Italiano 
english Matteo Fraziano, a very young illusionist and shadow artist, with his shadowgraphy act reached the semifinals of Britain’s Got Talent, performing at the famous London Palladium. He went on to win the 11th edition of Tú sí que vales and earned a Silver Award and the Critics’ Prize at the 3rd edition of the Italian Circus Talent Festival in Latina.
My parents and family have always nurtured me with artistic stimuli, and the very first art form I approached was music. I did not obtain a piano diploma, but that early imprint—the discipline and method of study—proved fundamental in helping me study and progress in my parallel passion: illusionism. From a very young age, one of my uncles used to perform the same trick for us every summer: a Matrix, to be precise—an effect in which small balls, hidden under four playing cards, magically travel from one place to another. Around the age of twelve, I began studying this trick as a self-taught magician, and through YouTube tutorials first, and books later, my magical training truly began.
During my high school years, I started performing my first shows, but the real turning point came in 2020, when I was asked to host Supermagic, one of the most important illusionism shows in Europe.
After the tragic period caused by the pandemic, I went to see Arturo Brachetti live for the first time. In his show Solo, although quick-change artistry takes centre stage, Brachetti always includes a Chinese shadow act—an art he has studied and mastered for many years. He was among the first in Italy to bring it to the stage and to the big screen, and he also wrote a book on the subject. In the weeks that followed, as I reflected on that act and on the potential of shadows, I rediscovered his book in my own library. My parents had given it to me many years earlier—a true sign of destiny! From that moment, my journey into the world of shadows began, once again as a self-taught artist, but strengthened by the method and knowledge acquired through music and magic.
I practised the first figures over and over and discovered a vast landscape of shadow artists from whom to draw inspiration. Among them, in addition to Brachetti, I must mention the Italians Carlo Truzzi and Antonio Versini, as well as Bob Stromberg, Raymond Crowe, Drew Colby, Shadow Ace, Sonny Fontana, and Prasanna Rao.
Fascinated by the history of this art, I discovered that Chinese shadows have existed for as long as the sun has existed, as long as humanity has existed, and as long as there has been a white surface onto which the sun can cast a shadow. Bibliographic sources are ancient and numerous, but until the 19th century most hand shadows were static and rarely told actual stories. This changed when Giacomo Campi, a Milanese painter who also performed Chinese shadow shows, decided for the first time to give movement to the figures, telling the story of a horse from birth to death. In 1883 he wrote a booklet titled Ombre, of which I also own a first edition.
Looking around, most shadow acts seemed anachronistic to me: all accompanied by similar background music, resembling a demonstration of a catalogue of figures—an exercise in style without a narrative thread, without cohesion, as if one were simply flipping through a book of shadows and performing one figure after another. Today we are bombarded with stimuli and accustomed to seeing different things at a fast pace, so I began working primarily on language and rhythm.
Thanks to my background as a musician, I found the strongest unifying element in music, which profoundly characterises my performance compared to others. Music not only accompanies the act but is also rich in references to the history of music, readable on multiple levels. For example, during the Beatles’ Blackbird I perform the classic little bird figure—but instead of kissing it, as is usually done, I eat it to the sound of Black Sabbath, referencing a famous episode—especially well known among metal fans like myself—in which Ozzy Osbourne, the band’s former frontman, bit the head off a bat.
The structure of the act and its internal rhythm stem from theoretical principles learned through the study of magic, such as those developed by Juan Tamariz. From the opening to the finale, I built the piece like an emotional roller coaster, alternating tension and release, expectation and resolution, leading to the final crescendo. Toward the end, the audience must sense that the act is coming to a close, so that when it does end, they feel satisfied. In short, I poured all my experience as a musician and illusionist into this act.
Looking to the future, I want to expand my repertoire and work more on the integration of illusionism and shadows, on my character, and on costume. I want to understand how to become increasingly communicative and to succeed, as Tamariz said, in attaching a thread to the eyes of every spectator, knowing how to tighten or loosen it throughout the entire performance—becoming like an orchestra conductor who shapes and controls the mountain of emotions that a shadow show can evoke.
