Mind Unmapping

Last month I posted an idea from Colin Robinson in regards to a way to justify the placement of a word for the Acidus Novus peek.

In the same email he gave me an idea for a justification for the placement of a word in a center tear. Now, this placement doesn’t really need much justification. In a center tear, the word is, after all, in the center of the paper. You can just put a line on the paper and that’s usually more than enough of a cue for the spectator in regards to where to write and how big to write. What I appreciated about Colin’s idea was not so much how it justified the placement, but how it justified the tearing for a center tear.

First I’ll give you his basic idea and the modifications I’ve used when I perform it.

Colin’s email:

Mind Mapping

I talk to the spectator about the weird places conversations can go and the moments when you think "How did we get here?" and try to trace your thought process back to the origin point. On the back of a business card, I create a web diagram, and then have the spectator think of a word in the center and then let their mind wander to fill in all the attached bubbles in relation to that word. They fold up the card, and then I rip it up into pieces and put it in their hand. They pick out a piece and see a word from one of the outer bubbles on it, trace the thought back in their mind, then I reveal the word that was at the center of their mind map. 

Okay, so first, I don’t use business cards. I just use a piece of paper. Who am I, Magnús Ver Magnússon? I’m not full of steroids. I can’t be ripping through multiple layers of business card like it’s nothing. I’m only half kidding here. While it doesn’t take great strength to rip through a business card that’s folded in quarters and then doubled over on itself, it does take a bit more concentrated energy than I want to exhibit at that point in the trick.

I use a standard center tear. I don’t use one of those center tears where you get the peek as you rip up the paper. That’s precisely the wrong moment to get the peek (when you clearly have the word in your hand). I’ve written about this before. I won’t relitigate that here.

So I give the person a piece of paper with something like this drawn on it.

It doesn’t have to be that exact layout, that’s just what I use.

Then I ask them to think of anything at all. It works best if they think of a noun.

While I’m turned away completely I ask them to write that word in the center circle.

I then have them fill in the other bubbles with the most unrelated words they can think of.

The first couple of times I had them do it with related words, as in a traditional mind-map. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, this was a bit too believable. If you’re given a related word, then it’s perfectly conceivable you might be able to make the jump from one word to the other. Instead of mind mapping, this is mind unmapping. And I ask them to put down six random words that are as unrelated as possible to the target word.

When they’re done I ask them to fold the paper in quarters, set it on the table, and cup their hands.

I briefly turn back, just long enough to pick up the piece of paper, then turn my head away again and tear it up over their hands, stealing away the center piece in the process.

“I want you to shake up the pieces and remove just one piece at random. The piece should have some writing on it, but it shouldn’t have any of the original word you were thinking of on it. If you pick one of those pieces, put it back and choose another one. When you’ve got a piece that works, set it on the table and put the other pieces out of sight. If the piece you choose has more than one word on it, just tear it some more so only part of one word is showing.”

During this process I am turned around and opening the stolen piece to see what their word is.

By telling them what they should do if they pull out a piece of their original word, I’m reinforcing the idea that those pieces are still in their hands.

The piece of paper they give me may only have a portion of a word on it. If I can’t make out what the full word was, then I just ask them. Then it’s just a matter of working backwards from that word (apparently) to find out their original word. This is the fun part. It’s actually pretty easy. Just look for differences between the two objects and then suggest that those are the differences you would expect to find.

It will be clearer with an example.

The last time I did this, their original word was “mouse.” And the word they pulled from their hand was “bathtub.”

So I just did some improv based on the differences between those things. Differences they don’t know I know at this point.

It sounded something like this…

“Okay… bathtub. Well, a bathtub is big and heavy so the thing you’re thinking of is probably light. A bathtub is also an inorganic object, so you’re probably thinking of something alive. Maybe… a small houseplant or something? Hmmm… what else. Well, you associate a bathtub with a bath. Which is something many people find enjoyable and relaxing. So you must be thinking of something that isn’t calming. Something maybe anxiety inducing. So something small, alive, and anxiety inducing. Maybe… like… a rat or a mouse?”

In actuality, it wasn’t that straightforward, but that’s the general gist of how it went.

