Where there is no gift, there is no art
Where there is no gift, there is no art
Sketching a new path on Bluesky
When I wrote my first newsletter article, I was filled with uncertainty. The perplexing state of social media loomed large, like a messy, overflowing closet I would much rather burn down than clean up.
At first, I didn't know how to approach things differently. However, I was clear about what I wanted and didn't want in my online experiences.
I wanted a refreshing way to interact with people online: wholesome, surprising, and brimming with curiosity that could rival the most curious cat, without the fatal consequences. Conversely, I wanted nothing concerning hate, disinformation, snap reactions, and willful ignorance.
Naturally, my preferences are largely incompatible with many online communities today, which feed exclusively on discordant rhetoric that makes meaningful conversation impossible.
To say that I felt like a tiny boat in a stormy sea of interactions, with no compass, no map, and the ever-present danger of Gladis the orca toppling me over, would be a wildly over-elaborated understatement. I knew that regardless of what I did, my little contribution was just a drop, lost in a vast ocean of information, drowning in social media noise.
But I was given an opportunity by a friend, Paul Bradish. He invited me to a new social media network, Bluesky, which is currently running an invite-only beta. At this stage, many users who have joined Bluesky are Twitter refugees who are as tired as I am with the state of social media. This shared dissatisfaction and a need for a fresh start immediately felt like a perfect fit.
While there have already been concerns in the Bluesky community regarding moderation, trust, and safety, the potential from Bluesky is not just the Bluesky platform but the open-source protocol they are building so that anyone can build a network with their own safeguards.
That said, I’m not looking to join a revolution or leave some indelible legacy in the world of online discourse. I’m not any of the things you might see in the most influential users on a social media site. I’m not a prominent public figure or highly-respected leader in my industry. I’m not a comedian or a skilled shitposter.
But I can draw, and I can work small.
So, I began with an idea:
Where there is no gift, there is no art.
—Lewis Hyde
The way I figure it, if “sharing is caring,” perhaps giving is even better.
I chose, or rather, fell into, the most straightforward, sustainable process: I scrolled for endearing animal photos. When I found one, I would, without warning, draw the animal and share it with the original poster.
These gift sketches were not grand gestures. They were simple yet personal, no-strings-attached drawings, ways of saying, "I see you and appreciate you. Your animal is beautiful.”
Even with a static photo, spending 15-60 minutes closely observing a beloved pet feels like getting to know a unique and beautiful little animal and joining their owner in appreciating a truly one-of-a-kind personality.
If speaking someone’s language is a window to their culture, it felt like drawing someone’s pets was a window to their hearts and a way to connect with them on a deeper level.
The response was wonderful.
People began noticing what I was doing and started requesting drawings. While some were cutesy and fun, the ones that touched me most were the requests to draw beloved pets who had passed away. Creating such a meaningful memorial felt like an immense honor and responsibility.
After drawing 50 animal drawings, I got a little overzealous and openly offered some free sketches:
Note: “reskeet” is a term used in Bluesky, meaning “repost.” Posts are referred to by the portmanteau of “sky” and “tweet” → “skeet.” And yes, everyone is well aware of the innuendo involved.
Counting all the latecomers, I had a queue of 55 animal sketches. It wasn't quite the single day of work I had intended, but it was manageable.
I only completed a few sketches before contracting covid. My productivity dropped significantly, and I felt physically and mentally terrible.
I didn't want to let anyone down.
I let the newly-gained followers know I would be moving slower than planned. Their responses were unanimous encouragement and kindness. Complete strangers wished me well and reminded me to put my health before their drawings.
By the end of my silly stunt, I had drawn 55 animal sketches in 8 days. At this point, the total number is somewhere north of 110 animal sketches (I stopped counting).
I say this with caution, but it feels like my perception of the social media world is undergoing a cleansing. Through each sketch, I not only saw but also felt the living legacy of these animals. And, perhaps more importantly, I witnessed the kindness and love of fellow animal lovers.
The experience has been a joy. Pure, undiluted, and as heartfelt as the kind I hoped to deliver. People reached out to share how much my art had meant to them, their words a humbling echo of the joy that had inspired each sketch. Some people even printed and framed my artwork, a humbling appreciation I never expected.
I didn’t have a specific, measurable goal, so I can’t say whether my experiment was a “success” in traditional terms. However, I wanted to engage in better, more wholesome connections. And I believe, by that metric, I succeeded.
As I go, I know things will change. With a user base of 100k people in Bluesky, largely like-minded in beliefs, by virtue of the invite-only system, there have been relatively few challenges to the peace in the network (compared to, say, Twitter).
I anticipate change and will adapt to it when it arrives, but for now, I will cherish every moment of this peaceful and fulfilling time as I continue doodling animals.
Love these, every time I try to draw my dog I turn out a sketch of a black blob.
What a delightful project! I love all the animal drawings. This sure looks like success to me!