What I Learned Trying to Do It All – Lessons from Hosting the Landscape Art Club

There’s something funny about creative energy — it doesn’t come with an off switch. When I became the host of the Landscape Art Club, I was bursting with ideas. The expanded version of LAC — website, newsletter, forum, monthly challenge — launched in May 2024, and I was determined to make it something special. Weekly prompts, monthly deep dives, blog posts, reference guides, Stories, Reels, DMs, forums, reposts — if it existed, I probably had a plan for it. But over the last year, I’ve learned an important truth: not everything has to stay. And sometimes, letting go is the only way to grow.

Weekly Challenge Overload

In the beginning, I wanted every weekly challenge to feel special. I didn’t want to miss a single submission. There were weeks with over 130 participants, and I was reposting every single entry manually. Fridays turned into all-day online shifts. I wanted everyone to feel seen.

Once, after returning from a work trip to Greece — delayed, sick, and finally home at 9 pm — I stayed up until 3 am to repost entries and close the week. Looking back, I’m both proud… and exhausted just thinking about it.

Even during holiday breaks, when many take a well-deserved pause, I doubled down. I ran a two-week “Christmas Around You” challenge, thinking it would keep everyone inspired — but in truth, it was me who needed the break.

And while I was trying to keep up with everything, Instagram itself wasn’t exactly helping.

Some weeks, the hashtags would break. Posts would stop showing up. Sometimes the algorithm shuffled entries in a strange order — or simply hid new ones from view. I would get DMs saying, “Why wasn’t I reposted yet?” — and more than once, it turned out the hashtag was misspelled or missing altogether. Other times, Instagram flagged innocent posts (like a forest or an elephant) for “violating community guidelines” with no logical reason. And at one point, the LAC account even lost access to certain features, like Collaboration posts, after someone claimed copyright on a publicly available stock image.

Eventually, I had to adjust. I gave myself permission to step back from daily reposting, set clearer submission deadlines, and trust the system I’d built — even if it wasn’t perfect.

And while I’ll always do my best to recognize every artist who joins, I’ve also come to understand that I’m just one person, and this is a human-scale community. I know how disappointing it can be if your post gets missed — especially if you’re just starting out — and I really do care. That’s why the guidelines now gently say: there’s no 100% guarantee, not because I don’t value your work, but because I want to leave space for myself too.

Some people join just for fun. Others hope for visibility. Both are welcome. But my priority will always be to keep this a space that’s kind, intentional, and sustainable — for all of us.

The Monthly Challenge That Grew Too Fast

In May 2024, I launched the first Monthly Deep Dive Challenge — and I was so excited. Each theme (Palms, Waterfalls, Sunsets, Autumn Trees, Cars) came with about 70 curated reference photos. I spent hours searching through my archive of 150,000+ photos, plus stock resources, building collections with care. But it didn’t stop there.

I created guides and categories for each theme, and even started writing art history-based analysis posts using masterpieces from different movements. The idea was to blend education and inspiration.

Some months I wrote six full blog posts (not all of them were even published — but they’re still on my hard drive). All while running the weekly challenge at the same time.

Even choosing when to post was complicated. Mondays for monthly prompts? Fridays for weekly? Same account? Separate accounts? I thought about it constantly — and participated in just two of the five challenges myself.

One of the challenges — initially planned as "Cars and Bikes" — was even split into two. The second part? Fully prepared... and never posted. At some point, I had to face it: this was too much for one person to carry. Just days before the next theme was due, I made the hard but right decision to pause the series. And the longer the pause lasted, the more I knew: it was the best call I could have made.

Forum, Focus Points, and What Evolved

Not everything failed. Some parts simply… shifted.

The forum, for example, launched with good intentions — a space for conversation, critique, and downloads. But after the first month, it lost momentum. Rather than force it, I let it be. It became a place for downloads and high-resolution photos. And now, due to changes on the platform, the forum feature will soon be discontinued entirely. And I also accepted that this feature does not bring a value to a community, so decided not to look for an alternative, at least immediately.

Interestingly, a lot of the research, structure, and theme-planning I used in the monthly challenge helped shape something that did work: the Focus Points you now see in the weekly challenges since January 2025. Those topics — like “dynamic composition” or “light and shadow” — give structure without overwhelming the pace. They were born from the same obsession… just in a calmer, more manageable format.

The Prompt Library (An Initiative I’m Proud Of)

One thing I’m really proud of and something that came directly from my own frustration as a participant — is the Prompt Library on the website.

When I first joined LAC, I was always hunting for old prompts. Scrolling through 6,000+ posts? Not realistic. I tried creating the hashtag #landscapeartclub_prompt and manually added it to the first 70+ challenges. But of course, people began using it incorrectly — accidentally or on purpose — and the whole system fell apart.

I tried using Instagram’s Guides feature — which then disappeared entirely.

So I finally built the Prompt Library on the website. It’s simple, clean, and searchable — organized by chronological order, can be sorted by a category and country. I use it myself all the time, and it’s one of the main reasons I allow for breaks during spring or Christmas: if you’re craving inspiration, there’s a whole toolbox of prompts ready for you.

The Newsletter – My Small but Mighty Link

The newsletter wasn’t something I planned from the beginning. It started as an experiment — a simple way to remind people about the weekly challenge without relying on the mood swings of the Instagram algorithm. But quickly, it became one of my favorite parts of running the Landscape Art Club.

Each week, I send out a short email with a greeting, the challenge details, the reference photos, and a few thoughts from me. And every time I press “send,” I wonder… Will anyone open this? And then — within minutes — I see it. Opens. Clicks. Quiet little signals that yes, someone out there is reading. It feels… intimate, somehow. A little moment of quiet connection between me and you. Not a feed to scroll, not a post to like. Just art — and a gentle reminder that we’re in this together.

The Website – A Space That’s Truly Mine

Instagram is many things — inspiring, fast, vibrant — but it can also be chaotic. Posts vanish, hashtags glitch, stories expire, and features come and go without warning. I still remember when Instagram removed the “Guides” feature just weeks after I started using it to collect old prompts. Or when hashtags stopped showing posts in order (Actually, hashtags are still very unstable and require a lot of patience to scroll through).

That’s when I realized I needed something more grounded. So I built the website. What began as a home for challenge posts slowly turned into something more: a space for long-form blog articles, art theory deep dives, and, most proudly — a Reference Library of old prompts.

There’s something comforting about having a space that isn’t governed by trends or likes. I can arrange the content how I want, highlight the posts that matter most, and redesign it completely if I feel like it. It’s creative freedom — without the pressure. The website is quiet, calm, and consistent — and I believe it has so much more potential ahead.

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Looking back, I don’t regret trying any of these things. Even the ones that failed taught me something. I learned to recognize when "good ideas" aren’t always "good timing". I learned to accept that done is better than perfect — and that community is built with care, not chaos. I learned to protect my energy and take a break, when I need it due to the private life circumstances and for my mental and physical health.

I have more reflections to share soon, especially on focus points and community feedback. But for now, I’d love to hear from you: What have you let go of recently—and how did it help you grow?

Thanks for being here 💜