Magic, the ultimate art of dreaming. We all probably started magic to try and get as close as possible to this mystery that at first seemed impenetrable. The emotion it evoked was such that it led us to take an interest in it, so that we ourselves could practice it and in turn recreate that emotion for our spectators.
Yet, the story is more subtle, and more treacherous than that. By delving into this art, and beginning to uncover its secrets, we become increasingly disillusioned, and as we plunge deeper into its abysses, we lose our initial wonder, that very wonder that led us to start this art.
In this sense, the figure of the magician embodies that of a cursed man. Cursed because as he seeks to know this art he cherishes so much, he loses that spark, that ability to feel the magical emotion. We can, of course, try to step back, try not to take into account the many methods and tricks we know, but the implacable truth remains: as we delve deeper into the intricacies of magic, we lose our ability to marvel at it.
This is, however, a serious enough matter to be highlighted. If we, in turn, want to evoke this magical emotion in spectators, we absolutely must be able to immerse ourselves in it and therefore feel it in order to best transmit it.
Spectators do not appreciate the luck they have, that of being able to be mystified. But man constantly seeks what he does not have, and it seems almost human to try to understand what eludes us. The few dreamers who let themselves be carried away by the act are undoubtedly a minority compared to the others who come for the challenge of understanding the "trick". It is then up to the magician to put on a sufficiently well-rehearsed act for this "suspension of disbelief" to work well, as in theater or cinema.
However, unlike the seventh art where one does not wonder how special effects could have been created, magic has this element of "challenge" within it, which is also found in the term "prestidigitation" where the agility of the fingers seems to summarize the trick. Thus, it is not ultimately a question of knowing whether what we see is real or not, but directly of knowing how it works. The term "illusion" also sets the tone; we seek to deceive, to "illusion" the spectator.
How then can we continue to practice our art without losing its flavor? How can we best transmit these emotions without being able to fully feel them again? We can get closer, of course, but perhaps the solution lies elsewhere.
Perhaps optical illusions are an interesting means that seem to solve these problems: we know we are going to be fooled, we may even know the precise workings of this optical illusion, but it will always work on us. Thus, it seems possible to approach here and there a form of magic whose effect remains insensitive whether one knows the method or not.
Is this a first lead that would extend to a larger path and finally allow the magician to no longer suffer his own curse? The next time a spectator asks you to explain an effect, think back to all this, and appreciate the incredible chance they have of knowing none of your secrets.
