A study of magic as perceptual engineering
A study of magic as
perceptual engineering
• Armando Lucero's •
The Hungry Imagination
WATCH · READ · STUDY · MAGIC
Each month, members receive a new performance and detailed notes examining the construction beneath the deception.
A growing library of past compositions. Access begins with the month you join, and earlier works may be added individually should you wish to complete your Library.
A short essay on purpose and encouragement.
Only four cards. Four coins. Nothing more.
Membership — $35 per month
Each month, a new composition:
A filmed performance
and a written study.
Renews automatically. Cancel anytime.
This work is practiced. Not consumed.
Or Gift One Month
$35 — one time.
They receive one month.
Afterward, they may continue — or not.
Annual — $350
For those who prefer to commit to a full year.
Or Gift One Year
$350 — one-time.
They receive one full year.
Afterward, they may continue — or not.
Armando Lucero, in addition to personally being my favorite magician, is beyond question the foremost sleight of hand performer and magical thinker in our profession. In 80 years, he is the only magician I have ever seen whose effects look like real magic.
(See: Scientific American)
Pasteboard Devices & Coin Menagerie
For those who wish to go deeper.
A Last Word
Thoughts are powerful. We can think “trick,” or make magic. We can think “magic,” or make art. We can think “art,” or create moments of true astonishment.
An expression of Shibumi →
Shibumi, at least for me: doing what I want when I want without those burdensome tension thoughts pulling me down. Just hanging in that sweet spot of precarious balance between too much and too little—an intersection of blissful fluctuation while sitting with cards, coins, and coffee.
— Armando Lucero
On Shibumi →
The term shibumi is Japanese and is explored at length in the novel Shibumi by Trevanian. You can read more about the book here: ABOUT Shibumi (Wikipedia)
The short reflection above is my own adaptation, inspired by Trevanian’s use of the word and the sensibility he describes. What follows is an excerpt from the novel, quoted here to preserve the original context and language:
“He sounds as though I shall like him, sir.”
“I am sure you will. He is a man who has all my respect. He possesses a quality of . . . how to express it? . . . of shibumi.”
“Shibumi, sir?” Nicholai knew the word, but only as it applied to gardens or architecture, where it connoted an understated beauty. “How are you using the term, sir?”
“Oh, vaguely. And incorrectly, I suspect. A blundering attempt to describe an ineffable quality. As you know, shibumi has to do with great refinement underlying commonplace appearances. It is a statement so correct that it does not have to be bold, so poignant it does not have to be pretty, so true it does not have to be real. Shibumi is understanding, rather than knowledge. Eloquent silence. In demeanor, it is modesty without pudency. In art, where the spirit of shibumi takes the form of sabi, it is elegant simplicity, articulate brevity. In philosophy, where shibumi emerges as wabi, it is spiritual tranquility that is not passive; it is being without the angst of becoming. And in the personality of a man, it is . . . how does one say it? Authority without domination? Something like that.”
Nicholai’s imagination was galvanized by the concept of shibumi. No other ideal had ever touched him so.
“How does one achieve this shibumi, sir?”
“One does not achieve it, one . . . discovers it. And only a few men of infinite refinement ever do that. Men like my friend Otake-san.”
“Meaning that one must learn a great deal to arrive at shibumi?”
“Meaning, rather, that one must pass through knowledge and arrive at simplicity.”
