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I recently had the pleasure of appearing on the first episode of The Post-Gig Report, hosted by my friend and fellow Chicago magician BJ Kirshenbaum.
BJ created the podcast to explore what life is really like for working entertainers—the performances, preparation, strange situations, unexpected challenges, and stories that happen behind the scenes. Since BJ and I first met while performing at the Chicago Magic Lounge, our conversation naturally covered a lot of ground. We talked about my early interest in magic, growing up in Rock Island, discovering performers through television specials, and finding mentorship through local magic clubs. We also discussed my return to the Chicago magic community, my work at the Chicago Magic Lounge, and one of the most important lessons I have learned as a performer: the show is not about impressing other magicians. It is about creating the best possible experience for the audience. Of course, I also shared a few performance war stories—including the time, as a teenage magician, I accidentally set a pile of paper streamers on fire during a Lions Club show. Fortunately, the carpet survived. One of my favorite moments in the conversation came when BJ asked why I continue performing. My answer was that when I am performing magic, I feel like the best version of myself. Magic requires complete focus. It forces me to be present, connect with people, and temporarily set aside the distractions of everyday life. It also allows me to bring audiences a little laughter, hope, happiness, and wonder. I believe the world needs more of those things. We also talked about what comes next, including my desire to develop more theatrical magic, expand my Anything Is Possible show, and focus on fewer—but more meaningful—performances. You can hear the full conversation on The Post-Gig Report. Listen on Spotify: Ryan Lawrence on The Post-Gig Report My thanks to BJ Kirshenbaum for inviting me to be his first guest—and for the excellent homemade pizza.  A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to attend the annual Society of American Magicians National Convention in Appleton, Wisconsin.
For magicians, conventions are part reunion, part continuing education, and part inspiration. We attend lectures, watch performances, discuss new ideas, debate old techniques, discover the latest trends, and—yes—share a few secrets with one another. No matter how long you’ve been performing, you always leave with fresh ideas, renewed enthusiasm, and a deeper appreciation for the art. This year’s convention, however, felt especially meaningful. The convention took place over the Fourth of July weekend, which also marked the 250th anniversary of the United States. Rather than spending the holiday at a backyard barbecue or watching fireworks, I found myself celebrating in a different way—surrounded by hundreds of magicians in Appleton, the city Harry Houdini proudly called his hometown. At first glance, those two anniversaries might not seem connected. For me, they were inseparable. Although Houdini was born Erik Weisz in Budapest, Hungary, his family immigrated to the United States when he was a young boy and settled in Appleton. As they embraced their new home, his name evolved to Ehrich Weiss, before the world would eventually come to know him as Harry Houdini. Houdini always considered himself an American. He proudly embraced his adopted country and wanted to be known not simply as a magician who lived in America, but as an American magician. In many ways, he embodied the American Dream. He reinvented himself through relentless determination, imagination, and hard work. He wasn’t handed fame. He earned it. Through thousands of performances, tireless self-promotion, and an unwavering commitment to excellence, Harry Houdini became perhaps the most famous magician the world has ever known. As I sat in lecture halls filled with magicians from across the country—and around the world—I couldn’t help but think about that remarkable legacy. One hundred years after his death, people are still studying his methods. Historians continue to uncover new details about his life. Museums preserve his artifacts. Performers still recreate his escapes. And every year, magicians gather to celebrate the man whose influence continues to shape our art. That’s an extraordinary legacy. Most entertainers are remembered for a season. The truly great ones are remembered for generations. What struck me most during the convention wasn’t simply Houdini’s skill as an escape artist. It was what his life represented. Magic has always been about creating wonder. It’s about reminding people—even if only for a few moments—that the impossible might not be impossible after all. Houdini lived that philosophy. He transformed himself from the son of struggling immigrants into an international icon. He showed that reinvention is possible, that perseverance matters, and that extraordinary things can happen when talent meets determination. Perhaps that’s why his story still resonates today. Walking through Appleton, visiting places connected to Houdini’s childhood, and spending America’s 250th birthday surrounded by people dedicated to preserving and advancing this remarkable art form gave me a deeper appreciation for both. I realized I wasn’t simply attending a magic convention. I was celebrating an idea. The idea that people can reinvent themselves. That imagination has value. That excellence is worth pursuing. That a child born half a world away could come to America, dream big, work tirelessly, and leave a legacy so profound that, one hundred years after his death, people still gather to celebrate his life. To me, that is the American Dream. One hundred years after Harry Houdini’s death, his greatest escape may not have been from handcuffs, chains, or locked trunks. It may have been escaping the limitations of where he began. And on America’s 250th birthday, I couldn’t imagine a more fitting person to celebrate. I’ve been performing magic for a long time, and people occasionally ask if I ever get tired of it.
The honest answer is no. What keeps magic exciting isn’t just the tricks—it’s the people. Every audience brings a different energy to the room. Some crowds are skeptical. Some are playful. Some are completely ready to believe in the impossible. Those reactions keep the experience fresh. One of the things I love most about performing is watching a room full of people share the same moment of surprise and laughter. For a few minutes, everyone forgets about their phones, their schedules, and everything else competing for their attention. They’re simply present. And when that happens, even for a moment, it reminds me why I started performing magic in the first place. There’s a moment in every magic show that I enjoy more than anything else.
