that is completely camouflaged as a single drawn card due to the nature of the gimmick) sandwiched on either side by 26 fully examinable, normal, hand-drawn cards. The second transformation of the deck is just as powerful as the original one a few days before. Specifically because I hand it directly to someone. If, in their replaying of the original effect, the notion of a switch was ever considered, this change back to the drawn deck seems to undercut that idea. 

As I put the cards in the card case, and give the deck one last appreciative once-over, I just palm out the one gimmicked card(s) when no one's paying attention.

Is this a lot of work? Yes. But it's not that bad for something that is this strong. And for me it's definitely worth it. It took me far longer to write this blog post than it took me to work out the trick originally. The only annoying part is drawing the deck. But the first time around you're doing it with your friends while hanging out, so it's not a big deal. The second time... well, the second time does suck. I can't argue that.

Penguin Live Trifecta

If you don't have a subscription to Penguin Live, it's always a good idea to keep an eye out for a string of good lectures so you can hop on the subscription deal, if only for a month. There's a trifecta that I'm really looking forward to that I want to bring your attention to. 

This week we have Tyler Wilson, next week it's Mark Elsdon, and the week after that it's Patrick Kun.

Tyler is a pal from back in the days of the old site and was, at one point, going to be outed as the author of that site, but sadly things didn't work out. I love the way he thinks. (I hate the way he looks.) And I'm looking forward to seeing him perform because he's not a guy with a bunch of DVDs out so this will be my first chance to see a lot of his material live. And apparently the lecture is 6 hours long. For the love of god. The World's Biggest Gangbang is only 3 hours and 25 minutes long! Speaking of gangbangs, Tyler would be great as the star of a world-record setting gangbang porn. The hairy motherfucker is clearly part monkey so he could jerk-off two more dudes at the same time with his opposable toes.

And yes, Penguin, you can use that quote in your ads if you're so inclined.

And what about Mark Elsdon and Patrick Kun?

I don't know... I don't mean this as an insult, but while I think they'd be good participants in a gangbang, I don't know if they're star material.

Oh... their magic, you mean? Right. 

Mark Elsdon's first Penguin lecture was really good and I'm sure his second one will be too. I enjoy his brand of propless effects he calls, "Conversations as Mentalism." While I have no need for effects that substitute in long, convoluted processes for props, Mark has collected/created a good number of effects you can do anywhere that are generally simple to perform and understand. 

Patrick Kun should be great too. I praised him in a post a few weeks ago, which was picked up by Boing Boing and in turn picked up by Gizmodo, the New York Post, and others... YOU'RE WELCOME, PATRICK. I look forward to seeing his lecture and watching him teach a bunch of stuff I'll be incapable of doing.

Also, I want to congratulate Penguin for the decision to not broadcast their lectures live anymore. I don't know if this is a temporary change or a permanent thing, but it's the right move. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by doing the lectures live, except for bringing everything to a grinding stop with some pointless twitter questions and having the flow of these lectures disturbed by the dumbest people watching. "@penguinmagic - I missed that move. Can you have him show that sleight again?" This is being recorded for you to download, you fucking dingbat! Wait a few hours for the video file to be ready and you won't have to interrupt the whole momentum of the lecture. You can watch it on a goddamn loop like that Margot Robbie gif you're always whacking it to. 

The Cons of Pros

In my opinion, "professional magician" has got to be one of the roughest jobs there is. Not in the sense of the David Copperfields and Derek DelGaudios of the world. I can understand the allure of putting on a parlor or stage show where people are coming specifically to see you.  I'm more talking about those of you in the trenches. Those of you who perform at weddings or bar mitzvahs or table-side at some crummy restaurant. Corporate shows sound hideous. "Sure thing, Nabisco, I'll customize a show just for you." And then you have to spend 2 hours writing "Triscuit" all over your props. No thanks. But, Andy, corporate shows pay a ton of money. Yeah, I know they do. That's called a bribe. That's how you get people to do stuff that no one in their right mind would want to do. 

And performing the same 5 tricks for potentially uninterested strangers is the fun part of the job. On top of that you have to handle all the other bullshit that goes along with being a pro. Shit like dealing with people and their dumb requests.

Here's an email that recently came to magician Rob James. 

When is your event being held?: 13 May 2016
Your name: Caitlin [redacted]
Your email address: [redacted]
Your email address again: [redacted]
Phone number: [redacted]
Type of event: Charity ball/charity event
Location of event: (Name of the town or city): Sunderland
Approximate performance start time: 4pm
Approximate number of guests: 50
How did you find out about Rob James?: Referral from another magician
Additional Information: Hi,

This may be a complete stab in the dark, but I work in a large retailer in the North East. We are holding a charity fundraiser event on Friday 13th of May (this Friday coming) in aid of our sponsored charity and need to come up with an original idea which would allow us to raise £20 in 30 minutes.

