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I keep two lists on my phone. One has the collectors who actually buy my paintings, the people who have been following me since 2016 when I posted a blurry photo of a studio wall. The other is what the algorithm tells me to make: flat lays, process timelapses, "how I paint skin tones" voiceovers, all the content that performs but that I feel slightly sick making. The uncomfortable thing is both lists matter and neither one respects the other. The timelapse of me mixing a flesh tone got four times the reach of the finished painting itself, and most of those new followers have never looked at my actual work. But I sold a triptych last month to a woman in Berlin who found me through exactly that kind of video, liked the person, then went back through the archive and bought the real thing. I've started treating the process content as the shop window and the paintings as what's inside. The window has to be well dressed or nobody comes in. But I also stopped pretending to myself that the window is the art. That distinction was costing me more than the algorithm ever has.

I don't fully understand this and I've stopped pretending I do. The piece was a panel, 24x30, layers of wash and charcoal over a page from my brother's address book. Gallerist shot it clean, whole, good light, hung on white. 41 likes. Nothing else. Then I snapped the back of the panel where the hanging wire had torn through the paper and I'd patched it with a strip of masking tape and a grocery receipt. Posted it sideways, no caption, bad light from the kitchen window. Two days later a woman in Portland emails asking if it's still available. She bought it. She said the tape was the part. So now I'm sitting here wondering if I should be shooting the damage instead of the work, and I hate that, because it feels like turning the thing I care about into content. But also it's the first real sale in five months. Has anyone else had this, where the piece of the piece outsells the piece. Side note, my phone camera will not focus on anything smaller than a thumbnail and I've given up trying to fix it. Whatever the Portland photo was, it was an accident.

I keep seeing this advice everywhere now: show the process, not the product. People love a time-lapse of hands pulling a print, the ink going down, the registration being slightly off. Fine. It works. I know it works. But here's the thing nobody says. The process is the part I actually need to be alone with. That moment when a screenprint is failing and I'm over-inking and the paper is curling and I have no idea if I should finish the run or throw it out, that's not content. That's thinking. I cannot perform it and also do it. So I post the okay version of the process. The ones that look like a craft video. And the real thinking stays off-camera, and I wonder if what gets seen online is just the choreography of the work, not the work. I've been going back and forth about this because the numbers are real. The 40-second pulling-a-print clip gets ten times the reach of the finished piece. But I started printmaking because of what the printed image says about copies and originals, not because I wanted to be an ASMR account for paper. Maybe the answer is boring: post the process that's already done. The work in the frame, not the work in the moment. Or maybe I'm just old-fashioned and the performance is part of it now and I should get over myself. What do you all do when the thing that gets attention isn't the thing you're doing?

I posted a 12 second clip the other week. No music, no voiceover, just my grinder taking the slag off a weld joint on a steel piece. Filmed it out of boredom, honestly. My daughter had been telling me for months that the polished shots of finished work do nothing and the raw stuff does something. I didn't believe her. That clip has more views than every finished sculpture I've put up combined. Comments are mostly people asking what disc I use and whether the sparks will ruin the stone nearby. Not a single word about the piece itself, which is fine, because the piece was barely in frame. What got attention was the noise and the motion and the fact that a real person was doing a real thing with their hands. I don't know what to do with that information. I'm not going to start filming every hour I'm in the shop and pretending it's content. But I can't argue with the numbers either. There's something about showing the labor instead of the result that lands, and I've spent thirty years being told the result is what matters.

Started posting the shop floor last month. Chips on the ground, the jig I built to hold a 400-pound slab while I cut it, the hours of grinding nobody sees. Figured process content was the honest version of what everyone else does with their reels. Engagement dropped by about a third. The finished pieces still pull the likes. People want the clean picture of the thing, not the dirty work underneath it. The thing is, the people who did stick around are the ones asking real questions. About joints, about stone density, about how you keep a weld from cracking when the piece moves. That's worth more to me than the numbers I lost. But I won't pretend it didn't sting watching the count go down. I'm a grown man and I checked the likes on a Tuesday like it mattered. It doesn't. It still got me.

