Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Mangos

Let me tell you about performing magic in the Philippines: Jadu! I do what's needed, and that means no decorum, or fancy poems or patter. I am no longer a professional, just doing my job. Every effect there becomes this act of simplicity, and compassion, and anything I am able to show those who want to see what I do there is a favor I feel God asks of me. To see what is unseen or rarely seen is a gift or a myth, so I give it when I can- a simple card trick or coin vanish. To do what's needed, is nothing! It's so easy and within my reach.

I love making things more complicated than they are. I love my poems, and want them to be with my patter and magic as much as possible, but in the Philippines, they lay low and quiet so as to not interrupt the magic from doing what she needs to do: Jadu. I Jadu! It's what's done most there in Cebu, and when I show, I share, and barely say a thing over there. They understand English, of course, but when something is too amazing to happen, speechlessness ensues. I say nothing, and let them stammer or smile in belief.

I hate the way I perform magic in the Philippines. It's not me! It's so selfless, and casual, and there is no such thing as Antino Art on any of those 7,000+ islands. My art is history, and whatever I give is wrapped in simple, wordless moments for them to remember. I am as faceless as a messenger there, and perform in this choppy, informal, and bad and sloppy and unprofessional, non-expressive or artistic way- they love it! Its raw. They love the things I show them there, even if I can barely lift a double in the tropical heat with my cards all fat and sticking. I loose my cool when performing there. It's all in the baby mind, collapsing as naturally as possible on what I do. There is no spotlight! It's me in the background, taking it all in because I barely did a thing. Magic is not done by me there- it's a third entity, and I simply am there to deliver them the essence of a healed and sealed soda miracle or a hot cheeseburger out of a burning napkin. My patter there is a pure reaction. I barely move, or speak- its so not me. It never was me. I don't even speak their language!

The magician in me vanishes in the Philippines. I don't know how I do the things I do there, but for some reason, I get more love there for magic than anywhere else in the world. With all these paying spectators, tip lines, paychecks, clients to please, and gigs to feed, I sometimes get lost from what the essence of what I do is: Jadu. It's what I Jadu. And I do it really well in the Philippines, because to them, it looks like Jade, or something precious. It feels more than just me. Its a mystic way of performing. Its a humbling experience. Its her, beside me at the end of each effect. Magic there made me meet her, and is making me better. The mystery unravels. I love it.

-antidote

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Meeting Mr. B


Today, downtown, in the far reaches of the festival circuit, I had the honor of conjuring alongside local magic legend Mr. B, or B-Magic, as he goes by. A sweet old soul with a Santa Clause swagger, this old mage from the charming streets of Downtown Gainesville is a master of silks. He can turn a red silk into a blue one with the snap of a finger, and multiply them in his bare hands at will. He can pull endless yards of streamers from his mouth, make sides disappear and re-appear underneath shells, and produce giant dice from thin air. He is a retired fire-fighter, the first African American firefighter in the city of Gainesville, and rocks a cool, mellow Jazz-man voice while performing. He congratulated me whole-heartedly after seeing my show, and took me aside to tell me that I'm swift with the pen. I walked with him to a busy corner talking magic like how magicians do, and suddenly found myself street performing alongside him! We hit duel card sets and racked in the crowds like fish in a net. We were surrounded, but we were rolling- a performing chemistry I have never even found among other magicians in the House! Kids and adults alike were smiling and stunned to see our art in action, brought to them by this young asian fellow and this jolly old Jazz man. What a strange combo! But we were smooth with it, and easily threw down some of the sickest duel mage sets of my career.

I was honored to be a part of Mr. B's magical legacy, even in his old age. He had been practicing longer than I had been alive, and his work has been enjoyed by generations of audiences all over town. "The kids I used to do birthdays fo', I'm now doin' they kids' birthdays," he told me. And sure enough, later a teen of about 19 approached him and said that he remembered him from when he was 6! His reputation is a humble one, and I was inspired by the way he treasured his magic.

I would open each set with the pen thing, because he'd excitedly grab a few passerby and tell them, "you gotta' check this kid out. Hey, show 'em what you do with that ink pen, show 'em, show 'em." That's how our sets began! And I'd twirl my prop into my manipulation piece, until the crowd became sizable. And then Mr. B would draw out his weathered old cards and perform a swift and jolly Monte for them! The way we transitioned and pulled the crowds in was genuine, and the way we'd ad-lib off each other was cake.