Is this something that could be feasibly possible?

Thankyou
Kind regards

Rob's response is below. It's good, but perhaps a bit too sarcastic for my taste. I would have led the woman on a little. My response would have been something like:

Dear Caitlin,

Is it "feasibly possible"? Well, technically I suppose anything is "possible," but I've looked at this damn thing from every angle and I can't find a way to crack it. 

Derren Brown's next special finishes filming this week. When it's over I'll be able to fly in his consulting team so we can put our heads together and see if we can't come up with a way to raise that £20 in 30 minutes.

[One week later]

Dear Caitlin,

Does it have to be £20? Would 15 work? I think we have a way to get to 15. We'll keep working on this. 

[One week later]

Dear Caitlin,

Sorry for the delay. I'm still working very hard on this for you, but we've hit a roadblock. I'm going to Fiji to try and clear my mind for a few days, then I'm headed to Las Vegas. I've got a buddy who owes me a favor. I'm hoping to cash that in and get a sit-down with Copperfield. Cross your fingers.

[Four days later.]

Sorry, Caitlin. 

No luck with Copperfield. His exact words were, "Do you think if I had a way to make £20 in 30 minutes I would give it to you?" Total jerk.

[Two years later.]

Dear Caitlin,

Great news! I think I've come up with a solution to your problem.

[Three days later]

False alarm.

--------

Here was how Rob handled it.

From: Rob James
Date: Tue, May 10, 2016 at 8:26 PM
Subject: Re: Contact form [#12570]
To: [redacted]

Hi comma to you too!

Thanks for your message. I can't say this is something I have been asked before. I am not sure if you saw from my website but I pretty much exclusively specialise in performing magic tricks rather than coming up with fundraising ideas organised by non-specified large retailers for non-specified charities where their primary goal is to raise a score in half an hour. But, hey, I guess you saw something in my website which gave you the idea that I might be able to rack my brain and come up with a solution to your conundrum so, what the heck, I'm game!

Here's my first thoughts. You could ask each of the attendees to donate 40p to your cause, then you'd make 50 lots of 40p which comes to £20. Bingo! Job done. That seems like a logical way to do it. Maybe if some people are Mr or Mrs Grumpy Trousers and don't want to contribute to the pot then you could get 25 of the attendees to donate 80p. Or 12.5 attendees to donate £1.60. And so on and so forth.

That's my best idea but of course you still might not be able to convince enough people to donate. I don't know how big this sort of thing is in Sunderland so they may not get fully behind it. Down here in the south we call it crowdfunding and it's a well known strategy to help fund things like poor people's funerals, cat cafés or really shit films that would never get made ever.

With that in mind you might need an alternative plan of action. Now I don't know about your morality but you could try some illegal minicabbing or perhaps a premium rate phone number scam. £20 coming atcha in no time! As soon as you've reached the target quit while you're ahead and you'll avoid the old PoPo. Or... maybe after a few glasses of vino, one of the more, how can I put this, "liberal-minded" girls you work with in the large retailer could be persuaded to donate a lapdance to anyone who wants to pay £20. Then you'll make the £20 in 3 minutes! Or it could be less. It always feel like less. I think that's because one of the girls is romantically involved with the DJ so he plays really short shitty versions of R&B songs to help his bae rinse more readies (those much sought-after naughty forties) out of the pissed-up punters. Sorry if that suggestion sounds a little misogynistic. It wasn't meant to, and if anyone there says that it is point out that it's for charity and I think legally you should be absolutely fine.

Finally, another idea - and this is a bit crazy but stick with it - you could ask the large retailer you work for to donate their profits for 10-20 seconds during trading hours and I am sure that would generate the £20 that you are after.

Hope that helps

Chocolate Mint and the Distracted Artist

My taste in performance material is getting pushed more and more out along the bell curve. I either want to do immersive effects that my audience really needs to invest in and that take all evening to play out, or I want to do a three second effect that happens with no fanfare and no preamble. I just have no need for a 3-4 minute routine. That feels like a 14 month relationship to me. Let's either be in it for the long haul or let's have a hot few weeks together. 

Of course, that's a little bullshit on my part too. I'm sure most of the things I regularly perform take 1-4 minutes to play out. But the things I enjoy performing most are much longer or much shorter than that. 

