Why I’m keeping my art from everyone but you

About two weeks ago, I started making collages again. I hadn’t made a physical collage in several months, and I burned out on them, but scrolling through Instagram one day, I got that familiar pull to get back to it.

The first few felt a bit clunky. I was rusty with the process, and my compositions were a mess, but I expected that to be the case. I pushed through, and now, after making a dozen, I feel much better about the process.

And, of course, like a trained monkey, I started sharing them on Instagram, which, if I’m being honest, felt weird. I’ve also been suffering a bit of burnout around Instagram lately, not because of the lack of engagement or the tricky algorithm dance we must do. The whole idea of Instagram feels performative to me now, and I don’t enjoy it.

After posting the first 7 or 8 collages to my IG feed, I was getting some good replies and feedback from followers. That was nice, but when I looked at my profile, I hated it.

From a personal branding standpoint, I feel like I’m in a quagmire of indecision. I’m Dave, but I’m also the Hungry, and the latter is my top priority. However, I am known for being me, the figurehead behind the brand. So when I post my art to my IG profile, it feels almost wrong and weird.

Without thinking too long, I archived all the recent collage posts off the feed, leaving only a few videos with my gray-bearded melon in their place. Instead, I’m now showing my art only in the stories because it’s temporary and feels more authentic.

I want people to experience these pieces in the moment, much like I am. I make them, and their permanence lasts only until I make the next one. They’re all nicely tucked into a sketchbook, but I’m not reflecting on them much. I make the art, take a picture for posterity, and then move on.

Ultimately, this feels more like a meditative act than anything else, and just like meditation, I don’t want to do it in front of others.

I’ll share them with you, though.

I answered my own question

A couple of days ago, I posted this on Threads:

At the time, I meant this as cheeky and fun; I didn’t think I’d get much reaction, but it was one of my more engaged posts recently. Little did I know I was unlocking something for myself with that sentiment.

Creative people crave connection, myself included. We want to sit around the proverbial studio and talk to each other about everything and nothing. Of course, we want to get work done, but what makes the work better is when we have moments to share, commiserate, and learn from each other.

I’ve been kicking around the idea of starting a community around The Hungry for several months, but I haven’t pulled the trigger for a few reasons.

1. To do it right, it’s costly, and I need to invest in advance.

2. It’s scary—what if you hosted a party and nobody came?

Being the guy who always talks about stepping into fear, I’ve backed away from this challenge a lot, but with that post on Threads, I think it’s long past the time to build something valuable for the creative community, whether they show up or not.

The biggest hurdle is providing tremendous value, which I’m taking seriously. When I create a community, I want it to be a place where people want to come and hang out. I want all of us to bring our coffees (or cocktails) and talk about the things that are important to us while also learning to be better and, frankly, sell more stuff!

This week, I’m dedicating every bit of my time to this, and my goal is to announce officially on The Hungry on Friday (fingers crossed). I don’t usually send multiple messages per week from this account, but when the announcement is official, you’ll see it first (and if you’re a Hungry subscriber, you’ll see it there, too).