Monk in the Studio, Marketer in the Streets

Making art is like slow-dancing with your subconscious while the rest of the world screams for your attention like an unmedicated group chat. It's just you, your tools, and that blank canvas daring you to make a move. Pure, beautiful solitude—until you remember that the real circus starts when you try to share the damn thing.

Creating? That’s introverted magic. Promoting? That’s extroverted theater. And therein lies the soul-splitting paradox of the modern artist: monk in the studio, marketer in the streets. I met this pseudo-celebrity once—offstage he was a husk of his on-camera self. Took me a while to realize I was witnessing a textbook case of performance contrast bias. The gap between their real self and their broadcast self was so wide you could park a yacht in it. But hey, every artist has their split. It’s just more noticeable when there’s a camera involved and an ego on the line.

The big mistake? Thinking you can master your craft in a vacuum. Newsflash: you could be the next Michelangelo, but if nobody sees your work, you're just a tortured genius in a WiFi-less cave. Art doesn’t sell itself. You do.

1.) WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

Shoutout to Chris Do for this trio of existential branding therapy:

A) Where did you come from? This is your roots, your origin story. Give them the gritty prologue—where you grew up, what broke you open, and how that chaos shaped your art. People don’t connect to polish, they connect to pain with a plotline.

B) When did you realize this was your path? That lightbulb-over-the-head moment where the hobby turned to obsession and the stakes got real. That’s the moment people trust you’re in it for more than just clout.

C) What did you overcome to get here? Time to open the wound a little. Poverty? Self-doubt? Parents who wanted you to major in something "practical"? Share the climb. People root for the underdog, not the overnight success with rich parents and perfect teeth.

2.) I SEE THIS DUDE ALL THE TIME

That’s the mere exposure effect. The more someone sees your name, your face, your weird little creative rituals—the more they trust you. It’s psychological Velcro. Consistency builds familiarity. Familiarity breeds comfort. Comfort converts.

That’s why an artist with a steady stream of content will outsell a ghost with a god-tier portfolio. You don’t need to shout—just show up. Repeatedly.

3.) VOCATIONAL VOYEURISM

Welcome to the golden age of watching people do hard shit online. Why?

A) Vicarious Mastery – We get secondhand dopamine watching someone accomplish something we could see ourselves doing. Success without the sweat.

B) Mirror Neurons – Watching someone paint or build fires up the same neural pathways as doing it. So yeah, watching art videos can trick your brain into feeling productive while you're in bed eating cereal.

C) Productivity Porn – Curated effort looks way more achievable than the real thing. People crave the illusion of progress without paying the price.

D) Control by Proxy – Seeing chaos turn to beauty on-screen gives us a weird emotional exhale. Like, “At least someone has their life together.”

E) The Spectator Effect – We’ve become a species of watchers. We binge how-tos we never do. We save tutorials we’ll never use. Our ancestors would be disgusted.

Which means? Film your damn process. Time-lapse that masterpiece. Be the artist and the content. You’re not just painting—you’re giving people digital catharsis.

4.) IMMERSION THERAPY

Want to get over your fear of being seen? Then you have to be seen. Walk into the fire enough times and your skin stops blistering.

Start with Instagram. Graduate to live shows. Keep pushing the comfort zone until discomfort becomes normal. Eventually, your nervous system will stop treating exposure like it’s war.

Reframe social tension as challenge, not threat. Collect the evidence. The world didn’t implode. You lived. You grew.

Confidence comes from competence. Competence comes from reps. Reps come from doing the scary thing over and over until it’s just Tuesday.

And that consistency? It compounds. You become the go-to. People start asking you for advice. You’re no longer chasing credibility—you are it.

SUMMARY: THE MAIN POINT

Your persona isn’t fake. It’s your test pilot. Your educational compass. The mask you wear while figuring out who you are underneath. Feedback is fuel.

Some of the greatest films in history were fake people in fake stories—but those fake stories changed real lives. So don’t get hung up on what’s “real” vs “curated.” Get obsessed with intent.

In a world of auto-tuned content and digital deepfakes, the only thing that stands out is something that feels like it came from a flawed, feeling, actual human. That’s your edge.

Put your work out there. Put yourself out there. Even if you’re terrified. Even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy.

Because that’s where the art lives.

Be seen. Be heard. Be deliberate. Your work deserves more than solitude and self-doubt. It deserves an audience—and a damn good caption.