Juan Damariis Madel Negron first experienced the impossible at four or five when his father took him to see a stage magician. He came into contact with Arturo de Escagno, a lawyer by trade who was becoming the Aminon's Greece of the Spanish scene. Slidini practiced a sui-generous style of sleight of hand that was a balletic extension of his expressive gestures. Though there must be a hidden method, it cannot be perceived. It is supplanted by a magical gesture like the sprinkling of magic dust.
Going out to dinner with Juan Tamariz in Madrid is a little like accompanying a cartoon character on a journey to the real world. As Shuja Haider, the author of today’s Sunday Read, walked with him on side streets off the city center’s main drag, the Calle Gran Vía, heads turned left and right.
Mr. Tamariz, 80, has been a professional magician for 52 years, and in that time, he has managed the singular feat of becoming both a household name in his home country and a living legend in magic everywhere. David Blaine has called him “the greatest and most influential card magician alive.” But in Spain, Mr. Tamariz is an icon, less like Mr. Blaine or David Copperfield and more like Kermit the Frog.
In the United States, the most visible performers of magic in the late 20th century were stage illusionists who worked with big boxes and flashing lights. But Mr. Tamariz appears on stage and screen armed with little more than his two hands. He introduced Spanish viewers to the style of magic called “close-up,” done with ordinary objects, in near-enough proximity for a conversation and incorporating the participation of spectators.
This story was recorded by Audm. To hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android.