My artist history as told through Instagram
My artist history as told through Instagram
The trajectory of my art account, weaning off IG, and why I haven't fully left
At the beginning of this year I wrote a five point artist manifesto to guide my creative practice. One of my rules was to divest from (or at least, not invest in) social media that doesn’t reliably reach my people.
I no longer create art that will only be shared on Instagram. I still use social media, but I don’t expend energy if I don’t feel like it and I don’t rely on it for outreach.
Today I wanted to provide an update on how it’s been to wean off Instagram, and why I haven’t quit it completely. But before we get into that, let’s dive into my turbulent journey as a self-taught artist on Instagram:
Starting my Instagram for textile art
Like many others during the pandemic, I used my downtime to dive into creative hobbies I’ve always wanted to try. After learning how to punch needle from craft books and Youtube, I wanted to share my hobby projects more widely and connect with fellow crafters. So, I created an art Instagram account in late 2020 as a place to document my textile art creations.
Punch needle and tufting were big trends during the early pandemic, so my Instagram grew in ways I never expected. I’m pretty sure I hit 1,000 followers within six months. Big crafting accounts reshared my work and I got lots of DMs requesting commissions. It was all very exciting, but I also kept wondering, “Why me?”
Despite the traction, I turned down most commission requests as I didn’t want to turn my meditative hobby into work. Over time, the physical strain of punch needling and the internal pressure to work faster sapped the joy out of this hobby. I went off to find a different creative outlet.
Pivoting to illustration & visual art
By mid-2021, I was itching to find quicker ways to actualize my ideas into art. I fell in love with illustration and went all in by drawing and painting in my sketchbooks, joining the Peachtober daily art challenge, and signing up for many art & illustration Zoom classes.
Entering into 2022, I was feeling hopeful about my trajectory. I had about 2,000 followers at this point, a lot of whom had found me through Peachtober. But this number mattered way less than the fact that illustrators and artists I admired were noticing and supporting my work! People seemed to enjoy and resonate with my playful art. Still, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fully lean into a more childlike art style or if there was more to explore.
I also started to process big feelings by making comics, like the “rules for Asian women” comic in response to anti-Asian hate crimes below. I made this quick comic in under an hour and it remains my most liked post of all time. It goes to show that you can get in your head about the “quality of your work” but on Instagram the success of a post is way more about relatability and timeliness.
In the spring of 2022 I got my first paid illustration job and was accepted to SVA’s summer illustration residency. Things were happening for this self-taught artist! Both of these opportunities brought up a ton of self-doubt and perfectionism, as they were way outside of my comfort zone working my tech job and posting my art for fun online. I was starting to see how much I had propped up my artistic self-worth on Instagram engagement, but I didn’t have the confidence or community to step away.
I did Peachtober for a second year in the fall of 2022, sharing daily progress on Instagram. Even though my work had gotten stronger, my negative self-talk was at its lowest. I had a style crisis every day. I didn’t know what or how, but I knew something had to change.
Newsletter > Instagram
Though I had been writing this newsletter since 2019, I hadn’t committed to it with the same level of consistency I was applying to Instagram. I decided to focus more on my newsletter in 2023, starting with interviewing fellow artists in the section Meet My Art Friend. I also shared my sketchbooks, and wrote creative advice that I needed to hear for myself (though it turns out it helped lots of you as well!) I published every week and my newsletter began to really take off.
As for my art, I started to prioritize personal projects over Instagram growth. I made and self-published an autobio comic zine and did my own daily sketchbook challenge. Instead of posting each artwork via IG post, I shared them to Stories which helped remove a lot of that perception of external judgment in my head. A few of the pieces I loved made their way onto the feed as a record.
Meanwhile, I was still giving Instagram a fighting chance by making reels. My sister is a champ at making viral IG reels, so I implemented her tips to keep the reels short and engaging. Making videos was fun at times, but it was also time-consuming and distracting me from my art.
At the start of this year I was more confused than ever as to why I was making art. Deep down I trusted that the process was meant to be fun and meaningful, but I was so far removed from feeling it when I was solely focused on the commercial and promotional aspects of this career. I reminded myself that I do not need to relentlessly pursue making money from my art if I’m not feeling fulfilled by it. So, I stepped back from client work and shop updates in order to cultivate a better relationship with myself and my art practice.
Because I did not make much “finished artwork” this year, I was posting way less on Instagram. This encapsulates the perfectionist mindset that I was placing on my art. I thought that in order to share something on Instagram it needed to be polished, digitized, and portfolio ready, even when I had evidence of the opposite being true.
Instead I shared my art and process on my newsletter, where I have been blessed with a community of supportive, open-hearted creatives (yes, including you!) Here I am able to provide a lot more context and trust in the combination of text and image. I’ve been writing for much longer than I’ve been drawing, which could be why this format has felt so good for me.
This year of inward focus has allowed me to separate my artistic self-worth from the performance of my work on Instagram. I am no longer stressing about when to post, what to post, and how often to post. I’m not looking at my grid and thinking of whether an artwork “fits” or whether it’s too ugly. I’m not hypercognizant of my art style and whether it’s consistent enough for others. Although both Instagram and Substack have metrics, I am able to treat my newsletter as a job in a way that I was unable to do with Instagram.
Earlier I wrote that I wasn’t posting on Instagram because I was making less art this year. The inverse is also true—I’ve made less art because I wasn’t posting on Instagram. It remains the top social media platform to share visual graphics, short comics, and one-off ideas. One thing I enjoyed doing on Instagram was making a shareable illustration for Korean holidays, like this week’s Chuseok (Mid-Autumn Festival). I could still make this piece for myself, but much of the fun is to see the work circulate and spread joy on the internet.
Despite the lesser visible output, this time of deprogramming has been crucial to my practice long term. I am developing more patience for gestation and experimentation.1 I am stretching my capacity to work on long term projects (zines, book projects, series) without immediate validation. I am reaching out to people and participating in communities to feel supported and nourished instead of relying on empty metrics. All of these help me enjoy my art practice more from a genuine, self-compassionate state of mind.
Why not quit Instagram entirely?
I’ve written before on my concerns with relying on social media, and I will always advocate for IRL hangouts, personal websites, and smaller online groups over big platforms (including Substack).
Even so, Instagram remains a useful way to casually connect. It’s a low touch way to become acquaintances with other artists I meet at NYC events. I enjoy posting stories of other artists’ gallery shows or book launches and celebrating them. I frequently find out and attend IRL ad hoc events and talks through Instagram. And best of all, occasionally an artist from abroad visits NYC and I get the chance to meet them in person and have sincere conversations—like when I met Charlotte Ager this summer! All that to say, I now mainly use Instagram as a resource to help facilitate in person connection.
So concludes this recap of my history with Instagram. Of course, the social media landscape is always changing and my takes on social media are subject to change along with it. But for today, I’m happy to fully show up here every week on my newsletter, peripherally on Instagram, once in a blue moon on Youtube, and nowhere else on social media.
☁️ What’s your history with Instagram? Do you have a dedicated art account? Has using Instagram changed your creative practice, for better or worse? Have you tried cutting it cold turkey? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!
I truly love the honesty of this post, and I feel that many creatives nowadays can relate to what you experienced.
This was an awesome rundown Carolyn!
I got off of IG in 2020 for many of the reasons you shared. I missed out on a lot of connecting but I know I wasn’t in a place mentally or emotionally to navigate the platform.