(article published on Juggling Magazine, n.105, december 2024)
Matteo Fraziano, a very young illusionist and shadow artist, with his shadowgraphy act reached the semifinals of Britain’s Got Talent, performing at the famous London Palladium. He went on to win the 11th edition of Tú sí que vales and earned a Silver Award and the Critics’ Prize at the 3rd edition of the Italian Circus Talent Festival in Latina.
My parents and family have always nurtured me with artistic stimuli, and the very first art form I approached was music. I did not obtain a piano diploma, but that early imprint the discipline and method of study proved fundamental in helping me study and progress in my parallel passion: illusionism. From a very young age, one of my uncles used to perform the same trick for us every summer: a Matrix, to be precise an effect in which small balls, hidden under four playing cards, magically travel from one place to another. Around the age of twelve, I began studying this trick as a self-taught magician, and through YouTube tutorials first, and books later, my magical training truly began.
During my high school years, I started performing my first shows, but the real turning point came in 2020, when I was asked to host Supermagic, one of the most important illusionism shows in Europe.
After the tragic period caused by the pandemic, I went to see Arturo Brachetti live for the first time. In his show Solo, although quick-change artistry takes centre stage, Brachetti always includes a hands shadow act, an art he has studied and mastered for many years. He was among the first in Italy to bring it to the stage and to the big screen, and he also wrote a book on the subject. In the weeks that followed, as I reflected on that act and on the potential of shadows, I rediscovered his book in my own library. My parents had given it to me many years earlier: a true sign of destiny! From that moment, my journey into the world of shadows began, once again as a self-taught artist, but strengthened by the method and knowledge acquired through music and magic.
I practised the first figures over and over and discovered a vast landscape of shadow artists from whom to draw inspiration. Among them, in addition to Brachetti, I must mention the Italians Carlo Truzzi and Antonio Versini, as well as Bob Stromberg, Raymond Crowe, Drew Colby, Shadow Ace, Sonny Fontana, and Prasanna Rao.
Fascinated by the history of this art, I discovered that hand shadows have existed for as long as the sun has existed, as long as humanity has existed, and as long as there has been a white surface onto which the sun can cast a shadow. Bibliographic sources are ancient and numerous, but until the 19th century most hand shadows were static and rarely told actual stories. This changed when Giacomo Campi, a Milanese painter who also performed Chinese shadow shows, decided for the first time to give movement to the figures, telling the story of a horse from birth to death. In 1883 he wrote a booklet titled Ombre, of which I also own a first edition.
Looking around, most shadow acts seemed anachronistic to me: all accompanied by similar background music, resembling a demonstration of a catalogue of figures, an exercise in style without a narrative thread, without cohesion, as if one were simply flipping through a book of shadows and performing one figure after another. Today we are bombarded with stimuli and accustomed to seeing different things at a fast pace, so I began working primarily on language and rhythm.
Thanks to my background as a musician, I found the strongest unifying element in music, which profoundly characterises my performance compared to others. Music not only accompanies the act but is also rich in references to the history of music, readable on multiple levels. For example, during the Beatles’ Blackbird I perform the classic little bird figure but instead of kissing it, as is usually done, I eat it to the sound of Black Sabbath, referencing a famous episode, especially well known among metal fans like myself, in which Ozzy Osbourne, the band’s former frontman, bit the head off a bat.
The structure of the act and its internal rhythm stem from theoretical principles learned through the study of magic, such as those developed by Juan Tamariz. From the opening to the finale, I built the piece like an emotional roller coaster, alternating tension and release, expectation and resolution, leading to the final crescendo. Toward the end, the audience must sense that the act is coming to a close, so that when it does end, they feel satisfied. In short, I poured all my experience as a musician and illusionist into this act.
Looking to the future, I want to expand my repertoire and work more on the integration of illusionism and shadows, on my character, and on costume. I want to understand how to become increasingly communicative and to succeed, as Tamariz said, in attaching a thread to the eyes of every spectator, knowing how to tighten or loosen it throughout the entire performance becoming like an orchestra conductor who shapes and controls the mountain of emotions that a shadow show can evoke.
(article published on Juggling Magazine, n.105, december 2024)
