“Facebook sucks, so I am shifting to Instagram. See me there @....” has been a common refrain among friends for quite some time. Instagram is longer than X and crispier than Facebook. Period. Fashionable people throng there, and “Insta posts” make them hipper than the hippies on Facebook. True, perhaps. It all depends on one’s mindset, approach and perspective—like bell-bottom pants, once fashionable, then an embarrassment, and now retro, fashionable and trendy again.
There are many art advisories on Instagram. They offer quick fixes and the hope of getting rich. Every time I come across art videos posted by random people who call themselves “influencers”, I feel that they are dream sellers who know that they are selling painted versions of nothingness. Some are “desi” types who tell you how to make quick money by producing smaller works featuring flowers, bird couples, women in ecstasy, sublime architectures and so on. They tell you that such works sell quickly in foreign markets and that you could make a few quick bucks.
Then there are the globe-trotting neo-richies who visit a museum or gallery and make highly sophisticated videos intended for Instagram. They talk about artists who are absolutely unfamiliar to you and whose works are produced on a scale that one can only dream of. The galleries look neat and immaculate, as if they were created specifically for an Instagram reel. The more they talk, the more wistful and weary you feel, because you are unable to emulate anything you see—in either style or scale. What you don’t realise is that they may not be committed to what they are seeing or saying. You could say almost anything, and AI will correct it, polish it and make it presentable.
The third category belongs to Gen X. They are rich in experience and firmly believe that the Gen Z artists out there are destined to make mistakes in their artistic careers. They offer plenty of advice, and their intentions are often good. But they rarely acknowledge that making mistakes is also one of the most important ways of learning.
The fourth category consists of artists themselves, who flaunt their works as if the world is coming to an end the following day. They flood their feeds with multiple images until someone is eventually forced to remember them.
The irony is that the young artists who follow Instagram advice are not generally featured in galleries. This suggests that Instagram is not yet a marketplace for even gallerists, who are constantly on the lookout for fresh talent. I am not saying that posting on Instagram is a waste of time, nor am I saying that it cannot eventually translate into a market. But if you blindly follow the advice offered by innumerable influencers—whose credentials are rarely verified beyond what they display on their own posts—and by AI-generated influencers, you may be following an illusion rather than a direction.
So, what is the solution?
I am not here to give advice. But the only way to become an artist with a recognised visual language is to develop a strong artistic practice. And to have a strong artistic practice, one needs a strong life—a life lived fully, in the direst of situations as well as in the most depressing times. Exceptional lives need not necessarily be happy lives.
Driven by FOMO—the fear of missing out—even veterans today slip into posting trivia on social media. But, ultimately, nothing matters.
Cry out in the midst of a forest; the birds will carry your tears to the city.
JohnyML
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