Columnist T.A. Waters
ON
THE WATERS FRONT a column of information and
opinion by T. A. Waters
THE
OPINIONS EXPRESSED IN THIS COLUMN ARE THOSE
OF THE WRITER, AND MAY NOT NECESSARILY REPRESENT
THE VIEWS OF THE STEVENS MAGIC EMPORIUM OR
GEMINI.
Column
Four: HOBBY WHORES
HOBBY
is usually defined as "...a pursuit or interest
engaged in for relaxation." More generally
it is considered "...an avocation, often pursued
in company with others of similar interests."
And WHORES? Most often they are defined as..."prostitutes;
those who sell sexual favors for monetary
reward." More generally -- and this is the
sense in which I'll be using the term in what
follows -- they are defined as "...those who
willingly compromise their art or craft for
financial or other gain." Please understand
that this column is NOT, specifically, about
professionals or amateurs. Not long ago there
was a tempest-in-a-talking-teakettle about
professionals vs. amateurs. To my mind it
rather missed the point, because to a great
degree that's a useless distinction, one for
the most part not made in other arts. Many
noted writers make their livings in other
ways, yet reviewers do not refer to them as
"amateur writers" -- it simply isn't relevant.
PROFESSIONAL -- to give one more definition
-- denotes a person who is "...engaged in
an activity as a means of livelihood or for
gain." Please note that it does NOT indicate
that anyone who ever gets paid for their work
is a professional, nor does it make any judgments
as to the quality of that work. Yet -- there
are some serious considerations relating to
magic as a hobby, and some problems that should
at least be recognized if not solved. Often
these aspects of magic are considered as part
of the pro-vs.-amateur battle, and that is
entirely wrong. The real battle has simply
to do with good magic vs. bad magic, and that
is an altogether different thing. As I have
indicated in previous columns, I am not particularly
impressed with the competency of many full-time
professional magicians; I have, conversely,
seen amateurs with superb performance skills.
(I have a vivid memory of visiting the NY
Magic Symposium in San Francisco a decade
ago, and seeing the marvelous Bob Read, and
being more than a little surprised to find
that he was not then a professional; timing
and audience rapport at that level are not
skills that come easily -- when they do at
all.)
Being
involved in magic as a hobby or avocation
can be very rewarding; it can be fun, it can
be interesting and intriguing, it can in some
of its aspects be very fulfilling -- but let
us be very clear as to what the HOBBY of magic
IS: It is, for example, joining a magical
organization, and attending meetings. It is
going to magic conventions and lectures. It
is reading the literature of magic and learning
new effects. It is collecting magic memorabilia,
books, posters, apparatus. While professionals
may, and often do, engage in many of these
things, they are largely the province of the
hobbyist -- and that's fine. Really, though
-- as absorbing and interesting as these aspects
of magic may be, they are the tail wagging
the magical dog; magic is, after all, a performance
art, and is only truly magic when it is performed
for a lay audience. There is the dividing
line. There is the point where magic ceases
to be a hobby. PERFORMING MAGIC FOR A LAY
AUDIENCE IS NOT A HOBBY. I don't care if you're
not getting paid; I don't care if you're doing
a charity show out of the goodness of your
heart. When you stand in front of an audience
-- any lay audience, in any circumstances
-- you've left the hobby-aspect of magic behind.
The people looking at you are NOT PART OF
YOUR HOBBY; they don't share your interest
in the eighty-one ways of making Aces assemble;
they don't care that your apparatus once belonged
to Blotto the Bewildering. They're sitting
there, and the more optimistic among them
are hoping to see some magic. HOBBY does not
enter into it; it isn't an explanation or
an excuse for a bad performance. To belabor
the obvious, this is not to say that as a
performer you don't have the right to be bad.
There are only two kinds of performers --
those who admit theyíve never done a bad show,
and liars. Doing a bad show is one thing (or,
for some of us, more than one thing!) -- but
excusing it on the grounds that you're not
a pro is quite another, and not acceptable.
All of which brings me to the joke for this
column; it's an old one, but I trust you will
see my purpose in including it. It has to
do with two old friends -- let's call them
Mike and Joe -- who haven't seen each other
in a while; Mike comes to visit and asks what
Joe's been doing. "Actually," says Joe, "I've
started keeping bees. I've got about 10,000
now." Mike didn't notice any hives in the
yard, and asks where Joe keeps them. "In the
closet," says Joe. He takes Mike to the closet
and opens the door; the only things inside
are a coat on a hook and a closed shoe box.
Mike looks around. "Where are the bees?,"
he finally asks. "In the shoebox." "YOU KEEP
10,000 BEES IN A SHOEBOX?" Joe is offended.
"Hey," he says, "it's only a hobby..." You
will appreciate that I have shortened this
joke to the bare minimum, and have also refrained
from using the funnier but raunchier tag line.
Even so, it isn't without its little Moral
Lesson for us all.
