I began blogging because Dawn Benedetto insisted that a modern artist must go viral. Apparently, websites are not enough. I joined Facebook for the same reason. I draw the line at Twitter, believing it to be an offense to language. I don't text for the same reason.
My blog is not a true artist blog. I don't discuss techniques or analagous color schemes. If someone asks, I would be happy to tell them. But no one has. The Blogger 'leave a comment' section is difficult to use. Artist block comes up now and again, but I am more likely to grouse about tenants of our summer house or my son's dog. I try to be droll.
Do I like Blogger. No. Blogger appropriates your images as their own, with the feeble warning 'Images may be subject to copyright.' May?#?!? It is open season for pirates. (I say this as one whose images were hijacked and displayed the walls of a fish restaurant in Singapore. A woman from Hong Kong recognized my work from International Artist Magazine and sent me cellphone images.)
I have never sold a painting from my blog. I don't know who reads it, though apparently I am big in Russia, Pakistan and Malawi. The few members of my family who read it, do so sporadically.
The benefits of blogging are purely selfish. I used to write novels and food books. When I discovered pastels, I stopped writing immediately. (That and the lack of hue and cry from the publishing world.) Later when I had to write about my painting I found it incredibly difficult. Writing is a different 'muscle' than painting. After 20 years of apparent ease, I had to work at it. So blogging helps keep the muscle toned. I enjoy the process.
I try to blog at least twice a month. I am up to 101 posts. During my solo art league show, Erica Fortwengler, the publicity director, insisted that I blog everyday. It was a nightmare.