CHICAGO STORIES

SEPTEMBER 2019 | CHICAGO 69

HAT I WAS LOOKING AT WAS IMPOSSI-

ble. It made no sense. Yet it existed.

In front of me was a glass bottle, about

five inches tall. Inside it was a compact

mirror, the type you get at Walgreens for

a few dollars. The mirror was roughly

twice as wide as the mouth of the bottle.

The bottle had not been altered. The mir-

ror had not been cut. Yet somehow the

creator of this strange and beautiful dis-

cordance, Jeanette Andrews, had found a

way to fit the one inside the other, using

a method that took her a year of single-

minded devotion to develop.

If you’re looking to learn how Andrews did it, feel free to stop reading now.

Andrews, a 29-year-old magician who lives on the North Side,

won’t say. Lest you believe this ruins the story, understand

that even I didn’t want to know. It’s not just about respecting

a magician’s modus operandi. As a magic hobbyist for more

than 30 years, I have discovered this strange quirk about the

nature of secrets: Almost always, learning the truth behind

them is disappointing. The bewilderment you experience

pre-knowing-how-something-is-done vanishes, if you will,

once you peek behind the proverbial curtain. So I’ve come to

appreciate what the magician Paul Harris calls the “moment

of a ston ish ment ”: t hat spl it second when you r br a in shor t- ci r -

cuits, you do a double-take, and a “Whaaaat?” escapes your

lips. Some people are unsettled by the idea of not being in

control of their cognitive reality, but personally, I enjoy feeling

like a child again.

Andrews’s origin story starts with her at the age of 4, sitting

in her family’s living room in Wheaton, a bowl of popcorn in

front of her. On the television are white tigers, glittering cos-

tumes, and soaring music — a Siegfried & Roy magic special. The

young girl’s eyes widen. A switch flips inside her, and a light

turns on that will never go out again.

For most, magic is a passing fancy at best, a hobby for enter-

taining obliging aunts and uncles at Thanksgiving. Andrews

stuck with it and now makes a living from it. The type of

magic she performs involves no animals or large boxes with

trapdoors or “Ta-da!” flourishes; her shows are imbued with

an artsier, more cerebral sensibility. In 2017, the Museum of

Contemporary Art Chicago commissioned a performance piece

from her called Invisible Roses. Audience members were handed

a blank piece of paper and given a set of instructions consist-

ing of two words: “Locate Roses.” After finding a room in the

museum that contained 1,200 live roses in vases resting on

sod, visitors were asked to take a flower and brush the blank

piece of paper with the petals. A map to a secret performance

area, printed in invisible ink, appeared.

About 10 years ago, Andrews first laid eyes on what

is known in puzzle-making and magic circles as an “impossi-

ble bottle.” She remembers an everyday object — it might have

W

Magic in

a Bottle

Jeanette Andrews spent a year sequestered

in her studio apartment pursuing a singular

obsession. By KEVIN PANG

Illustration by LARS LEETARU