VIEW IN MY ROOM
An Oogie Boogie Song Painting
Painting, Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 36 W x 60 H x 1.5 D in
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About The Artwork
Well, well, well, what have we here? Sandy Claws, huh? Ooh, I'm really scared So, you're the one everybody's talkin' about? You're joking, you're joking I can't believe my eyes You're joking me, you gotta be This can't be the right guy He's ancient, he's ugly I don't know which is worse I might just split a seam now If I don't die laughing first When Mr. Oogie Boogie says There's trouble close at hand You'd better pay attention, now 'Cause I'm the Boogie Man And if you aren't shaking There's something very wrong 'Cause this may be the last time you hear the Boogie song, oh (wow) Oh (wow) Oh (oh, he's the Oogie Boogie Man) Well, if I'm feelin' ansty And I've nothin' much to do I might just cook a special batch Of snake and spider stew And don't ya know the one thing That would make it work so nice? A roly-poly Sandy Claws to add a little spice (oh) Oh (oh) Oh (oh) Oh yeah, I'm the Boogie Man (oh yeah, he's the Boogie Man) Release me now Or you must face the dire consequences The children are expecting me So please, come to your senses You're joking, you're joking I can't believe my ears Would someone shut this fella up? I'm drowning in my tears It's funny, I'm laughing You really are too much And now, with your permission I'm going to do my stuff Well, what are you going to do? I'm going to do the best I can Oh, the sound of rolling dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course But yours, oh boy Now that'd be just fine Release me fast, or you'll have to answer for this heinous act Oh brother, you're something You put me in a spin You aren't comprehending The position that you're in It's hopeless, you're finished You haven't got prayer 'Cause I'm Mr. Oogie Boogie And you ain't going nowhere ‘Oogie Boogie’s Song’ by Ed Ivory & Ken Page Songwriter: ‘It's a dead man's party, who could ask for more’ -- "...Honey, you're perfect."
Details & Dimensions
Painting:Acrylic on Canvas
Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork
Size:36 W x 60 H x 1.5 D in
Frame:Not Framed
Ready to Hang:Yes
Packaging:Ships in a Crate
Shipping & Returns
Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.
Handling:Ships in a wooden crate for additional protection of heavy or oversized artworks. Crated works are subject to an $80 care and handling fee. Artists are responsible for packaging and adhering to Saatchi Art’s packaging guidelines.
Ships From:United States.
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I’m (I am?) a self-taught artist, originally from the north suburbs of Chicago (also known as John Hughes' America). Born in 1984, I started painting in 2017 and began to take it somewhat seriously in 2019. I currently reside in rural Montana and live a secluded life with my three dogs - Pebbles (a.k.a. Jaws, Brandy, Fang), Bam Bam (a.k.a. Scrat, Dinki-Di, Trash Panda, Dug), and Mystique (a.k.a. Lady), and five cats - Burglekutt (a.k.a. Ghostmouse Makah), Vohnkar! (a.k.a. Storm Shadow, Grogu), Falkor (a.k.a. Moro, The Mummy's Kryptonite, Wendigo, BFC), Nibbler (a.k.a. Cobblepot), and Meegosh (a.k.a. Lenny). Part of the preface to the 'Complete Works of Emily Dickinson helps sum me up as a person and an artist: "The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson long since called ‘the Poetry of the Portfolio,’ something produced absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it may often gain something through the habit of freedom and unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the present author, there was no choice in the matter; she must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, literally spending years without settling her foot beyond the doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, like her person, from all but a few friends; and it was with great difficulty that she was persuaded to print during her lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great abundance; and though brought curiosity indifferent to all conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness." -Thomas Wentworth Higginson "Not bad... you say this is your first lesson?" "Yes, but my father was an *art collector*, so…"
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