Process

As a theater maker and illusion designer, my work exists in a strange, gray area between the rigorous discipline of traditional magic and the emotional vulnerability of the stage. Because magic is an inherently secretive art form, the 'how' and the 'why' of what I do can often seem a bit mysterious. But I’ve never been terribly interested in keeping secrets. Here are a few answers to common questions to demystify the process and offer a small window into how my brain works.

How do you pronounce your last name? 

In America, CUIFFO is pronounced CHIFFO (not Kwiffo or Queefo). In Italy, it’s pronounced CHEWFO, because it’s originally spelled CIUFFO, which makes the "ch" sound, as in ciao. But when my great grandfather came to Ellis Island in 1910, they dotted the "u" instead of the "i," and it became CUIFFO. (Click here to hear me say it.)

Wait, are you a magician or an actor? 

Both. Magic came first; when I was six years old, my grandfather made a dime disappear, and I never looked back. In high school, I discovered acting. I eventually pursued formal training, earning a B.F.A. in Acting from NYU's Tisch School of the Arts, and studying at the Stella Adler Conservatory and the British American Drama Academy. Those two disciplines have been intertwined for me ever since.

What is "Secret Arts"? 

Secret Arts is my creative studio. It’s the umbrella company that houses all of my work—performing, consulting, designing theatrical illusions, and teaching.

What is the difference between magic and theater? 

You really can't top what Tennessee Williams wrote in The Glass Menagerie. The character Tom says: "Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve. But I am the opposite of a stage magician. He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth. I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion."

You use the phrase "Honest Magic." What does it mean for a deception to be honest? 

It's a reminder to myself to always try and create a shared experience with the audience, rather than just showing off with an "I can do this and you can't" attitude. It means always trying to mine the illusion for something deeper than just the secret of how it's done.

Your shows don’t look like normal magic shows. Why are you drawn to cardboard and tape recorders? 

A lot of it comes from the very practical place of working with what is already in the room. That's a philosophy I learned while working with The Wooster Group: you make things with what you have ready. So, yes, duct tape and cardboard are my happy place.

Can a magic trick make someone cry, or is it only designed to surprise them? 

It depends. I don't focus on making the audience think or feel any one specific thing, because that is really out of my control. I can only focus on building and executing the illusion to the best of my ability. How it affects a particular person will be entirely different for everybody.

You’ve said you like to "stage the glitch." What happens when a trick actually goes wrong on stage versus when it’s scripted to fail? 

I love the "scripted fail." In magic, there is a concept called a "sucker trick." The magician makes it seem like they made a mistake, and the audience thinks they know what's up. But at the last minute, the magician pulls the rug out from under them, and it's not what they thought at all. Suckers! It can sometimes carry a mean-spirited vibe, so it's a tightrope walk to find the pleasant, generous nuance in a moment like that.

As for when a trick actually goes wrong on stage? A true professional is prepared for all contingencies. There is a term for that, too. It's called an "Out." Always have an Out!

Do you invent new illusions from scratch, or do you adapt old ones? 

There's nothing new under the sun. It is very rare to invent a new illusion out of whole cloth. There are really only a set amount of mechanical ways to make these things happen. The art and craft lie in applying the technique to the new "presentation." If a character needs to disappear, there are a handful of ways to do that. It's my job to choose the appropriate technique that fits the specific circumstances of the story.

I know you spend a lot of time digging through old 19th-century magic manuals. What are you looking for when you do that kind of historical excavation? 

Anything and everything! It's a never-ending study. A little nugget here and there could unlock a whole piece. At this point, it all goes into a "latticework" of effects and methods in my mind, which gives me an intuitive, gut feeling for how something should work.

What does an "Illusion Designer" actually do?

It's always case-by-case, but generally, there is a theatrical problem in the script that falls outside the purview of the usual departments (set, light, costume, sound, props). A specialist like myself comes in to create the elements needed to make that impossible moment happen. I work closely with the director and the creative team to sketch out ideas, build prototypes, and sometimes oversee the construction of the physical illusion with the technical crew. Finally, I provide guidance to the actors on how to perform the illusion so it looks as realistic and impressive as possible.

How does illusion design differ from special effects? 

A special effect is usually purely technical—a puff of smoke, a flash of fire, rain falling on stage, or stage blood. An illusion, on the other hand, relies heavily on psychology and choreography. It has to be perfectly synced with all the other elements of the play to create conviction in the audience's mind.

For example, in Dana H. on Broadway, a performer is sitting in a chair on stage. The lights go off for a split second, and when they come right back on, the person and the chair are gone. The illusion was truly surprising because the audience intuitively felt there was absolutely not enough time for that person to exit the stage. They really just vanished, as fast as a film edit.

What is the hardest part about designing magic for actors who aren’t trained magicians?

 Surprisingly, it's usually not hard at all. Other than the occasional knacky handling of a prop, actors aren't burdened by all the little idiosyncrasies that an actual magician gets hung up on. Plus, they're better actors! Acting the correct intention with confidence is 90% of selling an illusion. There is a great quote from Henning Nelms in his book Magic and Showmanship that sums this up: "The magic of drama is infinitely more powerful than the magic of trickery. It is as available to the conjurer as it is to the actor. The only difference is that actors take it for granted, whereas few conjurers are even aware that it exists."

When a director or playwright wants to hire you, at what point in the process should you be brought into the room? 

In my ideal world, as early as possible. But I've learned over the years that illusion design isn't always intuitive for a director to plan far ahead for. Often, I get the last-minute call: "We're in tech, we open in two days, and we don't know how to do this. Can you help?" That's always fun. But I've built great relationships with artists who understand the time and attention that magic needs, and I'm always grateful when I'm given the space to build these moments properly.

You spent years working with the experimental avant-garde at The Wooster Group, but you also served as the Magic Director for David Blaine. Do those two worlds ever overlap? 

All of my collaborative experiences inform my perspective on how art is made. Every artist I work with has a unique vision of what they want to create and their own way of getting there. Every single room I step into is a learning experience that adds to my intuition for the next project.

You have access to million-dollar stage rigs, but you are currently focusing on the "humblest instrument"—a simple deck of cards. Why the pivot back to analog? 

My career has always been project-to-project. I've developed a cadence of diving deeply into something for a period of time and then moving on to the next thing, rarely looking back. After a year or two working in massive theaters on large-scale projects, it feels deeply refreshing to strip it all down and do the next project in a small room with twenty-five people and a deck of cards. Variety is the spice of life.

I want to learn more about this intersection of theater and illusion. Where should I start? 

Come to my next show! Or, if you have a theatrical problem you need to solve, let's get into a room together.