"Michael," the media says, "you went too far." They depict him as a freak because he didn't stop at the commercial photographer's image of physical perfection. He didn't stop with sleight-of-hand to dupe the masses; he went for the fancy transformation box trick - and he left the door open while he was doing it!

To his recent, highly hyped celebration of 30 years in music, Michael brought his own lighting crew. Why not? What better way to ensure that the images produced were as good as they could possibly be? He takes the artifice of commercial photography and flaunts it. What's more, he knows that photographs are all that really matter anymore. The celestial is merely for the superstitious. The material is where it's at.

Michael Jackson merely wears the mask of transformation that all of us have been taught to desire.

My prescription: For one day we should all carry around a camera containing no film. As you move through the day, look through the lens at the people around you. Then take a mental photograph. Capture the essence of that moment – notice the brilliant greens, the subtle mist, the intricately carved sculpture of the human body.

Stop seeing other people as the clothes they wear, or the objects they carry. Reconnect with the celestial.

And if we can manage to do that, I know that somewhere, in the glitter gold space of time and energy, Marilyn will be smiling.

 

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