The art of magic is the art of people-meeting, and memory-making, and I'm still amazed at the encounter I had with Mr. B and his magic. Later that day I overheard him talking with some spectators after a set we hit about his true struggles, and his true magic, and that is going through what he has gone through. He had lost his daughter, and his family, years back to diseases. He had been diagnosed with cancer and had several operations here and there. He had grown up in the time before the civil rights movement, and was exposed to a great deal of racism and mistreatment being the first black firefighter in Gainesville. One of the only things he had at present was his magic, and he used it to conjure away his past and present troubles into the astonished eyes of the crowd watching at the moment.

The life of the itinerant conjurer is mine to behold. I travel the world this way, and let what falls in front of me fill my sights, as I tell each crowd I take care of to do nothing else but "watch."


-antidote

Monday, November 1, 2010

Magic for Apples

I spend all-souls day airborne, as free as a ghost. My card-hand takes a rest, as it took me all the way to the northeast, where it's cold and the leaves are as orange as the jack-o-lanterns that this holiday brings. You'll never know who you'll meet or re-meet on the way in the life of the itinerant conjurer. My magic has been seen by far-away eyes, and my poems have been spread across the countryside: mission accomplished.

I watch myself restlessly, as I watch the city lights of New York dwindle in the distance from the plane's window. Money-making doesn't matter, I think to myself, and minds of peace cannot be purchased. Why am I restless after doing a good show, a good job?

My childhood friend comes back to life, with the art of magic, and I wish like a genie I didn't have to let him pay me to do that. Astonishment is a priceless gift, no matter how many plane tickets to Cebu I'd like to buy, or how much bread I'd need to put on the table. I wander the skies with a show over my shoulder, now tucked away neatly in the backpack under my seat. New York was cold, but made me feel warm with the hospitality the wanderer in me was shown. I savored the fleeting attachment, the temporary bond, as my "client" let me into his family for the past few days, and made me feel welcome with homemade pulled-pork sandwiches, a couple of beers, and a bag of freshly picked apples for my family back home.

I offered them what magic I could. Do mutual exchanges, or transactions, have to happen? I wish for the freedom to work for free: to be a sword for hire, for nothing. Love is what moves me. I would let the money I made from this past gig fall out of my hands and out the airplane window if I could. Doing what you love for those who show love back should be priceless.

-antidote

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Port Toilet




The life of the itinerant conjurer continues, this time to the far flung gulf coast town of Port Charlotte, or "Port Toilet", as one of the disgruntled locals playfully put it. "There's nothing to do down here!" she said with a grunt.

We showed her magic. Mark hit Crazy Man's Handcuffs, Remy broke her cigarette and put it back together, and I would have done something, but was too busy watching her mood go from complaining about Port Charlotte to being happy in the moment of what she was shown.

Enter the Holiday Craft Fest Extravaganza, a two-month early outdoor Christmas party with hay, pumpkins, merchants, lemonade, and swampy Florida heat. We drove down here across endless stretches of Everglades, u-turning steadily from Ft. Lauderdale, down and through the grassy desert of everything west of South Florida, all the way to the gulf coast and north. So far! And so interesting, to see this forgotten town and their tiny festival.

I met a couple- a mom and a daughter- who had been reunited after 16 years of being apart! The daughter was 18, and ecstatic- they were already having a good day when they came to see my sidewalk show. I simply hit my go-to sword set for them- 1000 pieces to Freecap to Bookworm- and they bugged out! The faces I painted on them with these effects was liberating, for them and me. I feel like I might have helped them bond a little more, and gave them something to remember the day they got reunited by. The girl herself was a poet, so she particularly enjoyed it. I am so glad. They didn't tip me at all, and before I could drop a tip line, I held back, and realized they already paid me in appreciation. I loved that set.

I don't know who else I met that day- all the sets and crowds were a blur, since we were busking and grinding and working so hard because we didn't really get paid for this one- but that one little set in the forgotten coastal town of Port Charlotte stood out. And to me, it made it a cool place. I'm glad those people exist. I love the people who love the magic that we love to show them. We rode out of Port Charlotte that night, exhausted but content, with a little over $100 in tips, divied up three ways. Sam said he felt like a stripper, his pockets stuffed with ones. Mark said he hated work, and that the gig sucked! But he laughed about it, so that made it okay. I don't know if I told them about my set, but I left falling more in love with what I do, and knowing that the $33 I made that day can be used to by my girlfriend Agnes like 10 nice merienda dates at the restaurants in Ayala Mall in Cebu! I love how magic has served me- I serve it back, to others, and let my travels take me to awesome places. The saga continues!



