Self-acting magic refers to a form of magic that appears to happen automatically without any external influence or intervention. It is often associated with illusions, tricks, and gimmicks that give the illusion of objects moving on their own or events happening without any human involvement. This type of magic often relies on clever engineering, hidden mechanisms, and skilled manipulation to create the illusion of self-acting. The main idea behind self-acting magic is to create an effect that appears to be impossible or supernatural. By using hidden mechanisms and clever techniques, magicians can make it seem like objects are moving and events are happening without any visible cause. This can create a sense of wonder and amazement in audiences and leave them questioning how the trick was achieved.
7 p.m. — International Observe the Moon Night (pre-recorded)
That day, my hunting buddy and I were in Mississippi in the community where we d grown up in as much as we ever grew up crossing a slough that lay between two expanses of cotton field. My partner headed off in the direction of the dogs, but I returned to the upper end of the slough, worked it thoroughly end to end and collected two more.
This can create a sense of wonder and amazement in audiences and leave them questioning how the trick was achieved. Self-acting magic is often used in stage performances to create grand illusions. For example, a magician might make it seem like a table is floating in mid-air or a ball is levitating without any visible means of support.
Outdoors column: Game birds share connecting, magical feather
Kevin Tate I was laboring to haul myself along a two-track ranch road in Colorado, trying not to step on my tongue, when the first blue grouse I ever saw burst into the air ahead of me. In my mind, I set my feet, brought the gun up to my eye, then swung to and through, slapping the trigger at the moment all felt right. I did this in my mind, of course, since we were differently armed and in pursuit of different, bigger game, but the hunt within the hunt always takes me to the place where memories converge. As the grouse set its wings and sailed downhill and out of sight, back the way we had come — the road really was steep it was a comfort to know — I thought back to the first woodcock I’d ever encountered on a morning long before. That day, my hunting buddy and I were in Mississippi in the community where we’d grown up — in as much as we ever grew up —crossing a slough that lay between two expanses of cotton field. We were on Christmas break and had been temporarily paroled from higher education, so we were running rabbits for the 12th day in a row. Both the rabbits and the dogs were ready for us to go back to school. In nearly two weeks of hunting, we had covered all our regular, home community spots at least two or three times apiece. By then, both the dogs and the game knew what to do when our truck doors slammed and the tailgate dropped. As a result, we had freshly re-familiarized ourselves with all the other instances of feather and fur in season at the time. Not that we hadn’t always been open to bringing home a mixed bag. We kept a sharp eye on adjacent treelines in case a squirrel might be on the move. The late dove season was open, so we were watching the skies as well. Our hunts always kept us close to water, so we knew which potholes were apt to hold a wood duck or a mallard along the way. As I waded through the bog, a bird got up and flew across the main channel of the creek in front of me. I reflexively raised my gun and swung, but didn’t shoot.
“I think that was a woodcock,” I said in some amazement. “Why didn’t you shoot it?” my partner asked. “I was too surprised,” I said. I had read lots of Gene Hill’s fine writing about chasing woodcock and grouse in the Upper Midwest, but I’d not ever expected to see either bird near home. It turns out, woodcock are migratory. I’d felt certain it was a game bird the moment it flew, but I had to think before deciding what game bird it was. A big part of the magical attraction of wingshooting is the character and characteristics of the birds themselves. Game birds just fly differently. Quail, doves, pheasants and grouse all look different in the air, of course. No two birds of differing feather fly the same, but there’s a special, eye-grabbing gravity from game birds in flight. The beat of the wing, the shape of their profiles, there’s an attraction that can’t be ignored. It’s this cross-species similarity that makes them birds we hunt in the first place, I guess. I took another half dozen steps down the creek and the bird got up again. This time I wasn’t as surprised and dropped it in a shower of feathers. The long, pointed beak used to probe the soil made it unmistakable. My partner headed off in the direction of the dogs, but I returned to the upper end of the slough, worked it thoroughly end to end and collected two more. Three woodcocks won’t exactly feed the 5,000, but they were excellent fare. I wrapped them in bacon and rolled them around on a grill. They were earthy and smoky and tasted like adventure. They were the flavor of the continent they had crossed. I don’t get paroled from responsibility for weeks at a time any more, but I’ll always make time to experience that magic once again. Kevin Tate is the outdoors writer for the Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal.
