“I Like Boring Things”

Artist and creator Andy Warhol once famously said, “I like boring things.” At first glance, this may sound odd coming from one of the most iconic, eccentric, and creative figures of the 20th century. Warhol, with his soup cans, celebrity portraits, and avant-garde films, hardly appears to be someone enthralled with the ordinary. Yet this statement carries a truth worth pausing over: what we often call boring may hold an invitation to look deeper.

In our modern world, boring is something to avoid at all costs. I remember vividly my father saying to my mother, “Donna Kay, I am bored – Entertain me!” My father had a busy brain and when that busy brain had run out of steam for the day, he would desperately seek entertainment. My father, like many of us, would fill his calendar and seek constant stimulation. If a conversation lags, if silence lingers, if a task feels repetitive—we label it boring and move quickly to something else. But perhaps boredom is less about the activity itself and more about how we encounter it – A lesson that my father never truly mastered!

Warhol saw beauty in the everyday. A Campbell’s Soup can, something most of us would ignore, became a canvas for play and reflection in Warhol’s art. He once said he wanted to paint things that people see every day but don’t stop to think about. In other words, boring might be just another word for unnoticed and underappreciated.

When I think about the moments I’ve called boring—waiting in a line, folding laundry, or walking the same neighborhood street—I realize those moments also hold a strange curiosity. Boredom can make space for the mind to wander, for imagination to bubble up, for gratitude to appear in small ways. What if boredom is simply the doorway to noticing what has been there all along? The warmth of a sunbeam on the carpet, the rhythmic sound of footsteps, the comfort of routine. What if when I find myself waiting in a line, I recall times when I was waiting in line with my daughter to ride a greatly-anticipated ride at Disneyland – an activity that always brings a smile to me face.

Warhol’s love of boring things challenges us to reconsider what we overlook or underappreciate. Perhaps boring is not the enemy of creativity, but the soil from which it grows. In repetition and ritual, we find pattern and comfort. In silence, we hear what is often drowned out. In stillness, we uncover presence.

The truth is, life isn’t always exciting. Much of it is seemingly ordinary—grocery runs, email replies, the commute home. But maybe the invitation is not to escape the boring but to live into it differently. To hold the ordinary with curiosity. To recognize that what is boring may actually be the texture of a grounded and full life.

So next time boredom creeps in, instead of running from it, perhaps we can sit with it. Look closely. Pay attention. As Warhol reminds us, even the boring holds a second glance.