by Dynamo
SERIES TWO AND three took me to so many new and exciting places. I feel so fortunate. It’s often the cases that places where there is extreme poverty are also places of incredible creativity. I saw that in Rio and there are examples throughout the whole history of film, music and art where the greatest work has emerged from places of hardship – Al Pacino was homeless when he first started out and had to sleep in a theatre!
A few years ago, I went to a centre for kids from my home town who had been expelled from school. They had been sent to a PRU (Pupil Referral Unit) and they were so rowdy. Before I did my first piece of magic, it was basically chaos; they were shouting, swearing and running around. Suddenly, I pulled a Polo mint out of my neck and it went very, very quiet. You could hear a pin drop. They were transfixed. I like that my magic can do that – break barriers and change a person’s frame of mind. The kids at the PRU were the same as the kids in Rio; completely mesmerised while they watched and then full of noise, laughter and astonishment when I finished. It was a similar scene when I intervened with a group of rival fans at a football match between Bradford City and Leeds United several years ago. Just as things threatened to turn nasty, I pulled out a deck of cards. For a moment you had the two groups of opposing fans laughing together; their hostilities temporarily forgotten. I’m not saying magic can heal the world, but it definitely made it a better place for me and the people I performed to that day.
I try to look at the extremes of my life – where I’ve come from and where I’m going – to learn something. Otherwise, what’s the point? I really believe you have to question things to improve every aspect of who you are. Because the first series of Dynamo: Magician Impossible did so well, I could have made a second series full of superstars and Lamborghinis. But that didn’t interest me. I’ve always been about taking my magic to everyday people in everyday situations. Series two and three were different.
The desire to go to places that other people would avoid goes back to my Concrete Playground DVD, which I made after Underground Magic in 2006. When we shot that, we went to two rival estates in Birmingham: Lozells and Ladywood. I don’t know how it is now, but back then they were at war with each other. It was really quite serious. We got in there through a friend of ours and we went specifically to show another side these notorious estates.
If you watch Concrete Playground, the reactions were a joy. These kids were brilliant – the fact we had bothered to go there and do something for them was really appreciated. We also got to hear what they were up to and it turned out there were some amazing rappers, singers and producers in that part of Birmingham. So much talent goes unseen because there’s no outlet for it. By using footage of these brilliant, warm, hilarious kids and talented teenagers we took away that hard, scary image that people assume they will find in deprived areas.
With Dynamo: Magician Impossible, I wanted to go to Rio to show the other side of the favelas, rather than the stereotypical images we are often fed. If I was in New York, I’d rather take my camera to Harlem’s Rucker Park and show the basketball players some tricks instead of hanging out in a ritzy uptown restaurant. Even when I walked down a building in LA, I chose to do it far away from Hollywood. Downtown LA is a pretty rough place. I want to take my magic to people who aren’t ordinarily exposed to the wonders of life on a daily basis. I’ll never forget the feeling Gramps conjured up inside me when he magically changed the length of those laces. I’ve never let go of it and want everyone else to feel it too. It doesn’t equate to anything else.
I hope that by taking magic to people from all walks of life I can show that really we’re all the same. That, to me, is what’s so interesting – revealing that you can meet incredibly welcoming, hospitable people in places we assume will be hostile. Like in Rio, it is sometimes difficult because people can be very wary and distrusting of strangers, but I try where I can. I like to take my magic to places that most performers don’t bother to go to. I wanted to give people something for nothing; especially to people who are rich in spirit.
Magic uncovers people’s personalities. We all put up a front, but magic breaks through those barriers. It takes us to the common ground that everyone shares, to the thing that connects us all together. Everyone wants to be happy, to laugh, to be amazed. My favourite thing about magic is the honesty it brings out in people; when we see something that amazes us, our natural, pure emotion comes out. You don’t see that much these days.
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CHAPTER 14
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REALITY IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT
‘WHAT’S GOING ON here, G – has someone been murdered or something?’ Gilera slowed the car down as we looked at the eight police officers and five security officers trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back the crowds of people.
‘Something doesn’t add up. There are thousands of people here, what’s going on?’ murmured G, stopping the car altogether.
Dan had told me that I had a show at 3 p.m. at Whitehaven Festival. I would be performing some magic for people in the VIP area. I thought it would be some kind of glorified village fete. The Red Arrows were doing a display, Martin from Coronation Street (who now makes cheese) had a stall and the Bay City Rollers were closing the night with a headline set. I wasn’t even booked on the main stage; I’d be wandering around doing my magic among the festival-goers.
Then I got there, and 12,000 people swarmed to see me.
It’s really hard for me to consider myself famous. I’ve had to accept that it’s a part of my life now, but fame just isn’t a word I associate with myself. I do magic. I don’t do fame.
When the organisers announced that I would be doing a walkthrough around the town, every single one of the 12,000 festival attendees rushed over to the main street. Obviously, they didn’t have the resources to cope with such huge numbers. We quickly parked up and the organisers hastily reorganised a performance in the nearby arena.
