Hello, bloggers.
One of the great entertainers this world has ever known, Michael Jackson, went to the next dimension last year. I never tired of seeing him dance.
I am a dancer and a singer, and I believe we should all sing and dance, whether we’re any good at it or not.
I always paint by myself. I’m in a huge studio surrounding by my paintings, and I flit from one to the other, powdering their noses or changing their diapers or whatever they need at the time.
Sometimes a song comes along and like Pavlov’s dog, I must dance. If anybody saw me, they’d get out the straightjacket and carry me away!
It’s not a learned ability. Possibly in my case it’s more of a learned disability. It’s just something I’m absolutely forced to do. I’m a puppet on the string. I don’t know who’s pulling it, and I don’t care.
When it comes to me by a radio or CD, I’m compelled to sing at the top of my lungs, hoping my neighbors won’t call the police.
Music and dance are part of my reason for living.
That’s why I try to take care of my body, because if I lost that ability, I fear I would lose the ability to paint.
I don’t sit delicately with a one-bristle brush, making deliberate movements of paint on the canvas. I attack it, I terrorize it, I’m hell-bent for destruction. I kick it, punch it, throw up on it, dance on it, sing on it, I do whatever it takes to get it to move.
Matt