The internet has warped our brains to think we need a bigger audience than necessary. The likes, the loves, the retweets, the emoji responses – it all minimizes pure human interaction into such a confining form that we can’t help but feel wanting of more. One of the more reassuring things my younger 20-something read is when Kevin Kelly wrote about how you really only need 1,000 true fans to have a career. If you get them, they will follow you wherever you go and will sustain you through painful droughts. I think about this a lot as some of my favorite writers – people who’ve made a clear impact on me – have increasingly moved to Substack. The ongoing disruption of social media – especially in Twitter – has forced creators to find their true fans.
When I drew this picture, I thought about how you only really need three true fans in your life. You need at least three people who know who you are and who will give you the space to walk around and vent with your pokier edges. These are the people who’ve seen you through your highs, lows, and many in-betweens. They’re the few people you feel like truly get you. And when shit gets really heated, they’re what you can count on to whir around and cool you down. To make you feel refreshed.
From Alice Wu’s transcendent The Half of It (on Netflix), there’s been a movie line that’s rattled within my brain since first viewing:
“I had a painting teacher once tell me that the difference between a good painting and a great painting is typically five strokes. And they’re usually the five boldest strokes in the painting. The question, of course, is which five strokes?”
– Aster Flores, The Half of It
When I got toward the end of this fan drawing, I started inking it before I realized there were no motion lines. There was no indication the fan was doing what a fan is supposed to do. It just sat there. I didn’t have the confidence to really add another potential five strokes, to take it from a half-baked, decent idea to something more whole. I didn’t even know what the five strokes would be. So I let it be.
The universe has a way of rhyming. At the time I left the drawing alone, my rationale was that your three fans should be there when nothing is going for you. When there’s no real motion worth supporting. When you’re stuck, waiting for another wave to run over you and pull you in. And then as I went through these blog posts, I thought about the number 3 again and the struggle to list things smoothly in ASL.
Perhaps it’s just another reminder that 3 will always be enough.
