Inspirations

Who are my inspirations? I was reading an essay by the excellent Ursula K. Le Guin in which she points out the difficulty in answering this apparently innocuous question. One does not have a single inspiration, inspirations are multitude: all the things we read and go through are in one way or another inspirations. Some of our first reads, even if they are not the best or the most glamorous, might be the most influential in our development.

Asked that question at a younger age, I used to say that Bob Cassidy taught me the theory of mentalism, Docc Hilford taught me the presentation of mentalism, and Richard Osterlind taught me the practice of mentalism. It is not a coincidence that they have all been prolific writers of mentalism, giving my younger self a lot of material to slowly soak up their ideas.

When I think about the theory of mentalism, my main teachers are undeniably Bob Cassidy, with his strong professoral tone, but also John Riggs, who similarly knows better than everyone else, and Ron Martin, the perfect reader. It is no surprise that I irremediably fell into the psychic side of things.

When I think about my aesthetic sense, the kind of mentalism I find beautiful and worth pursuing, then I need to add William Larsen Sr., Jerome Finley, and Paul Voodini to that list, and their promises of propless – as genuine as can be – mentalism.

When I look at the mentalism I write, I see shades of Theodore Annemann, Bob Cassidy, and Barrie Richardson in my obsession with intricately choreographed billet work and naturally flowing presentations.

When I look at the material I actually perform, not the material I know or write, then Richard Webster, Docc Hilford, and Jerome Finley come across very strongly. The work I adopted is very much gimmickless – which does not necessarily mean devoid of trickery – and sitting at the edge of credibility.

When I think about the kind of mentalist I want to be, I think about Bruce Bernstein, the undeniably clever consultant, and Barrie Richardson, the kind teacher.

I am aspects of all of them, but I am also none of them. I have slowly built a sense of self, of what I think, of what I like, what I write, what I perform, and how I perform it.