By Paola Filotico
A while ago, I was invited to an online magic show. It was a beautiful ‘night out’: the performance was wonderful, and I let myself be entertained for an hour or so, looking at things which happened in front of me that I could not make sense of. In the following days the memory of the show kept affecting me: I was moved, and emotional – like when a vivid dream keeps coming back to mind, or a memory from years ago, or when a conversation gives you a sense of closure. And I felt energised and more proactive in my day–to–day activities. I felt a sense of possibility that was not there before – and that certainly was not due to external circumstances, as at the time when we were still observing a strict lockdown.
In my practice as a therapist, I see breakthrough and change as unique moments which happen through a co-created artistic journey of self-knowledge and discovery, in which serendipity plays a part. As I kept thinking about the night, I started to entertain the idea that there could be more to stage magic than just entertainment – was there a potential for change there? I wanted to understand more, so I got in touch with Ferdinando, a stage magician himself, designer of magical experiences, and the person who invited me to the show. I wanted to see if my impressions made sense to a professional magician.
Having shared my thoughts with Ferdinando, who is himself knowledgeable about psychotherapy theories, I started by asking him whether he thought there is some common ground between stage magic and therapy. His insights were as surprising as the show…
In designing my shows, I do my best to make sure they can be read and enjoyed at different levels. The first and most obvious one is the face value of a magic show: when we think of it as pure entertainment, a trick is just a trick, and I’m producing ‘illusions’ due to my skillset as a performer. And that’s all well and good, it is enough in and of itself. However, when the stars align and the alchemy is right, deeper levels can come into play and potentially trigger a resonance with the participants: I’m thinking about the symbolic dimension of a performance, that though not made explicit is active and hidden in plain sight.
For example, think of a simple feat: putting a coin in my hand and make it disappear: puff, it’s gone for good! At the more obvious, manifest, and superficial level it’s a trick about making a coin disappear, through some sort of sleight-of-hand shenanigans. At the same time though, at a deeper level of significance, even something as simple and mundane as a coin vanish can be a symbolic reminder that things are not always what they seem to be, that reality is a fluid, unfolding process in continuous transformation: now you see something solid here and, just a moment later, that something melted into thin air, disappeared. See what I mean? Even something deceptively simple like a coin trick can act as a reminder of the impermanence of things, of life itself, and the ultimate vanish that awaits for us all.
As I said, this deeper level of interpretation doesn’t have to be made explicit. Doing that would be like explaining a joke. No, absolutely not. Still, this symbolic layer is there, quietly waiting for someone to tune in on that special, archetypal frequency. Put it in another way, the disappearance of a coin—and this is true for all magic acts that are properly designed and performed— is like a finger pointing at the moon: a device, a tool, or a “trick”, as it were, pointing towards something more essential and profound.
I found this statement striking to say the least, and wondered whether stage magic could be assimilated to a dream, whose symbolic language speaks to and through the unconscious mind…
Yes. In the most artistically relevant and successful examples, magic has the potential to speak to the unconscious mind, opening a tiny window to peek into deeper aspects of reality. As famous magician and philosopher Eugene Burger wrote:
“In the deepest sense (…) an experience of magic involves a mental linkage between the magic trick that is being performed and other emotional concepts, experiences, dreams, hopes, ambitions, fears, nightmares, and more. Perhaps the linkage is to archetypes and magical symbols present in the Unconscious, as Jung suggested – these powerful mental images, found especially in our dreams, that are our links to the magical universe of enchantment, symbol and myth.”
There you have it!
Our conversation also reminds me of those moments of insight and breakthrough that from time to time happen in therapy – do you think there is any overlap?
Therapy makes a masterful use of language to support and facilitate a process of transformation. I cannot think of a more quintessentially magical “device” than the spoken words to make magical things happen. When performing, magic words are also an essential piece of the puzzle, though we use other tools to engage other senses, especially sight. There is a moment when our rational thoughts and feelings short-circuit: we experience something we know is impossible, yet we see it happening right in front of our eyes. It can be pretty powerful to experience first hand how limited our perception of reality is. If one is able to let go, accept to play, and be transported into this space of cognitive dissonance – which is also (hopefully!) entertaining and amusing – then new perspectives and vistas can open up.
Can you talk a bit more about the structure of a whole magic show, instead of a single trick?
Designing a show is akin charting a journey for the audience: we need a conceptual starting point, some sort of premise, and then unfold such premise till it gets somewhere final, with magic effects happening along the way. Once again, this doesn’t need to be made explicit, but the audience should feel, at some instinctive level, that I am guiding them somewhere unexpected, surprising, and hopefully fun and wonderful.
At the end of a show, like projecting ideas on a Rorschach inkblots, the audience can read what they experienced at different levels, through their individual and subjective filters. They might think, at least: ‘I liked the show, I don’t know how he did his things, but clearly they were tricks, and it was fun.’ This is the first level. And then, sometimes, someone will have a deeper and more profound reaction: in those lucky cases, it’s like planting a seed, that may take its time to sprout and grow. I think this needs to be stressed: magic can be a potent catalyst, and potentially contribute to a breakthrough, and insight, or a moment of transformation. But this is not an exact science, and once this process is set in motion it’s not ours to “control”, it will go wherever it decides to go, even in very unexpected and unpredictable directions.
What is your ultimate goal, or your reason for doing magic?
Probably my artistic ambition is to show people—through my tricks, acts and performances—that reality offers a wider spectrum of possibilities beyond what’s perceived in everyday life and that ultimately, as poet W.B Yeats put it: “The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” That’s what I’m trying to do: inviting people to sharpen their senses and cultivate a sense of wonder in their daily lives.
As it can be expected after 2020, we spoke about the pandemic…
“The whole pandemic has been a challenging experience go to through. Besides disrupting my routines, travels and performing schedule, it imposed a reflection on how the whole world works, and how fragile our global, interconnected civilization is. To process some of these thoughts and emotions I tried to distil some pandemic-induced anxiety into something magical, creating a video called “On The Edge” – which is partly inspired by an essay by Philip K. Dick titled: “How to Build a Universe That Doesn’t Fall Apart Two Days Later”. (Link to video here.)
As time passed and the pandemic now seems to be kinda under control, I’m feeling the energy and creative juices flowing back again. Still, I’m giving much thought and paying attention to the mutation I’m undergoing as a magician, how to relate to audience in new ways, after such a major and disruptive event happened – whose long effects are here to stay and the collective trauma still needs to be processed. I’m curious to see where all of this is going, and how magic will shapeshift to fit our new landscape. I have faith that magic always finds a way.
Ferdinando spoke about stage magic as a transformative process with the potential to speak to the unconscious mind – I find this idea exciting, and I keep thinking there could be implications for my therapeutic practice, which I may explore further in the future. I kept thinking about the show: Iwondered what chords had been struck, what I saw in the Rorschach inkblots – I tried to give an interpretation. Then I considered my renewed enthusiasm, my unexpected energy; I thought about the conversation I just had, the new perspectives it had opened for me, and realised that maybe understanding wasn’t the point. Magic had started its serendipitous course, and I decided to wait and see where it may lead me.
You can find out more about Ferdinando and what he does here and follow him on Twitter.
