Becoming an Artist + How to Promote Yourself = My Metaphorical Mount Everest

As a budding artist, the method of self-promotion starts with a question: to Instagram or not to Instagram?

As a die-hard user of the social media app since its origins in 2012, it was a no-brainer to start sharing my paintings and shows online when I first took my art seriously. I had Instagram before I had a website, and for a time, I truly believed I could be successful without branching out.

However, as the platform evolved, I started questioning whether Instagram really aligned with my values. Over the past thirteen years, it has become a propaganda tool and an AI educator—without the consent of its users—and I find myself connecting with fewer and fewer people than I used to. But then, how else do I promote my work?

So, I started this newsletter, hoping that maybe—just maybe—I could actually connect with people. That I could build a community and meet people on an emotional level so that the journey of the artworks speaks more than the artworks themselves. But if I’m being honest, I was disappointed when only 20 people out of 900+ followers joined, even after I directly asked 15 to be part of the beta.

So where do I go from here? This isn’t a woe is me moment. It’s a real, honest question I’m actively trying to answer.

After listening to the podcast How to Discover Your Own Taste – The Ezra Klein Show (see January’s Culture Consumed), I started reading Filterworld: How Algorithms Flattened Culture by Kyle Chayka, the guest speaker from the episode.
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Chayka eloquently writes:
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“Artists have always had to be marketers of a sort, evolving public personas that served as calling cards for their work, as Jackson Pollock and Andy Warhol did. The difference today is that in Filterworld, the metrics—the number of likes, the preexisting attention—tend to speak louder than the piece of culture itself. Not only do they act as a measure of success, but they create success, because they dictate what is recommended to and seen by audiences in the first place” (p. 132).
“Likes became the currency of the Internet, and [creators are] forced to chase them” (p. 133).

After reading these statements and reflecting on my own practice, I realized that at the beginning of this transition, I was chasing the likes. I was painting what I thought people wanted to see on Instagram… Yuck.

Two and a half years into my art journey, I know I don’t want to paint a bunch of birds or flowers. I don’t really like commissions either. If I’m being honest (more to myself), I create to express my emotions.

If you don’t know me (which most of you do), I am a crier. I am sensitive. I feel deeply—to my core. I’ve been criticized for this all my life. My emotions and sensitivity were often seen as “too much” for people. I’m still embarrassed by it. But deep down, I know that’s my superpower. Deep down, I know that if anyone buys my art, I want them to buy it because they feel that emotion too—whether that emotion is joy, love, sadness, curiosity, fear, anxiety… whatever it may be.

I don’t know how to find those collectors or buyers who feel the way I paint. I don’t know if I should continue pouring my heart out in this newsletter and hope I reach someone. I don’t know if I should give Instagram another shot—be more selective with the images I share but provide more storytelling. I don’t know if there’s another option I haven’t considered.

I simply don’t know.

My biggest hurdle moving forward in this career I have so blindly decided to pursue—despite all the unknowns—is figuring out how to reach people. I don’t want to be Andy Warhol or Damien Hirst. I have no desire to be an Instagram influencer or dance around on TikTok.

All I truly hope for is to pay my bills and supply teach less.

So here I am, at my computer, throwing a little bit of my truth into the universe.
If you have any suggestions for my current dilemma, please feel free to reach out. I’m open to all ideas—anything is worth a shot.


Work Cited:
Chayka, Kyle. Filterworld: How Algorithms Flattened Culture. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.