One of the things I set out to do in the last few years was make my living space a playground. Not so much in the literal sense, but more in the creative and artistic sense.
A few years back, my roommate and I had a friend over. What started as three people socializing quickly devolved into all of us doing our own thing: my roommate pumped tunes through the stereo, I perused a collection of poems by W.H. Auden, and our friend sprawled out on the floor and drew on a blank notepad. In this spirit, I’ve done everything I can to curate my apartment for evenings like this.
In the apartment, there are a few guitars, a MIDI keyboard, an audio interface, and some recording software. There are shelves upon shelves of books–novels and plays and poems and biographies and songbooks. There are countless movies and TV shows on DVD. There’s a shelf of vinyl records, from the classics to the obscure, and a collection mix CDs from past lives. There’s paper and pens and notebooks and sketch pads and tape and scissors and glue. There are markers and crayons and colored pencils. There are chess sets and board games and a couch for taking a nap. There are potted plants and patio chairs and art up on the walls.
Play is important in the creative life and the best thing we can do is foster space for it.