Those who are reading this blog are going to be well aware of the glistening lure of Instagram. You probably found this post through this channel where I promoted it. An irony that feels cliche to address but whatever, it’s true and it’s ironic.
Whether we like it or not, we are a generation that are grossly addicted.
Despite the extensive ethical critique that tech giants are facing and the horror of the Black Mirror-esque Netflix documentary The Social Dilemma, social media is here to stay; entrenched into the fabric of our very existence. For many, this tailor made curated realm forms a credible representative of the self. When people meet us we introduce ourselves and it is likely we then introduce them to our IG handle. You can find “me” here.
It is a digital world that in the current “lockdown” can even supersede physical reality. The lines between both have become blurred to the point that for many, social media platforms are an extension of, and not separate to, real life. And with most of us oscillating between sharing and not sharing, and caring and not caring, the navigation of this world is complicated.
Coming at this from the angle of a visual artist, my engagement with Instagram is one that is conscious, unconscious, addicted, gung-ho, inspired, informed, connected, revolted and exhausted all at once.
I want to acknowledge the positive impact it has had on me as a painter. The sheer scale of artistic inspiration available at my fingertips has facilitated my development as an artist tremendously. These discoveries tend to jump start pathways out into the real world. From exhibitions to books to people, Instagram has offered me a delightful and never ending connection to a world out there that is tailored to my very specific interests.
I’ve been able to show my work freely and easily rather than to be stuck with lots of paintings and nowhere to display them. I believe artists have creative energy that they can share with the world to make it a better, more interesting place. And when we feel comfortable and vulnerable enough to do this, there is a great joy that can come from it. Art makes the world richer, deeper. It nourishes our souls, particularly in this harsh, rational and capitalistic society that is geared so heavily towards consumption, that to be an artist and produce something as a form of giving is liberating.
There is a sense of pride and achievement that I feel when I share something I have worked hard towards. It would be dishonest of me to say that the positive feedback loop of engagement with my “content” doesn’t make me feel good. Because it does. The sharing of my paintings and blog posts can seem like an important tick box checked in the long process of making work.
Then from a broader perspective, Instagram for many is a portfolio, a way to promote a skill as a way to win work or generate an income somehow. For others it is a critical factor in an application to a grant or opportunity. So it’s obvious that social media is enticing, or even necessary, for artists.
And reflected back at artists is the way that Instagram has become crucial for the opportunity providers. No matter what our personal view may be on this, followers, engagement and aesthetic matter to many decision makers. It was only the other day that an application form to enter an exhibition stated that in order to get through to a second stage, the image submitted must receive at least 300 likes when the institution posts it. This appalling way of judging the merit of work encompasses the insidious ways in which the creation of art, and the way the artist chooses to represent their personal brand, is being manipulated by an algorithm that is out of control.
This is further reinforced by a pandemic related economic climate that is affecting the arts particularly hard. Digital solutions, and more specifically social media solutions to exhibitions, commerce and marketing have become of paramount importance for both institutions and artists themselves. With event venues struggling to stay afloat and galleries having to reduce their capacity to a fraction of their potential, whilst also enforcing stringent health and safety guidance, exhibiting is even more challenging. Closed spaces and breathing humans now pose such a logistical nightmare that migrating with minimal costs to a connected virtual world has become the go-to, immediate solution wherever possible. If we can’t do it IRL let’s just go live.
But longer term what is this all going to do? To the art, to the way in which we experience it and most important of all to the mental health of the ones that put their blood, sweat and tears into making it in the first place? Because we are all well aware that the toxicity of social media had already reached sinister levels long before the crisis of 2020 hit.
For every artist that specifically makes work to fit the usage of Instagram, there are many artists that will wholeheartedly agree that Instagram is not the optimum way for people to experience their creation. It is only the easiest and most accessible way to say that it actually exists. That’s all. A means to an end, not an end in and of itself. It is not the final tick box.
I would love people to see my paintings more in real life. To be able to see the colours in daylight, notice the luscious textures of the paint and to experience the true scale of what is often seen as a tiny rectangle on a potentially cracked screen. Instagram will never do painting justice. Ever. I feel passionately that to get the most from painting, the medium I understand best, we must experience it in physical reality to truly appreciate it.
To say this is difficult in this climate is an understatement. I don’t know what the solutions are and I grapple with this all the time. But to grapple with it we must. Because all art cannot be made for the sole purpose of living digitally to generate engagement. It is a dishonour to the medium that has the capacity to educate and transform in ways that will never be transmitted in a two second like and scroll. Likes are not a measurement of quality. To live in a time where the worth of one’s work, which is indisputably immeasurable, is determined by a like is a travesty that the artist and the world is facing.
As artists we have a responsibility to ourselves to create that which we feel proud of. Not proud because of a certain number of red hearts tapped, but because we overcame a challenge only we understand within. Because we found a truth that we want to share with others as a way to illuminate a small corner of this increasingly dark world with a ray of genuine meaning. Because we created something of beauty in an ugly environment to please our tired eyes. Or we were brave enough to create something ugly to reflect back the ways in which humanity, in so many ways, is failing as a society and failing the planet.
Whilst I know that my relationship with Instagram is one that is unlikely to end, and that I will cave into its possibilities and temptations more than I will care to admit, my awareness of its downfalls has reached a tipping point. I’ll share but I’ll try to care less. I’ll be around but I will do my best to move away when I get too close because the risk of infection is high.
I would like to socially distance myself from social media.
As a warning, to myself and to anyone who has felt the general sense of unease that Instagram is creating, I say this: art is a tool for change in a world that is craving a new way of being. We cannot let an algorithm or less than 300 likes get in the way of making work that matters.