-antidote

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Wandering Magician Returns

The life of the itinerant conjurer is mine. I'm blessed to entertain my own romantic perspective with one of the oldest professions in history. I do travel city to city with my craft tucked away in my knapsack and slung over my shoulder. With my traveling show in my trunk, I take to the road, and drive into and out of sunsets. I cross cultural barriers on a weekly basis, spreading my cards before urbanites in upscale Miami to country crowds in the far flung corners of the state. I speak in poems, as I've always dreamed of, and imagine I'm reciting ancient incantations as I conjure away on my drawing board, making coins, rings, balls, and silks vanish and appear at my will. I meet mages of all swords and styles, and travel with them, like characters in an RPG party. Being a magician, is being in my own RPG game! I have summons, potions, maps, and scrolls containing only the moves that point me in the direction of my ultimate goal. I am on a winding sorcerer's quest to find my best self in my magician self- to transcend the illusions of the world in favor of something real and pure. I pray constantly at chapels the evening after a busy festival gig for this peace. I scribble in my journal, which is looking more and more like an artifact, any information or revelations that may lead me there.

In one gig alone- the Thornebrooke Festival in Gainesville this past weekend- I felt the blessings of this professions completely. I literally walked into the festival with nothing but a backpack slung over my shoulder, my raggedy suit on, and a fold-up table under my arm. I was ready to go! This place had been a proving grounds of sorts in my magicianal youth, as it was one of my first gigs as a professional. I walked leisurely into the heart of the event, taking in all the sights as I went- paintings, pottery, oragami displays, baskets, and other trinkets lined the sidewalks like a marketplace from Final Fantasy. I asked at various stalls for Bill, the event director. He looked exactly the same as he did in my youth! He did not recognize me, as it had been five years since I saw him last. He said I've grown up. I argued otherwise, with a smile. He showed me to my spot, right underneath the big wooden clock tower just like before. I set up shop and began.

The festival was full of colorful characters, who thoroughly appreciated my magic. I was able to express myself freely, without having to resort to crowd-pleasing effects or entertaining one-liners. I performed in poems! And everyone dug it, including the kids, which was strange, because I'd normally predict to go over heads with my poems. I was able to blend my poems and magic once again with success, and the fulfillment of realizing my artistic visions gives me a high like no other. And meeting the characters! As a mage, I'm exposed to the most interesting people every day. There was the overly observant abstact painter, who kept busting my chops every time I began an effect, only to express his appreciation for the work I put into it. He gave me a free painting of an earthy looking sky, with crystalized snowflakes over the icey surface. An RPG item! I met a fire-dancing gypsy from Detroit, who wandered the festival dancing with a floating cane and an overly big smile on her face. Perhaps she was that happy to get out of that stone cold city? I met up and reconnected with an old House of Flying Cards ally: Datta the Jazz Man himself! The rope master wielder greeted me and allowed me to sleep in his hammock for the night. I met a child named Paloma- what an interesting name- who was fascinated particularly that she was able to break infinity and restore it (in the hands broken and restored rubberband). I met, myself! My old self- the one that delights in romanticizing the regular. Being a magician is one of the most irregular professions I could ask for, and I can confidently say the way I saw it this weekend has made me fall more in love. I don't fall out of love with things- I fall more in love with them. I love magic just as much, if not more, than I did when I first picked up a deck of cards. And to think that the paycheck from that gig will lead me to my plane ticket to see her! I love you magic! Thanks for always finding a way to keep me amazed.

-antidote

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Hi Magic

You have been so good to me. You give me work, and bread- it's not about the money entirely! You give me plane fare so I can see her. You give me, an escape from the stress of missing her. You give me an outlet for when I have no one else to turn to. You give me the crowd! To loose myself in, and immerse in their reactions. You give me the ability to make people happy! You give me social skills, because I am a social retard at heart. You give me a passion I can pour my heart into, and if I do, you love me back! I love you, art of magic. You give me something to commit to, and build, and stay with for the rest of my life. You give me knowledge of self, and through you, I can see all my flaws and imperfections, but also my strengths, too. Because of you, I know I am slow: in speed of mind and hands. Because of you, I have patience, and the drive to polish my mistakes. Musashi had his sword, and the reflection of himself on his blade. I have that, too. You are my sword, magic! And I serve you and others through it. I find God through your practice: the divine feelings of baby-mind astonishment I give to others, the compassionate heart of wanting to perform for others, the peace of accepting how things come out, the freedom of being able to embrace my eccentricities in performance, the rhythm of being able to dance with my hands, the sight of things greater than myself in showing my spectator something amazing, and...her! I met her through you, magic. I don't know where I'd be or what I'd be without you, magic. I love magic. If you are a magician and are reading this, examine your relationship with this awesome art form, and fall more in love!