I wanted to test out some variations on micro-performances (things that play out over a few seconds), so I drafted some readers to help me out. For a long time now I've developed the feeling that the more focus you put on a short trick, the less impact it has. This evolved into something I first talked about with The Distracted Artist Presentation. DAP isn't about no presentation, it's about no trick. 

So I had four people present the same effect three ways. And then I had them make note of if the spectator ever mentioned the effect again, and if so, how long after the effect did it happen. For me, that is the sign of a successful trick. It's resonant. 

We have a tendency to judge a trick's power by its initial reaction. So we think a jump and a freakout is the best we can hope for. And it is great to get those reactions but I don't think they're the most powerful reactions.

When were you the most scared in your life? Was it the time someone jumped out from behind a corner and screamed at you? I mean, you jumped and yelled which indicates fear, but that moment doesn't really stay with you. But hearing someone rattle a doorknob when you're home alone, peaking out a window and seeing the shadow of someone scurry by; that will stick with you for the rest of your life, even if you never jumped or made a sound more than a quiet whimper.

I value magic that sticks with you over magic that initially shocks you, so the metric we used for the "power" of the trick was how long after it was performed was it brought up again.

The trick was simple. A quarter is borrowed, the magician takes it, unwraps it, and eats the chocolate inside. 

The three presentations were:

The "Patter" Presentation - "You know, when I was a kid my parents never let me have candy of any kind. When I took up magic there were all these tricks in books about how to change pennies into quarters and things like that. But the only coin trick I ever practiced was how to change regular quarters... into chocolate quarters."

I would consider this a somewhat standard magic presentation for this type of effect.

The No-Presentation Presentation - We would borrow the quarter then say, "look," and do the effect. 

The Distracted Artist Presentation - For this to make sense we'd perform somewhere where you could sit down to eat, and there were also gumball-style vending machines filled with candy in the establishment. This is true of a lot of cheap, primarily take-out, Chinese restaurants in NYC. The way it would play out was this, the performer would say, "Do you have a quarter? I want to get some candy." And he would nod his head towards the gumball machines. Once the other person put the coin on the table, the performer would continue the conversation they were having and, at some point, casually pick up the quarter, unwrap it and eat it. The only instructions I gave the performers after that was to act equally confused for at least a minute after the performance. And if the person was still questioning them after that point, they could loop around to the patter presentation given above. So it would go something like this:

Magician: [performs effect] ... and she really needs to stand up for herself.
Spectator: What was that?!
Magician: What?
Spectator: What you just ate.
Magician: Oh, right. Thanks.
Spectator: What was it?
Magician: The chocolate quarter you gave me.
Spectator: I didn't give you a chocolate quarter.
Magician: Wait... what? This is the coin you just gave me, yes?
Spectator: But it wasn't a chocolate coin.
Magician: Yes, it is.
Spectator: ...
Magician: I asked for a quarter because I wanted something sweet. Why else would you give me a chocolate coin?
Spectator: I didn't, I... I thought you wanted some candy from over there.
Magician: Oh. I see. I thought you'd given me a chocolate coin because I said I wanted some candy.
Spectator: You thought I just happened to have a chocolate coin on me?
Magician: I didn't give it that much thought to be honest. 
Spectator: That wasn't a chocolate coin.
Magician: Sure it is.
Spectator: I'm so confused. You did something.
Magician: No I didn't. Well... maybe. I mean, when I was a kid first learning magic I did practice changing regular coins into chocolate coins because my parents wouldn't let me have candy. But I haven't done that for 20 years. I think you just gave me a chocolate coin.
 

So, I had four guys, who each performed the coin to chocolate coin effect for three people, and they did it once in each of these styles. So it was performed for 12 people altogether by four different magicians. Yes, that's not scientific. When I get my research grant to study magic I'll have much stricter scientific controls. Get off my back. As it is, I paid for 24 Chinese meals for this dumb experiment. That was a big enough investment without getting into double-blind testing.

I asked the guys to note if the trick was brought up again after the initial performance had died down and to note how long after it was mentioned. One other thing, in all the versions I asked them to leave the foil wrapping on the table as a reminder of the trick.

Test #1
Performer: A.C.

Patter Presentation: Brought up 2 minutes after the effect.
NO Presentation: Not mentioned again.
Distracted-Artist Presentation: Brought up twice at 3 minutes and 8 minutes after the effect.

Test #2
Performer: D.J.

Patter Presentation: Not mentioned again.
NO Presentation: Not mentioned again.
Distracted-Artist Presentation: Mentioned 12 minutes after the effect.
Notes: "She brought up the trick on the way out of the restaurant when we passed the gumball machines."

