Scottish mentalist Scott Silven on becoming a New Yorker, the time he got lost in a forest, and avoiding other magicians
The Scottish mentalist opens up about the truth behind the industry and how his life experiences have shaped him.
I do not have the power to … read minds in the way that you think I do. But I can get a sense of who a person is and what they might want to reveal. When they’re on stage, I can choose whether I want to reveal this or not reveal that. And most of the time it’s something beautiful and positive that I will reveal. If there’s some thoughts in there about their recently divorced partner, that’s when I choose not to reveal those things.
To call mentalism a career is … the most amazing thing to me. When I was growing up and developing these skills in Scotland, I couldn’t really define what that “thing” was. There was an element of psychology to it and performance to it, and maybe a degree of therapy as well. When I studied psychology and performance at university, I knew that I wanted to inspire audiences to let them look at their lives in a different way. And really, that’s been my North Star. It’s not about fooling people or tricking people, it’s about taking them on this journey of rediscovery.
I still don’t … have a therapist. It was one of the first things I felt you needed to have when you come to New York. In the same way that you have a bacon, egg and cheese bagel for breakfast and you only drink black coffee – everyone has a therapist. It’s the equivalent of going to the gym three times a week. Being a Scottish person, we do not reveal emotions in any way at all. People will ask, “how’s your day going?” And you’ll say “It’s fine”, even if you’re having the worst day in the world.
Growing up … in the development of my own career, I avoided other magicians at all costs. I found them weird and strange, and I wasn’t really inspired by what they were doing. The sort of magic that inspires me is narrative-led and is still really in its infancy, and I love to gift that to other magicians. To give them that gift of realising what they’re creating and doing can actually be really powerful and inspiring.
My new show … takes the audience into a memory of me as a 12-year-old. My parents were divorcing. We were moving house and moving towns and I didn’t know who I was anymore. I ran away from home and I got lost in a forest. The audience come into the Playhouse at the Opera House, and the stage has been transformed into this living, breathing forest. The audience are invited to step into that space with me, not only to relive my memory, but to step into their own memories of people, places, things that they thought they had lost in their lives.
If someone pushes in front of me at the checkout I would … say “Hey, I was standing here”. Before I moved to New York, I would not do anything. I hate confrontation. That’s how this city has changed me. I’ve become maybe a
little more stubborn, a little more
confident.
My home is where … I come to decompress, which is really bizarre to a lot of people. I’m on the road for about 200 days of the year and then the rest of the time I spend in New York. It feels exciting and comforting and creatively inspiring to be here.
New Yorkers are … hugely sceptical people and not easily impressed. When I first moved to New York seven years ago, I was green to the city. The theatre that I arrived in had me doing 16 shows a week
in front of New York audiences. It was a baptism of fire. At the time, it was terrifying, but I kind of love it now.
Scott Silven’s The Lost Things has its world premiere season at Sydney Opera House from June 11-29.
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