-antidote

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

God Loves Magic

A holy man from Cebu City, Philippines, came to my place today to lead a prayer session. While eating, he walked up to me and asked if I still did magic, and if so, how was it? "Maayo ra," I tried to say to him, showing him I had bisaya up my sleeve. Means "it's good," I think, and I proceeded to say "akong trabajo" (it's my work). He said he loves it because...

it makes people happy. And asked me to keep doing it for that reason.

When I was in Cebu City, my girlfriend Agnes said she loves watching the reactions of the people I do magic to. They are the paintings, I told my friend mark on a drive across the state of Florida. We divulged on this topic for some time. I once remember a horrible set I hit at Agnes' apartment. It was one hour of me freestyling under-practiced sleight of hand on her skeptical cousin in laws. I could seriously hear them calling me out on 50% of my sleights during the set, as my bisaya has been improving with each visit to that city. I remember later that night, she texted me thanking me for the set, because I had no idea how happy it had made them. While I was busy focusing on me, little did I know that it made them laugh and smile and end their day memorably.

People are happy, and if you can make them that, or bring that out of them, you are doing God a favor. You are blessing their day with a moment of positive energy. It's an intangible contribution to the world, the feeling of astonishment, happiness, laughter- all of the above. To extend a simple coin trick to a kid in a corner is like giving them a million dollars.

I'm more and more realizing the position us magicians are in to serve God and love one another through this art form. The simple un-indifference shown by taking time out of your day to show someone something incredible, something they've never seen, is an honor to transcend.

I do magic, because people like it. People love it. They smile when they see it. They see differently when they see it. They feel deeply when they see it, and sometimes forget explanations and blindly believe. This feeling of Jadu, or jade, or something precious as the Hindus call it, is a slice of nice. I have a pie of that in my existing repertoire, and skill set, regardless of my bad sleight of hand and performance imperfections. I serve magic. I Jadu magic. Dr. Irizari, the holy man from Cebu simplified everything I do to one reason only: it makes people happy. And because of that, I am blessed to say that I am happy with what I do.

-antidote

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Magician vs. Magic

What are the effects that do well? The paradox of any art form is doing what you love vs. doing what they love. Can I learn to love what they love to see? Of course! The magician's best paintings are in the faces of the crowd, and nowhere else:

- coin spins, rises, and bends in mid-air
- empty beer can seals and refills itself
- balls vanish in magicians hands and reappear in the spectators'
- chewed-up piece of gum is stretched and restored
- dozens of rags overflow from the magician's hands
- rubberband transforms into silver necklace
- forks bend and twist at the magician's will
- endless amounts of coins are plucked from thin air
- sand produced from magician's fingertips
- leaves change color in magician's fist
- eggs produced from magician's mouth
- matches jump and break at the snap of magician's fingers
- $1 turns into $100
- hot cheeseburger appears inside burning napkin

Notice anything? No cards! And most of these aren't that creatively or technically or artistically challenging to do compared to what I find myself doing- the less, the better. And all these effects can be simplified to play to a child audience.

Now this is what most magicians find themselves wanting to do:

- selected card appears in between two other selected cards
- selected card pops out of deck at the flick of a wrist
- selected card switches places with another selected card
- selected card moves inches from its original location in the deck to the top
- selected card changes into another card
- selected cards are shown in different places of the deck, lost, shuffled, and dealt out on table again
- selected card is 26th card from the top, as predicted by the magician
- selected card goes into deck and is found by the magician
- selected card isnt 9 of spades (magician knew that)
- cards dealt down in piles..magician knows where aces are
- selected cards..values..numbers..flat, 2d..paper..
- deck of cards vanish at magician's fingertips!!!

Good magic is so simple. Why is it that the older us magicians get, the more complicated we make magic seem?

-antidote

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Empty Hands

The best fighters win without using weapons- that's a skill. No guns, swords, or arrows- just empty hands. I'm begining to meditate on this as a magician: swordless samurai. Why do we insist on charging into a crowd with a deck of playing cards? The limitations are subtle, and so many more sights exist outside of the single island that is a magician's deck. Magicians tend to maroon themselves on this prop, navigating any gig or venue with supreme confidence that everything they'll need for a good show will come straight out of that cardbox. They use it for mentalism, manipulation, quiet transpositions, crazy stunts, color changes, penetrations, and anything else in their magical vocabulary. Why is it that this prop deserves so much popularity? I've been meditating on my dependence on the deck, or the sword, as a means for performing survival, and come to the conclusion that there is life without a deck. As fond as I am of it, my spectators would be relieved to see more. I'm feeling magic with fire, matchsticks, gum, soda, forks, napkins, coins, necklaces, Ipods, leaves, and even sponge balls again- they all just seem so much more 3D than the flat surface of a ribbon spread. In other words, I want my hands empty again. My friend Sam aka Remy Connor said there's better magic out there, when I asked him why he's been so cardless. A deck of cards is a magician's compass, but like any crutch, it can become an addiction. There is my instinct outside of cardwork, and magicians can survive without it. I'm going cardless for a while. I'm curious to see how I'll do.