Test #3
Performer: T.T.

Patter Presentation: Mentioned again 1 hour and 8 minutes after the effect.
NO Presentation: Mentioned again 5 minutes after the effect.
Distracted-Artist Presentation: Mentioned numerous times throughout the night. Last mention was just under 6 hours after the performance.
Notes: T.T. lives in a large loft in Brooklyn with 14 other people. His performances were for three of the people he lived with so the opportunity for them to bring it up extended further into the evening.

Test #4
Performer: D.R.

Patter Presentation: Not mentioned again.
NO Presentation: Mentioned again 11 minutes after the effect.
Distracted-Artist Presentation: Mentioned 8 minutes after the effect and 92 minutes after the effect. Then mentioned again over text 4 days later.

Conclusion

Does this prove anything? No, not really, I suppose. But it does match up with my experience that short pieces of magic resonate the longest when they are not presented as magic performances. 

Here is my hypothesis on why that is. I think when people go to a magic show, they want to see a magic show (very bold statement, I know). But when magic is thrust upon them, in a casual setting or in a walkaround magic situation where they don't know it's coming, I think there is -- at least in part -- a sense of "I didn't ask for this. Since he's doing something I didn't ask for, he must be doing it for his gain. He must be showing off." No, maybe they're not consciously thinking that, but on some level I think they are.

Walk down the street and hand someone who's not asking for money a 50 dollar bill. The normal reaction is not, "Oh, wow, thanks! You're so kind. What a good person you are." The reaction is suspicion and maybe even refusal of your gift. I think that can happen with magic too. You think, "I'm doing something nice. I'm providing them a moment of mystery." And they're thinking, "What's this all about now?" And with a short trick there's no time to tear down that suspicion. The whole thing happens in that cloud of uncertainty.

But to allow the effect to happen with no forewarning -- without even saying, "Look, look,"-- you get to have your moment of magic before they can put up any guard of skepticism about the trick or about your motives. And because you're not immediately taking credit for it, you continue to block any resistance they might otherwise have. Let's go back on the street and instead of handing someone $50, you just point to the bill by their foot. "Did you drop that?" Now there is no skepticism or wariness, they just pick it up and happily pocket it. 

To be clear, you're not pranking people. This isn't The Carbonaro Effect where you're doing magic under the guise of someone who doesn't do magic. This is just a way of giving them that magic moment without the awkwardness inherent in many magical performances. There's no neediness. There's no suggestion that you want "your powers" to be recognized. There's no sense that you're like, "Okay, I've done something great, now you acknowledge me for it." They are free to let the moment pass as quickly as they want or hold onto it for as long as they like. And what I've experienced, and was borne out in this experiment as well, is that people are more likely to allow this type of performance to rattle around in their mind than a more traditional style of presentation or lack of presentation.

I adopted this style because I wanted to perform more. But I would see talented friends of mine, performing strong magic, who would kind of be mocked a little for performing in social situations. It's not just magic. I've known people who sing at the drop of a hat in public and all my friends are like, "Enough with the singing." Even if you don't want attention (and I don't want attention) if you do any type of performance a lot you will seem like you crave attention. And that's off-putting to a lot of people. But if you say, "No, really, it's not about me. I'm doing this because I know you'll like it if you give it a shot." That's almost even worse. So I adopted this style to give them the benefit I wanted them to receive before they even knew it was coming.

Your legend, if you frequently adopt the Distracted Artist Presentation, is not of being someone who is always showing people tricks. Your legend is that you're someone whom strange and wonderful things happen around. Ultimately you are taking responsibility for these occurrences and you're not suggesting they're anything other than tricks. The story you're telling about yourself is that you're into magic, you studied it very hardcore as a kid, and sometimes you just absentmindedly end up "performing" something without even realizing. Like the artist doodling on a napkin. The study and practice of magic is so ill-understood that it almost feels believable that something like that could happen. Or, at the very least, it's such a pleasant fiction that no one bothers to fight it.

The final benefit to this performance style is that it gives people an opportunity to ask for more. Something cool and fun just happened which you've reluctantly taken credit for, after that a lot of people will want another hit off the pipe. Now you can go into a more standard magic presentation. They're no longer the random person on the street who you're forcing a $50 on. They're beggars. They're crackwhores. They want it. They need it. Just a little taste, daddy, of that sweet sweet magic.

Pre-emptive Tangents: The Best Coin Vanish

I've decided that when I have a post that contains a long tangent that could stand on its own I will pop that baby out like a tonsil stone (don't click that link) and use it as something of a teaser for the upcoming post. 

