🛑 Why I stopped posting on Instagram

#59 or my art journey from beginnings

Dear little demon,  

Welcome to the edition #59 of The Art Missive. We are now 11,968 😈 in this newsletter! Whether you've been here from the start or just arrived, thank you so much for reading ❤.

Lately, I’m fine. I did a photoshoot with a friend and I’m still not really comfortable in front of a camera, but I'm improving!

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If you haven't already, you can also:

• Read all the previous Art Missives

• Ask your questions for the next QaAs here

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In this Missive: 

1/ Intro.

2/ The day it all started.   

3/ New life. 

4/ The beginning of the fall. 

5/ The ultimate sacrifice.

6/ The hero’s training.  

7/ Conclusion: same but better.

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1/ Intro.

"Where are you?" "Are you alright? You disappeared!" "Did you stop posting?"

Lately, my Instagram DMs have been flooded with these kinds of messages.

Where have I been?

In this missive from a few weeks ago, I opened up for the first time about my painful relationship with Instagram and officially announced that I’ll step away from the platform.

On one hand, Instagram has given me everything.

When I started drawing, I had no network, no mentor, and no money to guide my beginnings in art. So, like thousands of other artists, social media made art accessible to me. Without Instagram, I would have never been able to improve my drawings, make a living from my work, and most importantly, I would have never been able to meet you.

Yet, after 3 years of daily commitment to Instagram, a community of 300,000 followers, and hundreds of shared drawings, I decided to stop posting.

Since then, many of you have asked me for explanations. So today, I'm going to talk to you about Instagram as a two-sided coin. Until now, I've only shown you the bright side of Instagram: the artistic opportunities. But today, let me confide in you about the other side: the sacrifices.

Welcome to edition #59 of The Art Missive, where I tell you the thrilling story of an ambitious young artist who ended up getting burned.

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2/ The day it all started. 

To understand the sacrifices I made for Instagram, we must go back to the very beginning of my artist journey. 

I will never forget this day, when it all started. 

It was March 2020, and I found myself in lockdown with my best friend and brothers. Our Parisian apartment buzzed with a blend of summer camp vibes and the stress of a global crisis.

Desperate for an escape, I doodled the portrait of a half-demon girl, a theme that would later become my signature. My best friend caught a glimpse of it over my shoulder. Normally, I would have kept my drawings to myself, but our close quarters left little room for privacy.

"Léa, I didn't know you could draw. You absolutely have to post your drawings on Instagram," he insisted.

"But no, I don't draw often. I have no skills," I replied.

"If you draw like this without any skills, imagine what you could do with practice! Post it, I'm telling you."

After hours of persuasion, I reluctantly created an Instagram account under his insistent gaze. At the time, I had no followers and no virality. 

But posting my first drawings changed something within me. The excitement of the app, the interactions with other artists, the countless inspirations, and the rare encouragement from strangers filled me with a newfound motivation.

Though I received only a handful of likes, I felt a creative spark ignite. Instagram became an excuse, a catalyst for what would become my greatest passion: drawing. 

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3/ New life. 

For 2 years, I posted my drawings with unwavering discipline, juggling my studies and the business I ran at the time. I was not doing it for the fame (I had fewer than 900 followers) but for the thrill, for the freedom, for the sheer joy of creation.

Then, in February 2022, everything changed.

Some of my creations went viral, and I gained over 30,000 followers in a few weeks.

As the numbers grew, a sense of duty expanded.

The more I drew, the more my followers grew, driving me to draw even more. This pressure to live up to my burgeoning audience made me feel like an impostor, but I was determined to improve and create.

I was like a junkie, chasing the high of rising numbers with each sketch. For the first time, I felt like my portrait meant something. I could touch people’s hearts with them! So, I started taking drawing seriously. 

Behind the hundreds of thousands of followers was young me, drawing in my student room without an easel, without a fancy sketchbook, and with a subpar camera.

But my efforts paid off. By the end of 2023, I had a community of over 200,000 precious little demons who supported me. Brands contacted me, commissions poured in, and people bought my courses. I launched this Art Missive, which was an immediate success...

Instagram had given me a new life.

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4/ The beginning of the fall.

