Power is what so many desire. It is what we are trained to seek. It is our holy grail. It is being better than other people. It is having influence over other people. Or at least, that is how power is commonly defined in society. The official definition is: “the capacity or ability to direct or influence the behavior of others or the course of events.”

So, if power refers to how much an individual has influence over another, then how does power relate to magic? Magic is the more whimsical counterpart to power. It is power without the ego. It is power without pain. What if we used power and magic interchangeably? What if we began wanting magic instead of power? How would our priorities change?

The official definition of magic is: “the power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.” This definition is nearly the same as power, except that it specifies the use of mystery. When I visited India for the first time and showed my images to a group of young women there, they saw a girl floating to a window and butterflies exploding from the chest of a man. Their first reaction was to say: Magic. 

Magic is what we call power that we cannot understand. I am not really a magician. We know that I use Photoshop to make people fly and to alter our reality. But to some, who have not had the chance to learn such tools, it is magic. And who are we to say otherwise? I do not seek power but I do seek magic. I want the ability to influence others. I want the ability to speak through my craft and be heard in doing so.

Next time you create something, or you’re in a position to find your power, replace that word with magic. We are all mysterious creatures creating the story of our lives in ways that others may not understand. Even we may not fully understand what we do. So let yourself live in the magic. Confound yourself. Surprise yourself. Find your magic…and don’t be afraid to share your undefinable strangeness with others. You just might be more influential than you realize.

When I was little my very large Italian family would gather around my grandparent’s long dining table, the one only used for more formal events. We would hold hands before we ate, dig into the traditional spread, and listen to football on the TV in the next room. I was always certain to get a good seat, right next to my Grandma at the head of the table. And after we finished dinner, and after dessert had come and gone, all of my cousins would gather around that same table to watch my Uncle Joe do magic.

From pulling coins from behind my ear to yanking an impossibly long handkerchief from an endless bag, we were mesmerized by his antics. The man who I knew then is very different now. He has trouble remembering who I am, and time has put distance between us. But I will always remember the way he made us laugh and stare in wonder at his magic.

When I was five years old I had a dream that I flew. I ran downstairs and told my mom with full confidence that I had just flown. What I didn’t realize was that I was wearing my nightgown and I was only dreaming. I fully believed that it had happened. And my mom, in true form, let me believe it was true. “Everyone flies once in their life, and this was your turn,” she said. And so I went through my childhood, and even some of my teen years, believing that I had flown.

Over the years people have tried to talk me out of my belief in magic. Commonly used words are “impractical”, “childish”, “weird”, and “silly”. I love those words. They are the best kind. Though I have not wavered in my belief of magic, my definition of magic has changed. When I was little I believed in something blindly. Santa. The Easter Bunny. My ability to fly, literally, off the ground and through the air. My uncle pulling a coin from behind my ear. And though I question magic now, that doesn’t make it any less important, or, well, magical.

The distinct pleasure that we have as adults is to understand why we believe in something. Now that I have lived more life than when I was a child, I understand certain things about magic that I had never considered before. Like, for example, the idea that it doesn’t matter if magic is real or not, because it’s main function is to instill a sense of wonder in our lives. Or, as another example, those who practice magic are investing serious time and energy into the “absurd”, “silly”, or “childish”, and that doing so might be a good thing, instead of bad.

The magician works to make us believe in the impossible, while many other professions work to make us believe only in what is foreseeably possible. We face the extinction of imagination each time we discard a thing for not having been proven yet. And so the magician is akin to a great scientist making the next leap forward in technology, or a great writer discovering a story that has not been told yet. The magician works tirelessly to make us believe in magic, so that we too might do extraordinary things.

When I was seven and my uncle pulled a coin out from behind my ear, I believed he really did it. When I was five and my mom told me I flew, I believe that really happened. But now, when I think about those events, I realize that the importance of them does not lie in if they did happen or not, it lies in my belief of those ideas. When my uncle pulled the coin from my ear, I immediately believed that you could create something out of nothing. When I believed that I flew, I immediately put my trust in the idea that I can achieve amazing things.

Magic is not to be taken lightly. It is the foundation on which greatness is built. It is a beacon of hope for those who need something more to believe in. And whether we prove magic to be true or not is beside the point; all we need is to look within to see the greatest magic trick just waiting to be performed.

My life centers around believing that impossibilities are simply undiscovered possibilities, and I have the power to find them.

I photographed this snow scene on creativeLIVE, so if you are interested in seeing how it was photographed or more of the editing process in slower motion, you can check that out here. My goal was simple: create a fantasy world that has more meaning and beauty in it than what I saw in front of me. I was confronted with an abandoned room. It was beautiful in it’s own right – peeling paint and debris all over the floor. But for me, it was missing that magic spark.

We threw paper bits and fake snow all around. We covered the floor in flour. I dressed the model in my favorite cloak to finish her fairytale makeover, and then I shot a couple different setups until I felt like I had achieved the feeling in my imagination.

Wonder. Darkness. Beauty. Fantasy.

Everyone has the ability to create a unique reality through art. It may be that your perfect reality is the one you live in and so you capture life as you see it. Or perhaps you’re on the other end of that spectrum and create surrealistic scenes. Either way, we can create our own magic, and it is never further away than our imaginations.

How do you create your own magic?