I've been spending so much time on short-form video lately, mainly Reels for Instagram. But I see so many people having huge success on YouTube Shorts and I'm wondering if I should pivot? It feels like a totally different beast. The content that does okay on Reels feels too polished for Shorts sometimes, if that makes sense? Has anyone found a good strategy for both, or do you focus on one platform? My engagement is okay on Reels, but nothing like what I see some people getting on Shorts. Maybe I'm just looking at the wrong creators. It's hard to tell what's real and what's just a lucky spike.

I've noticed a trend lately, or maybe I'm just noticing it now. It feels like the harder we try to engineer 'engagement,' the more people tune out. I spent last week looking at some analytics for a project, trying to get a spike in likes or shares on a particular piece of content. We tweaked the hook, adjusted the CTA, even played with the posting time. Nothing moved the needle much. Then, coincidentally, I posted a photo of my messy studio floor, paint tubes everywhere, a half-finished canvas in the background, with a caption just saying 'Work in progress.' It got more genuine interaction – people asking about the paint, the process – than the polished piece we'd spent days on. It makes you wonder if the 'performance' is the problem, not the content itself. C'est ça, non?

Sunday I set the phone on the easel arm and filmed a glaze session on the second figure. Two hours of footage, cut down to ninety seconds, the whole thing about how a thin warm layer over a dry cool one makes flesh breathe. I was pleased with it. Real information, no music, my hands in the frame. 340 views. My mother-in-law liked it. This morning I posted a still of the finished panel, just standing against the studio wall, bad light from the window, no caption beyond the title. 1,800 views and four messages, two of them actually about the painting. I keep telling students that the work is the thing and I keep believing it, but I also keep filming my hands. The algorithm wants the doing, not the done. Except it doesn't, apparently. It wants the done, photographed badly. I am not going to become a content person about this. I would rather paint. But I am curious whether anyone else has noticed that the process content that supposedly performs just quietly does nothing, and it's the flat dead photograph of the finished piece that brings people to the door.

Ok so I need to say this somewhere. I spent almost two hours yesterday filming a reel of a wash going down, and you know what the wash looked like by the time I checked the footage? terrible, because I'd been half-watching my phone propped on a stack of books instead of actually painting it. the paper dried uneven where I lifted the tape early to grab a better angle, and I have a whole sheet now with a big ugly bloom right in the middle of the sky. real painting, ruined, for 11 seconds of video. and the wild part is it got like 200 views. my last actual painting got 2.3k and sold in four days. so what am I even doing. I think what's getting me is that I started this because of the light on my kitchen wall at like 4pm and now I'm learning about hooks and trending audio and I feel so dumb for caring about both at once. like I want people to see the work and also the entire system is built so the only way they see the work is if I become a content person, which is genuinely the opposite of the thing that makes me good at painting. I zone out for three hours and that's the whole point. you can't zone out with a tripod. my partner keeps telling me to just post the painting and let it be boring and I know they're right but there's this voice that's like ok but what if nobody sees it. and then I remember I have 700 followers which is not a business, it's a group chat. so the stakes are kind of imaginary. anyway I'm going to paint today and not film any of it and if the sky blooms I'll keep it. maybe I'll post the wrecked one, honestly it's more interesting than the reel.

Been hearing a lot about "content strategy" and "funnels" in these threads. Meanwhile my best sale this year happened because a woman I'd never met spent twelve months quietly watching my story highlights, then one day just wrote me a message in broken English asking if I could do a small version of a piece she'd seen me post back in January. No ad, no post boost, no newsletter. Just a person who liked looking at my work long enough to trust me with her money. The part nobody talks about is that I almost didn't post that piece. It was a commission that got cancelled halfway through, I was annoyed about it, and I only photographed it because I'd already set the lights up. One of those throwaway posts. My Instagram is a mess. Irregular, half-finished work, cats knocking tiles off the table. And it's the regularity of the mess that does the work, not the polish. People watch you be real for long enough and they stop seeing a stranger. The thing that actually sells is time. Nobody can buy that for you. All the paid reach in the world won't do what a year of showing up did for that one message.