Not long before Whitehaven, I innocently tweeted that I’d be doing an appearance at Westfield Stratford City in London. That was the first time I really saw a response from ‘fans’. I was appearing at store opening for adidas. When we got there, I saw a huge queue had formed outside the store, meaning only a small percentage of the people gathered would get in. They’d let ten people in at a time and so I moved as quickly as I could so I could see as many people as possible. One girl was so nervous when she met me that she was physically shaking.
All I could hear from outside were people chanting: ‘Dynamo! Dynamo! Dynamo!’ I decided to leave the store so I could say ‘hi’ to as many people as possible. A couple of the store security guards escorted us as I started to sign autographs. But then, all of a sudden, it got really mental. The crowd began jostling around and we were worried that people would get hurt because everyone was pushing and shoving each other. It was mad. Before I knew it another three security guys were by my side, leading me down the escalators. Behind me, I could see everyone running for the stairs, crowding around the balconies and ahead of us there was a large group gathering at the bottom of the escalators. I couldn’t believe that people were doing this because of me. Eventually, we had to get a police escort to get us out of the shopping centre and into the car park. I think the security guys were as surprised as us – no one had expected a reaction like that.
I do find it really weird. I understand people get excited to meet musicians and actors – I certainly did when I first started coming to London and I’d meet people I admired like the rapper Wiley. ‘Oh my God, Wiley, it’s you, you’re so sick. Can I show you some of my magic?’ Who doesn’t get excited to meet someone they respect and admire? But when you have thousands of people screaming and asking for autographs and near enough knocking each other over to get a look at me, it’s very overwhelming.
MY LIFE HAS definitely changed. I’ll never forget the day Dynamo: Magician Impossible aired and we had twelve times the number of viewers that the channel normally gets. We’d broken all records on Watch. I was at a cash point and I had
£7 in my bank account. I couldn’t even get a tenner out. I had the biggest show on Watch and no money. But a week later, I went from having £7 to more money than I’d had in my account, ever. Obviously, now things are a bit different and I don’t have to worry as much about money as I used to. But fame doesn’t always equate to vast riches – at least not straight away.
I am slowly starting to see a bit of money, so I’m trying to be wise with it. We’ve all heard about the stars that went bankrupt because they were stupid with their cash. I’m interested in making lifelong investments in things that are close to me.
One thing that magic has given me is an appreciation for other art forms. I’m certainly a lot more cultured than I used to be, because magic has given me access to places and people I might never have seen or met. When I’ve performed in palaces and museums, I’ve been exposed to the most magnificent art, artefacts and architecture.
I’ve got a Banksy which is one of twenty-five. I’m trying to invest in things that are a moment in time. I do like fast cars and some of the other finer things in life, but now I’m trying to spend the money I have wisely.
SOMETIMES I WONDER if my life has all been an illusion, but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that reality is only what you make it.
It’s so crazy how things can change so quickly. Even though it’s taken twelve years of building towards this moment, it feels like the switch happened overnight. And because I had a whole decade of ups and downs, I feel like I’ve handled it better. There’s a reason that it took so long. And now, I certainly appreciate everything a lot more because I had to wait.
Dynamo: Magician Impossible is now broadcast in 192 countries across the world. It’s on the Discovery Channel in South Africa and I have so many fans there now. Even in America, I get people recognising me. I used to film a lot of my close-up scenes in Covent Garden, but I can’t do that now because hundreds of people stop to watch and it gets out of control.
I think over time that a bit of a separation between the private and the public me has developed. Earlier on there wasn’t – I was just me, and you’d call me D, Dynamo, Steve, whatever. Now, though, there has to be a separation because Dynamo is a much bigger entity.
‘Dynamo’ is the public me now, whereas ‘Steven’ still represents my personal life. My girlfriend is one of the few people who actually call me by my real name. It’s been important for me to make a distinction between the two as it helps me keep things in perspective.
There aren’t too many differences between Dynamo and Steven. Maybe Dynamo is slightly more confident and more self-assured in his abilities. Whereas me, Steven, I’m still learning how to deal with fame, with my woman and business, and all the different things that are changing around me. Dynamo hangs out in the coolest clubs and bars all over the world, but Steven likes to stay in with his mates and watch a movie.
I look back at those days hiding away in my room
I’ve spent a long time putting my life into magic to get myself where I am. Along the way I have created an online family of followers; people who love my work and support me no matter what, which still surprises me. It’s not like I have the best interpersonal skills. I wasn’t allowed to play out much, because of the drug dealers on my estate. And it’s not as though I was in my house playing with friends or anything – I was just in my bedroom by myself practising with my cards.
I suppose I’ve had to educate myself, because even at school I was misunderstood. Most people would call me a ‘geek’ or a ‘loser’, but I just call it ‘being misunderstood’. There are a lot of people like me, though, the underdog who went on to do OK. From Steve Jobs to Pharrell Williams, people who were considered uncool at school are the people now working in the coolest professions doing the coolest things. These are people who are unafraid to do their own thing and that’s something that I really identify with.