It doesn’t really matter if you stumble at this point in the presentation. Ultimately you’ll be able to name the word they were thinking of, so you have a way to end it even if you sounded like a babbling idiot leading up to that point.

The purpose I give for this exercise is that often people try and prevent mind reading (or psychological thought discernment—if that’s your style) by intentionally focusing on unrelated information. So, instead of fighting that, this is an exercise to practice working backwards from the unrelated information to the original thought.

Thanks again to Colin Robinson for sharing his ideas and allowing me to pass them along.

Sunday Flashback

While reorganizing and moving some stuff out of storage recently, I came across a bunch of old school work. Not, like, math homework—but stories, poems, and movies that I had made for school. I figured it might be mildly amusing to see some of the earlier exhibitions of the stupidity that would one day blossom on this site.

I found a couple dozen of these poems that I had written for an English class when I was 12 or 13. The style of poetry I was drawn to I would describe as “Shel Silverstein dealing with the late stage repercussions of a brain eating parasite.” As with all the finest poetry, it will really pull on your heartstrings and make you think.

It’s called…

A Woeful Ditty of Love and Sadness

There once was a boy named Jim Paladin
And everyone made fun of him
Not because he was short or fat or dim
But because he had no nose

He couldn’t smell the exhaust from passing cars
Or get a whiff of liquor when walking near bars
Or enjoy the aroma of fine cuban cigars
Because Jim had no nose

And everyone would stop and stare
And laugh and point and scream and glare
And say to themselves, “My, isn’t that rare.”
All because Jim had no nose

One day Jim had an evil feeling in his heart
And he bent over (ripping his pants apart)
And then he let out the most enormous fart
Which people smelled with their noses

And the fart-laden air filled the lungs of his foes
And they collapsed dead to the ground, so the story goes
And then their bodies began to decompose
Which didn’t bother Jim because he had no nose

The Juxe: Unhidden Meanings

I have a habit of listening to songs and getting lost in the music and the vibe to the point where I may listen to a song 10 times, even be singing along to it, and yet not realize what it’s about. Even when it’s obvious.

Here are three examples of songs that I enjoyed for a long time before the song’s meaning became apparent. I’ll start with the least obvious snd progress to the most.

Roy Sullivan by Upper Wilds (Brooklyn, NY)

I was really digging this guitar-heavy punk banger that came out a few years ago for quite a while before I knew what it was about. There’s a reason it took me a while to understand it. I thought the song was called Upper Wilds and it was a by a guy named Roy Sullivan. Then I realized it was the other way around. The song is called Roy Sullivan and the band is Upper Wilds.

Roy Sullivan is that guy you used to see in the Guinness Book of World Records.

He had the world record for being struck by lightning seven times. That’s what the song is referencing.

Count yourself lucky, one two three four five
Six seven times, the sky set my hair on fire
Made an enemy of Zeus long before your time
Standing in the open, far away from life

The Commander Thinks Aloud by The Long Winters (Seattle, Washington)

I think I knew it was a song about a space mission, but it took me way longer than necessary to realize that it’s told from the perspective of someone on board the Space Shuttle Columbia which broke up upon re-entry back in 2003. The refrain which is repeated over and over at the end, “The crew compartment’s breaking up,” probably should have been a clue.

This is a chill-inducing song. The optimism of the lyrics leading to that ending…it gets me every time. “Can you feel it we’re almost home…”

Song Exploder, a podcast that breaks down the makings of songs, had a good episode on this.

Ambivalence by Embellish (Denmark)

Embellish was a euro-pop band that released one really solid album 20 years ago. This song, Ambivalence, has a brilliant soaring chorus that demands to be sung along with. Which is exactly what I was doing one day while working with headphones on and my girlfriend at the time came up to me and said, “What the fuck are you listening to?” Somehow I managed to listen to this song for a long time and get wrapped up in the melodious pop enough to be singing along to it but never really realized what it was about. Even though it’s… not subtle.

I mean, the chorus is:

So get down on your knees
And let me penetrate you deep
From behind

Tuning Spectators

A question I addressed in yesterday’s mailbag asked…

I’d like to hear your thoughts on ditching objects after a vanish. A lot of times I see the advice to just hold it in classic palm or whatever until after the effect is complete or there is an off moment. But I feel like if you don’t clearly show that hand to be empty then that leaves an “easy answer” as to what happened. 

