Lessons in Curating
I don’t know about you, but the word “curate” can bring up some weird feelings for me. I tend to think of curated Instagram feeds and highlight reels, people cherry-picking perfectly photoshopped images to put forward, reality be damned. As a verb, though, curate simply means, “to select the best or most appropriate, especially for presentation.”
Using that definition, wouldn’t it be safe to say that curation is an essential part of making art, sharing art, and even caring for our artist selves?
Curating as an Artist
In 2015, in an effort to cure a serious case of the blahs, I signed up for an in-person photography workshop in San Francisco. At the time—from an outside perspective—my little side hustle was relatively successful. My clients were happy. My website was lovely. Every December, I received 15-20 Christmas cards featuring glossy photos of everybody smiling that I myself had taken.
But I couldn’t shake my own discontentment, my own lack of pride in my work. I felt like I was shooting the same scenes over and over again. The same families, the same open fields, the same matching Zara outfits, the same poses. Always golden hour. Always a sun flare in mom’s hair. Everyone run toward me and fake laugh!
“These aren’t the kinds of photos I want to take,” I sighed, pulling up my photography website to show the instructor.
I attempted to explain how much I wanted to photograph families at home. More real life, less posing in fields. More candids, less glamour shots. I wanted my photos to be messier and grittier and not so styled.
She looked at me, looked at my portfolio, and asked a simple question: “If that’s what you want to shoot, why don’t you have any photos of families at home on your website?”
I looked at my portfolio on the screen and saw what she saw: the exact work I said I didn’t want to do. The instructor went on to explain that what I showcase on my website will directly affect the type of clients I book in the future. If I only show glamour shots in pretty fields, I will only attract clients who want that type of imagery.
Thinking back on this memory, my error was so painfully obvious. This was my first lesson in the power of curation: in realizing that I could strategically choose what to show—and what not to show—to establish myself as the artist I actually wanted to be, and to make more of the creative work I actually wanted to make.
As a photographer, not only do I carefully curate what appears in my portfolio, I also curate each session that I give back to my clients, picking the best images to give back to them. A couple of years ago, I hired a photographer to take pictures of my family and was both overwhelmed and disappointed when she gave us back an online gallery of 200+ photos. One might think it’s great to have so many options, but over half the photos were throw-away images. Someone’s eyes were closed, or the image was out of focus, or four photos were exactly the same, just cropped slightly differently. Instead of curating the online album before sending it back to us, she put that work on me. Not only was that work time-consuming, it also diluted my overall perception of the gallery. Instead of being wowed by 80 gorgeous images, I had to sift through 100 bad photos to find the ones I actually liked.
Curating our creative work—whether paid assignments or something we’re offering to the world for free—is one way we can define our artistic voice, and also care for the people who interact with our art.
This strategy goes against the more-more-more “post every day for best engagement” rules of social media, but opting for quality over quantity usually makes for a better experience, both for the creator and the consumer.*
Prompts & Exercises
Take a look at your own creative portfolio. Which pieces of work represent you best? On Instagram you can “pin” three posts to the top of your profile. Scan your last 20-30 posts. Which photos and captions represent you best, as a person and artist? Pin the top three. (You can also do this on Substack!)
If you’re a photographer or other type of visual artist, when was the last time you assessed your portfolio? Take a look at your current body of work and consider subtracting anything that doesn’t fit your current voice and artist statement/mission.
If you have an About Me page on your website, blog, or Substack, consider creating a “start here” guide, linking to 3-5 of the posts that you’re most proud of and best represent you.
Curating as a Consumer
Roughly ten years ago, I jumped on the capsule wardrobe bandwagon and never looked back. At the time, I was postpartum with my second baby, nursing around the clock, and—this is not an exaggeration—50% of the clothes in my closet were unwearable. Half my wardrobe either 1) didn’t fit my postpartum body, or 2) didn’t allow me to breastfeed easily. Cue the meltdown. The act of sorting through dozens of unwearable options each day was making me crazy (and a bit depressed).
Finally one afternoon on a whim, I simply removed everything I couldn’t wear in that season. Too-tight jeans. Shirts that didn’t stretch or open. Fancy clothing I used to wear to a job I no longer had. At the end of the afternoon, my closet looked bare, but better. I was staring at limited options, but all of the options were good. From that day forward, getting dressed was a breeze. Open closet. Look at things that fit. Put something on. Move on with my day. IMAGINE THAT.
If curating our creative work helps establish our voice and care for our readers and audience, curating what we consume (clothes, media, etc.) helps us care for ourselves and our artist hearts. Think about it: if you had less decision fatigue, less noise, and less mental overwhelm, would your art benefit? I know mine would.
Prompts & Exercises
If you have the time and bandwidth, I highly recommend emptying your entire closet and doing a full analysis of every item. If that feels stressful or overwhelming to you, try the hanger method! Less time figuring out what to wear each day = more time to spend making art.
When was the last time you did a full audit of who you’re following online? What voices are speaking to you on social media? What podcasts are you listening to? Have you subscribed to too many emails? What content is edifying and encouraging you? What content is fostering fear, anxiety, anger, or jealousy? Consider taking some time to analyze the accounts, people, and brands influencing you on a daily basis. Is there some pruning to do?
Similarly, when was the last time you did a full audit on the apps, platforms, and streaming services you subscribe to? Have you stretched yourself too thin?
I’m sure I’m not the only one who hasn’t been able to pull off a Virginia Woolfe inspired “room of one’s own.” But do you have a creative space to call your own? I have a tiny desk in my room, roughly three steps from the bathroom, that is all mine. And while it’s small, indeed, I still take pride in that area. Wallpaper. Shelves. Art and candles and pretty knick-knacks I’ve collected from thrift stores. Wherever you create, whether you have an entire home office to yourself or a modest nook off the kitchen, how can you better curate the space to inspire you? Maybe you need to subtract a few things, or add a few things. Either way, consider “selecting the best” objects, books, postcards, etc to inspire your creative work.
*A small disclaimer on this: sometimes we can swing the pendulum too far in the other direction, where we become obsessed with only sharing our “best” work, aka: perfectionism. Balance is important here. Sometimes you gotta call something good enough and share it anyway.
