These are the things I love:
The cab ride to a previously undisclosed address,
Careful conversation about origins,
How much was paid,
Who made the deal,
Who loves the books,
Who actually reads them,
What condition they’re in,
Signing past security,
The vault opening,
Touching the collection,
Ruminations on the way out,
Imagining the future.
Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man — photo by Luc Viator
When McGill’s writing centre asked me to propose a new workshop for current PhD students, I took a look at the subjects usually covered. The classic topics were all there: outlining, reverse-outlining, conference abstracts, etc. These are the same useful yet purely intellectual workshops that I took during grad school at the University of Toronto. A few aspects of human life were missing: the physical, the psychological, the social.
So, I suggested a new workshop titled “Healthy Writing Habits: physical and Social Exercises for Scholars.” It would focus on remaining physically and psychologically healthy while writing professionally. It would contain the lessons that were the most difficult for me to learn as the demands of my PhD forced me to become a marathon writer. To my surprise the writing centre liked the idea. (I thought the pitch was going to be rejected for being too “soft” or “holistic” or something).
As a result, I had the opportunity this morning to share some of the tips and tricks that I learned for forming healthy writing habits. A group of about fifteen PhD students were in the room. It was a surprisingly emotional experience for me to watch these writers, who I know are suffering as they tackle huge projects, nod in recognition when I spoke honestly about the solitude, physical pain and psychological obstacles that I experienced during my PhD. It was gratifying to see them learn stretches, trade emails for arranging “writing sprints,” and actually clap at the end of the workshop. If even a few of them benefit from some of the strategies that helped me write and defend my dissertation, then leading this workshop was well worth it.
On Friday, I directed the largest magic and variety event of my career. Approximately 1,000 people attended the spectacle created to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the advertising firm Duncan/Channon. The evening was designed to provide guests with the greatest variety of magic possible (close-up, parlor, and stage). These acts were carefully crafted to fit our performance environment: the historic Adam Grant Building in downtown San Francisco. Chester, a giant fire-breathing horse parked in front of the building, made the party easy to find.
The opening piece of stage magic was the 19-century illusion photographed above. It was performed by Kyle Driggs in the foyer as guests arrived. Heather Houseman and her string quartet played a Philip Glass composition to accentuate its ethereal, otherworldly effect. Close-up magician, Noah Levine, amazed one to two guests at a time for a more intimate experience of the impossible on the 14th floor. Steve Johnson, posing as a guest, melted minds with the custom joker cards printed as souvenirs by Duncan/Channon. Roman Spinale roamed about as a fake server who magically produced bottles of champagne throughout the night. He also opened the main stage show with some sand magic. The fantastic Ralph Carney and the All Ones accompanied him and rocked the house throughout the night. Wayne Houchin performed a lovely version of Houdini’s needles. Sebastian Boswell III walked barefoot on glass, mystified minds and pounded a nail into his face. Jade performed her brand of elegant stage magic. Kyle manipulated seven rings and an umbrella with supernatural skill. Bri Crabtree freaked guests out with a specially constructed clown prop that she and I designed. Richard Hartnell made a flaming, crystal ball float. Paul Nathan welcomed guests to hell in the main conference room. Kim Silverman performed deeply meaningful magic in the wizard’s den past midnight. And to top it all off, Fran Houchin escaped from a straitjacket while hanging upside-down from a twenty-foot ceiling. We pulled all the stops to impress this crowd. San Francisco audiences can be tough. Here is what the president and founder of the company wrote to me after the event:
“Holy crap! It worked. It couldn’t and wouldn’t have without you. That impossible, improbable, way too ambitious fever-dream of a hurricane of an event. Your resourcefulness, your cool, your imagination, your diligence, your friends. Many many thanks for what some said was the best Tipmas ever.” — Duncan.
Thanks, team. We did it. Everything is possible.
I’ve just joined the editorial advisory board of one of my favorite academic journals: Early Popular Visual Culture. The publication is a respected venue for sharing interdisciplinary research related to all forms of popular visual culture before 1930. This fits well with one of my primary research areas: the golden age of stage conjuring (1875-1925). I am both honoured and excited to be part of this team.
I’ve just finished the first magic class of the year at Montreal’s National Circus School and am still feeling that post-teaching rush. It’s quite exciting to be sharing magic history, techniques and the latest examples of “magie nouvelle” — a new, interdisciplinary mixture of circus and magic arts — with the next generation of performers who will be amazing audiences for Cirque Éloize, Cirque du Soleil, 7 Doigts de la Main and other professional companies. After all of the course handouts, props, and content that had to be managed today, I know that I’m physically pretty tired. It’s worth it though. It’s inspiring to see magical lights turn on in the minds of these talented performers. I can’t wait to see what ideas they come up with this year.