I think this may be another instance of spectators being too polite to actually say “uh, it’s in your other hand”. Kind of similar to the card to pocket problem. —JC

I want to look at another subject this question raises.

I think JC’s instincts are probably right (in fact, I know they’re right) about people often just being too polite to point out the coin is in the other hand. It might not even be politeness. Yes, some people feel like it’s their job to bust the magician. But more often it seems like people think their role is to be kind to the magician and not point out the obvious because this is all meant to be a bit of fun and of course the coin didn’t really vanish, etc. etc.

I feel like I sometimes have to train my audiences into an unnatural combination of feelings. I want them to know that the trick is all in fun, and that it’s not meant as a challenge. But at the same time, I want them to watch with a critical eye. I want them to “play along” with the premise. But I don’t want them to play along with being fooled. For some people, that’s a difficult mindset to get into.

To generalize, let’s say the two ends of the spectrum are “teenage boys” vs. “doting moms.”

“Moms” and “teenage boys”…. what is this… my Pornhub search history?

No, these are just examples of mindsets with which people might approach watching magic.

Often younger male spectators see magic as a challenge. And the goal is not to get fooled. “Let me see that. Wait… count those again. Can I hold the card? Can I shuffle the deck? That’s two cards, not one.”

On the other hand, a mom watching her kid perform magic is all-forgiving. She may see the cards separate or the unnatural way you’re holding your hand to hide the ball or that the coin is still in your left hand, but she’ll still say, ‘Wow, honey! You’re so magical!”

The 15 year old trying to bust you is not getting lost in the Magic (capital M). And the mom just cheering her son along is often not being attuned enough to take note of the impossibility of what is about to happen.

To be clear, the Mom and the Teenage Boy are just spectator archetypes. Your spectator may lean towards either end of the spectrum regardless of their age/gender/parental status.

Ideally, I want a spectator to be in-between these two modalities.

• I want them watching with a critical eye so that they’re genuinely fooled. I don’t want the spectator to ever feel like they’ve helped to fool themselves. That weakens the effect immensely.

  AND

• I want them to feel free to get lost in the presentation.

I think I’ve become pretty good at naturally guiding people to this mentality. If you find you have someone being too much of a “mom” or a “teenage boy,” then you’re going to want to tune your spectator. Nudge them a little bit one way or the other, like a radio dial or a shower valve.

If they’re too much of a “mom”—if they’re too supportive—then hit them with straightforward tricks that are challenging. Strip away any presentation. If you have a strong trick that is “just a puzzle,” that will work in this situation because you’re not trying to charm them, you’re trying to get them to be more critical. You want no real presentation and little to no handling for them to be able to “forgive” in their mind. A “test conditions” sort of effect is what’s called for. Richard Osterlind’s Challenge Mind Reading effect would be a good option here.

If they’re too much of a “teenage boy,” then you want to nudge them the other way. Show them something that is very hands-off (ideally self-working) with a presentation that is clearly not about you and the more fantastical the better. You want the premise to be so ridiculous that they’d feel stupid if they were to challenge it. If you say, “I’m going to read your mind,” or, “I’m going to show you how I cheat at cards,” that’s going to put the “teenage boy” personality into challenge mode. What you want is a premise that says, “this is fiction, just chill the fuck out and enjoy it.”

I find that it doesn’t take much to “tune” a spectator towards the middle of the dial. Usually after seeing a trick or two that was designed to push them one way or the other, they will pick up on the idea that they can approach magic in a different manner. If not magic as a whole, then at least the magic they see from me.

Mailbag #24

This email was in regards to the post A Story With No End

It may be just semantics, but I think that a magic trick begins and ends, but experiences can feed on itself and keep on going.

It can be a magic trick, a movie, a meal, it all has an end, but sometimes the impact is big enough to create something that will last. And then things in our daily lives can trigger the memory to recall the experience.

A movie exists on film, but your Jurassic Park is not the same as mine, to me it is connected to a bunch of nerds pointing to the screen during the session and screaming "this is a Mac, why use one to run Unix?"

