Are we living our best life?
Do we really have to?
Sky Door. Acrylic on raw canvas. 47x125”
This is a really obnoxious question I keep asking myself lately. I’m pretty sure it started with Emily in Paris, which is an embarrassing place for anything to start.
I’ve been sick a lot (as usual), and not wanting to watch anything effortful, I settled into the pure confection of Emily in Paris. I hated this show at first (it’s almost retro how THIN everyone is), but then the clothes got better, the settings are perfect, and—having lived in Paris in my early 20s just like Emily—I do relate to being the stupid American in the workplace, besotted with this gorgeous city.
Look closely, that’s a Luckenbach shirt, Texans!
Sanding the windows of my studio in Belleville, Paris, and getting some help from my friends. TWENTY years ago.
The problem came when I slipped into a spell of thinking, Am I living my best life? Should I be living in Paris NOW? Why do I have a husband and children when I could be indefinitely flying solo in Paris? (And pretend it would be just as easy and luxe as it is for Emily!)
Thank goodness I admitted this fantasy to a friend, and was able to deflate it a bit.
The old gymnasium of the incredible building where our squat / art collective was located in Paris, where we had fashion shows, qi-gong lessons, and endless soirées.
But the other horror of asking this question is: How dare I be worrying about living my best life when the world is literally on fire?
On the days I do feel zesty and empowered, this question slips me into survivor’s guilt for being so lucky. Immediately de-zested and disempowered. Another friend helped me deflate this perspective, too. Resilience, joy, tenderness, humor–these are our human superpowers.
The Burning World. A recent painting made with acrylic, spray paint, ink, caran d’ache, china marker.
Then I think, if I have time to overthink these two questions, I need to be better employing myself. Go help somebody, get in the garden, strum the ukulele, or paint. Because for whatever reason, even though nobody is asking for it, painting fills me with a sense of purpose and energetic release. And doing real things in the world keeps me away from those kind of insane existential questions that come with the fantasy world of TV and Instagram.
Pulling out an old work in progress to assess.
I finally saw this painting in person, hanging at 600 Congress in downtown Austin. All dressed up for my 25-year Austin High School reunion (loyal forever, turns out!).
Big wave and hugs to the folks I saw there. How good it felt to know people for that long, and to see them now, maybe actually living their best life. At least the ones we are all incredibly lucky to be living.
Wow--the Burning World is great. Also love the look back at Baby Caro in Paris.