Ian Kendall interview: A Life with Magic

Ian Kendall has performed at the Fringe for twenty-one years and this year is his last. He is one of the most skilled magicians performing today and in the flesh he is warm, friendly and brutally honest. My kind of guy. He gave me his unique perspective on this manic festival and how the perception - and performance - of magic has changed over his time here.

His first statement surprises me.
'Most card tricks I find dull. Do you think I’ve lost your card in the deck? No. I like effects with cards. Typological effects and gambling stuff. That’s a really technical discipline. There are people who go out and do nothing but tricks with cards, I mean, how mind-numbingly tedious is the eighth or ninth trick?'
Tedious for you or both, I ask.
'A bit of both.' he replies. 'One of the reasons I don’t do card tricks is because I don’t enjoy watching them. And so it’s very hard for me to get enthused about entertaining. The coin trick is what I’m sort of known for.'
Most performers do their own PR work. Ian has visited the Mile almost every day of each show. This cobbled road is crammed full of Fringe performers flyering and offering the public glimpses of their show in an attempt to secure a ticket sale. Ian's speciality is the floating coin. He first performed this for me two years ago, it's a very neat trick and it was enough to make me see him that night.
He continues, 'Years ago I was the only person doing that trick. Unfortunately I had a trapped nerve in my neck last year and I lost the use of my left arm for six months. I can’t do it as well anymore. The world record was 18", I could manage 23 or 24.'
So how do you develop your on-stage persona? Is there pressure to bring some sort of gimmick to the proceedings?
'There’s a general rule of performance that you should be yourself, tuned up. I tried one year to do the Victorian magician where I recreated tricks from 1880 to 1930. For fourteen nights I thought, I will pretend to be this character. But I’m not an actor. The first review I got said it was unfair that there’s not a magic category [in the Fringe guide]. On the fourth night I thought, I’m just going to be me and I relaxed and it was a laugh riot and I had a beautiful reviews. That told me that I have to be me. I’m never going to be David Copperfield. I'm a slightly sophisticated, close-up Scottish magician. I’m going to be Ian, just turned up a little.'

There has been a resurgence in magic over the last few years. In 2000 there were only two shows while this year sees forty-seven. So is the standard of magic good these days, I ask.
'Let's say there are forty shows. I would estimate, having a rough idea, that ten of them will be good. Another ten of them will be okay. Ten of them will be... [Ian sighs loudly and exaggeratedly making me laugh]. And three or four of them will be holy shit, shoot me now. The Fringe has always said it does not programme so there's no editorial control. That used to be the case, it’s not anymore because the venues are run like businesses and they all programme. However, the Free Fringe has raised its head. It’s good because it gives people a place to be bad. But then that creates a stigma, because if you go and see a bad musician, you’ll go and see another musician. If you go and see a bad comedian, you’ll go and see another comedian. If Joe Public sees a bad magician, they will never see another magician again. Ever.'
Do you think public perception of magic has changed too, I ask.
'Blaine, when he went on the streets, completely changed the paradigm. Before that you had Daniels and Copperfield and it was studio magic. I enjoy that, I actually prefer it because street magic is generally so manufactured that what you’re seeing is essentially a fiction show, it’s not a magic show. Derren helped a lot, though he doesn’t present himself as a magician anymore.'
How do you feel reflecting back on so many years of performing?
'One of the biggest regrets I have is that I don’t get that sense of wonder because without the wonder there’s no magic. Unfortunately a lot of magicians aren’t really talented. I enjoy seeing friends but I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been fooled, amazed or astonished. I cherish those moments.'
Being so jaded, how do you maintain your sense of wonder and excitement for magic?
'There are certain effects I’ve very deliberately not investigated. There are a couple of things out there I saw which I saw and I said right, I’m not going to read it, buy it or look it up because I’m going to keep that. I’m going to keep that moment.
'There is an entire industry around magic and a school of thought amongst magic dealers. In fact there are a lot of analogies between magicians and drug pushers of the famous ‘no skill required’. Eighty-five per cent are amateurs, people who buy a trick, run through it twice and put it in the cupboard. You’re not selling them the trick, you’re selling them the idea that they can perform the trick. I’m guilty, I’ve got stuff in my box at home.'
Ian then says something that, for me, makes him a real magician.
'I don’t believe magic should be easy. I think it should be bastard-hard. I think you should have to jump through fourteen hoops. I think we should go back to the guild system where you have to get a mentor like in the thirties.'
His final show certainly reflected this attitude; an hour of classic close-up sleights that rely almost entirely on technique and years of perfecting. Despite his jaded view of the craft, the aptly-titled Obsession: A Life With Magic was his final love letter.