Kevin Tate I was laboring to haul myself along a two-track ranch road in Colorado, trying not to step on my tongue, when the first blue grouse I ever saw burst into the air ahead of me. In my mind, I set my feet, brought the gun up to my eye, then swung to and through, slapping the trigger at the moment all felt right. I did this in my mind, of course, since we were differently armed and in pursuit of different, bigger game, but the hunt within the hunt always takes me to the place where memories converge. As the grouse set its wings and sailed downhill and out of sight, back the way we had come — the road really was steep it was a comfort to know — I thought back to the first woodcock I’d ever encountered on a morning long before. That day, my hunting buddy and I were in Mississippi in the community where we’d grown up — in as much as we ever grew up —crossing a slough that lay between two expanses of cotton field. We were on Christmas break and had been temporarily paroled from higher education, so we were running rabbits for the 12th day in a row. Both the rabbits and the dogs were ready for us to go back to school. In nearly two weeks of hunting, we had covered all our regular, home community spots at least two or three times apiece. By then, both the dogs and the game knew what to do when our truck doors slammed and the tailgate dropped. As a result, we had freshly re-familiarized ourselves with all the other instances of feather and fur in season at the time. Not that we hadn’t always been open to bringing home a mixed bag. We kept a sharp eye on adjacent treelines in case a squirrel might be on the move. The late dove season was open, so we were watching the skies as well. Our hunts always kept us close to water, so we knew which potholes were apt to hold a wood duck or a mallard along the way. As I waded through the bog, a bird got up and flew across the main channel of the creek in front of me. I reflexively raised my gun and swung, but didn’t shoot.
These types of effects rely on the careful positioning of props, the use of hidden wires or magnets, and skillful misdirection to create the illusion of self-acting. In addition to stage performances, self-acting magic is also used in smaller-scale tricks and illusions. For example, a magician might use a specially designed deck of cards or a rigged box to create the illusion of a chosen card appearing or disappearing without any intervention from the magician. These tricks often rely on precise timing and skilled manipulation to create the illusion of self-acting. Overall, self-acting magic is a fascinating branch of magic that relies on clever engineering, hidden mechanisms, and skilled manipulation to create the illusion of objects moving or events happening without any external intervention. It is a type of magic that can leave audiences in awe and wonder as they try to figure out how the trick was accomplished..
Reviews for "From Harry Houdini to David Copperfield: Legends of Self-Acting Magic"
1. John - 2/5
I was really disappointed with "Self Acting Magic". The tricks were predictable and lacked any sense of mystery or wonder. The magician seemed bored and disinterested in his own performance, which did not help to engage the audience. Overall, I found the show to be lackluster and unimpressive.
2. Sarah - 1/5
"Self Acting Magic" was a complete letdown. The tricks were poorly executed, and it was obvious that the magician was relying on obvious illusions rather than true skill. The show lacked any sense of excitement or surprise. I would not recommend wasting your time or money on this mediocre performance.
3. Michael - 2/5
I had high hopes for "Self Acting Magic", but unfortunately, it fell flat. The magician seemed to rush through the tricks without properly explaining them, leaving the audience confused and unimpressed. The show lacked the polish and professionalism that I expected from a magic performance. Overall, it was a forgettable and underwhelming experience.
4. Emily - 1/5
"Self Acting Magic" was nothing more than a series of basic card tricks and cheap props. The magician's lack of charisma made it difficult to stay engaged throughout the performance. It felt like a cheap imitation of real magic shows. I would not recommend attending this show if you're looking for a thrilling and mesmerizing experience.
5. Mark - 2/5
I attended "Self Acting Magic" with high hopes, but I was thoroughly disappointed. The tricks were predictable and lacked any originality. Additionally, there were several technical mishaps during the performance, making it even more underwhelming. I expected a captivating and mind-boggling experience, but all I got was a mediocre show.