Vale, real numbers because I'm tired of vague advice. My last three glaze process reels: 340, 210, 180 views. A story I posted from the studio at 23:40 with a photo of the kiln door and the words "esto va a salir mal, lo sé" (this is going to come out bad, I know it): 1200 views, and 9 people replied asking what I was firing. So the thing that "works" is me admitting I don't know. Not the finished piece. Not the timelapse. Me at midnight, in a dirty apron, betting against my own work. I think this is because everyone can smell when a post is a shop window. And a kiln at night is just a kiln at night, no selling in it. The problem is I can't schedule genuine dread. I've tried. I posted a very constructed version of the same thing last week with nice lighting and a caption I wrote twice and it got 90 views, which honestly is what I deserved. Also my firing did come out mostly fine, one small crack at the foot, so even the dread was a lie in the end. Do any of you post the actual middle of the process, the ugly boring part, or am I just going to keep accidentally making content out of being anxious

ok so I spent like a month earlier this year obsessing over my instagram grid, scheduling posts, planning reels, the whole thing. had a notion doc and everything. and you know what happened? nothing. flat engagement, same followers, maybe one sale from it. then I had this week where I just said fuck it and made 40 tiny test tiles, different clay bodies, glazes I mixed myself, firing temps I'd never tried. just messing around, no end goal. I posted them ugly, in progress, some failed. just the real process, no polish. those posts outperformed everything I "planned" by a lot. like triple the saves, actual comments from other potters, and two commissions from people who saw the test tiles and wanted something in that glaze. I think the audience can smell when you're performing vs when you're actually doing the work. the planning was me trying to look like a serious business. the test tiles were me being a ceramicist. anyone else find that the stuff you don't overthink just lands better?

Fella from an agency emailed me. Wanted to shoot a short video of me roughing out a limestone block, said it would help me "reach the collector demographic." Three thousand dollars, he'd bring the crew, I wouldn't have to do anything but work. I told him no. He seemed confused, like I'd turned down free money. Here's the thing. Chasing a chisel around a block for two days is not content. It's loud, it's slow, and half of it is me standing there deciding where the next cut goes. That's the part that matters and it's the part nobody wants to watch. What he wanted was the eighty seconds where the dust flies and the shape shows up. Which is real. It's just not the work. My daughter says I'm leaving money on the table. Maybe. But I've watched what happens to guys who start performing the making instead of doing it. They get quick, they get cute, they start reaching for the angle instead of the stone. I've been at this thirty-odd years and I'm not going to start taking direction from somebody who's never held a mallet. Anyway the block is still there. Half roughed. I'll finish it when it tells me what it wants.

Client commissioned a big piece for her new office. Paid fully upfront, lovely woman. Then she sent me a Pinterest board full of those mass-produced hexagonal thingies you buy in a box and sticks on the wall like stickers. And she said it, she actually said it, "can you make it more Instagrammable?" I laughed. Not a polite laugh, a real one. She looked shocked and then she laughed too, so I think we're fine. I explained that a Byzantine-style smalti panel takes me about three weeks on the floor, and that the whole point is you can't photograph it properly anyway. The glass catches the light different every hour, the tesserae sit slightly uneven so it shimmers, it's a thing you stand in front of. Anyway she walked away with a piece based on a local old map of the city instead of her Pinterest board, and I think she's happier for it. This whole "content is king, work for the algorithm" thing, I get it, I sell work too. But there's something sad about shaping what you make around a photo of it. The work outlives the post. That's the whole game.

For about a year I tried to do the Instagram thing properly. Reels, stories, a little carousel about my process. I was showing up, I was consistent. And it worked, in a way, more eyes, more likes, a few commissions. But I was spending the part of the day when the light is right sitting inside editing a video of the light. Last autumn I just stopped. Not deliberately, not as a strategy, I had a show to prepare for and the choice was between making the prints or making the content. So I made the prints. I'm not on TikTok. I don't have a newsletter. My website is a single page with an email address. And honestly? This year has been better than last. Not richer, but better, the people who find me find me through word of mouth, or because someone saw a print in a friend's house, or because they walked into the shop that carries my work. Every sale has a real thread attached to it. Nobody found me through an algorithm and asked for a discount. I don't think this is advice. It's not scalable and I'm not trying to make a living off prints alone, my partner works, I teach a workshop now and then. But the pressure to perform the making instead of just making is so constant that I wonder how many of us are burning our best hours on it. The sea doesn't care about your content calendar.