In my next post I'll be writing about a small experiment that I recruited some readers to help out with about a month and a half ago. It took a little longer to complete than expected and it's by no means scientific, but I think it's somewhat interesting nonetheless.

One subject that came up in preparation for this experiment was what the best coin vanish is (in our case we were using it as part of a transformation). This is something I've thought about for a while now. I'm lazy and I generally just want to know one vanish, one double-lift, one pass, one color change. Of course I know more than one of all these, and there are different performance conditions that prevent you from using only one, but in my utopia I would just have one in my arsenal; I'd Eternal Sunshine those other methods out of my brain. 

After years of keeping track of these things in my own performances, I determined that -- for my style -- the most deceptive vanish (not the most amazing necessarily, but the most deceptive) the one I never got busted on, and one of the easiest vanishes to perform was also one of the first ones I ever learned.

Yes, all of you know what's going on there (or should). And presented so straightforwardly in a 6-second gif, it's not the world's greatest mystery. But in the real-world --perhaps with an added delay of placing the coin in the other hand, or using it as a transformation-- it always flies. I think the reason why is this: put a coin on the table and ask someone to take it and hand it to you. The overwhelming majority of the time they will do the identical actions of that vanish, just without the vanish. 

This can't be said for any other vanish.

If I said, "Hand me that coin," and you did this:

I'd be like, "What a nutjob."

If I said, "Hand me that coin," and you did this:

I'd be like, "Uhm... is there such a thing as instantaneous adult-onset cerebral palsy? What just happened to you?"

If I said, "Hand me that coin," and you did this:

I'd be like, "Goddammit, you told me you were going to stop drinking! It's like you love that bottle more than you do me."

You might say I'm doing intentionally bad faux-vanishes to make a point, but it doesn't matter how good your moves are or how smoothly you execute them if they seem affected in any way. Go ahead and record yourself doing the moves of your favorite vanish, but don't vanish the coin. Instead hand it to someone from the hand it's "supposed" to be in. If anything rings false about the action, it's going to be suspect. You may still fool the person, but it's going to feel magic-y rather than magical

One caveat I haven't mentioned recently is that I'm speaking just from my perspective and in relation to my performance style. If, unlike me, you want to be recognized for your skill, then doing something in a manner that is unnatural but smooth is perfectly fine. If, however, you want to reduce or eliminate your presence and influence in the moment you're creating, you must use moves that draw no attention to themselves.

That goes for that goofball double-lift you've been doing too, with all that flippy and flappy action. Just turn over the card like a human for once!

In the next post we'll use this methodology and examine a simple trick performed three ways and attempt to quantify the magical resonance of different performing styles. 

ooh fancy.  

My Two Cents: Voodoo Card and Stegosaurus

Here are a some thoughts on recent releases that were discussed in past issues of X-Communication. I didn't want to limit the audience for these ideas to those who get that newsletter, but I also didn't want to post them publicly here as they hint at or discuss methods to effects that aren't mine to discuss. So they're on password protected pages that can be accessed by people who own the things being talked about.

In X-Communication #6 I gave some thoughts on Chris Ramsay's At The Table lecture. For me, the strongest effect in the lecture was his handling for the Voodoo Card effect. It's essentially the same effect as Guy Hollingworth's original, but the card can be signed. Tomas Blomberg has evolved the handling further, incorporating a justification I mention in my review that really solidifies the effect and a switch with a retention of vision aspect that makes it pretty much invisible. His handling also allows for the multi-stage reveal in the Hollingworth original, which I think is a more satisfying structure.

You can see Tomas' handling and read the relevant section of my review on this page. The password is the word that Chris Oberle uses about 20 seconds into the lecture during his introduction. It follows this phrase, "He has a big ______" -- just the first word after "big," lowercase.

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In the Christmas issue of X-Communication I gave a positive review to Stegosaurus by Phill Smith. I particularly like the structure of the trick. It starts off with a couple of phases that seem like a word puzzle. And while we often say, "This is a puzzle, not magic," as a critique of something, I think these first two phases will capture the interest of intelligent spectators. And those phases will lull them into a false sense that they know what's going on. And that only makes the final phase that much stronger.

While I like and recommend the effect, it's not something that I would ever plan to perform ahead of time. It's more the type of effect I would get into when I'm with a group of people and we unexpectedly have some time to kill. So I've made some personalizations to the effect that allow me to perform it in a more impromptu manner. I've also come up with a presentation for it that I think helps justify the somewhat odd procedure of the trick. At least it does so to my satisfaction.

You can read those ideas on this page. The password is the word that appears at position number 10 of the list on page 10 of the Stegosaurus pdf.