By 2023, Instagram consumed all my mental space. 

I had set up a meticulous creation machine, producing 1 to 3 portraits a week, filming them, and turning them into viral content. This strategy worked, but not without a price.

During this year, 60% of my time was dedicated to Instagram: 10 hours of editing per week, 5 hours for carousels and stories, 1 hour daily for trend monitoring, another daily hour for community management, and additional hours for challenges like “draw this in your style”.

Despite the cost, I prioritize my growth. But I overlooked an obvious truth: the hours spent on Instagram were hours not spent creating art. 

I realized I had sacrificed my time for Instagram, leaving little for genuine creativity and experimentation. Without realizing it, I was spending less and less time creating.

Yet, to improve, an artist must dedicate countless hours to practicing, making mistakes, and learning from them. But with Instagram consuming my life, how much time was left for the true essence of art?

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5/ The ultimate sacrifice. 

It was only in January 2024 that I truly confronted the consequences of my decisions. 

Over the past 6 months, I had gained over 130,000 followers on Instagram and generated nearly $100,000 in revenue. But at what cost?

To achieve this goal, I had sacrificed my creation time to the point where I hadn't produced a single new portrait in months. Now, as I finally found myself ready to dedicate more time to art, I was confronted with a stark reality: I couldn't create anything. January... February... March... The weeks passed by, and I remained stuck, staring at a blank page. The void consumed me. I could no longer draw.

As I dug deeper, I realized that my art block was merely a symptom of a more profound issue : over the past three years, I had developed an unhealthy relationship with my art. 

Instead of posting on Instagram what I created, I ended up drawing for the sole purpose of posting on Instagram. And after years of functioning this way, I no longer knew how to operate differently. 

I was incapable of thinking about drawing without seeing the potential benefits for Instagram. 

I had transformed from an artist into a content creator who happened to make art.

It was then that I realized the ultimate sacrifice I had unwittingly made for Instagram: I had given up what I held most dear—my creativity. I had enslaved my art to Instagram, leaving no room for error, experimentation, or learning. I had become an artist unable to create art.

The situation was dire. If I wanted to survive and reclaim my creativity, I had to stop everything.

The situation was serious. If I wanted my art to survive, I had to stop everything. 

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6/ The hero’s training.

It's been a month since I last posted anything on Instagram.

Have I left the game? Have I definitively abandoned my account with 350,000 followers? Is it game over for me?

Many artists have gone through similar trials as mine. Instagram is known for draining our mental health, creativity, and energy without giving anything back. But I don't completely agree.

For me, Instagram is a tool. Like a knife that can be used to hurt or to create a delicious dish to share with family. I had decided to make Instagram the tool for destroying my creativity.

But does that mean I should just give up?

No.

In all good stories, the main hero steps back after a crushing defeat. Accompanied by their mentor, they retreat to remote lands to undergo rigorous training before returning in full force to defeat the enemy.

So I retreated, just like Naruto did when he left the village to train with Jiraiya. I found my mentor, Vladislav Yashin, who taught me his most powerful painting techniques. And as I speak to you, I'm in the French countryside, training. 

I'm working hard to rebuild my relationship with my art, far from social media.

And soon, I will return for you.

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7/ Conclusion: same but better.  

It's for all these reasons that I left Instagram and my 350,000 followers. Of course, it wasn't easy. Of course, I'm afraid. Of course, there's a risk that I might lose you and that you won't be there when I return. But it's a necessary step for me to evolve.

In the end, I don't want you to consider Instagram as the enemy of artists. 

The real enemy is the inner self that fails to protect what's most precious: our creativity. It's the self that convinces us that we have better things to do than create. That we're not good enough. That we don't have the right to make mistakes.

Instagram is a tool for artists. Nothing more, nothing less.

For me, it will forever remain my favorite tool because it brought me to you. And you changed my life.

That's why I'm crafting a content strategy that will enable me to utilize it much more effectively. Moving forward, I'll prioritize quality over quantity by sharing fewer but more unique, well-researched, and exciting pieces. 

This way, I can come back stronger and never stop putting stars in your eyes again. 

Voilà, that's all from me, see you next week! 😈

Léa

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