PARALLAX

Max Maven’s “Parallax,” appeared in the first sixty issue of MAGIC Magazine, September 1991 through August 1996. Our dictionary has parallax as “an apparent change in the position of an object when the person looking at the object changes position.” Max’s column certainly made us all look at our world from different positions.

The four selections reprinted here are discussed by Lawrence Hass in the May installment of his ongoing series, “The Theory & Art of Magic.”

Jejune is Busting Out All Over
June 1992

Out of the Panning Fray
September 1992

Thereby Angst a Tale
January 1993

Febriferous
February 1993

June 1992
Jejune is Busting Out All Over

“We often think that when we have completed our study of one we know all about two, because ‘two’ is ‘one and one.’ We forget that we still have to make a study on ‘and.’”
— Sir Arthur Eddington

By Max Maven

ICHI, NI…
The following conceptualization has been tweaked into shape over the past several years.
We begin with the premise that all human activity can be classified into two basic categories: That which we have to do, and that which we want to do. Of course, the two are not mutually exclusive. I can best explain the difference with the following example: I have to eat. I want to eat steak.

Okay. The activities which primarily reside in the “have to” category include securing a source for food and water, a place to sleep, protection from external harm, and some aspects of sex. For the purposes of this discussion, ignore them. Instead, let’s extend the premise to state that once a person has managed to take care of those things in the first category, he is she is free to explore the far more interesting possibilities of the second category.

They’re more interesting because they involve a great set of opportunities for choice, and a wider range of motivations, hence a deeper meaning for the doer. For lack of a better term, we’ll refer to these explorations as Life Endeavors.

People have struggled for centuries to determine the purpose of human existence. Myself, I’m not at all convinced that there is one. However, I believe that our species has an inherent need to create such purposes, and when you get right down to it, that’s precisely what these Life Explorations are.

These activities can, in turn, be broken down into three basic areas:

NATURAL – The exploration of one’s physical surroundings; science and technology.
AESTHETIC – The exploration of one’s emotional surroundings; the arts.
SPIRITUAL – The exploration of one’s metaphysical surroundings; faith and ethics.

Of course, these overlap; an activity can involve elements from all three areas.
Now picture a triangle, with one of these areas located at each corner:

Any form of Life Exploration can be placed somewhere on this diagram. For example, the work of a chemical engineer might be positioned firmly in the N corner:

If, however, that person’s approach to chemistry incorporates an appreciation for the harmonious patterns which can be found therein, that work might more accurately be shown thusly:

Or perhaps the chemist’s efforts are toward altruistic medical research, in which case the position might be more properly shown as this:

Ah. But this is a magic magazine, so the obvious question is, where does the art of performing magic fit into this theorem? I contend that it fits here:

Now, does all performing magic reach this perfectly centralized position? Of course not. But at its best, I maintain that such impeccable balance is indeed achieved. Moreover, I claim that magic is the only form of Life Exploration which can spontaneously find that center based purely on its intrinsic qualities. Our chemist could steer to the center, but it would be the result of deliberate effort and delicate maneuvering. What is so extraordinary about this unique art of ours is that such positioning comes about organically, if you will; As a magician’s work evolves and improves, it automatically centers.

I will not delve into a discussion as to why I have reached this conclusion. Suffice it to say that if you ponder the above, I think most of you will concur. And, if you dispute this opinion, at the very least you’ll gain something by analyzing that disagreement.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll regard the Hippity-Hop Rabbits a tad differently in the future.

MEOW MIX
Dear James Randi: I read your recent essay in Time magazine entitled “Help Stamp Out Absurd Beliefs.” To me, the most absurd belief of all is the one that maintains that any belief which you yourself do not hold is automatically deemed absurd.

September 1992
Out of the Panning Fray

“The basis of terror is optimism.”
— Oscar Wilde

By Max Maven

PROVOCATEUR OF DUTY
And so we begin our second year. The first dozen entries in this series have garnered a gratifying amount of feedback — by no means all of it favorable, which is just fine with me. The raison d’etre of this column is not to win any prizes for congeniality, although neither am I bucking to become the Eric Von Stroheim of magic.

As I see it, my function here is, in the venerable words of Dr. A. M. Wilson, to “sometimes instruct, often amuse, and always entertain.” For me to succeed at this in no way requires that anyone agree with me. (I hasten to add that, believe it or not, many people do.)

