Close-up performers often work in environments that are not conducive to their art. Today, the intimate theater is rare, so one does the best with what one has — the restaurant, the family living room, the kitchen table, or the walk-around gig. Oh my!

Gene Weingarten’s article Pearls Before Breakfast, along with Setting the Record Straight, touches on similar concerns — how extraordinary artistry can be overlooked when placed in the wrong context.

For the serious practitioner, the work is immense — only to be asked by a naïve adult to please show a “trick” to their child, as if the work were not meant for adults, and as if the years spent mastering the craft were merely a novelty.

It takes a special kind of person to step forward and perform for a crowd. But for close-up performers — specifically magicians — it can be uniquely brutal. Many become so disheartened that they give up. Frequently misunderstood, one artist is often judged by the last magician seen, as if all are the same. Public awareness seems to be improving, but education is still lacking, unlike other arts and entertainment. For this reason, I offer some purpose and encouragement to provide insight into the extraordinary work.

“C’mon, it’s just tricks! Get a life.” These words sum up the attitude for some — but not all. And that is the point. How important is it to you? We could be discussing sports, politics, medicine, painting, music, or astronomy. It’s all a matter of perspective, and to each their own. To be sure, not everyone will understand, but who cares? While many philosophize, artists seem to do it regardless of what others think and will continue to do it because they must. The movie Searching for Bobby Fischer captures the frustration well in the “This Chess Thing” clip.

Magicians are interactive performers using tools of deception for entertainment. Yes, they do tricks, but that sounds trite, considering generals have won battles with less depth of deception than a magician at a birthday party. Remember the story of the Trojan Horse? In war, lives are at stake — so the consequences feel visceral and vital. Psychologists and neuroscientists study perceptual engineering — as do politicians, lawyers, business people, television producers, and media influencers. It is remarkable how potent the work is beyond entertainment.

To some observers, magic appears little more than novelty — a handful of tricks sold in a box for children. A casual pastime, easily dismissed as amusement. But for those who practice the art seriously, the perspective changes entirely. What appears simple from the outside conceals years of research into perception, attention, psychology, and human behavior.

At its best, magic is not about tricks at all, but about understanding perception and awakening astonishment.

More than entertainment, through perceptual engineering, magic becomes a kind of mental martial art for critical thinking — an indispensable tool for understanding how the mind constructs reality. Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow may be one of the best books ever written about what magicians actually do, though not intentionally. Kahneman received the 2002 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences (shared with Vernon L. Smith) for his work on decision-making and cognitive bias.

Related article: Two Brains Running by Jim Holt

Perceptual engineering is a mental martial art for critical thinking, as mentioned in The Hungry Imagination. According to a study by Michigan State University entitled Artistic Scientists and Scientific Artists, Nobel Prize winners were dramatically more likely to be involved in the arts than less accomplished scientists. In particular, those who practiced magic were twenty-two times more likely — an encouraging validation for practicing artists. It reminds me of the line, “Overspecialize, and you breed in weakness. It’s slow death.” — Ghost in the Shell.

At a party, I overheard someone say, “I hate magic.” Serendipitously, I later found myself sitting across from the very same person who said it. He was an advertising expert. I asked, “Do you use a hierarchy of colors as a way to influence people?” He said yes. I continued, “How about primacy and recency?” A discussion followed about the tendency to remember mostly the first and last parts of an experience. We explored many subjects concerning the mind, including The Paradox of Choice, which businesses use to push products and magicians use to force choices.

Barry Schwartz’s book The Paradox of Choice describes how an abundance of options can make decisions harder and leave us less satisfied with what we choose.

After a while, he asked, “Why do you know all this?”

I told him they were all tools of deception used in magic. I said, “It appears that you and I both influence people with similar concepts, if not the same ones. However, my viewers know I perform tricks, while your target audience does not. And by the way, if you use the tools of a magician, how are you not a magician? And if so, do you hate yourself for doing magic?”

He was momentarily lost for words, and then he genuinely laughed.

