A Magical Tale - by Marco Tempest

Marco Tempest, "The Virtual Magician" of the 21st century. Blending cutting-edge technology with his magic, he creates very original and highly entertaining performances - his signature "Tech Magic".

His famous quote, "Art is a deception that creates real emotions - a lie that creates a truth. And when you give yourself over to that deception, it becomes magic."

This is his latest act in

Seeking a Rich Husband?

Came across this interesting piece of article online:

A young and pretty lady posted this on a popular forum:
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Title: What should I do to marry a rich guy?
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... I'm going to be honest of what I'm going to say here.
I'm 25 this year. I'm very pretty, have style and good taste. I wish to marry a guy with $500k annual salary or above.
You might say that I'm greedy, but an annual salary of $1M

Great Employee Notice

Saw this extremely funny "employee notice" being circulated quite sometimes ago. If you have not read it, make sure you do! ;) The source is credited below.

Employee Notice

Due to the current financial situation caused by the slowdown in the economy, Congress has decided to implement a scheme to put workers of 50 years of age and above on early, mandatory retirement, thus creating jobs and

Catching My Breath: A Month in a Moment

Where to even start?

This first week of March, and my first weekend home in 2 weeks, finds me sitting in bed, awake too early, with a sudden need to review the whirlwind of the last month.

As I was getting ready to begin my 2^nd semester of grad school, after an almost too long winter break, I found myself with a tough decision. After 2 years of being out of work, I was offered a full time freelance job at half my former salary. The truth is, it wasn’t a difficult decision. There was no decision to be made. I had to take it. The difficulty was in swallowing the pill.

I admit it. I liked not working. I didn’t miss being locked in an office building all day long. I was happy holing up at home with my school books, getting up when I felt like, crawling back into bed if I felt like, going to karate in the morning when classes are smaller, staying out of the city fray. And spending more time at home in the country than in the city.

I was just finding my own rhythm. A thing that takes quite some time, owing to the fact that we spend so much of our lives forcing ourselves into rhythms other than our own.

In fact, last night I was reading an article in Orion Magazine about ecopsychology. The author, Steven Kotler, writes about his experiences in Patagonia in relation to perceptual skills that Laura Sewall, a self described mystic scientist, posits in her essay “The Skill of Ecological Perception”. These skills are required to overcome the psychic numbing with which our culture anesthetizes us. Earlier in the day I had been watching on YouTube (posted by EcoArt Space on Facebook) Aesthetics andSustainability, Radius of Art Conference at the Boell Stiftung with Sacha Kagan, Davide Brocchi and Shelley Sacks. I was struck by Brocchi’s statement that anesthesia is the antonym of aesthetic. It was one of those AHA moments. However you may define aesthetics, the numbing of our response or awareness to aesthetics is most certainly anesthethic, whether delivered by injection, inhalation or simple over stimulation.

I have spent the last month absolutely anesthetized by an overall overload of new environments and experiences. What hasn’t shut me down by the end of the day, I take pleasure in further anesthetizing with a glass of wine. This is the predicament of our culture. I am not alone. Until this morning, the most serene moment I had this week was sitting in Grand Central Terminal, watching the almost psychotic frenzy of commuters rushing for their trains with pained looks upon their faces. Barely a smile in sight. And of course, not an inch of earth or limb of tree. Who even ventures outside once at home, I wonder?

But of course, there are many like me, who long to commune with the trees, feel the earth in our hands and under our feet. My study plan this semester involves just that. I seek conversation with my natural surroundings. It’s just that my surroundings are predominantly a cubicle and the city sidewalks.  But in the context of my studies those too are informative. It looks to me like the trees in NYC would like to scream “I want to go back to the forest.” This despite the fact that they’ve likely been raised in commercial nurseries and wouldn’t know a forest if transplanted there.

But now I am home. It is raining as I watch the mist rise outside my bedroom window. When I was younger I would go for a run in the rain. Older now, I am content to wait for tomorrow’s projected sunshine, wishing I had the fortitude to brave the discomfort of cold and soggy clothes, squish sneakers. But, happy enough to have the time to catch up with myself in writing. In bed. In this rhythm of my own making.

At the Plainfield Vermont residency earlier in February the rhythm is almost as frenetic as it is in the city. Hour upon hour of presentations, workshops, advising group meetings and performances threaten to swallow one whole. In the midst of the well-constructed chaos there is a personal study plan to write, a bibliography to build, a trajectory to consider, unsubsidized school loans to freak out about. My experience at both residencies now, is of walking in with one plan and having my advisor turn it on its head. Not in a bad way, only a disorienting one. It takes half the semester to find my own footing again. I’m not sure everyone has this experience. It’s just my experience.

Owing to our mild east coast winter, the iced over snow made brisk walking, and therefore head clearing, difficult. My snow shoes and cross country skis never made it out of the car. It was alternately mud season by day and ice season by night. And it was fog season in my head. The four and a half hour beautiful drive home would have lifted that sensation had I not been preoccupied with the start of the aforementioned new job two days later.

I sank into a chair and stared into space for an afternoon, then launched into doing laundry and packing things up for the weekly pilgrimage into the city, attempting to prepack a bit for the trip I’d be taking to Los Angeles on my way to the Yuma Symposium the following week.

Yuma! The high point of my year. The antithesis of my grad school residencies, and yet, surprisingly with somewhat the same structure, and intent, albeit in much less time. Drive for 4 to 5 hours. Blow your head open with new ideas in art that transcend media, discipline and sometimes description.  Move from one presentation to the next, often forgetting what day it is. Drink wine at night. Do this for 2 days.  Drive back.

I’m getting exhausted just writing about it and it's only 10am. So for now, my adventures will end here, as I have another freelance assignment to complete over the weekend, and then there’s all that laundry to do. And the repacking. I haven’t really seen my husband in 2 weeks. He’s due home sometime this afternoon, at an undetermined ETA.  I’m sure there will be surprises to contend with that will throw a wrench in whatever plans I have for doing as much of nothing as possible. In between catching up on school work and art.

May your life be filled but not overfilled with Magic Medicine.

iPad 3 Magic?

A cool routine using iPad by Simon Pierro. Watch the beer trick! ;)