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