Hi, I’m Michael

I’m in my 60’s now.  As I look back on my life, I realize that my disability gave me no choice but to be an artist. There I was, four feet tall -- half legs, half torso -- stocky, tiny forearms with hands attached, and a rolling walk not unlike the Weebles that were all the rage. Growing up, I would rail against all the things that I wasn’t allowed to do, the places I couldn’t go.  But even when I was a kid, I knew there was more.  When I got older, I started imitating the attitudes I saw in TV and movies. The behavior – or performance – acted as a translator to bridge the gap between me and the able-bodied world.

The other day I was on my way to a voice acting job for a film. I use a power wheelchair. The bus was crowded, and some strollers were taking up the wheelchair spaces. I asked them to move.  My opening lines didn’t go over well.

When I positioned myself to ride, the driver told me I’d have to turn around. I explained it was safer to ride backward, to prevent me from slaloming through the crowd during a quick stop.  But the driver wouldn’t listen.

He told me I’d have to turn around and face front or we weren’t going anywhere.  The riders looked up from their cell phones. I nodded reluctantly, because what choice did I have? But I wasn’t going to go without a seatbelt; even for the sake of art, I didn’t want to risk a face plant.  But he couldn’t get the tiedown straps to work.  He asked if I wanted to take the next bus. 

“No,” I said. “What I want is to not be late for work!” 

He got off the bus and pulled out his phone to speak to a supervisor.  When he got back on, he told me the next bus would be along in a few minutes; did I want to take it? 

“I want to get to work on time, just like these other people.”   Yes, I did catch the next bus and get to my job on time. But these everyday performances are the raw material that I use to bridge that gap. They create the stories I bring to the written page and to the live stage.

Early on, the art and the artist joined and simply became life. The best way to get through the world. Ironically it is in this heightened behavior that I am my most genuine.  The personal becomes the universal through the art of living. For me, being an artist comes from making the choice to acknowledge and even to defend the life that is not the same as everyone else’s. To both revel in and suffer in the difference, so long as it’s true. Writing it down and performing in front of people puts it in a context that lets me show it for what it is. My survival.