I had no idea national parks had Yelp accounts—never mind public critics—until early 2020, when a friend tagged me in a cartoony Instagram rendering of the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon National Park. Hand-lettered across this illustration were some surprising impressions of the typically celebrated southern Utah park: “Too orange” and “Too spiky.” I laughed. And then I scrolled the feed—@SubparParks—landing on arguably more absurd pairings (a depiction of Zion with “Scenery is distant and impersonal” and of Sequoia tagged with “There are bugs, and they will bite you on your face!”). 

I’d unwittingly entered the world of graphic designer Amber Share. It all started in late 2019, when the North Carolina–based artist happened across a unique corner of online review culture: one-star reviews of national parks. Naturally, Share started scouring TripAdvisor, Google, and Yelp for single-star gripes. She borrowed inspiration from the inherent absurdity of these reviews, highlighting them via original illustrations, paired with tongue-in-cheek social media captions. Which is how, in the midst of a year when travel and adventure seemed so far out of reach, a subversive travel hero emerged from the annals of the Insta-sphere. 

Brought to us by America’s most iconic and awe-inspiring vistas—and also by the grumpy tourists who are made inexplicably upset by them—Subpar Parks became an Internet sensation, counting over 356,000 followers to date, plus an online store chock-full of posters, postcards, and other merch perfect for park-lovers. Share left her job with a graphic design firm to devote herself full-time to Subpar Parks. The funny fruits of her labor are now even more widely available—even to those who don't have an Insta account. In honor of National Park Month, Plume Books just released Subpar Parks: America’s Most Extraordinary Parks and Their Least Impressed Visitors. Beyond featuring favorites from Share's feed, her first book includes plenty of brand-new hilariously bad reviews in illustrated form, as well as candid conversations with park rangers who’ve shared their zaniest memories and insider pro tips. Subpar Parks concludes with plenty of general etiquette pointers for visiting all variety of public lands. 

I caught Amber Share via phone just prior to her book’s release to pick her brain about her process, her oddball sources of inspiration, and about what’s next in the wild and injurious world of Subpar Parks.

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Sierra: What was the inspiration behind the very first post you created?

Amber Share: Drawing all the parks was a goal I had as an illustrator—I figured all those different landscapes would help me challenge myself. But then I discovered this Reddit thread listing all sorts of one-star reviews. There was one for Arches National Park saying it was ”Nothing like the license plate!” Because I do hand-lettering and was looking for a way to incorporate words into my work—and because I just thought [this review] was so weird and funny—I immediately  wanted to find a way to illustrate it. So I posted that on Instagram in early December 2019. I remember I was visiting my parents for Thanksgiving and finalizing the first few: Arches, Joshua Tree, Grand Canyon, and the Tetons.

So, have you always been a big peruser of reviews? What was your pre–Subpar Parks relationship with review culture?

I’m not a reviewer—I’ve left very few in my life—but after Subpar Parks took off, Google started prompting me to review all sorts of things! I’ve been accused of making up these reviews (I don’t). But a lot of people get really curious about what I’ve posted and then go back and find the original reviews themselves. Once I got going, followers started screen-shotting reviews and sending them back to me from pretty much every park, begging me to please do specific reviews. I almost never use an entire review—some people go on and on about how much they hated a park, but usually I’ll just pull out a single phrase. 

Do you have any insights into the psychology of the person who steps into one of the most rarefied and awe-inspiring settings in the country and decides to go online and tell the world how lousy it is?

The question I keep coming back to is why people are let down. I focus only on the reviews concerning people’s actual experiences of undeveloped nature (I don’t pull reviews of facilities or administration or anything—that’s above my pay grade). I purely look at reviews from people who drink in these amazing views and go, Eh. Who are you complaining to and what are you expecting to come out of this?! I still don’t really know. But I think we all have that impulse in us—to be the curmudgeon who wants to complain and to vent, and be to heard—and if you’re at the end of a vacation that’s maybe gone on a few days too long, and if maybe the weather isn’t optimal, then you kinda take it out of the park. I don’t think the reviewers are that ridiculous, even if their reviews are. And for some people, it’s just Type 3 Fun—they didn’t love it, and it’s never gonna be a happy memory.

What’s your artistic research process like?

I haven’t been to all the US national parks yet, but I have drawn them all—I grappled with that in the beginning, but ultimately I figured, who am I to naysay others’ photos and depictions of, say, how ridiculous Joshua Tree is? For parks I’ve been to, I just use my own inspiration. For some of my pictures, you can’t necessarily find that exact view in the park—the idea is to capture the park’s gist. Others feature iconic features and quintessential landscapes of the park. 

My compositions are intentionally neutral—the colors are exaggerated, but otherwise I’m not trying to make these places look different or fantastical. This summer my friends and I did a month-long road trip, working our way through parks in Arizona and Utah and back east through Rocky Mountain National Park, with even a weird detour to Acadia to pick up a dog. I think that especially when it comes to the parks that are really famous, with iconic views you see pictures of all the time, you think you’ll get it—like, you’ll know what it feels like to be in a place like Rocky Mountain, say, but then when you’re actually there looking out, it’s such a different experience. Even going back to parks I’ve already been to, and getting to see a new part of the park, that awe factor–of being there, and feeling so small—is always surprising to me.

What was the most challenging Subpar Parks illustration you’ve created?