You probably won’t be surprised to learn that, thus far the installment which has generated the greatest amount of comment has been that of last May, which ignited a veritable firestorm of outrage. Now that those impassioned flames have died down, I suppose it’s time to kick the embers and find out if there’s any combustion remaining.

I gather that those who were upset believed I was advocating that professional magicians should not deign to mingle with amateurs. I have never made such a statement, and if you think I did then I suggest you go back and reread what I actually wrote. Go ahead, I’ll meet up with you at the next paragraph.

So, was there a purpose to that essay, other than provocation for its own sake? Indeed there was, although I will digress momentarily to point out that in the overwhelmingly bland world of magic periodicals, a little incitement is, in and of itself, not a bad change of pace.

But my intention was to do more than instigate animosity. I had hoped to stimulate some thought on a topic most often willfully glossed over: Art in general, and magic in particular, is a meritocracy (a system where at least in theory people achieve success by virtue of their talent and effort). Certainly that is not the image that comes across in the show and meeting convention reports that pervade the journals.

There is value in learning to discriminate. That is, of course, a loaded term, and my application here has absolutely nothing to do with the types of discrimination based, for example, on one’s gender. So, I will attempt to address the issue from a different tack (if not a different tact).
When I proffer the idea that a willful distinction ought to be made between professionals and amateurs, do you suppose that I imagined for even a moment that professionals are automatically deemed “good,” and amateurs “bad”? Not at all; some of the worst magic I’ve encountered has been at the hands of full-time pros, and vice-versa. But there are differences between the two groups, and there is value in becoming aware of that fact. Totally aside from an individual’s level of artistic quality, when a person opts to make his or her full income from the performance of magic, there is a commitment involved which surely must be acknowledged. Moreover, that commitment changes the way that person thinks about magic, and that must also be recognized.
A friend recently recounted an episode that took place at a magic convention just over a year ago. He and I were standing in the hotel lobby when a man came over and inquired about a routine he had seen me do. Was it in print? I told him it was not, as it is a mainstay of my performing repertoire, and it would thus not be in my own interests to release it. With this, the fellow stared at me for a moment in what appeared to be irritated bewilderment, and then abruptly turned on his heel and walked away, muttering loudly, “Well, it shouldn’t be that difficult to work out a method.”

What is most appalling about this story is that when my friend described it to me I did not recall it, for the simple reason that I have had so many encounters of this very sort that there was truly nothing memorable about this one.

I have had equally stupefying encounters with professional magicians, but never one of this type. This is not to say that pros never covet and/or steal others’ material; some most certainly do. Upon learning that a desired routine was not available, a pro might indeed become irritated — but not bewildered. So, I repeat, there is a difference.

Why is this assertion so disturbing to many? I am fascinated by such subjects as medicine and law, but I am not a doctor or a lawyer and I do not suppose that the people who are immersed in those respective professions approach those topics in the same way I do. My awareness of that type of distinction does not prevent me from understanding that there are professional doctors and lawyers out there who are dreadfully inept. When circumstances require that I seek out medical or legal advice, I do not assume that a professional degree is an automatic degree of quality. But I do find that distinction to be a reasonable starting point for assessment.

In the comments that have filtered back to me regarding last May’s column, the word “elitist” has been leveled in my direction more than once. I am not an elitist, at least not so far as my use of the word is concerned. Elitism suggests a door which is locked shut. The meritocratic concept also involves a close door, but one which can be opened.
It is, however, on rather stiff spring hinges.

MEOW MIX
Dear Brian Flora: In your recent newsletter you comment on performers who are concerned about their material being stolen by others. You write: “I know that many magical performers have inferiority complexes about what they do, but it’s sad when they try to elevate the field of magical entertainment to the level of a proprietary undertaking such as medical research. These are magic tricks and patter lines, folks, 99% of which are derivative by nature. Stop the whining and kvetching. Get a life…”

First of all, if indeed 99% of what is being performed is derivative, it is precisely because of people with attitudes such as you have expressed. Upon reading this nonsense, one well-known performer responded, “I have a life — and I’d rather not have someone else try to steal it!”
I am curious to know if you have the same cavalier attitude when it comes to proprietary rights to the video tapes and audiocassettes you market. Are those up for grabs? Is it open season for others to sell bootleg copies? And if not, please explain to me just how that would be any different than lifting material from one person’s act?

POETRY CORNER
Ah, the Origami Box
mounted on a table, thin.
Architecture’s paradox,
with its panels folded in.