-antidote

Saturday, July 31, 2010

My Favorite Card Trick

I do not know what to call it. I want a title, so that spectators may respect it, and recommend it to others. It feels like a book! It's really just a long card routine, with many chapters. I love it. I'm always editing it. Practicing it feels like meditation. Performing it feels like reading it out loud. It's a different story every time, but the movements are the same. The first chapter takes place in a desert, somewhere in between night and day. It ends at dawn, and all the cards are face up to see the sun. The first card is the floater, and in the second chapter, spends an entire week, or seven days, floating from the bottom of the deck to the top. I guess you can say the second chapter takes place in the sky. It ends at a loss, though, as the floater card vanishes from sight. The spectator and magician comb the desert in search of it, only to find nothing- no water, no women, and no sign of the signed card anywhere. The third chapter, which deals with this loss in a magical fashion, finds the card in the shade of a cardboard cave, outside the desert! I guess you can say it's an escape. The card is housed, and the magic continues. The fourth chapter deals with escape, more elaborately, and the card dances in and out of the cave-box it grew up in. It flies out, as if it had wings, only to return, to fly back, and to end up in the middle of the ocean, swimming or floating with ease. The fifth chapter is of sirens, or many women who fly to rescue our card from desolate lonlieness. The queens surround him, and dance like rings of saturn around his sides. It's beautiful, and scary, because at the end, he finds himself lost in the desert again. It was a mirage! The queens remain, and gamble away with the spectator to confuse him and loose him in the quarries of a shallow, shifting desert romance where nothing is certain, and all hearts turn to sand. A prayer is said, for something real, in the sixth chapter, where the magician banishes each unholy siren to the far corners of the desert. Our card is found! Burried like a mummy at the center of the desert, and with him come the sirens, back from their pilgrammage of pennance, this time to help our card find his way home. They grow wings, and attract his family from hiding. He is not an orphan! The card has matching parents, and a sibling, and together they journey through the cardboard expanse of paper rivers and red mountains to find grace. The desert is behind them, and it's just eight cards left- infinite cards left. The sirens, now saints, dance with the hands of the magician and the spectator, switching places selflessly to put one another in another one's shoes. Walking becomes easier, and feet are rested. Hands move, and the better four end up carrying our card and his kin to the promised land of applause. The audience loves it! The odyssey of one card trick into an opus of poetic magnificence, of sleight of hand sorcery, and mythological mayhem. I really see this card trick as more than a card trick. I don't know what to call it. It's 15 minutes in length, and a lifetime in depth. I don't know- who am I to express anything more than just magic. I could get it out of my mind. This could just be another stupid card trick.

-antidote

Sunday, May 2, 2010

What you'll see in the House...

Here's some of the things I observed while jamming and performing with the other mages in the House this past weekend...

Nate uses elaborate scientific hooks to catch his spectators. He's a polite neo-alchemist, nefarious in his plots, mastermindful of his methods. He likes to re-locate you- invite you to his lab to view his research, and share with you his miraculous findings. The piece I saw him do invovled a deck of playing cards, two wine flasks, a red lab silk, and two test subjects. He divided the cards in half between the two subjects, and had each spectator shuffle their cards a million times, and place them in the wine glasses. After waving his words over the glasses, the cards unshuffled themselves without moving, and matched number for number, color for color, when he dealt them out one by one onto the table. He then had seven random cards selected and shuffled a million more times. When the spectator dealt the cards out, they created a randomly generated phone number. He had the spectator pull out a cellphone and dial it. It was his.

Sean's a different story, more abrupt and self-explanatory in nature. It's good-natured, and is never serious. He talks slow as if you're stupid, and criticizes what he's about to do before he even does it. He has a strange mouth drawn on his fist, and when he opens his hand, a mini hand pops out and eats whatever you give it. He vanished a coin this way. I couldn't stop laughing. It was the funniest coin vanish I've ever seen.

Jared lights things on fire. He's big on elaborate special effects, and gets reactions by branding images of burned cards in your memory. He has a bluntly-spoken way about his presentation, and gets right to the point without delay. It reminded me of an action movie, with explosions and comic-relief dialogue. The piece I remember him doing was this: he vanished a signd coin inside a flame, and made the coin appear inside a burned playing card. It was the most wild transposition I've seen in a long time.

