Art Fizzle

I don't remember how it started, but last year around this time, when I was depressed and disillusioned following Patreon's really unprofessional and inappropriate handling of me, I started following a group of nude artists on Twitter. "Spaces" (where people connect on Twitter and have audio group chats) were becoming popular, and I became enchanted listening to other people talking about things related to creating nude art that I thought I was the only person in the world who experienced. It didn't even matter that these people were heavy into the NFT scene - which to this day I don't fully understand. It was the first time I'd ever felt connected to a community, and not just a lone, outsider artist. And they accepted me not just as a photographer of nudes, but as an erotic artist as well - something that the nudist community I used to follow never ceased to berate me about.

I was a lurker at first, listening in to conversations others were having - as is my personality. But when they started talking about organizing an artist's retreat, where photographers and models in the nude genre (with a heavy representation of artists specializing in "nudes in nature", which is something I've been focusing on lately) would get to meet and collaborate, I saw it as a unique opportunity for me to finally expand my horizons beyond self-portraiture. But I figured that in order to participate, it would be appropriate to actually be a part of the community, and not just a hanger-on.

So I made an effort - and it embarrasses me to admit how much of an effort this was - to overcome my limitations as a sufferer of crippling social anxiety, and participate in these audio group chats, so that the others could have a chance to get to know me. And it worked, for a while. I can't describe the severity of the physical and mental symptoms I experienced due to the stress and anticipation of joining these conversations. Some days, I just couldn't overcome it. Other days, I got up there and spoke, while shaking uncontrollably from the fear. I want to say that it was a good experience for me. I forced myself well outside my comfort zone. But it was torture. And as time went on, it became apparent that no amount of pushing myself would make up for my fundamental lack of social skills. In the long run, what I was getting out of it wasn't worth the suffering I was putting myself through.

But that's after the carrot was pulled away from me. I did all this with the thought in my mind that it would be worth it, for the opportunity to meet some of these people in person, collaborate with them as artists, and grow and overcome some of my limitations in the process. But as the weeks marched inexorably along, planning for this "artist's retreat" was almost non-existent. There was no sense of urgency or of the importance of making firm decisions in a timely fashion from this deliberately laidback group of artists. And I wasn't in any kind of position to keep them on task - even if I could. So the date came and went, and after sacrificing my own summer vacation that year in order to remain flexible up to the last minute, what was supposed to be a retreat for artists turned into, as far as I can surmise, a private shoot between one of the photographers and one of the models. (I don't disparage them for getting some use out of the time they must have set aside, but where was the consideration for the rest of us?).

Anyway, the whole community kind of fizzled out after that. Spaces died down to a large degree. NFTs are as volatile as they've ever been. The artists are still out there, hawking their art. In fact, a lot of them have Patreon accounts now, which just rubs salt in my wound. I'm disappointed, because it felt like we really had something going for a little while, and now it's all gone. Nothing has changed. And I'm right back where I've always been. Even Twitter itself is losing interest for me - again - this time largely on account of the toxicity of the trans movement. Whenever I support trans issues, the response I get is always a heartbreaking silence. Until I dare to exercise some of my critical thinking skills. Question any aspect of trans dogma, and activists will dogpile you and doubt your allegiances. I suffer more harassment from people who should be my allies than I do from transphobic bigots. Is it too much to ask to be treated with respect, even when you don't blindly follow a script? Haven't I earned it? This is why I don't like aligning myself with any groups. "The individual is the smallest minority." Guess I'll be a loner to the bitter end.