Sales have quickly caught afire,
both in this and other nations.
Johnny Gaughan & Jim Steinmeyer
well deserve renumerations.

Oh, but what is this I see?
A guy who doesn’t give a damn is
acting most unethically,
by selling knock-off Origamis.

Protests leave him quite unmoved.
It’s tantamount to sacrilege. “Face
facts,” he says, “it’s now improved:
I’ve put it on this huge Wedge Base.”

Twinkle, twinkle, little dealer.
This behavior really shocks,
with you in the middle, stealer
of the Origami Box.

CINEMATOPOEIA
Comedian/auteur Bobcat Goldthwait’s Shakes the Clown is now out on videotape. This is the film which generated organized protest from the clown community when it was released in the theaters, because it depicts clowns smoking, drinking, vomiting, and having sex (although not all at the same time).

There is another movie which came out a few years earlier, entitled Killer Klowns From Outer Space. This involves mutant extraterrestrial circus clowns who actually murder people, as well as abducting teenagers, rendering them comatose, and storing them in pods made out of a substance suspiciously resembling cotton candy. Curiously enough, that film was not the subject of any organized protest from the clown community.
You are welcome to draw your own conclusions.

January 1993
Thereby Angst a Tale

“It is by universal misunderstanding that all agree. For if, by ill luck, people understood each other, they would never agree.”
— Charles Baudelaire

By Max Maven

THEORY OF RELATIVITY
In a recent issue of New York magazine, a young woman was quoted on the topic of how painful it is to get a tattoo: “I didn’t cry, but I no longer fear childbirth.”
Yeah, but did you ever sit through a five-phase Oil & Water routine?

CAMERA OBSCURA
Why is so much of contemporary magic trivial and mundane? The basic premise of the art involves elements which are thrilling and profound: Exploration of things unknown and transcendence over the restrictions of natural reality. This is, or should be, exciting stuff. In fact, it rarely is.

In his superb 1973 collection of theater essays, John lahr writes, “Middle-class entertainment, like bourgeois life, aspires to a security and unreflective contentment with the world. Most theater reflects this static demand for the illusion of coherence. By avoiding mystery, theater avoids seriousness. In resolving all conflicts, theater abdicates the painful weight of a dream.”

Of course, Lahr’s contention can be applied to other forms of artistic expression, and perhaps in no other form is it more true than in magic. That is more than depressing; it is bitterly ironic. After all, magic is mystery, in a pure and essential state.

But most contemporary magicians sidestep mystery. The reason for this evasion is simple: Magicians are afraid of mystery.

In contrast, consider photography. The basic idea is pretty modest: It is a technological means for recording images from the physical world. In theory, this should mean that it is a relatively limited art form. Magic, on the other hand, has no conceptual limits. Why, then, am I so frequently startled and astonished by photographic artists — far more often than by magicians?
The astonishment of which I speak is not particularly tied to the specific subject matter of the pictures, although certainly some of my favorite photographers have chosen to explore, shall we say, exotic themes. Diane Arbus portrayed bizarre people; Brassai studied the bizarre demi-monde; Weegee documented bizarre events; Robert Mapplethorpe stylized bizarre sexuality. Yet all four of these artists also produced depictions of quite ordinary subjects, and those are, if anything, even more wondrous by virtue of their familiarity, filtered through the individual photographer’s completely unfamiliar personal gaze.

In contrast, the gaze of most magicians is entirely too familiar, and the result is that their subject matter which, by definition, is extraordinary, is rendered ordinary.

Why is this so? Ah. I think I know; at the very least, I intend to work toward an explanation, which we shall examine over the course of the next several months.

WHAT BECOMES A LEGEND MOST?
In the November 21 issue of Abra is an article by Al Smith entitled “No More Heroes.” He writes, “There seem to be no legends, actual or potential, among today’s stats [of magic].” He goes on to lists examples of departed performers of such status, whose like we’ll never see again.
On a certain level, I’ll agree. The legendary figures of the past that Smith lists were unquestionably one-of-a-kind artists; that is much of what defined them as legends in the first place. But Smith’s dolorous forecast is extreme, even by my pessimistic standards. To suggest that there are no current performers with their own special qualities which may elevate them into those rarified ranks is short-sighted.

Trail-blazing pioneers in magic, as in any field of human endeavor, are few and far between. But there are a precious number who, at this very moment, are redefining magic. I won’t provide a list, as my personal choices would surely differ from yours, but history will eventually offer proof of this assertion.

