Where have all the slow painters gone?

This week I posted a poem on Instagram.

Not only the words I wrote, but me reading it. Madness. I consider myself an outgoing, even gregarious person, happy to speak to anyone and not afraid to walk into an unknown room. But the self-consciousness I felt with the camera on me, especially reading the words I had written privately, that was hard.

The poem, which I’ve copied out below, had been forming for over a year in my head or on notes. I had had the idea in a particularly low moment of watching yet another brilliant piece of art being created in seconds on Instagram. Instagram in particular can bring out my highs and my lows. It can make me feel both elevated, inspired, excited to create, or it can make me feel despondent, overwhelmed, insufficient. Never before have I had so much current art available at my fingertips, people’s visions, or loves, or successes, but my own voice feeling so muted. Inspired to write (fantastic art leader) calls it “shouting into the void”, where you try to be heard but there’s so much out there you immediately lost or drowned out. She points out that even if you are not being heard, the art is still valid and worthwhile in its creation and its sharing, something I’ve needed to hear a lot lately. There are communities out there, supportive and wonderful communities to pull each other up and listen, but finding or building them is hard and can add to the already overwhelming challenge.

Importantly I am concerned about the type of art I am seeing. I know there are more artists than ever showing their work, especially as we don’t have to rely on galleries to decide we’re “worthy”, and that is fantastic. But I started to worry about the other trend coming out. Instead of galleries deciding what they would prop up in the window to show the strangers on the street, we are seeing algorithms take their place. And what do these algorithms like? They like engagement. More videos, more stuff, new stuff, intriguing leads to keep you looking. The clickbait of a turning canvas, the slow reveal, the comedy sketches to “get you”. I am as guilty as the rest in falling for this, both as poster and watcher, one of my last reels is me peeling masking tape off a paper piece! The art is visible but I'm aware the ASMR satisfaction of the peel was a different type of pull that could keep people engaged. Does it lead to more views? Who knows.

It is with the spirit of this that “where are all the slow painters” was penned. It’s looking more and more likely that while going viral can launch a career, to maintain one you need an audience who knows you and loves your work. I worry that the design to produce faster art, to meet the monkey grinder need for something new, is influencing the new generation of artists profoundly, changing the way art is developing in response. And I wonder what will happen to those left behind? The ones who need a bit more time to finish their pieces.

I hope you liked the poem if you saw it. I hope you heard something in it you needed to hear. I hope I didn’t come across too self-conscious (I’m available for all future audiobook recordings…). It took at least 11 takes between my dog interrupting, me forgetting or fluffing a line, or me re-

watching and realised how much of the shot my bum was taking up.. But it was an excuse to put makeup on on a Sunday morning, and to try something which I was scared to do. Overall I’m proud I did it, and I consider that a win.