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Paradigm 2025
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For the past six months, I’ve been trying to expand my reach through Instagram, following different strategies. My girlfriend, who successfully sells through Instagram and Telegram, had a more popular, well-defined product. I tried her approach.
Instagram is essentially a shopfront where sellers showcase products, engage audiences, and build a persona. But it didn’t work for me. I wanted to sell Alevtina and Tamara, but organic reach was a major issue. My account had 6,000+ followers, yet only 300–400 were active. The rest were dead weight, disrupting the algorithm. Manually cleaning them up felt impossible.
Promotion felt crude, aggressive. I even created a new account, but Instagram does nothing for new profiles unless you bring an audience yourself. I didn’t want to transfer followers—they were more interested in me than my work.
I also mass-produced reels, hoping to break through. But they became dull, indistinct—just another weird pie with unknown filling, not enticing enough to grab attention. Frustration set in; I was wasting time on content that disappeared into the void.
I had to accept that I create strange things for an unclear audience. My therapist and I discussed this—who am I making this for? My work is deeply personal, exploratory. I create to connect ideas, to invent something that makes my own hair stand on end.
Instagram is essentially a shopfront where sellers showcase products, engage audiences, and build a persona. But it didn’t work for me. I wanted to sell Alevtina and Tamara, but organic reach was a major issue. My account had 6,000+ followers, yet only 300–400 were active. The rest were dead weight, disrupting the algorithm. Manually cleaning them up felt impossible.
Promotion felt crude, aggressive. I even created a new account, but Instagram does nothing for new profiles unless you bring an audience yourself. I didn’t want to transfer followers—they were more interested in me than my work.
I also mass-produced reels, hoping to break through. But they became dull, indistinct—just another weird pie with unknown filling, not enticing enough to grab attention. Frustration set in; I was wasting time on content that disappeared into the void.
I had to accept that I create strange things for an unclear audience. My therapist and I discussed this—who am I making this for? My work is deeply personal, exploratory. I create to connect ideas, to invent something that makes my own hair stand on end.
some reels from instagram
Eventually, I realized my audience isn’t people who can be "sold" something—they need to find it themselves, become intrigued. They have a curious mind, a love for the unknown. The weirdness of my work is its value. Age doesn’t matter—some are in their 20s, others in their 50s.
Almost a year has passed since I printed the book, 9–10 months since sales started. The biggest push came from an event—huge thanks to ArtNow Agency.
Feedback has been rare but deep—some people broke the book into quotes, some made it their “personal mirror.” I’ve seen joy, even tears—not sadness, but something more complex.
Now, I’m stepping back from actively pushing Alevtina and Tamara. It will stay in the shop, but I won’t force it.
I’m also leaving Instagram—it feels too aggressively market-driven. Posting endlessly, hoping for something that never comes, is pointless.
Instead, I turned to Reddit and BlueSky. Then a friend suggested something insane—making my own blog. I remembered Peter Watts’ site and built mine on Tilda in three days.
It feels more complete, calmer than social media. Competing with big platforms is tough, but here, I can express myself without others waving flags about how to do things “right.”
We’ll see how it goes.
Almost a year has passed since I printed the book, 9–10 months since sales started. The biggest push came from an event—huge thanks to ArtNow Agency.
Feedback has been rare but deep—some people broke the book into quotes, some made it their “personal mirror.” I’ve seen joy, even tears—not sadness, but something more complex.
Now, I’m stepping back from actively pushing Alevtina and Tamara. It will stay in the shop, but I won’t force it.
I’m also leaving Instagram—it feels too aggressively market-driven. Posting endlessly, hoping for something that never comes, is pointless.
Instead, I turned to Reddit and BlueSky. Then a friend suggested something insane—making my own blog. I remembered Peter Watts’ site and built mine on Tilda in three days.
It feels more complete, calmer than social media. Competing with big platforms is tough, but here, I can express myself without others waving flags about how to do things “right.”
We’ll see how it goes.