Illustratively, the water-based parks are toughest—Kings Canyon probably took me the longest, and that’s because I drew Mist Falls, this frothy, beautiful raging waterfall that was really difficult for me to capture. The desert landscapes are my favorites; I was already always drawing landscapes inspired by my trips out to the desert, so I’d kind of already landed on and perfected my desert style.

This is probably a tough question, but do you have a favorite US national park?

Grand Canyon has to be my all-time favorite—I think of it as kind of an introverted park in that you have to spend some time with it to appreciate and truly experience it. Most of what makes it so awesome, you have to hike to see. From its rim, you don’t see the Colorado River and you don’t get how alive and diverse it is. But if you really spend some time and commit to it, it’s amazing. I think that’s true of a lot of desert parks.

And I’m always finding new favorites. Because I’m so much more of a desert person than a beach person, I didn’t think I would love Acadia all that much—at first I was like, "OK, it’s a rocky, rugged park but on the coast"—but its gorgeous landscape snuck up on me for sure. I found it incredible.

People ask me all the time how many parks I’ve been to, but I don't know. I think I’ve visited about a third of them over the course of my life, but I'm also not like, "I went to the Everglades when I was four, so I don't need to see it again." I don’t see them as a checklist.

You launched a few months before the COVID-19 pandemic struck the States. Do you feel like lockdown influenced the ways in which your followers engage with Subpar Parks?

There was definitely a shift last summer—I think a lot of parks-lovers were having to grapple with canceled trips. I got so many messages and pictures from people who said my posts sparked memories of their times in favorite parks, or just gave them a way to laugh about not being able to go on a trip they’d planned. It was a nice way for people to come together in appreciation for these places during this strange time.

When did you complete your series of all US national parks?

I wrapped [the then-full roster of 62 parks] around August of 2020. It was like birthing a baby because it took nine months. Afterward I started doing a short international series—some Canadian parks, some UK parks, and Australian parks. But then I refocused on the US in an effort to highlight that there are also BLM lands and tribal parks and national forests—I wanted to showcase a more diverse side of our public lands.

That’s so cool you’re highlighting undersong corners of public lands, especially considering the fact that the national parks are so overcrowded this summer. What do you hope your followers take away from these more recent posts?

I’ve really enjoyed helping people learn about new places they’ve never heard of, and communicating that when you’re going to a new place, you need to do research beforehand. If you’re looking at a national monument, for instance, you’ll encounter different policies, depending on whether it’s managed by the NPS or the BLM. I also just like piquing people’s interest enough that they want to explore new, less-trafficked places.

Do you ever worry about your feed’s potential effects on the overcrowding of popular public lands?

Absolutely. I have enough of a following now that if I want to spotlight, say, Vermilion Cliffs National Monument, I have to ask myself whether I’ll inspire an influx of people that the monument can’t support. At the same time, maybe I can redirect people from a place like Yosemite. I think people feel this pressure to visit the places they’ve seen on Instagram to be a "real" outdoor person. That’s why I try to highlight different parks—to show that you don't have to go see a place just because it's popular. Maybe it’s not your thing and you’ll like one of the less visited spots better.

The thing that weighs on me heaviest is the question of What is my role here, really? I think a lot about inclusion and diversity and trying to make sure we’re mindful that not everyone grew up with the same sort of privilege and entitlement that lets you look at a famous stunning outdoor space and say, "Yeah, I can go there." There’s also a sense of wanting to make sure people are respectful of Indigenous culture. Canyon de Chelly, for instance, is, I believe, jointly managed by the Navajo Nation, and I had a woman in the comments section under my illustration of it talking about bringing alcohol there. So I feel a responsibility to make sure I know enough about these places to help people learn. I can’t know everything! But I try to make sure I can at least point people in the right direction. 

Can you talk about social media’s role pushing people toward that "right" direction?

I think there's often an impulse to shut down something that could potentially cause a problem, but I also think the way to get people to appreciate and respect these places is through more education, not less. So, I’m not retreating anytime soon. It’s been tough sometimes, because throughout this recent trip I went on, I tried to share the experience on social media, and to explain the permit process for various places, and to just generally let people know the things they need to know about different parks. But some commenters were like, "I can't believe you’re sharing this; this is the problem—Instagram is why these parks are overrun!" 

But I don’t think Instagram itself is the problem; I think the problem is the pretty photos with no info about a delicate environment, or about how hard it is to get there. Take last year’s monolith shitshow—people were sharing photos without sharing context about the delicate areas of the desert and about how a lot of it has no infrastructure to support visitors. The culture of the pretty Instagram shot with zero emphasis on education is where social needs to change.

What’s next for you and Subpar Parks? 

People often ask me if I see a natural end to the project, which is tough to think about.… I don’t want it to be the kind of thing that should’ve been canceled in Season 5—so why are we in Season 9?!—but I think there’s still more to be said and highlighted about the different types of parks out there. I’m not really sure what the next project is. I never expected this one to be what it became—and now it’s been my entire professional life for the last solid year-plus.

What’s surprised you most along this unexpected journey?

One of my favorite things I did not expect is the number of DMs [direct messages] I get from people who work in service-based industries who see these reviews and then tell me about the rude customers they’ve had—and I love how they can kinda giggle and tell a funny story after a rude interaction. It’s just reinforced the fact that you can't please everyone, no matter what you do—that you can be the whole package and still be on the wrong porch! It’s been a great lesson and reminder for me: Don’t take your critics too seriously, because everyone has them.