julie lives here.

Last night I went to a gathering of magicians.

No, really, I did.

No one was dressed like Harry Potter, nor were there anagrams or candles or people walking around in velvet capes. This was a group of working or wannabe working magicians, gathered together for a lecture on closeup magic by renowned magician Doc Eason. The crowd, and I can say this with confidence, is overwhelmingly male, in the sometimes extremely geeky, cute/nerd fanboy sort of way. Apparently most serious magicians start their practice as young boys, so the sheer boyness never leaves these guys, regardless of what their chronological age is. This time I was, as Woody Allen puts it, one of only three attendees of the “female persuasion.” Sometimes I’m the only girl there.

I’ve gone to these lectures before, held in Diamond Heights in a old wooden clubhouse that’s perpetually enclosed in a foggy shroud, perfect for a meeting of magicians looking to perfect their craft. As I can do a single card trick very very poorly, and still cannot hide a quarter behind my ear, I probably shouldn’t be allowed entree, but these magicians and students don’t mind what your credentials are. They walk around the room, practicing effects for each other. The method of introduction goes something like this: “Hi, I’m Jim. I do card magic.” These guys identify themselves by what kind of magic they perform, or wish they could.

It’s Magic: their effects and gimmicks. Never tricks. Don’t call them tricks or you give yourself away as one of the Others.

I try to imagine this group of overgrown boys practicing for hours: their sleights of hand, their shuffles, cuts and breaks, their palming and patter and misdirection. How many thousands of hours of practice live in that single group of men and boys? There’s a huge amount of psychology, acting, storytelling and showmanship that has to happen in order to fool an audience, or even a single person. At first, when I started learning how exactly effects are done (and the cardinal rule of becoming a student of magic is that YOU CANNOT TELL HOW THE EFFECT IS DONE or else a cadre of magicians will show up on your doorstep and beat you up), I thought it would take the magic out of Magic. But on the contrary, the more I know how things are done, the more impressed as hell I am because I know that 1. I will never be able to accomplish such feats no matter what I do, and 2. you have to really appreciate how good they are to pull these effects off because you KNOW they are fooling you.

Pictured above is my friend Christian Cagigal, the magician in San Francisco that I always love to see perform. Christian has the distinction of being the first “real” person I ever photographed, and for that sake alone, he has my eternal gratitude. My path to becoming a photographer and working my own sort of magic is due directly to the photos we captured together on a foggy morning in Golden Gate Park. He has a new show that’s just opened at the Exit Theatre (so you should go and check it out), and when I see him work, being in his presence reminds me of where I started in my own art. I may not be able to palm a coin but I can take a damn good picture when I want to.

Thanks, Christian.