an inundation of art
Even as I watch my weblog stats diminish, like so many other bloggers are doing these days it seems, I have been contemplating the value of instagram to me. All these years wishing I could participate, and now I wonder if it's worthwhile. Not in terms of followers (I am always going to be a small, quiet voice in the world) but as a tool for my own artistic development. Blogging certainly made me a better writer, and it's only a shame that, generally speaking, all but the most popular sites ... the people who have been able to sell their lifestyle ... are fading. I still love to write here and have no plans to stop. I consider it a beautiful opportunity, just as I find Twitter a blessing of information and Facebook a handy place to share links. Instagram was going to be the place where I explored my photography style and grew in confidence.
I actually achieved these goals with one gallery - and then I lost the password to it. Instagram makes it almost impossible to get back in to a locked account. I still have my knittingthewind page, but in all honesty it's a messy jumble of micropoetry, lifestyle pictures taken on my phone, and artistic photography.
And yet, I'm not sure I want to begin a new gallery. Why work hard to create pictures I value, and then upload them to a place where many people will "like" them without even really pausing to look properly at them? Where they will just become another sqaure in a set, another obligation to like so people will like yours back.
I have the same question about twitter/instagram poetry. On one hand, it's a wonderful way for writers, especially indie writers, to attract an audience and hopefully from that sell books. On the other hand, such an inundation of poetry ... such a clutter of words ...
Do we devalue our artistic creations by oversharing them ... and by extension devalue all art? On instagram there is no quiet space around each image to hold the viewer in mindful contemplation of the piece. On pinterest, people's art is shared without credit in the service of someone else's visual narrative. I am wondering what the next evolution of online art sharing might look like. Perhaps a return to simplicity, to slowness, like a real experience of a gallery, library, or magazine read over morning tea.
I only hope there will always be a place for the small quiet voices, the shy girls, the innovators, the wild and strange.