I’ve always enjoyed magic. Not the weird kind, but the clever sleight-of-hand of Tommy Cooper, the illusions of David Copperfield, the deadpan genius of David Blaine. As a kid, if I knew that a magician would be appearing on a show (Saturday Night at the Palladium, looking at you), then I’d sit through any number of unfunny comedians and tone-deaf singers to see what they were gong to do.
As time went on, I noticed a shift in my appreciation of the magicians art. At first, what impressed me most was novelty – once you’ve seen one woman being sawn in half, you’ve seen them all, pretty much, so bring on the disappearing elephants. But the older I get, the more I’ve come to enjoy seeing comparatively simple tricks performed well. For example, there’s a trick that most escapologists do, where they handcuff themselves, then ask a pair of volunteers to hold a jacket over their hands to hide the escape. As the escapologist tries to arrange his volunteers, one or other of his hands keeps popping up, hand-cuff free, to direct their actions. For me, there’s no longer much wow factor in the mechanaics of the trick, but performed well, it’s still a little masterpiece.
Working with young people carries a few similarities with the job of the magician (and the escapologist for that matter!), and one of those similarities is that we need to decide what ‘tricks’ we’re going to offer. Are we offering a diet of new tricks, each bigger, bolder and brasher than the last, constantly scrambling for new material, new patter and new ideas? Or are we confident enough to hone our existing material into the best it can possibly be? Do we aim to impress with novelty or with quality?

Share on Facebook