Sam is the Gambit, and needs no explaination, as he has already made such a big impact on my mind as a spectator and student of magic, but this is what he did: he read a spectator's entire mind based on the card they were thinking of. He's turned into a lazy but still-got-it mentalist, and has his spectators do all the work- the deck of cards is entirely in their hands. He asks them their name, and more questions, to hook them in, and uses that connection to do whatever he wants to them psychologically. To him, one simple pick a card trick is a sting that can bring about a reaction that goes deeper than the deck. It's that venom, and hits them inside then out.

Bryan is a cartoon character, and is outlandish in his presentation. He's loud and crazy, and overwhelming if you disagree with him. His stories are something you're crazy uncle would tell, and the visual punchlines of his effects work perfectly with his persona. What he did was sprinkle pepper into a glass of water, and clean the water to its original clarity with a touch of a finger. He called it the story of the Pepper People Pool Party. It was a comic strip!

Jaz is unquestionably solid in his ability to get a reaction. He's stone cold and confident in his presentation, and the visual impact his magic has on his spectators is sure as a dunk in basketball. He has a calming vibe, and works well with his visual style and smooth speed of movement. What I remembering him doing was turning $1 into $400 in less than a second. It was strong and unquestionable- an instant hit. He also BS's his way through the build-up of each effect- the freestyle dribble-drive that leads to the sure dunk finish.

Andy is still a coin man, and presents his spectators with years of underground practice in complex coin sleight of hand and visually snappy routines. His skill is advanced, and he hits some moves I can't even begin to grasp. His routines are structured nicely, and his story lines are delightful. What I saw him do was transfer three coins from one hand to the other without moving- a triple-hit transposition that is far more complex than it looks.

The new kid Stefan is a miracle hit! He predicted every single card that was dealt, and precisely how many cards were in each pile. He's like a calculator, and I was thrown back and awesomely surprised by his accuracy. He reminded me of a three-point shooter in basketball- quiet but accurate. He was able to deal himself a royal flush out of a shuffled pack of playing cards in the end.

Seeing everyone else's style of magic and choice of material makes me more mindful of my own. It teaches me about my magic, and what it looks, sounds, feels, smells, and tastes like in relation to other mages in general. The House is a great training spot for this art, and once you step in, you're always guaranteed to learn something. I had fun chilling with the guys again, and seeing where their magic has been taking them.

-the antidote


PS Videos from the Spring Cypher coming soon! Check http://www.youtube.com/thehofc for updates

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Magic Words At Work

"Illuminating"
Female/45


"...Brought me to another level"
Female/40

"Very unique"
Male/45

Audience! I tried "Magic Words: A show of magical poetry" for the first time on a gig audience tonight, and it worked. I'm so happy- you have no idea how happy I am. I've been wanting to cast this spell on an audience for so long, and it worked. They dug it. It was just me, and them, in close-up sit down show setting, and they dug it! They felt it. I felt it. It clicked, as if the marriage between my poems and my magic was supposed to happen this whole time. I just never had the courage to put them together like this. And they melded! It was a crazy fusion- just the feeling of the entire room zooming in on me like a vaccum as I spoke in strange, imaginative dialogue and whimsical rhyming patterns while flowing through my normal sleight of hand sequences was amazing, and so much more artistically fulfilling then performing magic in the traditional fashion. I always knew this kind of expression through the art of magic could be achieved, I just didn't have the courage to try it. The poems in my show are poems straight out of my chapbooks, and have little to nothing to do with the routines in my existing magic repretoire. But I discovered a shred of relevance in each one. For example, "Cafe Awesome", a poem I wrote about a beggar in a cafe eating bread, was paired with a routine where I produce a cheeseburger from a flaming napkin. It's good, audience- it's good to finally see my artistic visions finally come to fruition. It's "Magic Words: A show of magical poetry". Hit me up at antinoart@yahoo.com to bring it to your next event! And check out the rest of the House at events near you- http://www.hofc.webs.com/ for our full performance schedule. Looking forward to all of it



-the antidote



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Also, if you want to check out my work, I have poetry books available for sale. $10 a piece + $2 for shipping, or $8 a piece plus $2 for shipping if you buy two or more books. Email me at antinoart@yahoo.com with your mailing address, and I'll give you the address you can mail payment to.





















