Hello,

For awhile now, I’ve been thinking about ways I could share my work and connect with my community after some time away from social media. I never stopped painting—just stepped back from Meta platforms for about a year now, for reasons both personal and political. I think we can all agree it's been a particularly challenging year, and I'm sure many of you can relate to the mixed emotions that come with social media participation: the information overload, the addictive serotonin hits, our shrinking attention spans, and the weight of witnessing so much hate and violence through our screens daily. I needed a break from sharing my life.

*Hope Portal*, 2025, acrylic paint on paper, 15.5 x 14.5”

During this time away, I focused on educating myself more on what's happening in the world and finally made space for that ever-elusive "inner work" we always want to do but rarely prioritize. Art-making is what my body has always gravitated toward—it's how I process what I'm thinking about and going through. For the first time in a long time, I created without the pressure to share, which brought up a curiosity about how I felt about my own work, in silence, without likes and comments on Instagram.

*Sweet Talker*, 2025, collage and acrylic paint on paper, 11.75 × 9.75”

What does it mean as an artist in 2025 to make art and not share it? More broadly, what does it mean to live life without documenting it? So much has surfaced for me during this period, but the biggest shift has been a seemingly obvious one: a greater inclination to be brave, take risks, and play. I feel less like a brand to be marketed and more like myself. In this silence, I've experimented with photography (Polaroids and film photography), Polaroid transfers, sculpture, digital art, drawing, writing, and approaching painting in a variety of new ways.

There's a freedom that comes with creative isolation. Nothing really matters except the work itself. The biggest "risk" you face is making something unsuccessful or wasting materials, which becomes pretty irrelevant when you emphasize play over creating fully resolved, marketable objects. There's so much to learn from a failed painting.

*10 Things I love About You*, 2025, collage and acrylic paint on paper, 12.5 × 9.5”

I understand (and admittedly worry about) the consequences of not being on Instagram. I acknowledge that the majority of my success as an artist has come from that platform—most sales, networking, and exhibition opportunities all came from the platform. Very recently, I sold a painting to a woman in Germany who wrote to tell me she'd followed me on Instagram and had been wanting to buy a painting from me for a long time.

These are the moments that make me emotional. I haven't posted anything on Instagram in over six months, yet she remembered me. She reached out without needing a social media reminder that I exist. As meaningful as that experience was, the truth is, to some extent, I know I'll be forgotten by not showing up online. I know I'm missing opportunities. I do feel pressure to participate.

*When Your Heart Remembers*, 2025, collage and acrylic paint on paper, approx. 6 × 12”

It’s not that I don’t enjoy sharing my work and connecting with those who are interested in it. I just want to do it in a way that feels more authentic to who I am, honors where I'm at in life, and do it on a platform that aligns with my values. For now, that looks like this. These things are always evolving, so you may very well see me on Instagram again someday. For now, this feels right, and you can also find me making semi-regular posts on TikTok and Bluesky.

-Kevin

September 2025

Hello,