Perceptual engineering is everywhere. 

Some of the most exceptional sleight-of-hand artists employ a psychology of execution that would rival any university-level study of perception. Yet because the art is often framed merely as “tricks,” few people recognize this.

When we experience exceptionally good magic, we are surprised, perplexed, lost, or momentarily frozen in time. I am not speaking of a simple illusion, but of the deep, emotional, jaw-dropping shock that comes from disbelief. Pure astonishment is rare and forces an internal reset upon our assumptions. What we thought we knew is pleasantly destroyed — if only for a moment.

How often does that happen?

Magic is a tool for breaking biases. Writers do it with words. Comedians do it with humor. Many forms of art participate in this process, but it is the job of a magician to achieve it consistently.

Today, the magic of cinema is extraordinary, so how does a performing artist compete with films of the kind produced by Marvel Comics? Fortunately, there is no need. A live show is different. Films continue to replace our imagination with every technological advancement, but a live entertainer can play with and feed a viewer’s imagination in real time. Movies cannot converse with you — not directly, at least not yet. Each medium has its own freedoms and limitations, which we can use to our advantage.

In a live show, interactivity often trumps passivity. I imagine a live performance as a conversation with the audience. I strive to be genuine, as if casually conversing with a friend over a cup of coffee. However, a coffee shop setting and an offhanded conversation may not be engaging. Performance, therefore, becomes something more refined — a hyper-reality of the best of who we are, brought into play through authenticity and presence in the moment, after lots of practice.

A performer may talk “at” us, requiring only passive attention, or interact and prompt us to engage — and then we become participants. Consider the following lines used when someone selects a card: “You did not pick the one before or after, and it may haunt you later.” Versus: “Why did you not pick the one before or after? Will it haunt you later?” It is subtle, but the latter requires us to engage, while the first does not. And if someone answers, even better.

Here is related research by Nobel laureate Eric Kandel: How Your Brain Finishes Paintings.

We tend to complete things in our minds, even when we only see or hear a partial amount — like dotted lines, incomplete sentences, or vaguely familiar sounds. We then remember the edited and paraphrased version. It turns out that we humans thoroughly enjoy doing it. As Eric Kandel discovered, our brains light up with activity when looking at a painting; we feel compelled to finish the picture. Of course, if the challenge is too steep, we may give up. If it is not engaging enough, we lose interest. But when mindfully engineered — especially in a live performance — the distinction becomes cogent.

Visual images often intrude on verbal thinking, a study suggests, indicating that pondering with images may be hardwired. See the Harvard Gazette article, The Power of Picturing Thoughts.

To experience magic is remarkable. But as performers, we experience it through our audience when we see their faces and hear the sounds of awe. There is nothing else like it. My job is to mess with people’s minds for their pleasure — and perhaps give something more. How could I complain? My attitude is simple.

I want to do what I love for as long as I can. And to all struggling artists, I hope this writing offers inspiration. For those who thought magic was merely about tricks, perhaps this article offers something more to consider.

Since the advent of social media, everyone is “special,” and fake “reality shows” are mainstream. While mediocrity is often celebrated on YouTube and our search for genuine leaders or heroes may seem increasingly daunting, why not seek the virtue of excellence and cultivate a pride of integrity? Perhaps we may even inspire others with our humanity.

Thoughts are powerful. We can think “trick,” or make magic. We can think “magic,” or make art. We can think “art,” or create moments of true astonishment.

I hope this writing invigorates your potential to achieve something special for yourself — something that may affect others in beautiful ways. Art is powerful. But if you need encouragement, I leave you with this, as my late wife Robin once told me during my momentary display of unwitting timidity:

“Stop it! This (‘magic’) is your passion, your art, and you work hard. Like others before you who struggled to achieve. You are no less than Van Gogh, Beethoven, or Einstein. But if you do not walk it and talk it, no one will know it — so stop it and be proud.”

Hence, to all who endeavor to reach for the stars — I now pay it forward to you:

You are no less. Be proud.