As artists we tend to write our bios in the third person to give ourselves some sort of credibility. These bios end up being 2 paragraphs of self glorifying nonsense (badly) dressed up to look like a professional biographer wrote them; Even though we still live in our parents basement, barely affording to put food in our stomachs and spend 16 plus hours a day on our computers sketching out pictures of Star Wars characters in the hopes that “someone will notice me.”
Sadly, most of us only reach a few thousand likes or retweets. And only an extremely small percentage of those people actually care. They just want people to see how much they like Star Wars, so they reblog that 15 minute sketch you did of R2-D2 on your ipad while waiting for your coffee and suddenly you are “that guy who drew that sketch of R2-D2 — yeah I saw it on reddit.”
And so we become slaves to our pop-art. People want more. They want this character doing this. This game if it was on a gameboy. This. That. All just for a few meaningless internet points. All these eyes that don’t care for the portrait that took you 40 hours to paint. They don’t want to buy your poster, they don’t want to buy your game.
Our ability to express is hindered by our need to feel noticed. We live for those few moments when our drawing gets 50 favorites, but feel a great emptiness when our personal projects get no notice at all. And we don’t even know why. What was it I did that people actually liked in the first place? Was it not this? What do I change? Do we merely create for the wall (or screen) that our creations hang on?
The problem is whether or not we are artists to inspire, or creators to exploit. Deciding if what we create is worth a million dollars, or a million words.