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The other day, someone brought to my attention the idea that you become the average of the five people you spend the most time with. I hope this is not true. I spend the most time with my dog.
Still, it makes me wonder about the people I chose to spend time with. Don't get me wrong, they are amazing and worthwhile people, but I wonder why most of my very good friends are not artists. How would my life, my priorities and my motivations change if I started hanging out with people that had similar goals and aspirations? Maybe we could inspire each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, until we spurn a new ingenious and overwhelmingly successful artistic movement, grow fabulously successful, blow our money on fancy lofts in Manhattan, and spend half the year travelling around the world, footloose and fancy free..... Or, because my friends new friends are flighty, offensive, and intellectually obtuse, I lose perspective on appropriate behavior and my bad habits (such as turning off my phone for days in order to paint, ruining designer jeans by besmirching them with burnt umber, and believing that if beer is dark enough, it can be considered a meal) are reinforced. Or, maybe, if I was a part of an urban art cadre, it's only mean that I'd have easy access to narcotics and eventually die of a drug overdose after battling with addiction for years.
Anyway, this is silly. I have artist friends who I simply adore, but the truth seems to be that we're all so busy working that its hard to juggle or schedules and find time to meet up. And then, who wants to talk about art when you are finally taking a break from it? It gets tiring. I'd rather talk about life, drama, intrigue. You know, human stuff.
Anyway, the coffee is wearing off and the bed is calling me.
Still, it makes me wonder about the people I chose to spend time with. Don't get me wrong, they are amazing and worthwhile people, but I wonder why most of my very good friends are not artists. How would my life, my priorities and my motivations change if I started hanging out with people that had similar goals and aspirations? Maybe we could inspire each other, bouncing ideas back and forth, until we spurn a new ingenious and overwhelmingly successful artistic movement, grow fabulously successful, blow our money on fancy lofts in Manhattan, and spend half the year travelling around the world, footloose and fancy free..... Or, because my friends new friends are flighty, offensive, and intellectually obtuse, I lose perspective on appropriate behavior and my bad habits (such as turning off my phone for days in order to paint, ruining designer jeans by besmirching them with burnt umber, and believing that if beer is dark enough, it can be considered a meal) are reinforced. Or, maybe, if I was a part of an urban art cadre, it's only mean that I'd have easy access to narcotics and eventually die of a drug overdose after battling with addiction for years.
Anyway, this is silly. I have artist friends who I simply adore, but the truth seems to be that we're all so busy working that its hard to juggle or schedules and find time to meet up. And then, who wants to talk about art when you are finally taking a break from it? It gets tiring. I'd rather talk about life, drama, intrigue. You know, human stuff.
Anyway, the coffee is wearing off and the bed is calling me.
