About the
Visuals...
What does it truly take to become successful in the arts today? It is a question that haunts every modern creator because the answer no longer seems to live within the boundaries of the canvas, the page, or the sketchpad. Somewhere along the line, the definition of being an artist shifted from mastering a craft to mastering an algorithm. Today, the world demands that you do not just create art, but that you become an enterprise. You must build a personal brand, curate an aesthetic, network relentlessly, and constantly measure your human worth by the cold, digital metric of a follower count. We are told to perform on Instagram, to broadcast on YouTube, and to maintain a presence on Facebook, transforming our sacred creative spaces into public marketplaces. I simply perfer linkedin myself over all of the rest of social media communities.



But if an artist is spending every waking hour calculating hashtags, recording video clips, and managing digital communities, when do they actually find the time to dream? The reality out here is utterly exhausting. There are simply not enough hours in the day or night to play the dual roles of a prolific creator and a full-time marketing executive. To do what you love shouldn't require you to abandon the very act of doing it just to prove to a screen that you exist. The pressure is relentless, asking us to constantly answer to the haunting question: Who is following your work?
When creating is something stitched into your very DNA—when writing, drawing, and building worlds is a physical necessity—this corporate expectation feels like an intrusion. For true creators, these acts are not a career choice or a superficial hobby; they are the blood pumping through our veins. Writing and drawing are the only things that soothe the soul, offering a rare sanctuary of peace in a loud and chaotic world. Yet, the industry insists that talent is no longer enough. The modern creative landscape demands that you secure an agent, navigate labyrinthine social media algorithms, and perhaps even hire an image consultant just to package your soul for public consumption. It feels absurd to work harder at manufacturing an identity than at perfecting the craft itself. It feels disheartening to realize that getting people to believe in your raw skills often comes down to an unfair game of who you know rather than what you can create.
But validation from a system built on popularity contests is not the ultimate prize. There is a quiet, radical power in refusing to bow down to a situation that seeks to dilute your passion. True success is not measured by the number of digital eyes watching you, but by the unyielding devotion you have to your craft when nobody is looking. Let the world scream for attention on its timelines. Let the industry demand its metrics, its networking mixers, and its curated personas. My commitment to the page and the ink remains unbroken. I will write, I will create, and I will draw no matter what obstacles stand in the way, because the joy of creation belongs entirely to the creator, and that is a victory no algorithm can ever take away. But for me I will also have to say simply I love linkedin.
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