So maybe the end of mystery of the trick will not end the experience, it will just change it. —IK

The point you’re making here is a semantic one. But the point I was attempting to make wasn’t a semantic one, it was a practical one. So let me clarify it.

Let’s not complicate it by thinking of a professional magic show, which obviously has a start and an end. Let’s just think of a casual situation where you show someone a trick.

When does the trick end?

You could say the trick is over at the climax of the effect. That as soon as you turn over their card, the trick has ended. But that seems like a strange way to think of things: that the very start of the emotion we’re trying to elicit is the end of the thing we’re doing.

Or—as I choose to think of it—you could say that as long as the person is fooled by the trick, the trick is ongoing.

When viewed from that perspective, it makes sense to not just perfect the sleights and the method that leads up to the climax, but also to take practical steps to maintain the mystery after the climax of an effect.

---

Do you have any focus-group testing results coming up? —DT

There are about a half-dozen different things that were in some stage of testing when the coronavirus came along and put off testing indefinitely. I’m not sure when that will pick up again, unfortunately.

One of the most interesting things to me that we were looking at was in regards to how people perceive “spectator as mind reader” types of effects. For example, let’s say you’re doing a trick with a thumb-writer and a two digit-number. Which of these is stronger:

“I’ve written down my prediction of what two-digit number you’ll think of.”

vs.

“I’ve written down a two digit number. I want you to read my mind and tell me what number it is.”

I found the feedback we got on that very interesting. We were about 2/3rds of the way through what we wanted to do with that testing, but I may call it off early and just publish what we have if it looks like we’re not going to be getting groups of strangers together anytime soon.

Any testing results will likely be in the supporter-only publications, since they’re the ones who fund the testing.

---

I’m working on an idea to use a coin vanish in the middle of a “failed” effect as a tribute to [insert otherworldly entity] to bring to effect to conclusion or as the imp for another effect. 

 I’d like to hear your thoughts on ditching objects after a vanish. A lot of times I see the advice to just hold it in classic palm or whatever until after the effect is complete or there is an off moment. But I feel like if you don’t clearly show that hand to be empty then that leaves an “easy answer” as to what happened. 

I think this may be another instance of spectators being too polite to actually say “uh, it’s in your other hand”. Kind of similar to the card to pocket problem. —JC

The best advice I can give (and maybe this is too obvious to even be considered “advice”) is to try and structure the routine so that you ditch the object before it has been revealed to have vanished (or changed, or whatever the case may be).

So: false transfer, ditch, reveal the coin is gone—not—false transfer, reveal the coin is gone, ditch.

The particular trick you have in mind might not allow that to happen, but I feel like, more often than not, you can structure things to allow for this type of ditch.

Your question brought to mind something else I want to talk about, but that will be a longer discussion for tomorrow’s post: Tuning Spectators.

Seer-ial

A couple months ago I wrote…

“If I wanted to do a serial number divination here is what it would have to look like:

The spectator takes out any bill of any denomination from her wallet. With your head turned away she folds the bill up so the serial number is completely hidden away. You never touch the bill—nobody other than the spectator touches the bill—and yet you’re able to tell her what the serial number is.

That would seem impossible if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve seen my friend do that exact trick about half a dozen times. [It’s] designed for social, one-on-one performing and in those situations it’s a really strong effect.”

And here is how it’s done.

I’ll explain the simplest version first and then give some alternative ways to perform it so it’s even more fooling.

You have a spectator remove a $20 bill and fold it into eighths and crease it sharply so it stays closed. You ask her to place the bill on the table near you. The bill is covered with a mug or cup so you can’t see anything and you are able to divine the serial number, apparently without ever touching the bill.

This uses a switch I originally described in the trick, “Cup of George.” There is a bill with a known serial number already in the cup. When the cup is turned down, the bill on the table is kicked into the lap with the pinky finger. It looks like this in action…

What makes this so strong is—from the spectator’s perspective—the bill is never touched. They remove it from their pocket, they fold it up, it’s isolated under a cup. And yet somehow the magician can name the serial number. And it’s the spectator who removes the cup and unfolds the bill. It really kills people.

