I am often asked what it is like to be a magician. There are no easy answers.

The great magician Marvyn Roy who tours the world as "Mr. Electric" accurately stated that being a magician was "the only profession where you could live like a millionaire, without being one." I suppose that is true, though I can only guess as to how a person with millions lives.

Perhaps what Mr. Roy alludes to is the lifestyle of a wandering wizard. Milbourne Christopher said he became a magician because he wanted to "sleep late and see the world." Christopher accomplished both goals -- he performed in 72 countries.

I too have traveled doing magic: as far as the 17,800-foot base camp of Mount Everest in Nepal, solely because I was a magician who entertained at a birthday party in Southport, Connecticut.

However, my real answer has to do with what magician's do: create wonder, and entertain people.

On Valentine's Day, February 14, 2001, I had two shows, both of which would not really be categorized as a "show" with a beginning, middle and end. But, each was definitely a performance. From 9am to noon I entertained patients of the Center for Special Studies at New York Hospital on East 68th Street in New York City. These patients have lived with being HIV positive for many years and little joy comes into their lives. My performance of close-up magic in their hands "under their nose and before their very eyes" was new to them. Not only had they never seen magic so close-up, but, they also saw, what the Director of the center called "hope." Magic represents hope, as, in the normal day-to-day cycle of things, one merely goes about the day, and usually does not see the miraculous. 27 out of 30 patients responded to my performance positively.

"Your contributions to the Center for Special Studies have made a great difference to the patients and providers in our program." -Jenny Lytton Program Director

People who had not smiled in many months momentarily grinned and a few actually snapped out of their clinical depression and laughed. One transsexual woman told me that I "made her day." I returned home exhausted. What I didn't realize was that care-givers also require care.  Center for Special Studies Program Director Jenny Lytton and Ben Robinson, Valentine's Day 2002

Dealing with the sick and beat-up is wearing on the system, and the Director of the center told me that my presence provided a warm feeling for the staff too. The next day I was informed that the staff was repeating stories of my performance the following morning. This was particularly gratifying. I had not realized how much energy I had used in trying to elicit a reaction when I was in the heat of turning a torn bunch of tissue paper into a bonnet or vanish a silk handkerchief from a clenched fist. When the water in the water fountain froze on my command, an eerie silence came over the room. My illusion was now perceived as the work of "other agencies."

Part Two: Matt's World 9pm - Midnight

click on pic for the future of rock

Later that night, from roughly 9pm to midnight I went to the rock club, Wetlands, in Tribeca and watched my friend Matt Turk open for Sean Kelly, formerly of the band, The Samples.

In the crowd was a couple of newlyweds whom Matt had recently made a present of me to. He hired me to perform at a small party where he also provided a lot of vintage champagne, and French pastries from the finest bakeries in Manhattan.

The champagne opened the evening. The desserts continued the entertainment. I closed the show with an hour and ten minutes of magic.

Marina Belica, Ben Robinson, and Matt Turk celebrating at the release party of Ms. Belica's Decembergirl 3DCD, 12/2000.

My audience was 8 people in a living room on the upper west side of Manhattan. Dressed in Milbourne Christopher's tail coat, a 19th century waist coat and a tie with a stick pin completed the look of another era. (In fact Matt had asked for this look and coincidentally my outfit copied the appearance of the great "Father of Modern Magic" Robert-Houdin, who also entertained a similar group in a pivotal performance when he opened his "Soirees Fantastique" at the Palais Royal in Paris in the 1800's.) All of my wonders (including the instant appearance of a ten foot wooden pole from a small paper bag) came out of a small, portable brief case that is reinforced for harsh travel. This particular case was not with me that night at Wetlands when I met Ruby and Dino the second time.

It is said that one thing usually leads to another. In this case, not only did one thing lead to another, but during this impromptu performance in the audience at Wetlands, we seemed to be swimming in what Swiss psychologist Carl Jung deemed "synchronicity" or, a "meaningful coincidence."

Here are the cluster of similarities that occurred: I was attending Matt's solo performance with my newlywed wife, both Dino and I brought similar presents to celebrate Matt's appearance, and I learned later, that Ruby is a social worker looking for work in a hospital...

My wife met Ruby and Dino and was surprised to learn they were the couple I had entertained only a few weeks before. Ruby wore a chocolate-brown velvet dress, and remarked that my appearance at their apartment defined "real magic." I told them that I had a show twelve hours earlier.

I mentioned the patients reactions. Ruby said that magic was therapeutic. Her comment reminded me of a show I once missed booking. Now calling this a "missed booking" is at once misleading and dead accurate.

After having been out of town on a corporate gig, I checked in with magic store owner Jack Flosso the following day. He said "Hey where were ya? I had a good one for ya." It turned out Jack had been contacted by the son of a man who was dying in a hospital. In the few hours the dying man had he requested to see a magician perform. Jack got the call, called me, and the man died, his wish unfulfilled. Apparently, price was not a problem. You never know if this would have been "one of the good ones." But, it was certainly was one for me...I'm called for the strangest assignments.

After Matt's show, he was at the bar talking to someone, and Sean Kelly was setting up and the crowd was growing in the main area where Matt had just left his brilliant mark on the mandolin, guitar and our minds.

Dino and Ruby wanted to see more magic. Ruby asked, "Could you please show us something?" her eyes sparkling in the club light.

I was prepared. My little finger ring disappeared from my left hand and reappeared as quickly from behind Ruby's ear, as an "ear ring." Then my deck of cards changed from being red-backed to white on both sides and ending up blue-backed. Seconds later, Ruby selected a card, and on Valentine's Day, in the warm glow of a rock club, between sets, she held the ace of hearts in her attractive hand. What luck!

Her card appeared and disappeared several times bringing a few others to remark, "Hey! We got a magic show going on here." Finally the card was surprisingly revealed impaled on a knife (that also appeared magically). As I dramatically removed the card, stabbed neatly through the lone heart adorning the center of the card, I said, "Here is your Valentine's Day card!" I bowed deeply as I presented the card to Ruby, who was smiling from ear to ear. A perfect moment. I jokingly gave a rock 'n roll goodbye, "Thank youuuuu. Good night!"

I've recounted this adventure to several friends and all agree that moments like this could not be scripted...but they make the life of a magician worthwhile.