When I was 19 years old a teacher asked me why I sang. I told her it was as if I were whispering my most intimate secret into someone’s ear as they slept. And that my secret could go straight to their heart because their mind couldn’t get in the way.
How utopian it would be for artists to exist and be received that way, always? Pouring intimate and secret pieces of themselves directly into their spectators’ souls—a communion of sorts. As idyllic as this sounds, I am certain you can think of one or two artists who possess this supernatural ability. They just have ‘It.’ The stage, to them, is where their soul lights a thousand matches so you can peer inside.
Placing profound inner truth above aesthetic