Success does bring some difficulties, of course. I can’t pop down to the supermarket for a pint of milk all that easily any more. And, the more successful you become, the more things you become committed to and it does start to feel more like ‘work’ rather than the thing you just used to enjoy. In some ways, I miss the control and freedom that I used to have. But the experiences I’m living through my magic make me feel so privileged. Looking back at those days hiding away in my room, sometimes I thought I’d never see anything other than those four walls and now I have the whole world at my feet. The transformation is probably the most significant magic I’ve ever undertaken, but it’s no blink of an eye move this time. It’s been a slow burner and I hope I’ll carry on burning for some time to come.
ALTHOUGH I’VE REACHED a certain stage with my magic, I never stop learning. One thing that has become a big part of my life in recent years is reading. I read as much as I can, including a lot of self-help and positive-thinking titles. Some of my favourite books include 59 Seconds: Think a Little, Change a Lot by Professor Richard Wiseman and One Minute Mindfulness: How to Live in the Moment by Simon Parke. You can spend just a minute each day reading them and learn so much. With all the craziness going on around me, it’s very easy to allow the pressure to overwhelm me. Some of these books put things in perspective.
I read Russell Brand’s books, because he’s lived a crazy life. He’s one person who, from the beginning, has embraced fame. He wanted to be famous; he’s done everything to get to that point. By reading books like his, they open up my mind and get me thinking creatively, which in turn helps me create new magic ideas. Because I’ve had a certain amount of success, it doesn’t mean that I should stop pushing myself. I need to continue learning something new every day. I still have huge ambitions.
I want to change the face of magic. I want, in years to come, when someone mentions the word ‘magic’, for people to instantly think of ‘Dynamo’. If you look at my predecessors, whenever you think of magic, the image of David Copperfield comes to mind, or in this country, Paul Daniels. But in a hundred years, when I’m long gone, I want people to think of my name like they think of Houdini. I want to leave a legacy that is that strong.
When I reflect on everything that has happened in my life so far, I do feel like I’ve finally arrived. I have enough confidence to say that now. I’m getting record-breaking viewing figures and winning awards left, right and centre. I was voted Britain’s Coolest Man by Zoo magazine. Me! The school’s biggest geek! Broadcast magazine put me at number one out of the top 100 chart of TV talent. Reggie Yates was in that chart, David Beckham, and many other amazing people, and I got number one. I was even nominated at the National TV Awards, against Michael McIntyre – which he won. I didn’t mind losing though – I like the guy. And, hey, you can’t win ’em all!
One of the most defining moments of my magic career came in October 2011 when I was invited to join the Magic Circle, whose members include David Copperfield and Derren Brown. It’s a very secretive organisation so all I can really reveal is that I’m an associate member of the Inner Magic Circle and I was given the prestigious Silver Star. It’s a great honour and, best of all, something Gramps would have been proud of. We had talked about me joining the Magic Circle since I was a kid.
ONE OF THE biggest things I wanted to achieve was to make my mum proud. It is probably one of the things that has spurred me on the most for all of these years. My mum gave birth to me when she was seventeen, so I think she missed out on a lot of teenage fun.
After she had me, she had to go back to school and so my grandparents looked after me a lot of the time. I think she sometimes feels bad about that, but she shouldn’t. It isn’t her fault. She was so young, just a kid. I know she’s really proud of me, but sometimes I get the sense from her that she feels like she’s not allowed to be proud.
People say to her, ‘You raised a good one there.’ I get the impression that sometimes she thinks, ‘Oh, I can’t take credit for it.’ But she can! Because she’s my mum and she’s always been there for me. She’s always supported me, no matter what happened, and
all she’s ever wanted is for me to be happy. My mum never told me what to do. If I wanted to do something, she said, ‘Try it.’ She always believed in me, and not all parents do that. Mum would rather I take my own path. I love that and I love her to pieces.
In some ways, magic has brought me closer to my family, but in others – with my dad, for instance – it’s pushed us further apart.
I didn’t have a clue where my dad was for most of my life. He was in and out of jail so much and I never heard from him. Once, when I was about eighteen, I spoke to him and one of the first things he asked me was, ‘Do you have any friends who want to shift some stuff for me?’ I was like, ‘You got me here to do a business deal rather than because you wanted to see your son for the first time in fourteen years?’
My mum recently had a visit from one of his friends to say that my dad was in hospital and in a coma. My dad’s friend said the doctors thought he might only have a day or two left to live. He wondered if I might want to visit, but I didn’t go to see him. I don’t see him as a dad so I thought it might be strange. And as he hadn’t personally requested, I chose not to go. A week later, my mum went to see my dad for peace of mind. He was out of the coma and making a great recovery. He didn’t mind that I hadn’t gone to see him. He understood. Of course, I’m glad he’s still alive. Although I don’t see him as a father, I wish him a long and happy life. I’ve had my manager Dan and my friends, girlfriend, family and colleagues around me who have given me so much support. And, even though Gramps isn’t with me now, everything he taught me is. He lives on and is still supporting me in his own ways. His wise words are in my memory – there whenever I need them.