Eberhard Riese: 1951–2025

A friend and mentor to so many, we bid farewell to this great legend of magic.

Topas
Eberhard Riese: 1951–2025

For more than 50 years, Eberhard Riese was one of the few directors and authors specializing in stage magic. He insisted on being called “Ebs” by everybody. So we all did. Ebs was my mentor, advisor, creative source, and friend; he was my second dad. I knew him for 42 years. Ebs passed away on April 19, 2025. 

In his life, he accomplished many goals in his own special way. He had countless magic students from all over the world; he was a FISM judge for decades and created the “Stuttgart school of magic” with many international award winning acts: Andy Häussler, Cha’Peau, Clemens Valentino, Dr. Marrax, Fisselspecht, Franklin, Julius Frack, Junge Junge, Maurice Grange, Nikolai Striebel, Nils Bennett, Roxanne, Simon Pierro, Tom Voss, myself, and many others. In spite of being the president of The Magic Circle of Germany for many years, he hated formal clothing. Many times, when the curtain opened at award ceremonies at a German magic convention, he wore a T-shirt instead of a suit and tie. However, his rhetorical skills were sharp and his natural authority was radiant. He could improve an act instantly with two sentences of advice. He never explained his suggestions, he never showed you what you should do. He gave clear and precise directions. Ebs was the most objective and effective consultant anyone could wish for.

If you suggested something to Ebs, and you were lucky enough that he liked the idea, he just said: “Gekauft!” The phrase literally translates to, “Bought!” (You’d say, in English, “Sold!”) In other words: “Yes, let’s use that!” When you heard, “Gekauft!”—you were very happy. But many times he said, “Let me give you a friendly piece of advice—scrap it!” The creative process of putting together an act is quite painful, but Ebs never made it personal. We would joke about the problems, sometimes laugh like crazy, but never fight. It was, literally, all done by kindness.

Ebs organized a winter vacation camp for many years in a rented house in the Black Forest, where young magicians got together and worked on their competition acts. We took turns at working on each other’s acts by day, brainstormed new ideas while walking through the snow in the afternoon, and played theater games in the evenings. The creative process was exhausting at times, but always rewarding. Everybody worked for everybody else and Ebs carefully directed the artistic decisions. We also took turns cooking and cleaning the dishes, so close-up performers and illusionists got to know each other standing side-by-side at the sink. 

Ebs taught us the importance of originality and practice. And your early influences make all the difference. He determined our taste and work ethic. Ebs never took any money for his ideas and training. He wanted to stay independent and be able to choose the magicians he would help, not commercializing the process. He spent years of his life working to enable generations of magicians to turn into professionals, earning their gratitude. 

Ebs was a school teacher by profession with a strange combination of subjects: German, math, and history. He spent all his life teaching, organizing, writing, and creating magic. He did not have a family. We are his family, his students and the magician community. We are thankful for having had Ebs in our lives. His ideas can be studied in his profound book, Foundations. He certainly is the foundation of my life and happiness.

You don’t find too many selfless people in our art, but Ebs was a giving human being, an artist and a teacher until the very end. One week before his passing at age 73, Ebs still consulted with young acts at the German youth convention. You will continue to see his work in many pieces of magic in the future. Ebs will stay with us through his work and inspirations.

I am sure, if there are indeed pearly gates in heaven, Saint Peter will need only a glance at Ebs before he says: “Gekauft!”

Photo courtesy of Topas


Here is a beautiful tribute to Eberhard Riese, edited by Nikolai Striebel.