I am sitting in a tent placed inside the parlor of a Victorian-era house. Before me lies a spirit board, a lone tarot card and a black scrying mirror. I am here to commune with the dead.
There is no medium. It is only myself and eight other attendees— our guide has left the tent. Though earlier we could hear tension-rattling music setting a cryptic mood, now there is nothing. Lights? Off. The tent has gone pitch black. At this particular moment, there’s only the sound of our breaths, our thoughts and perhaps some new guests.
Welcome to “Phasmagorica,” what composer-turned-magician-turned-spiritual explorer BC Smith describes as “a séance reimagined as art.” It’s running this month at the Heritage Square Museum, itself a location imbued with history and mystery, the site of the homes of Los Angeles as they existed a century ago.
I’ll get right to the point: I did not have an encounter with the dead. And yet I left “Phasmagorica” deeply curious. That’s because Smith sets up the evening as an exploration of the modern Western history of communing with the deceased, attempting to conjure the feeling of a séance as it occurred in late 1880s America, albeit with a better sound system and all the Death in the Afternoon cocktails you can consume (note: you should not consume very many).
The “experiment” — Smith shirks at the word performance — is designed, he says, for believers and nonbelievers. He himself falls somewhere in the middle.
“I’m a hopeful skeptic,” Smith says. “If I were a 100% believer, ‘Phasmagorica’ would be a church. I just wanted to create a space that started a conversation for people.”
It is relevant to point out that Smith is also a magician, a member of the Magic Castle, home itself to a popular séance. While Smith has not conducted a Magic Castle séance, he has — and will — orchestrate what he refers to as a “theatrical séance,” for which he is present as a storyteller. “Phasmagorica” is different, Smith says, and was born out of those more dramatic performances, in part because he kept encountering the unaccountable.
“It’s highly curated,” Smith says of a core difference between a theatrical séance and “Phasmagorica,” as the former will be tailored specifically to guest needs and requests. “But people were experiencing a lot in those séances that I could not explain,” Smith says. He recites a story that opens “Phasmagorica” of a shadow reaching out and touching someone on a shoulder. Smith says he witnessed this phenomena, and at that point decided to create an event that focused on realism and dispensed with the notion that there could be any illusions or magic.
BC Smith’s “Phasmagorica” is not a theatrical or magic performance. The event aims to recreate the feel of a vintage séance.
(Roger Kisby / For The Times)
I was surprised, for instance, when Smith left the room. At that point, we were with only a television, which narrates a short history of séances in America before instructing us to hold a pendulum over a spirit board. Knowing Smith’s past, I went in expecting more of a show. Instead, we are prodded to examine a tarot card, peer into the scrying mirror and ask questions to our spirit board.
“It becomes more personal,” Smith says. “Even in my theatrical séances, I’ve had people want to cut me off mid-sentence and say, ‘This just happened to me.’ And they want to spend the next five minutes talking about it. At the end of the day, I think what people like is that this is all about them.”
And still, Smith says, audiences are looking for wizardry. But there’s no tricks of the light, no hidden fans. He stresses multiple times in this interview and at the start of “Phasmagorica” that this is “not theater, not a performance, not a show.”
“I’ve had people walk out of the room and swear there was a magnet in the pendulum board,” he says. “Or swear there was some effect that made them see a person standing. People still have an explanation that I had something to do with it. Whatever helps you sleep with the light off.”
While numerous cultures and spiritual movements have throughout history long attempted to commune with the dead, a séance, says Lisa Morton, author of “Calling the Spirits: A History of Séances,” is a relatively recent occurrence. She and Smith trace their popularity to the Fox sisters, Kate and Maggie, who performed to packed crowds in the late 1880s in New York, attempting to demonstrate that spirits could speak via a series of raps on the walls.
BC Smith calls “Phasmagorica” an “experiment,” shirking at the word performance. (Roger Kisby / For The Times)
Prior to the Fox sisters, Morton says, attempts to commune with the beyond, broadly speaking, were a more personal and ritualistic affair. “The Greeks believed that sleeping on a grave might give you dreams in which you communed with a spirit,” she says. Popular myths, too, would portray the practice as borderline arcane. In Homer’s “The Odyssey,” for instance, a bridge to the spirit world is reached only after a complex series of sacrifices and offerings — a potent mix of sweet wine and the blood of a lamb.
“The séance comes along, and not only is it a group activity, but it suggests that anyone can communicate with the spirits of the dead,” Morton says. “You just need a medium — someone who can enter a trance state and open themselves to receiving spirit communications. It was done with a group, and in the comfort of someone’s home. Those were startlingly new ideas.”
Morton has taken part in Smith’s “Phasmagorica.” She, too, appreciated the historical emphasis, specifically the way a musician performs after the séance as guests mingle with one another and share their experience. Music was a big part of early séances, Morton says.
“People would sit around a table and the lights would be lowered and they would sing,” Morton says “Now, singing did have a scammy double purpose, as they allowed the medium to start doing things in the dark unheard. But these evenings were wondrous for people, and I thought that was what BC Smith captured really well.”
“Phasmagorica” has been running on select weekends at Heritage Square since the late summer. Smith intends to continue adding events throughout the fall as his schedule allows, announcing them on Instagram. Though intimate, they do typically sell out. It’s traveling via word of mouth, theorizes Smith, because people today are increasingly searching for “connection and meaning.”
Heritage Square Museum is itself a location imbued with history and mystery, the site of the homes of Los Angeles as they existed a century ago.
(Marcus Ubungen / Los Angeles Times)
“The experience is really up to you,” he says. “I think we’re all searching for something. This is a safe space to explore.”
Late in life, Maggie Fox denounced the spiritualism movement that she and her sister Kate had helped start, demonstrating the ways in which they had fooled their audiences. Smith again stresses that he himself is a “hopeful skeptic,” and purposefully stays out of the experience so that guests aren’t trying to figure out if he’s holding onto any secrets.
And yet he says, “Phasmagorica” has permanently changed him. He notes that his wife is a commercial airline pilot and must travel often.
“When she’s away, I sleep with a night-light,” he says. “Maybe that’s the answer to the question whether I believe or not.”