Here’s how my friend does it with any common denomination. He has a $1, $5, $10, and $20 folded in eighths in his pocket, or in different pockets. The spectator removes their bill and he locates the required matching bill. As they are folding their bill, he is cleaning out his cup with a napkin and in the process he leaves the matching folded bill inside.

He has them place the bill in front of him. He covers it with the cup, doing the switch in the process, and has them place their hands on the cup.

[Don’t overly justify the cup. The cup is there so you can’t see or touch the bill. I wouldn’t even bother stating that.]

Then he divines the serial number.

He either writes it down on a business card, or a blank page in a small notebook, or types it into the notebook app in his phone. But in actuality, he does none of those things. Each bill’s serial number is already written on an individual business card, on an individual page in the book, or in a note on his phone.

So, if he’s using business cards, he’ll just remove the one for the right denomination bill, act as if he’s writing the serial number down, and then set it down on the table. If it’s a page in the notebook he’ll just act like he’s writing the number down then rip that page out of the notebook. If he’s using his phone, he’ll have all the serial numbers in one note and erase the ones he doesn’t need.

Of course, you can just ask for one specific denomination if you want, and then you just have to memorize that one serial number if you prefer going that route.

Bonus Convincer: Each serial number that is pre-written down has the third digit from the end incorrect. It’s lower than it should be by two. So he will set the business card down at the end, go back one final time to “sense” the bill, then he turns the business card over and corrects the wrong number. Although they shouldn’t have any reason to doubt it, this should have them fairly convinced this was all written in the moment.

There you go. A serial number divination isn’t really my style, but I’ve seen this one in action and it is both very strong and very straightforward. If I was going to do one, this would be it.

Modern Ouija

Here’s something I really like.

My friend got this Ouija board a few months ago.

But unlike those fake ass Ouija boards from Parker Brothers, this one really does have all the answers.

It’s a custom engraved wooden laptop cover made by a company called Toast. (It’s not something they just sell. It was a custom order. But here’s the vector file if you decide you want to recreate it.)

I like the idea a lot. It looks cool and it’s a conversation piece. Specifically it’s a conversation piece that can push the discussion in a weird/magic-y direction. And it can be used with different effects.

What effects?

Well, I’ve written in the past about using a Ouija board to “suggest” the letters in a progressive anagram. That way it’s not you reading their mind, but “the spirits.”

Or

You could say you’re thinking of removing the cover because some weird shit has happened since you put it on. Then use a Loop to move an impromptu planchette (maybe a fork or a paper cup) without touching it. Really any sort of PK effect would work if done on top of the board.

If you use your laptop and interact with people in libraries, coffee-shops, co-working spaces or anything like that, I think it’s a great Hook to get into a magic trick. Even if you didn’t specifically use the Ouija board in the trick itself. I watched my friend use it to transition into a trick with a woman at a cafe in this manner…

Her: I like your laptop cover.

Him: Oh, thanks.

[There was some conversation here about whether it was real wood and where he got it.]

Him: The other day this woman freaked out about it. She said the Ouija board is powerful black magic, not a toy.

Her: That’s funny. I used to play with one at my grandmother’s house with my cousins.

Him: Was it powerful black magic? Did you contact any spirits?

Her: I don’t think so. If we did, they didn’t have anything interesting to say. But I swear the… whatever the thing is called… would move on its own.

Him: Hmm… yeah, I’m fascinated with anything weird/unexplainable. Speaking of… do you want to see something I’ve been reading about?

Then he was off showing her some mentalism thing and they’ve been seeing each other since.

That’s a much better response than I’ve ever gotten from my custom laptop cover. (Which consists of a tasteful nude of myself with the phrase, “Magicians Do It With Sponge Balls” engraved underneath.)

[UPDATE: My friend just saw this post and passed along some more information if you want to have one of these made for yourself. Here’s his email:

I thought of a couple things your readers may want to keep in mind if they decide to do this.

First, the total cost of this, including top and bottom covers for a 13 inch macbook, was $160. So it’s not cheap.

Second, here was the first mock-up they sent me.

Obviously that looks idiotic. There are two special requests you have to make. The first is to have them print the image across the full cover. (That’s where $30 of the $160 went—as a surcharge for the larger image.)

The other special request is to have them remove the TOAST logo. (That’s the small brown box at the bottom of the image above.)]