Flipping the Litmus

Last week, I wrote about a "litmus test" I do to consider if a trick is good for social performing: If you can do it on Instagram—if it's something that plays just as well without a person there—then it's probably not great for social magic.

This is true as a general rule.

But I also don’t want to eliminate that kind of magic entirely.

Mixing up the style of magic you perform for people is one of the easiest ways to keep them interested over time. Shorter pieces and longer pieces. Visual tricks and cerebral tricks. Almost believable and wildly unbelievable. Silly tricks and serious tricks.

Strong magic that all feels the same eventually stops feeling strong. Strong magic that’s all over the map can keep people engaged for years.

So even though this Instagram-style magic isn’t ideal for social situations, I still want it in the mix from time to time.

But if I’m going to do it, I don’t want to put my friend in a position where they’re thinking, So I guess I’m here to clap? Or tell you how clever you are?

What I like to do is give them some logistical role where they're helping me out in some way. I wrote about this in the earliest days of the blog: People like to be of service. It's much more comfortable to them, socially, than being an "audience."

It's the difference between inviting you to my house and saying, "Check out this nude portrait of me. What do you think? Impressive, eh?"

And inviting you to my house and asking you to help me hang up a portrait that just happens to be me splayed out on my bed in all my glory.

In both cases you'll end up thinking the same thing. ("This can't possibly be anatomically accurate.") But at least in the second instance it doesn't seem like I'm directly asking you for your admiration.

(To be fair, you'd still probably think, "This guy just wants me to look at this picture of his dong, doesn't he?" It's not a perfect analogy. With magic you can be subtler.)

So let's say I want to perform Twisting the Aces.

I can invite you over and just perform it for you. Leading you to feel like you have to give something back—your approval.

Or I could ask you to help me out and watch something I'm working on. "Let me know if it looks good from your perspective." And then perform it for you.

Or I could ask you to film something for me that I need to submit somewhere for some purpose. (Maybe I need to send it back to my mentor. Or I need to submit it for access into some secret club.) "Just do your best to follow my hands."

Or I could show you Twisting the Aces and another trick as well, and suggest that I'm trying to decide which one is better for some upcoming performance opportunity.

In these cases you're being asked to contribute some fresh eyes, or filming help, or an opinion. The trick might not need you, but the context I'm showing it to you in does. This lets you feel like you're helping out and not just cheerleading me.

Of course, if the trick is good, you'll end up being my cheerleader anyway. But there's a difference between enthusiasm that's freely given and enthusiasm that's been implicitly demanded. When someone's sole job is to watch and appreciate, any praise they offer feels a little coerced. When their job is to help you out and the magic lands anyway, that reaction is genuinely theirs.