When you publish art to Instagram, it's art meets real life—making art a little more relevant. Your work lives along the day to day happenings of your circle of friends, rather than pinned to the walls, in the stale air of your art cave. Posting to Instagram also means you can leverage your captive friend + family network to grow your audience and your ego. Self-validation.
These days, Art and drawing isn't something I do for fun. I make art when I'm hurting inside, on the really black days. Because art is the harbinger of the dark times, I'm not sure if I love my art. It's hard to love—it's a lot of death and sharp edges. But it looks pretty mean and savage, and in a strange way that gives me pleasure. I've always thought of art as a kind of boxing match.
It's like destroying someone in the ring. The satisfaction is a violent one, a shot of testosterone, very different from the proud grin you get making a table in shop class. I made a drawing—yes—but I've also given birth to (and in a sense destroyed) something inside me that needed to get out.
