Have you ever wondered if any other medium, or collection of artists were policed in the way photographers are policed on instagram? Imagine the new roster of netflix shows all written with the same bounds, all shot from the same angles, all lit and graded in exactly the same way. Second series from a director? Don't screw up your grid.
Want to show some nipple? nope. Want to call your friend Bish. nope. Want to explore and learn and evolve? Forget it. just give us more of the same. behave. if you play nice we'll show your work to the masses and they will sit, eyes glazed over, mindlessly numb-scrolling past your aching heart, your toil and your reason for existing like it's nothing. congrats. you win.
But what if we tried, like, not being lazy disingaged, disinterested shitheads?
what if you, as a fully functioning human didn't need spoon feeding from an algorithm to find your way. what if you wern't just scrolling to scroll but actually wanted to see something and sought it out, then actually, you know, saw it.
what kinda world would that create? Could artists trust you? could we, once again try to evolve, to learn, to grow. To share our experiences and our mistakes? is that something we can even imagine... I'm not sure anymore.
I've decided to leave instagram. I've decided to cash in my followers. cash in the likes. cash in explore. I'll trade them all for a handful of people who care, or I'll trade them for ending the charade that this work matters in any way to anyone but me. Either is okay.
I want so much to show you all the parts of me I can't water down, can't simplify, can't be sure are "good" or "will make you feel good" or will please an algorithm.
It may come to be that i'm throwing my heart into the empty void of another website/newsletter. fine. but i'll be throwing my heart. I'll be sharing the work that keeps hidden. The work not nice enough, not advertising friendly. not sorted, or instantly consumable. I'll be sharing how erratic and unkempt my heart is. how my eye gets lost and then found again. how my heart wanders from interest to interest and isn't always easily explainable or containble.
it may come to be we find each other here, wide open.
PS. I don't really edit. I'm not that fancy.