Stepping Away from Instagram

Making Connections

Almost all businesses use Instagram as a primary form of marketing now. Whether you’re a small scale start-up or a global company. A “creator” is (not a god, not an artist, but) someone who makes “content”. Content usually means ten second videos designed to hook your attention. Where your eyes go is where your money goes, apparently.

As a tiny, one-person business it feels like there’s no choice but to market my art on Instagram. To do that I have to become a content creator too. Posting photos of my work is something I quite enjoy, but to truly be successful on Instagram short videos are the way to go. And not just of the art - people want to follow people, and that means putting myself front and centre.

When the energy and inspiration to create a painting strikes me, I want to dive straight into the work. Yet now I find myself stopping seconds before the brush touches the canvas thinking “I should be filming this”.  And a wave of ennui sweeps over me. A real inspiration killer. When I go to a gallery with a friend I think “I should be filming this”, I think I should have filmed the journey too, I should even have filmed myself getting ready (for those of you lucky enough not to know, “get ready with me” videos are hugely popular). Videoing all aspects of my life is so far from what I want to do, so opposite to how I want to live, that I just cannot bring myself to do it.

A peculiar Orwellian world has evolved where so many of us are on camera all the time. What is more bizarre, is that we’ve chosen to do it. We’ve filmed ourselves and willingly put it on the internet. We’ve documented every working day, every step of our holidays, every precious moment in our lives – our jobs, hobbies, proposals, marriages, childbirths and even family deaths are all on Instagram. “Pics or it didn’t happen” is a phrase I hear from time to time.

I have fought with myself for so long. On the one hand I want to make the most of the amazing publicity tools that are available. Individual artists don’t have to depend entirely on inaccessible galleries or getting ‘discovered’ by the right person. We can make our own name now (at least in theory). That’s incredible.

On the other hand, Instagram feels like the death of creativity. Content needs to be addictive, quick, it needs to get you hooked within the first 3 seconds, and you need to make a lot of it. It doesn’t matter if your art takes months to create; the people need a video three times a week at least, twice a day if you’re really serious. And if I succeed on Instagram, what I have succeeded in doing is getting a few more people to stare at their phones for a bit longer.

So what space is there for slow art, for careful looking, or real connection?

My work is about connection, really. In both method and subject matter. When I paint a flower I spend up to three days staring intently at it. Getting to know every crease, every vein, every stamen. Looking at the pollen dust left inside the petals. Watching closely as buds open, and leaves begin to wilt. And that’s what I want people to see when they look at my art; every minute detail of something you see every day. The immense, unfathomable complexity and beauty of the world around us. Whether it’s a flower bursting into life, a skull slowly decaying or a person gazing back at you. That’s life. It’s wonderful and weird and dark and beautiful and it’s living and dying all around us, alongside us.

I cannot convey my work through a platform like Instagram. Not really. So I thought I’d test the waters with something else. I thought I’d begin with the written word. So here - in article form - is where I’ll express my ideas and share my art. With others who perhaps, instead of watching reels, prefer to read, and have the time to look more slowly.

Welcome.