Book 1: Wandering Magician




















Book 2: Skies and Scholars





















Book 3: Mayday























Book 4: Himala

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Antino on Musashi

You figured it all out. The magician knows all his secrets, right? Magic, on the contrary, reveals your secrets. In practicing it, you practice yourself into mastery of the mystery- in a way, it's a way. The swordsman Miyamoto Musashi, said to have never lost a duel, practiced until he carved enlightenment out of the wood his sword was made from. That's the mystery- to polish all the dark mysterious spots of your universe until soul clarity is reached. The practice of magic to me has been kept this way to me- a way of polishing mirrors and clearing smoke, until all the secrets that I've kept tucked and sleeved and palmed from my consiousness is revealed. I'm learning to be teachable, to take the advice and critiques of others to make my performance as clean and water-clear as it can be. I'm learning to listen, and hearing that I'm very set in my ways much as an old man is- deaf and oblivious. And the worst student is the one who calls himself master and stops learning. I'm learning to smile- smiling is simply light, so why hide it. In a good performance, a performer that smiles makes for an audience that glows- smiling is contagious that way. I'm learning silence- I speak too much, and impose my ideas and thoughts and philosophies on my stupid audience. And yes, they're lovingly stupid, but I'm the fool- who am I to impose my thoughts on them. If I stop thinking, they can feel it, the astonishment- uninterrupted and pure and thoughtless. I'm learning to be patient, and take them step by step through each effect I do, so that each piece might be savored like pie. I've been practicing magic for more than 8 years, I feel new at this. Every duel with my audience is a new day, a step closer to mastery of the mystery. And until I get to that, I'll love everything that gets in my way.

-the antidote

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Catch us next Saturday at the Hollywood Artspark from 6pm-8pm. visit http://www.hofc.webs.com/ for full performance schedule

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

April Fool's Day

What's going on house? I'll be performing in Winter Park tomorrow night from 7-8 at a casino night hosted by The Athlete's Connection. You can get some info about it here:


I'll report back after the gig hopefully with some video footage.

_Sean

We Have A Theater

We're not famous. We don't have our own commercial, or full-length evening show on the strip, or our names up in neon signs and marquees. We were on TV for an annonymous milli-second. Sam himself almost made it onto the NBC Show Phenomenon, but those people weren't ready for his skills. We have 94 combined friends on Myspace. We don't have our own clothing line. But! It's chill that way- the perks of performing in the underground come with an artistic freedom not enjoyed by those with agents, managers, press, public image, and fans to please.

We have a little fold-up sign, a compact sound system, and a theater the size of a park. It's actually a park. It's the ArtsPark in Downtown Hollywood- a cool, manicured median of grass and playground on the corner of US-1 and Hollywood Blvd. It's our spot, and we are fortunate enough to be able to land bi-weekly bookings with the city there. Our audience? Anyone who walks through the park. We're the only entertainment within a five-mile radius, and our little street show is as good as any live show you'd see anywhere else.

The size of the park can allow us to swell our crowds well into the hundreds. Lemonade vendors and popcorn stands provide the refreshments. There are restaurants- Japanese, pizza joints, italian bistros- all around the park, so we can call our act a dinner show. The sun or moon is our spotlight, and ancient oak looking trees and bamboo gardens our backdrop. The winding park paths are the isles. And anywhere we set up is our stage. The entire park is our stage, our jam space, and the freedom that comes with performing there is a blessing that I think we've been taking for granted ever since the city started booking us in 2007.

So with that all said and reflected upon, come see our show. The House of Flying Cards at the Hollywood Artspark. We've just been booked up through September, so check our site http://www.hofc.webs.com/ for show dates. Shouts to the City of Hollywood for the theater, the Card Sharks for coming out and jamming with us week after week, and all the performing artists out there without a theater, manager, agent, fan-base, press, etc. You're not poor- as long as you and the people you love have food on their plates, you're okay.







































Saturday, March 27, 2010

Magic Words: A show of magical poetry

I'm thinking of moving my show, and my audience, to another art form. Like relocating them completely. I'm tired of stepping on a stage and having them looking at me as their trickster, or "entertainer". I want to cast a spell on my audience, and make them feel something more complete than astonishment. I want to bring them back to art: all I have to do is say the magic words.

So, I am going to give them a poetry show- a collection of my original poems that I feel so much more connected to than every fancy coin vanish and elaborate card routine I do. I've scribbled out so many poems over the past two years- about magicians, skies, scholars, a day called Mayday, about miracles, and Himala, about a girl who loves me back. I feel these poems, so much more than the tricks I do, and would love for them to find their way into my audience ears. I'd be so much more excited before each show knowing that that is what I'm going to share, not tricks. I'm tired of cued-applause, and David Blaine style WTFs, and stoic I've-seen-magic-before reactions.

