Where Is My Mind?

I have been on a fairly steady diet of Facebook lately.  Every single day.  Multiple times a day.   I’ve been the rat pressing the button to get the food pellets.  Come on, dammit, COME ON!!  Reward me!  Show me something to blow my little mind! 

And my mind...is EXHAUSTED...I’ve been reading articles, watching videos, looking at pictures, reading status updates that have been shoved in front of my nose.  Things that I probably wouldn’t have even thought about if I hadn’t seen them scrolling on autopilot through my news feed.  And at the ungodly rate of the speed of light, there’s been no time to PROCESS what I’ve read.  Information deluge at 299,792,458 miles per second.   My little gray cells are shouting “Uncle!” 

It’s a virtual world, that Facebook is.  Makes you feel like you’re at a party with 500 of your closest friends.  Makes you feel like you’re the life of the party, too.  Hey, look at ME!!  Check out what I’m doing!  Look how good this dinner is!  Here I am on vacation, having a fucking blast!   Saw this movie and you should, too!  And commenting simultaneously makes you feel like a god and gets you into brouhahas you were never looking for, when people shoot back with dissenting opinions.  And you start to mistake it for real life.  You start to believe this fictional little world is real. 

I’ve been reading a shit ton of articles about licensing, because publishing is part of my business.  And some of them talk about copyright infringement, name and likeness, etc.  And I’ve been reading a lot of articles about #yesallwomen, and they talk about guys being creepy by taking pictures, or doing anything, without consent.  And I’ve been putting two unrelated things together in my mind and thinking the most fucked-up thoughts.  For example: if I take pictures of people out in public, like a street scene, or on a train, to get reference photos of faces to draw, for my own private sketchbook, not for selling or making a profit, nothing to do with my business...am I being that creeper?  Should I get their consent?  Should I have them fill out a waiver form?   Should I ask permission to use their likeness in my own private sketchbook?  And what if people see me taking pictures of others—will they think I’m a creeper, too?  Will they blow the whistle on me, call me out?  Will someone take a picture of me taking a picture and post it to their blog (that boasts 7000 readers)?  What if I sit and draw in public in my sketchbook?  Is that creepy?  I’m staring at people—that’s creepy, isn’t it?  I should ask them if it’s okay, shouldn’t I?  And it spirals down from there...

Hey, remember when you didn’t have Internet and you were an artist?  When you felt free to draw whatever your eye fell upon, because you took a fancy to it?  Hey, guess what?  You can STILL do that.  These people aren’t celebrities and don’t have lawyers nitpicking name and likeness.  If you’re not publishing their photos online, or making money from it, so the fuck what?  Click away, Sparky!   You’re taking pictures of what they’re presenting to the public, themselves—their outward appearance.  You don’t have a camera up anyone’s skirt, not invading anyone’s privacy.  You’re an artist, and for the love of kittens, it’s your JOB to look.  You’re not taking advantage of, disrespecting or hurting anybody.  Take the fucking pictures and open your sketchbook and draw! 

This is how fucked up my thinking has become as a result of too much time spent on Facebook.  Living in this false environment has caused me to adapt to its ways, which are clearly litigious and full of black-and-white marketing technique, compared to relating to people who come in warm flesh tones.  In real life, I am completely unfazed about drawing strangers, knowing and trusting my own motives pretty fucking well.  Why has it become so distorted in Facebookland? 

Because Facebook itself is distorted.  It’s a fucking MARKETING TOOL.  Instant gratification and entertainment, telling you about more ways to spend money, by trying new restaurants, seeing shows, going on vacations that we see other people experiencing on FB.  Never mind all the ads that are custom-tailored to you based on who you interact with and what you click on.   It’s trying to be a wish-fulfillment genie, only you pay for those wishes with dollars.  Oh, and your soul. 

And I...I want to be a human being.  I want my art to reflect real people, whom I see in real life.  I want my eye to see and my hand to recreate, not reproduce, what I see.  This is where I live most happily.  This is where my heart lies.  And this is where I want my mind to be.  With the magic of flesh and blood, not code and algorithms. 

You can have Facebook.  I’ll take reality, thanks.