No doubt when Robert-Houdin died the magicians of his day proclaimed that “we’ll never see another Robert-Houdin.” They were right — but that did not preclude the emergence of Dai Vernon some decades later.

In 1901 the head of the U.S. Patent Office urged the government to close down that agency, as everything worth inventing had already been invented. Fortunately, his advice was ignored, and the agency stayed open. The minds of magicians should do no less.

COPYWRONG
In an earlier column I addressed the issue of spelling; while I have given up hoping that magic writers will be able to accurately spell the surrounding text, at the very least they should try to properly spell the names of famous magicians.

Sitting on the desk in front of me is Michael Ammar’s Ice Breakers. The videocassette label bears the title, followed by the subtitle (which contains the word “mogical”), and beneath that the copyright notice by “M. Ammer.”

SIGN OF THE TIMES
Actual sign posted in front of a local church:
This Week’s Sermon:
ETERNAL PUNISHMENT
All Are Welcome

February 1993
Febriferous

“I can’t understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I’m frightened of old ones.”
— John Cage

By Max Maven

AUGUSTE IN WINTER
Sadly, magic is by no means the only branch of the performing arts to be plagued by ethical wrangles. A recent issue of Circus Report passed along be fellow columnist Michael Weber contains a notice of threatened legal action by a clown who contends that a rival performer has stolen his professional name.

The name under dispute is “Underwearhead the Clown.”

EXTINGUISH FULFILLMENT
Why, as posited last month, do I believe that magicians are afraid of mystery? Before proceeding any further, let me quote film critic Pauline Kael: “Obviously, any of my generalizations are subject to infinite qualifications; let’s assume that I know this…” That caveat out of the way, we can attempt to address the question. This requires that we begin by examining the reasons why 20th-century magicians enter into magic in the first place.

In this culture, the vast majority of those who engage in theatrical conjuring are males, typically beginning between the ages seven and twelve. They are introduced to magic through an older friend or relative, seeing a live or televised performance, or less frequently by reading about it in a book or magazine. Intrigued, a substantial percentage of young American males begin to dabble with magic at this time. Most lose interest shortly thereafter, right around the time their pubescent hormones start kicking in.

For those who remain involved, this interest tends to grow into infatuation. Why, at such a tender age, does their involvement build with such intensity? It is because they have discovered a highly functional use for magic: Most beginning magicians immerse themselves in magic as a means of coping with some form of social, emotional, and/or psychological maladjustment.

I base this statement on empirical observation, starting with my own history. The child has problems dealing with peers, parents, teachers, and so on. Knowing some conjuring secrets and cultivating the skills to perform them provides a crucial access to power for an often otherwise powerless youth.

There is nothing inherently wrong with this scenario. But consider the following analogy.
Imagine that you and I are standing in a room, on the wall of which hangs a beautiful tapestry. Suddenly, you burst into fire. So, I quickly tear down the tapestry and wrap it around you, thus smothering the flames and saving your life.

Now, is what I’ve done a bad thing? Of course not; in fact, it is morally commendable. In deed, by using the tapestry to rescue you from this predicament I have done something virtuous. However, this was not the principal purpose for which the tapestry was created, and although using it in this manner was clearly beneficial to you, it did not leave the tapestry in very good condition. Again, this secondary function of magic as a coping mechanism is an extremely common route by which people enter the field. And again, in terms of the larger picture, there is nothing wrong with this. Many magicians who begin in magic via this impetus eventually develop other approaches and motivations. But many who continue in magic for the rest of their lives never make that change. And although this secondary function of magic as a coping mechanism has certain honorable qualities, it is an approach that inevitably leads to bad magic, for the simple reason that this function runs contrary to the primary one. We’ll talk about that next month.

MEOW MIX
Dear Editors of The Servante:
I received the flyer touting your new magazine. Your pitch includes the line, “Tired of reading columns by the elite of the elite?” This leads me to wonder why you bothered putting me on your mailing list.

Back in the 1970s the U.S. Senate was debating the merits of Harold Carswel, a Nixon nominee to the Supreme Court. The primary argument against his appointment (and, indeed, he was voted down) was that he had a substandard judicial record. In support of Carswell, Senator Roman Hruska of Nebraska stood up and proclaimed, “Mediocre people deserve representation, too.”
I wish you luck with your new magazine.