Each poem will slip into their ears like a whimsical encantation, a spell of rhythm and abstract visions and creative musings. They're so absurd! They don't make any sense- no one will get them. I don't mind- they don't have to be listened to fully. The energy and rhythm of the words will relax the audience into a silly trance, and the effects I will perform over each one will seep into their minds comfortably and produce a new texture of astonishment.

What a perfect candidate for patter! I hated having to tell an audience what I am doing, or what I will do, and giving them a pseudo explanation of why I am doing it. Or worse, resorting to comedy- every magician resorts to comedy. The poems themselves are patter, loosely related but intriguing in their aloofness to each effect, and will hit the ears of my audience lightly, and delightfully, while the effects I show them ease their way into their minds and blow them quietly from the inside.

It's a poetry show, with magical visuals. No-verbal with verbal. Spoken words with sleight of hand. Artistic slant. The poems will carry the show, and the magic will give each one an accent. It'll play like an open mic night, or a play, with a magician lost in a crowd of thoughts, rambling in his own dialect, surrounded by his own effects. I can't wait to try this flavor of performance on an audience. I've always wanted to do this: give my poems an audience. And I pass up that opportunity with each shallow magic trick I do. "Magic Words" might just work. And even if it doesn't, it still sounded like a cool idea.



-the antidote

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Orlando House Hard at Work

So, just a quick post about the HOFC - March 20th was a date we should all note in our heads: we were booked for the first time across the state of Florida in several different locations all in one day! Go us! Big step for the House, let's keep the word coming.

Other news Sam "the Gambit" Rubman (me!) is auditioning for a job at Magic Max's in St. Cloud.

Kevin and myself are also performing at a Dance Marathon at UCF on March 27th, Kevin is doing strolling for the evening and I am doing a stage show at 11 pm. Come by and check it out!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Jared Say's Wassup!

Hey house,

Just had some time and wanted to say hi. Right now I am still performing at Dragonfly downtown and at Sharab. Datta came out last weekend and was slaying people with his liquid metal performance.. That shit is nice Datta. I find it really fun to be in a club and me and another magician armed with d' lights. That was a lot of fun.

I am currently learning some mentalist stuff I am preparing for this summer. I am looking for a good presentation with an exploding lightbulb finally.

Anyone?

Monday, March 22, 2010

Antino Connects!

Drinking coffee before a performance ruins your cardwork. I had a steady card hand, which surprised me, at the walk-around gig I did last night. It was for an older upscale crowd- I didn't know what to expect (uptight? stiff? seen it all before?)- I had the nerve to judge them! They were the nicest people on Earth. I knew my hands were shakey, because I had accidentally treated myself to a tall cup of Starbucks before going there, and the caffeine was just starting to take effect and make my hands sweat. These people, the way they smiled and broke the tension when I introduced myself to each group, made it so much easier to just let go and perform. Anything I showed them, they liked! I spent about 80% of the time connecting with them, talking, smiling, laughing, that the magic just came out naturally. 20% of magic performed with 80% connection is powerful. I must have handed out a million business cards that day, because every group I hit pretty much asked for one. It's connection, not sleights! Lot's of eye contact, reacting to what they're saying, melding in with their social temperature, smiling, being at ease, listening to their reactions, providing reactions of your own...my cardwork was sloppier than usual to say the least, but the connection I established with each walk-around group was more than enough. I also was happy going into this gig, because the money I would make from it would be used to fund my June Cebu trip to see her. I was excited, that I was in a position to do what I love to see the girl I love, that these people were helping me do that, that they were about to see what I could show them, that they chose to have live entertainment at their event, and I actually brought all those positive vibes to each walk-around set. Not to mention some killer sleight of hand poetry routines that I know no other magician does =p I'm glad I connected- it made performing for them so much more meaningful.

-the antidote

Monday, March 15, 2010

Antino on the House

Being in the House is like being in a circus tent. The characters put on a show just by being there, and watching whatever happens during our cypher sessions- a frog appearing out of thin air, a one dollar bill vanishing and reappearing on a handicap man's shoulders in the form of four quarters, a 300 pound lady being levitated- adds astonishment to life. These guys are crazy, and sometimes I can barely stand their eccentricities. Philosophies clash, and new ones are salvaged. Egos are either high fived or slapped. Crowds are rocked. Arguements are splendid until spun out of control, and it's so funny to watch these guys go at it. I sit in the corner, one of the more quiet mages in this place, and take everything in as it happens like a spectator myself. I'm amazed at what this place has become. A cardboard carnival, playing cards flying everywhere, and a bunch of kids chasing down every last one.

-The Antidote