I am glad that you’ve pointed out this distinction between the man and his art. I feel much better about cranking up my radio to “PYT” and “Don’t Stop till You Get Enough” now

I was thinking about this this morning, again. There is a bigger question that’s loomed over art and artistry forever, that goes something like, “Which is more important? The art or the artist?”

Woody Allen comes to mind. His personal life has long been a freak show, but that doesn’t take away the genius he’s given us. (He also explored this topic considerably in Bullets Over Broadway.)

But it’s been an issue always. I think of early American authors who were, by all accounts, horrible people. Mean, violent, wife-beating drunks (I understand Melville fits this category well) who can’t be lauded for their lives but whose “art” can’t be ignored, either.

So that’s how I compartmentalize Michael Jackson, too. I think he was damaged beyond repair by the time he was a teenager. He had no grasp of reality (how could he possibly?) and so…I don’t exactly ignore or make light of his peculiarities, but I don’t view his contributions to the music/dance world as lesser for them.

So for me, I am okay celebrating his “art.” I don’t, won’t, and see no need to celebrate his person.