In 2019, I made the difficult decision to shut down the Instagram account I’d had since around 2011. Over the near decade preceding my decision, I had amassed a decent, though not exactly outsized, following. Despite the app’s acquisition by Facebook in 2012, that following continued to grow organically as the app’s traditional chronological algorithm introduced my photos to new users in real time. I enjoyed the connections I made on the platform during those years — some of my best relationships with models, makeup artists and fellow photographers were formed there, many of which continue today.
But around 2017 or 2018, something changed. The organic following I’d continually grown as an early adopter of the app began to plateau, and reaching fresh eyes began to feel more challenging. The content on the app began to shift as well — where it had once been a haven for visual artists and photographers whose unique styles ranged from photojournalism to documentary to fashion and editorial, suddenly the most prominent content on the app was commercially palatable and homogenous lifestyle photos featuring “influencers.” Large brands had moved onto the platform and content creators were happily pandering to the new aesthetic those brands demanded — in exchange for originality and creativity. The algorithm seemed to promote commercially homogenous content now, while more original or artistic photographic work fell by the wayside.
More than that, though, the photography industry also began to change in the real world — a shift that seemed inspired by the changes I was seeing online, and which felt similar to another shift I’d experienced in 2013 while freelancing for a small, independent local newspaper as a photojournalist. As news articles from larger corporate newspapers became freely available to the public without subscriptions on another app called Facebook — which now owned Instagram — freelance rates dropped, along with subscribers. Working with skeleton crews after rounds of layoffs, newspaper coverage across the country began looking more homogenous — and the quality of older newspapers and magazines began to feel permanently lost in the cheap digital shuffle.
By 2019, I had become accustomed to brands approaching me about doing unpaid work for “exposure” — a request that would have been unconscionable only a decade prior. Freelancers now competed for assignments at basement-level rates, and it was difficult not to wonder what the industry might have looked like if it had been allowed to continue on its original, traditional path.
Although I became savvy at knowing when to say “no” to unpaid work (which was almost always), and I had developed enough legal prowess to ensure that producers wouldn’t try to weasel out of paying me or my models and crew (as many clients had become accustomed to doing), the editorial and photography industries were undeniably in a mess — and nobody could see a way out of it.
After granting an interview to the now-defunct national photo industry magazine PDN in 2019, where I discussed my early adoption of “alternative” social media apps that offered more visibility and support for emerging and mid-career photographers and visual artists, I began to reflect on the things I’d discussed with the editor for that story — including the fact that I genuinely respected the audience on the now-defunct platform Ello.
“I’d rather get five likes on Ello than 500 on Instagram,” I told the journalist — and I meant it.
At the time, I’d said I believed clients expected photographers to have a presence on Instagram, and so I remained on the platform. But as I did more soul-searching in the months after that interview, I began to question my logic. Did I really need to stay on a platform that wasn’t aligned with my values or goals as a photographer? Wasn’t I, in some way, abandoning myself by doing that?
I concluded that I was, and in summer 2019, I deleted my account — and, for half a decade, I didn’t look back.
Earlier this year, though, reeling from a difficult four years that brought the editorial industry to its knees, a friend from Los Angeles suggested that I try getting back on Instagram to see if I could connect with new clients in Detroit, or even nationally. Curious about whether that might work, I opened a new Instagram account in April — and almost immediately, I noticed something was off.
Despite gaining a little over 100 followers in my first month on the platform, my account’s growth came to an abrupt halt in its second month and somehow never grew beyond that initial following in the five months that followed.
My posts typically reached between 20-30 people, sometimes less, almost all of them existing followers. Reaching new audiences felt impossible — and, more eerily, I also felt cordoned off from the rest of the users on the app. My “for you” page was all memes and inspirational quotes, with a few major influencers sprinkled in for good measure. Where had all the artists, bands, photographers and poets gone?
Six months later — down to 97 followers after removing a few spam accounts — I deleted my Instagram account again today. And this time, I’m not coming back.
In my opinion, investing any more of my time and energy into posting on an app that has rendered me virtually invisible to my audience would feel like a fool’s errand. That said, if you would like to continue following my photographic work on social media, you can still follow me on VSCO (where I’ve already been posting for years).
