Magicians love theory, and it seems that
Spanish magicians love it even more. If you take a look at the international
magic scene you will discover that Spain, and the Latin culture, develop their
theories about the art of magic to a greater extent than most. In lectures,
articles, books, master classes, internet forums... and even in a casual
conversation between two magicians, you will find not only discussions about
the most suitable technique in the context of a routine, but also discussions
of theoretical issues, applications, and the validity of said theories.
This is probably a result of master
Ascanio's influence, and the development of the Escuela Magica de Madrid, whose circular letter has, for more than
30 year, been eminently theoretical.
The importance of Arturo de Ascanio's
theories cannot be denied. But as others have previously noted, Ascanio did not
“invent” them in a vacuum. His theoretical conceptions came from watching other
magicians perform (primarily, Fred Kaps who Ascanio considered to be the
perfect performer). Ascanio gave names to existing but previously undefined
concepts that, while already being instinctively used, were hard to define.
Thanks to Arturo’s work we can now apply a “parenthesis of forgetfulness”,
avoid an “anti-contrast parenthesis”, and take advantage of the “tube effect”,
not only by instinct, but on a conscious level.
And that is the greatness of Ascanio's
works: The use of theory as a tool. Theory must be born from performing,
analyzing your performance, and then returning to theory. If it doesn’t, it is
easy to fall into the trap of merely senseless pondering.
But there's something that worries me. In my
opinion, an excess of theory, or, should I say, an exaggeration of its
importance, creates the opposite effect. On the one hand, some of the younger
magicians (including me) sometimes dare to make theories about some aspects of
magic when we still lack years (not only in terms of experience, but also yet
to reach maturity). Besides, when theory becomes the foundation of our magic,
rather than just one more tool, it creates a rigidity in the way one performs,
thinks, creates and values. And, at the same time, I see some people
overreacting in a negative way when they realize that theory, isn't always
perfect. In the latter case, we can sometimes find articles and opinions that
discuss, attack, and sometimes it seems that they even try to destroy the
theoretical foundations on which we've based our work many years ago.
The notion of “theoretical relativism” is
something that I thought of, at an internal level, when I witnessed, or
participated in discussions about theory, and someone defended a trivial
theory, as fiercely as if his life depended on it, or as if the idea was an
unmovable pillar on which rested the very existence of magic. Or sometimes, the
opposite occured, and someone stated that a well-established theory, used and
proved for centuries, was no longer valid, and that magicians should discard it
if we wanted our art to develop and reach a new level of depth and meaning.
Curiously, most of the time, the people
presenting those arguments had only been practicing magic for a few years,
and/or were never able to articulate a practical use for the theories they
defended. So they failed to provide any
evidence that might have convinced others that their ideas were valid.
Most of the times, my opinion was that some
parts of their ideas were right, but it is difficult to try to present a
“universal truth” in these kind of discussions, because in magic there is no
absolute truth about what the audience should see or think.
I think Alex Elmsley might have been a
precursor of this “theoretical relativism” idea. He wrote an article in which
he compared the trick to a patient, and theory to the remedy for its illness. “But
a person goes to the doctor only when he's ill, and only then the search for
the right remedy begins”. If a doctor gave every medicine in the world to a
new patient, in order to keep him healthy, he would probably kill him.
The lesson of this this essay is to be aware
of how the different theoretical concepts of magic can be applied to an actual
performance. However, when I start working on a trick, I begin mainly from
intuition. Theory vs. intuition? Are those concepts opposite? Actually the
truth is the opposite one, as probably the seed for Ascanio's theories was is
wonderful intuition. It is the same for Gabi's concepts, Bob Neale's
classifications, and Tamariz's theory of false solutions.
Because what usually happens, when you
create by intuition, is that you unconsciously apply all of the theory you
know. If you detect a problem in your creation then, as Elmsley proposed, it is
time to try to find a remedy in theory. But if theory goes against your
intuition, I think that, when in doubt, it's better to follow the latter.
Follow what's inside you, even when it makes you question your theoretical
base, and makes you feel unsure. But, if there's something that I am completely
confident about is what I feel when I am performing a trick. And, if something
works for me, I'd rather not change it. I will have plenty of time to determine
why it works, and maybe, after several years of experimentation, and drawing
conclusions, I will find a new theory myself.
That is why I warn you to be careful when
reading the articles on theory included in this book. They are nothing more
than my opinions, and the consequences of my own experiences and my mentor's
teachings.
When I began studying music, I found several
handbooks about creating harmony. They taught almost-mathematical concepts for
a method that made that any melody you played on a piano sound “well The
problem was that sometimes I wouldn't follow the handbook’s methods, but I
would still get a good sound - even though I was not following the established rules. A friend of mine, a
viola player, told me, while recording one of my pieces with his string
quartet: “I hope you know what you're doing! This chord doesn't match the
harmony!” I almost felt guilty for
liking what I heard. Could it be that I had no musical talent? Was I wasting
all of the basic principles of polyphony?
Years later, I was relieved when as I
studied the works of a master who is considered by many to be the best author
of music handbooks in the world: Walter Piston, famous for his books on
orchestration and harmony. In one of them, he stated: “The rules presented
in this harmony handbook are not unchangeable principles that can't be avoided,
but mere guiding rules deducted from the works of composers during more than 4
centuries. I will not tell you how to do things, just how they have been done
so far”.
I always try to follow his advice.
