Wednesday, April 15, 2009

In a characteristically deep text-message exchange with Jess D.B. this morning over coffee and blurb writing, I made the statement "It's okay to grow up. It's not the end of your life, but its beginning, in a way."

She added, "Goddamn society for trying to tell us we're supposed to be slutty rock stars with coke habits."

I don't want to be tortured my whole life. I want to create but I want to be happy at the same time. I can be. I deserve to be.

My friend Angelo is 64, is a successful pathologist, has been married to his wife for over forty years, has two grown children with families of their own, has a beautiful house with an art studio on the top floor, has had his work shown in galleries in New York, bakes bread and makes his own premium wine, and still watches True Blood.

It is completely possible to be an artist without letting it kill you.

1 comment:

Hillary Demmon said...

I think that's one of the happiest realizations to have. Suffering teaches one things and provides experience, but to stay there forever is, in some ways, to have not learned anything. One definitely doesn't need to self-destruct to be a thriving artist.