Dissecting the unreal

I have a love–hate relationship with Facebook. Actually, if I’m honest, the love part is questionable...I usually call it Arsebook.

But like many artists trying to get work out into the world, social media is the trial by algorithm we have to endure. The platform has changed dramatically in recent years, and not for the better. I post very little on my personal page now, and my art page mostly mirrors Instagram. I can’t be bothered scrolling through endless adverts just to catch up with distant friends, and my posts clearly don’t reach them anymore anyway.

My news feed is now just that - “news” - or, in its truer forms: bullshit, rage-bait, or if I’m feeling generous, utter nonsense. I don’t follow the news for a reason, but the system still tries to shove it under my door like a passive-aggressive calling card. But I digress…

A wee while ago though, something new happened. I actually deleted a post. And it wasn't because I'd had a hissy fit. Look, I make art and I know full well that my work will resonate with some, and for others it won't. That’s how myth and frequency work, and I’m fine with that. We’re not all tuned to the same wavelength.

But when I shared my most recent finished work in an art group, I wasn’t prepared for what unfolded. I checked the post later. It had some engagement (a miracle on Facebook without paying tribute to the algorithm gods). But the comments section? A full-blown debate had erupted about the anatomical correctness of a man–deer hybrid...yep you read that right.

A mythical creature.

Painted.

By an artist.

“I think the head shape is wrong,” said one.

“Maybe the ears are too big,” said another.

In that moment, I realised we have reached peak absurdity. The old world is staggering around in its death throes, and yet here were grown adults arguing about the realism of something that doesn’t exist...perhaps the archetypal gaze hit a little too close to home.

So I took the sovereign path, muttered “not today, Satan,” and hit delete. Some things are too ridiculous even for Arsebook.

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