on social media videos…

Last month, I had a painting experience so magical and whimsical that it has caused me to completely reconsider the way I share my art and process with the world and hell—the structure of my art business entirely. I just can’t pretend that filming my creative process for social media isn’t negatively impacting that very same creative process anymore. I wish I could, honestly—but I am not in the business of lying to myself. And I won’t lie to you either.

I have a couple qualities that should make me the ideal Social Media Poster. Firstly, I have been addicted to the internet for as long as I can remember. For better or for worse, I was given a ton of unsupervised internet time from a very young age. I hopped from club penguin and neopets to habbo hotel and gaia online to tumblr and 4chan. And my addiction has certainly not gotten any better! Secondly, I have a compulsion to express and share. I draw, paint, sing, dance, write, and TALK. I wish I didn’t—I am frequently humiliated by this impulse—but it feels innate to my being. I imagine many artists could relate to this, otherwise we’d keep our art to ourselves (as I did for many years.) Lastly, I have a terrible fear of being forgotten. We can feel so alone in our minds, in our experience of this world, each of our perspectives’ are unique. It is comforting to imagine someone, anyone, bearing witness.

And yet, I’ve never been able to remain consistent with video social media posting. I feel terribly guilty about it, like I’m not taking my art business seriously. I figured that it was mostly filming’s physical obstacles that were in my way. I have to keep my head out of the shot, lest I film nothing but my greasy bald spot. I must to keep my painting and color-mixing quick, to save on precious phone storage space. I try to elongate my brush strokes, to make them more satisfying to view. Using my phone to film means I must turn off whatever murder podcast or whiny music I was listening to. And of course, editing the videos together is very time-consuming. My reluctance to film makes me procrastinate painting, as well. Like when you wanted to read a novel, but you were supposed to read something boring for school, so you just end up reading neither and playing video games instead.

I decided to give myself full permission to paint without filming for a week while I was ill. I did not entertain any thoughts of guilt. And I painted in 3 days what would usually take me the better part of a month. More importantly, I had an entirely magical experience. It will sound extremely silly to write out, and that is the very point I am trying to make. I got the distinct feeling while painting my winged fawn, that she would burst forth from the page at any moment. Like I was helping to birth her into the universe, like a farmer might with a calf. I felt her fur, and wondered if I was petting her with my brush or tickling her? She would shake her hind legs like a dog, and I certainly could teach her some tricks. I would teach her to spin in a circle like I did with my childhood miniature poodle, Maxi. I fell in love with her, even while being disappointed in my skills at rendering her. But she is loveable, even while imperfect. How beautiful to realize she is a part of me- my personified metaphor for sacred vulnerability, a quality that I’ve tried to squash in myself for my whole life. I, too, am lovable and imperfect. So silly, so simple, but a peaceful feeling so profound. And this is why I used to paint so much: being able to hold my own hand and run away with myself, becoming completely ungrounded to reality.

I would have never had this experience if I were filming myself. The depth of the emotional barriers of my filming process were revealed to me. When you are filming yourself painting, you are creating 2 artworks (I reject “content creation”. You are an artist!) with 2 messages, and 2 audiences. I was considering the video’s creation, message, and audience too much to fully immerse myself in the creative process of the painting. (Which is my first mistake, because I feel much more confident in my paintings than my videos.) And of course, there is all the insecurity that comes with filming yourself, watching yourself back, and posting for all to see: How will my words be received? Am I coming across as playful or combative? Should I qualify what I say or be bold enough to let my joke stand on its own? Why do I look so ugly? Does anyone care about this? Is it original enough? I watch my videos back with the mindset of the meanest-possible viewer. I cut out any part too boring, too vulnerable, too anything; until all the rough edges of myself are smoothed to nothing. Julia Cameron describes this type of thinking in The Artist’s Way, as The Censor. The Censor is the voice in your head that cringes at your expression while it’s happening, that begins editing before the idea even begins, and—god forbid— prevents you from making anything at all.

Every day I post is like the worst day of my life. I spend them as a shaking lap dog, consumed with anxiety, either refreshing the page or trying to distract myself from it. My approach was to give The Censor some exposure-therapy. And I think this is still a worthwhile pursuit! This type of deep, self-shame can be comforted when the public does not respond so negatively. However, 6 years of filming myself has not really helped. I realize that tying my creative process to filming and advertising gave too much space for The Censor to flourish. At this point, I’ve poisoned the water supply of my mindpalace by consistently evoking a self-projected-hater. I believe all emotions teach us something about ourselves. Maybe there is a way to continue to challenge my shame while also playing to my nature. I think some space between my creative process and the sharing of it, is necessary. Besides, chopping my month long painting process into 7 second snippets feels unholy, like I’m stripping away all of my importance and power.

But how can a painfully awkward, working class, government employee, in a small community possibly get “discovered” or make a living from their art without social media? This is where I lack optimism and imagination. We do not live in a society that truly values art, or provides ample viable paths to success for artists, and right now it feels like becoming a social media sensation is the only path to financial success for someone in my position. But have my social media videos helped me make money? Painfully, no! I have not made a single online sale after posting a video. In fact, every video I post seems to get less views and less likes than the last, so I’m not even gaining “exposure”. Maybe the audience can sense that my heart isn’t in it. Maybe I lack the creative vision in directorial work. Maybe I shouldn’t trust Mark Zuckerberg et al. and their technofeudal, corporate advertising psy-ops to market my tender heart. Maybe I could be a break out internet sensation, if only I could keep it up! But after so many years, I remain inconsistent. And from a business lens, I’m not sure it makes sense to spend so much time and energy centering the artform I feel least confident in.

Now I am tasked with imagining how I could connect with people, share my thoughts, share my process, and market my work outside of the Instagram / Youtube / Tiktok rat race. How can I share in a way that feels natural, manageable, and something I can keep up with? For sharing, this feels like blogging. I’m not the best writer, but I enjoy it. I can write about things after they occur, rather than trying to split myself in two simultaneous minds-one living out a moment and the other one capturing it. I can reflect, I can edit, I can do it anywhere, I can be ugly while I do it. The blogletter combo also fits in well with some other values that I am currently exploring in my life: more analog and offline (I wrote my first draft of this post in my diary, the process has been quicker than my filming, and has occurred entirely off of social media outside of advertising it); more sovereign (I’m hosting this on my own website, and it will be sent to you directly, not generating Mark more ad dollars); and more earnest (de-centering my looks, re-centering my emotions and thought process.)

A day of painting without filming myself has brought a shoal of new ideas, angles, and considerations to my art practice and my business. Don’t get me wrong, I will post videos when I want to make them. Like I said, I’m addicted lol! But I think they need to be a much smaller part of my art business’s plan. My current vision for the blogletter is to share my most recent works, my thoughts and their process, upcoming events, maybe some astrology blurbs, definitely personal rants because I can’t resist, and also some photos/recipes/moments from my personal life. I am also considering other ways for my business to center what matters to me most: encouraging my strangeness, flexibility to pursue inspiration when it flashes, honing my skills and vision, uplifting humanity, and connecting with You! I have never been more open to ideas, so let me know if there’s something else you’d like to see from me! This was very long and I’m very grateful you cared at all. <3

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