It’s not necessarily when the trick happens. It’s the split second afterward. The moment when someone leans forward, eyes wide, and says, “Wait… what just happened?” Sometimes it’s laughter. Sometimes it’s disbelief. Sometimes it’s someone grabbing the person next to them and insisting they saw something impossible. That reaction is the real reward. Magicians spend a lot of time perfecting techniques and routines, but the goal isn’t simply to fool people. The goal is to create that shared moment where everyone in the room feels a sense of wonder. And when that happens, even briefly, it reminds us that the world can still surprise us. When people watch a magic show, they see the polished version: the jokes, the
surprises, the moments of amazement. What they don’t see is everything that happens behind the scenes. Magicians spend years practicing sleight of hand, timing, misdirection, and audience management. A routine that lasts three minutes on stage may have taken months—or even years—to refine. But the real secret isn’t just technical skill. It’s reading the room. Every audience is different. Some groups are quiet and curious. Others are loud and playful. A good magician learns to adjust the pacing, the humor, and even the tricks themselves depending on the energy in the room. In the end, a magic show is never exactly the same twice. And that unpredictability is part of what makes performing live so much fun. People sometimes ask why magic still matters in a world where we have smartphones, artificial intelligence, and special effects that can create almost anything imaginable.
But magic has never really been about technology or even tricks. It’s about a shared moment between people. A moment where something impossible seems to happen right in front of you, and everyone in the room feels it at the same time. In that moment, the audience stops analyzing, stops scrolling, and simply reacts. They laugh. They gasp. They look at each other in disbelief. Those reactions are the real magic. For a brief moment, strangers connect through a shared sense of wonder. And in a world that often feels rushed and divided, those moments still matter. There are three things I get asked all the time at events, parties, and even in the checkout line at Trader Joe’s.
I love these questions—not just because they show how curious people are, but because they give me a chance to talk about something I love. So here they are: the Top 3… 1. “How did you get into magic?” I tell them it started with a magic set I got as a kid—and it did. But the real answer? It was the look on people’s faces when something impossible happened in my hands. That reaction… stuck with me. It still does. 2. “Can you make my spouse disappear?” (Ha. Never heard that one before.) Truthfully, magic isn’t about making things disappear — it’s about making things reappear. Wonder. Joy. That wide-eyed feeling you had when you were 8 years old. That’s the real magic trick. 3. “Do you ever mess up?” I mean… do I look like a real wizard? But seriously—part of the magic is knowing how to recover. Like a jazz musician who hits a wrong note and plays it twice so it sounds intentional. And honestly? Half the fun is improvising in the moment. That’s when some of the best magic happens. Want to know a secret? The best magicians aren’t just good with cards or coins — they’re good with people. They know how to read a room. How to turn a moment into a memory. How to leave someone feeling like maybe, just maybe… anything is possible. And that’s why I love what I do. Thanks for asking. —Ryan Not all magic happens with top hats and flash paper.
Some of it happens in Target parking lots. Or in your pocket. Or in the middle of a Tuesday when you’re already running late. Here are 7 everyday things that are basically magic — no sleight of hand required. 1. When your charger works at 1% You’re down to a single red sliver. Your phone is fading. The world is going dark. And then… BOOM. Charging. Not all heroes wear capes. Some are just the perfect angle of lightning cable tension. 2. When your pet just knows You didn’t call them. You didn’t say a word. But somehow, they knew you needed company — and there they are. On your lap. By your side. Looking at you like they get it. Magic. 3. The green light gauntlet You’re running late. You’re hitting every turn just right. And somehow — miraculously — every. single. light. is green. The universe just whispered: “You got this.” And you did. 4. The mystery of the missing sock (and its dramatic return) Where did it go? Why just one? Why that sock? But weeks later, it reappears. In a gym bag. In your hoodie sleeve. In your soul, you hear a tiny applause track. 5. When a stranger smiles at you and you weren’t expecting it You’re lost in your head. In your schedule. In the grind. And someone—a real-life person—makes eye contact and smiles like they know something good about the world. That’s magic. No coin needed. 6. The perfect bite of comfort food It’s grilled cheese and tomato soup. It’s a $1.25 gas station donut. It’s buttered noodles you didn’t even know you were craving. For just a second, everything feels okay again. Comfort food = edible magic. 7. When a kid shows you a “magic trick” and you let yourself be amazed It’s a quarter behind your ear. It’s a card they’ve somehow bent beyond repair. It’s them believing that they made something happen. And for a moment, you believe it too. That’s the kind of magic we need more of. Real Magic Happens All the Time I love the impossible. I love sleight of hand. But more than that, I love the moments that don’t need a setup. The shared laugh. The moment you almost cry because something hit just right. The unexplainable-but-undeniable things that make life feel a little more alive. You don’t have to be a magician to believe in magic. You just have to notice it. On this date in 2017, the Chicago Magic Lounge broke ground on its new home—and Cook County marked the occasion by declaring June 7 “Magic Day.” Since then, that space has become a kind of sacred place for magicians like me.
