Sleights

This is gonna get technical, but I think that if you're reading my blog, by now you should probably have an idea of the way I write and hence are more tolerant of my writing style.

If not, get used to it :P

Just kidding. I just feel like posting a few insights I've gained with regards to sleights in the art of magic.

Magic. Or, as Paul Harris so aptly put it, the Art of Astonishment: the ability to bring the audience into a state of wonder and awe, and briefly into a dimension where reality and non-reality collide...

As magicians, the only method to achieve this is via sleight-of-hand. Many people think that sleight of hand is simply based on the principle "The hand moves quicker than the eye"; in other words, the sleight is performed extremely quickly, such that the casual observer is unable to spot it.

Unfortunately, it's completely wrong. Sleights are not all about speed. Not everybody can achieve the finger speed and dexterity that can defy the eye's gaze. Instead, sleight-of-hand is based almost wholly on technique and finesse. With the exception of a rare few sleights where speed is indeed a necessity, most simply rely on smoothness and confidence of execution to escape detection.

I am only writing this because I am currently reverse-engineering a sleight, and I find that it can only be done because it occurred to me how important each finger position is, in the execution of the sleight: whether the finger is placed high up HERE, whether it lies in the exact center THERE, or whether the finger movements relative to each other go like THIS.

Every finger has a purpose. Every gesture has a purpose. Every movement of the whole body has a purpose. Indeed, every word spoken has a purpose. Whether to execute the sleight, to provide cover for it, or to cause misdirection and draw attention away from it, all these play a key role in its execution. And therein lies the beauty of magic.

For only countless hours of practice in dedication and passion can achieve the finesse and perfection of coordination of the hand, body and mouth, that renders a sleight completely undetectable to the audience from any angle.

Next time, treat a magician with the proper respect he deserves. For in performing to an audience, he weaves the illusion of the impossible using naught but his hands, words and tools of craft. Should we not, at the very least, admire him for trying to delight and awe a strange, unfamiliar and possibly hostile audience?

Granted, not all magicians meet this lofty ideal. But most try. And the very least one could do as a spectator is to sit back, enjoy the illusion, and not blow him out of the water by calling out his every move.

Gosh, this essay is longer than I intended it to be.