|from Edward Gorey's Gashlycrumb Tinies - because I can.|
Instagram's a funny old thing. I recently started using it after I heard someone talking about how it was a GREAT tool for promoting one's business (www.sophandson.com) particularly image based businesses (like mine). It dawned that I may well be missing a really fabulous (not to mention) free means of putting my artwork "out there". So, resurrecting my elderly and dormant account, I fumbled about in the unfamiliar architecture and got myself to posting the odd design.
And while I tried to get the hang of hashtags and filters, enter stage left Puppy Pluto. And well, you know, animals and Instagram go together like dog-sausage* and stinking farts (sorry to be uncouth). So before I knew what had happened I had daily Instagram fodder. And new people "liking" my pictures. And it was good and fun.
|Puppy Pluto, 10 April 2015|
Every time the phone would ping to advise that someone new had "liked" a picture I'd experience a happy and expectant little tingle and I'd click on their name, be they oskarcutiepaws, xplosivepants666, marsiegarcia, cultapparel or getlikesalot (no judgements here) to see who they are and whether I'd like to follow them...
What I found was largely unexpected. Sure, there were a number of entities who fitted the demographic I expected my artwork and/or puppy photos would appeal to – which is cool and makes sense. But there are also
- a disproportionate number of very saucy ladies with photos of their bikini'd bottoms and close ups of their bosoms, at dusk, at the beach;
- several continental and middle-eastern young men with what I can only imagine are aspirational stock images of luxury cars, jet planes and extreme close ups of their three day growths (very manly!);
- a few very enthusiastic and seemingly successful American Pentecostals with only a couple of posts but thousands of followers (not that I'm impressed by numbers but how do they DO that?);
- more foodies than you'd think;
- quite a few party girls who post photos of themselves drinking a lot with their party girl, gal pals; and
- quite a few stoners with pics of smokey, hazy, leafy, darkened rooms.
*Dog sausage is not sausage made from dog (heaven forbid) rather, it is that rolled meat stuff that used to be called Chub and smells like hell - and that's before it's even been through the dog's digestive tract.