Every
person who performs in front of an audience
is going to do a bad show from time to time;
even the best among us -- unless they are
phenomenally talented or phenomenally lucky
-- will, for any of a number of reasons, give
a performance that simply does not work. That's
in the nature of live performance, and when
it happens you get up, dust yourself off,
and try to figure out how to keep it from
happening again. What you don't do -- what
you don't ever do -- is say, "Hey, it's only
a hobby..." Recently (May 1995) a letter to
GENII re the pro-vs.- amateur question prompted
the Editor to reprint some cogent comments
of her grandfather, William W. Larsen Sr.,
one of magic's most brilliant writers. With
most of what he says I am in full accord,
and it is both impressive and depressing that
many of the faults he mentions are still true.
However, toward the end he says: "In magic's
case the bad won't hurt the good. Joe Doaks
won't harm Jack Gwynne..." Keeping in mind
the fact that this comment was made in 1937,
before the advent of modern media -- and while
I have the greatest admiration for Larsens
*pere et fils*, and am second to none in my
special regard for the current Editor of GENII,
I must respectfully disagree: it might have
been true then -- although I doubt it -- but
it certainly is not true now. Any performance
art has its incompetents and bunglers, both
professional and amateur -- but it seems that
magic is regarded in an essentially different
way, perhaps because it is so far outside
the normal experience of most people. Many
people can sing, dance, act or write after
a fashion, and so they can recognize what's
involved in doing it well. Magic, however,
gives them no yardstick by which to judge.
The curious result is that, more often than
not, when they see a bad magician they don't
think THAT MAGICIAN is bad -- they think that
MAGIC is bad.
*
Thus
we come to the Hobby Whore -- the person who
inflicts bad magic on laypersons, not for
money, but for cheap ego- gratification, without
any regard to what harm he may be doing to
magic. (I'll use the male personal pronouns
here as a matter of convenience -- though
in my experience those few women who are hobbyists
in magic are far less likely to be guilty
of this. Well, maybe I'm prejudiced.) And
it IS cheap ego-gratification: anyone can
waltz into a magic shop and come out with
a plastic or pasteboard wonder -- in some
cases, these days, a very good effect -- and
demonstrate it to their friends. This usually
reduces what could be magic to a mechanical
puzzle, the responses being "How does that
work?" or "Where can I get one of those?"
rather than "That's amazing!" -- or even more
optimistically, "You're amazing." Knowing
how to operate a piece of magic apparatus
does not make anyone a magician, any more
than buying a guitar and learning three chords
makes someone a musician. This is such an
obvious statement that I am almost ashamed
to say it; almost, but not quite. There's
so much evidence around to indicate that a
lot of people in magic think otherwise. From
the ridiculous -- owning every trick Tenyo
has ever put out -- to the sublimely ridiculous
-- spending tens of thousands of dollars with
John Gaughan and Bill Smith -- there are many
who seem to think (as I mentioned in column
#3) that they've engaged in a transaction
that has somehow made them into magicians.
(To avoid misinterpretation I suppose I should
state that many Tenyo effects are wonderful
-- and that Gaughan and Smith are highly talented
professionals who care about their art; but
sometimes their customers aren't.) Again,
this is not pro vs. amateur; I've seen far
too many professionals who can only be defined
as magical performers by their possession
of a few boxes, and their location -- standing
on the stage rather than sitting in the audience.
Even more to the point, I've known many amateurs
who have a strong commitment to magic as a
performance art, and who strive to do their
best -- and I have a vivid memory of one internationally
known professional who told me, "Hey, if I
could make more money selling shoes, I'd sell
shoes." It wasn't the most ringing expression
of artistic commitment I'd ever heard.
Commitment
to an art takes many forms -- and for some
who love magic it turns out to be a decision
NOT TO PERFORM. These are the insightful people
who know just how much work, how much time
and effort goes into a good performance --
and they realize it's more than they want
to give. They can still perform at the magic
club meetings, and at conventions; they can
do any of the many other things involved in
the hobby of magic -- and they can do it in
the knowledge that they're enjoying magic
without harming its public image. Actually,
the amateur performer has even LESS excuse
for doing a bad show than the pro. Certainly
as a novice he or she won't be all that good
-- but, then, neither will the person intending
to enter magic as a profession. Later on,
the amateur can work endlessly on details
to make his or her act as perfect as possible,
because there is no monetary pressure to perform.
The conscientious amateur will also realize
that he or she may well be the only live magician
an audience will see -- and that knowledge
carries with it a serious responsibility.
Realistically, at some point you have to walk
the walk, out onto the stage in front of a
lay audience. Their reaction will tell you
something that you won't learn from any amount
of dry rehearsal or magic-club performing.
Audience reaction won't tell you everything,
of course; sometimes it's just a bit of tweaking
that turns an effect, or an act, from dead
to killer. (And dare I say it? Sometimes audiences
are wrong -- not consistently, but sometimes;
and sometimes they're just plain bad. Anyone
who gives you that old line about there being
"no bad audiences" is kidding you -- or has
led a very sheltered performing life.) Eventually
-- and it may be after three shows, or three
hundred -- you have to consider your experiences
and realistically decide if you have what
it takes to be a good magical performer. If
you don't, there are many other ways of enjoying
the hobby of magic; if you do, you can give
the audience a wonderful experience of magic.
Either way, you'll be a credit to your art.
Copyright
(c) 1995 by T. A. Waters. All rights reserved.