I had the enjoyable task of preparing magic for a Massey wedding over the weekend. Master Emeritus John Fraser, president of the Institute for the Study of the Crown, hosted me in the Robertson Davies suite. This is a beautiful room with the feel of a gentleman’s study c.1920. Practising sleight-of-hand there was a communion with several aspects of the past. I communed with Davies as I walked past the familiar display of his book Fifth Business in the downstairs library. I communed with John Fraser, whose exotic souvenirs and writing instruments adorned my temporary desk. Finally, I communed with those years I spent as a resident Junior Fellow pouring over magic books in House II, room 15. Reflections of hands, illuminated by pools of light. This visit was a doubling of practising selves, an experience of the present happily mixing with the past.
The inimitable Anna-Karyna Barlati, librarian at the National Circus School, asked me to recommend three magic books for the students here. Only three? This was no easy task. The NCS library is frequented by students ranging in age from early teens to late twenties. I kept this in mind while also nourishing a healthy bias for my students who are in the college program. The selections are each fundamental books that every magic student should have under their belt:
1) The Five Points of Magic by Juan Tamariz,
2) The French Omnibus edition of the complete works of Robert-Houdin: Comment on devient sorcier,
3) Hiding the Elephant by Jim Steinmeyer.
These offer a solid foundation in close-up, parlor and stage magic. They also give students a few different access points for how and why to learn from the history of magic as a performing art. Finally, those who make it to the end of Tamariz’s book will be rewarded with an annotated list of his recommendations.
For throw-back Thursday, here is a clip of our talented friend Andrée-Anne Gingras-Roy operating her 100-year old player piano. Andrée-Anne is a professional musician with Compagnia Finzi Pasca. If you saw the Sochi winter olympics in 2014, then you saw her play the glass organ on live television for millions of viewers. We lived in her beautiful instrument all last year. This is the first time we saw the player piano in action:
Pianos that play themselves are a recurring theme in magic. If you ever visit the Magic Castle in Hollywood, be sure to visit Irma and ask for a song.
Robert Heller (William Henry Palmer)
Birth Date: August 19, 1829 (Canterbury, England)
Death Date: November 25, 1878 (Philidelphia)
Info: Robert Heller, born William Henry Palmer in Canterbury, England, was inspired to pursue a career as an illusionist after seeing a performance of French master magician Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin. Heller traveled to New York in the summer of 1852 to begin his North American shows, which, as time went on and he perfected his tour, won him the kind of financial success and publicity only matched by certain rival magicians such as the Herrmann Brothers and John Henry Anderson.
Heller, a talented, classically trained pianist, always received rave reviews for the musical portion of his shows, which, as early as 1862 in Hamilton, Ontario included the performance of vocalist Miss E. A. Marsh. However, he did not become truly renowned for his magical entertainment until 1864 when he met Edward Hingston (a manager who had engineered success for Anderson, Artemus Ward and others). Heller’s signature magic act was “Second Sight,” in which his sister, though blindfolded on stage, could verbally describe any object from the audience her brother gazed upon. The magician travelled back and forth between North America and Europe, performing in the British Isles (1873-1876), in New York (November, 1876), in England (1877) and, finally, back to America in 1878. He performed various stage illusions such as the “Indian Basket Trick,” “The Inexhaustible Bottle,” and “The Mysterious Hat” (a version of Joseph Hartz’s “The Devil of a Hat”), which are all listed in an 1877 Boston review of one of his last appearances before his death the very next year. That same 73 consecutive day production resulted in a Boston record for magic shows: $45,000 in receipts ($20,000 of which Heller received). In 1913, a magic periodical, The Sphinx, published an homage to Heller as well as an anecdotal poem the magician would recite for his audiences:
“Shakespeare wrote well,
Dickens wrote Weller,
Anderson was—
But the greatest is Heller.”
Yesterday, I watched as three letters were magically added to my sister’s last name. Friends, family members, administrators, professors and her fellow classmates filled the auditorium. Her full name was called, a master’s hood was placed around her neck, and Smith College President Kathleen McCartney handed her a well-earned degree. This fancy piece of paper, combined with a ceremonial walk across the stage, is the academic equivalent of being baptised. Katie may now legally sign her emails as Katherine Elizabeth Culpepper, MSW. She spent twenty-seven months completing coursework at one the best schools in the US, worked two eight-month placements (one at Danbury Hospital, CT; the other at the DeBakey VA Medical Center in Houston, TX), and wrote a thesis on suicide prevention for veterans. She is now qualified to work on becoming a licensed clinical social worker. We couldn’t be more proud of her or the path that she has chosen. Here’s to the transformative power of cultural rituals like commencement ceremonies and therapy sessions. Here’s to those moments when words have the power to do what they say.