So it felt like exactly the right day to explore why I think the world still needs magic. Why We Still Need Wonder We live in a world where almost nothing is allowed to stay unexplained. There’s a tutorial for every effect. A “how it’s done” video for every stunt. A spoiler thread for every twist. The internet doesn’t just solve mysteries—it smothers them. And don’t get me wrong: I love learning. I love breaking things apart, finding the seams, figuring out how they work. But I also believe in this -- We still need magic. Not just the tricks. The feeling. That quickening in your chest when something impossible happens, right in front of your eyes. That shared laugh when you’re surprised and delighted at the same time. That moment — brief and electric — where you lean in and whisper: “Wait… what just happened?” Magic Is Medicine (The Good Kind) We are taught to value certainty. Logic. Explanation. And all of those things have their place. But so does wonder. So does surprise. So does mystery. Because those things remind us that not everything has to be known to be valuable. Some things are meant to be felt. That’s why I love performing magic. It’s not about fooling people — it’s about freeing them. For just a few moments, they get to step outside the ordinary, and live in a space where anything is possible. Wonder Isn’t a Trick. It’s a Gift. When I walk into a room as a magician, I’m not trying to prove something. I’m not there to make people feel small or “gotcha’d.” I’m there to offer an invitation. To remind people — gently, playfully, honestly — that joy still exists. That wonder still has a place in our grown-up lives. That curiosity isn’t something we have to outgrow. I sometimes say that magicians are like quiet whispers in the universe. We don’t shout. We don’t preach. We just tap you on the shoulder and say: "Hey… don’t forget. There’s still magic in the world.” Not Just Magic Shows — Magic Moments It doesn’t have to be a card trick. It might be a song. A perfect bite of food. A small kindness when you need it most. It might be a memory. A person. A look that says, I see you. Magic lives in more places than people realize. I just happen to carry a deck of cards in my pocket to help point it out. —Ryan Most people assume I’m from Chicago. I mean, I live in the suburbs now, I perform in the city every week, and I’ve got enough black T-shirts and show flyers to qualify as local. But truth is—I’m from what I lovingly call “almost Iowa.” Rock Island, Illinois. The far west side of the state. Right on the Mississippi. A river town with good people, backyard fireworks, and a deep affection for midwestern diners. It wasn’t exactly a magic capital, but it had what mattered: Passion. Curiosity. And a handful of people who kept showing up—to clubs, to shows, to libraries and school gyms—to keep the mystery alive. How I Caught the Bug I was raised on TV magic. If you remember The Bozo Show, The World’s Greatest Magic, or David Copperfield’s annual specials, you know what I mean. I didn’t watch those shows like most kids. I watched them like they were sacred texts. I studied every gesture, every pause, every dramatic flourish with fog and lasers. And when Copperfield came to perform live — not in Vegas, but in Davenport, Iowa—it hit me like lightning. Magic wasn’t just something you watched. Magic was something you could do. And if you had a microphone, a story, a deck of cards—you could hold an entire room in your hands. That was the real trick. And I was hooked.  The Magic Club at the Hasty Tasty
Every Saturday, a group of local magicians would gather at the Hasty Tasty Food Shop in Moline. Just a big table full of bigger personalities. I was the youngest one there by a long shot, but I didn’t care. I showed up. Week after week. I soaked up stories, lectures, card tricks, and diner coffee (lots of it). Eventually, I worked at the local magic shop. I joined a water ski show team (yep, really). I got into high school theater. Started learning how to really connect with an audience — not just fool them, but move them. And slowly, all those pieces came together. I may not have been the slickest or most technical magician -- but I always showed up prepared, present, and ready to delight. Why Am I Telling You This? Because I meet a lot of people—performers, artists, creatives, kids who love magic—who say they’ll show up once they feel perfectly ready. But here’s the truth: You’ll never be perfectly ready. I mean, yes—you have to be ready. You rehearse, you pack, you prepare. But what matters even more is showing up enthusiastically ready to give people a great time. Every show I do is the result of hours of work behind the scenes—scripting, packing, rehearsing, resetting, refining. I don’t just walk in and wing it. I show up polished and dialed in—because that’s what your guests deserve. You become ready by showing up consistently — and doing the work. Not the other way around. That’s the real trick. And honestly? It works. Comfort Food Magic I’m not the fanciest magician in the world. I’m not trying to be. I’m the comfort food of magic—the grilled cheese and tomato soup. Dependable, well-rehearsed, and here to make your night memorable. I’m the kind of magician who shows up on time, brings the joy, reads the room, and makes sure every spectator feels like a VIP. I’m not here to impress other magicians or go viral. I’m here to give you—and your guests—a show worth remembering. If You’re Still Reading… Maybe you’ve got a dream you’ve paused. A hobby you’ve let slide. A creative part of you that’s been waiting for the “right moment.” This is your nudge. Show up. Practice. Prepare. Perform. Even when it’s messy. Even when it feels imperfect. That’s where the magic—and the real growth—begins. —Ryan |