Interview: Kaori Kitazawa’s art of whispered wonder at the Maho Magic Bar
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Date Reviewed: 04/12/2025
The Spiegel Haus, home to the Maho Magic Bar, is a neon-lit symphony of colour, smoke and sound.
Behind us, a neighbouring table erupts in laughter as a magician tries to shout above the din. But when Kaori Kitazawa, the “Kawaii Princess of Illusion”, begins to speak, the noise seems to soften, as if the room instinctively leans in.
Gliding towards our table in a silken blue kimono, she folds into the space with the same precision she brings to her magic. Soft-spoken and centred, Kaori is a striking contrast to Maho’s louder personalities: stylish prankster Shirayuri, quirky inventor E.O. Lee, engineering whiz Wambi, flair-bartending sleight master AXE, and street-smart showman Jonathan. Their magic thrives on bustle and noise; hers thrives on nuance.
She picks up a discarded paper napkin, folding it in half, then half again. With one elegant flick, the napkin becomes a perfect paper crane — delicate, deliberate, unmistakably Japanese. No gimmicks. No chaos. Just quiet wonder.
“Each table sees a different trick, each night a different show,” she says. “You can come as many times as you want and you’ll see a unique performance.”
Origins of a quiet magician
Kaori grew up in Japan with her parents and younger sister. Her first love wasn’t magic but piano, but then a chance encounter changed everything.
“I saw magic live for the first time about 14 years ago,” she says. “I was shocked and happy. Completely enchanted. The magician asked me to be his assistant,” she says.
Within a year, she began performing alone. Within three, she was fully independent. Her parents, she says, were thrilled. “Everyone else was looking for corporate jobs. I was already a magician earning money. They often come to see my shows.”
Carving a space in a male industry
Japan’s magic scene is traditional, and female magicians are uncommon, rarely seen beyond assistant roles.
“But the reason I became known wasn’t because I was a woman,” Kaori says. “It was because I could speak English.” She had studied it obsessively, even living in the United States during elementary school. “I would perform for English-speaking audiences. They came to my shows because they could understand me.”
Her knowledge of English and magic skills ultimately led to her recruitment for Maho Magic Bar. When creative director Kirsten Siddle (from Broad Encounters) went scouting in Japan in 2020, the brief was specific: a woman who could speak English and perform magic. “I was the one,” Kaori says. “I didn’t even meet Kirsten before coming here.”
Leaving home for a riot of sound
Joining Maho meant leaving Japan during the pandemic. “At first I felt very lonely and sad,” she admits. “It was hard being away from home. But now the team is like family. I feel I have a life here.”
The cultural adjustment was another shock. “Japanese audiences can be quiet,” she says. “Maho is the opposite: loud, interactive, immersive. But even in the chaos, I keep to my style.”
That style is unmistakably hers: subtle, contemplative, informed by Japanese aesthetics and storytelling. “I don’t have a big voice or a powerful style,” she says. “So I use origami, traditional clothes — elements that make people pay attention.”
The empath in the room
If loud magicians rely on spectacle, Kaori relies on sensitivity.
“When I first saw magic, I was the one who was the most amazed,” she says. “So when I perform, I understand how the audience feels. If they’re happy, I know. If they panic, I know. You must feel their reactions to be successful.”
Looking ahead
As Maho expands each year, Kaori rides the crest. “My dreams always get overtaken by Maho,” she says with a laugh. “My first dream was to perform at a high-brand party in Japan, but Maho is more than that. Now I just want to keep doing Maho for as long as I can.”
The Maho Magic Bar troupe will be at Melbourne’s Spiegel Haus until mid-February before heading to the Adelaide Fringe and Sydney.
Interviewed by Mary Sinanidis