Ok so I’ve been quiet about this for some time now, and I thought I should break that silence and make this public. (Hey other people are posting art PSA’s, this ain’t new)
We are Artists, We are many
Being a artist on Tumblr alone isnt easy. There are millions of other people doing the exact same thing you’re doing. Amongst all of them you can be overlooked so easily. Now I am familiar with all those PSAs about not worrying about being popular and loving your own art. Thats all well and good, no ones debating that. But we artist want to share our art with the world. We want to show everyone what we can do.
When we receive praise and love for our work, thats the best feeling in the world for us. We all have friends, fellow artists or not, that support us. But here on Tumblr, your art might not get pushed out into the crowd. For myself as an example, I get a 1 reblog for every 10 likes on something. And this is only including when I originally post it. When art post is liked, no one else sees it. Likes stay hidden and don’t appear on others dashes. (And yes, some blog themes do show likes, this I am aware)
Likes are good, but Reblogs do a lot more
When someone reblogs your art, a whole new set of people get to see it. Most of them are people who have never seen your stuff before. For example, whenever Carbines Official WIldstar Tumblr reblogs my Wildstar art, I get bombarded with likes, reblogs even follows! But before that, when I post it in the first place, not much happens. Dont get me wrong, I’m grateful I get anything, but feedback and notoriety is what keeps an artist like me going, and many others as well. Now I may understand that sometimes something someone draws isn’t your cup of tea, that’s alright! But even if you show a little interest, a reblog does a world of difference.
Support your friends, Support those who care
I know this is all sounding a little preachy, but it’s something I needed to get off my chest. There are no complaints, there are no orders, just a call out from all us artists. From the big and professional, to the small and unseen. We all want to share our art with the world, and it can all begin with a reblog.
( I dont think I need to say that everyone should reblog this, it goes without saying no?)
reblogging for awareness
fun fact: a lot of the art I reblog goes to my inspiration blog. Nothing but art there! So follow that too for pretty things~
He waited until the train was in motion to make his move—a true sign of someone who knows how to make the environment work to their advantage. Then he leaned forward. “Hi.” “How you doing?” “What are you reading?” “What’s your name?” “I really like your hair.” “That’s a really nice skirt.” “You must work out.”
It was painful to watch. She clearly wanted nothing to do with him, and he clearly wasn’t going to take the hint. Her rebukes got firmer. “I’d like to read my book.” And he pulled out the social pressure. “Hey, I’m just asking you a question. You don’t have to be so rude.” She started to look around for outs. Her head swiveled from one exit to another.
The thing was, I had already heard this story, many many times. I knew how it would play out. I knew all the tropes. I probably could have quoted the lines before they said them. I wanted a new narrative. Time to mix it up.
So I moved seats until I was sitting behind him. I leaned forward with my head on the back of his seat.
"Hi," I said with a little smile.
He looked at me like I was a little crazy—which isn’t exactly untrue—and turned back to her.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"I’m fine," he said flatly without ever looking back.
"I really like your hair," I said. “It looks soft."
That’s about when it got…..weird.
He sort of half turned and glared back me, and I could tell I was pissing him off. His eyes told me to back the hell away, and his lips were pressed together tightly enough to drain the color from them completely.
But no good story ever ends with the conflict just defusing. He started to turn back to her.
"Wait, don’t be like that," I said. “Lemmie just ask you one question…"
"What!" he said in that you-have-clearly-gone-too-far voice that is part of the freshmen year finals at the school of machismo.
And I’m not exactly a hundred percent sure why I didn’t call it a day at that point, but…..maybe I just love turning the screw to see what happens. I gave him the bedroomy-est eyes I could muster. “What’s your name?”
Right now I’m sitting here typing out this story, and I’m still not entirely sure why I’m not nursing a fat lip or a black eye. Because that obviously made him so mad that I still am not sure why it didn’t come to blows. There are cliches about eyes flaring and rage behind someones eyes and shit like that that are so overdone. But it really does look like that. When someone gets violent, their eyes just kind of “pop” with intention—pupils dilate, eyelids widen. And his did. Even sitting down he was clearly bigger than me and I was pretty sure he was kind of muscular too, so at that moment I was figuring I was probably going to need an ice pack and sympathy sex from my girlfriend by day’s end.
"DUDE," he shouted. “I’M NOT GAY."
That’s when I dropped the bedroom eyes and switched to a normal voice. “Oh well I could see not being interested didn’t matter to you when you were hitting on her, so I just thought that’s how you rolled.”