Art Matters
đź‘‹ Hello again, my friend.
We're supposed to be living at the precipice of The Future, and the best thing I did this year was subscribe to a print edition of a satire website that is 30 years old.
When The Onion arrives in the mail, my kids fight over who gets to read it first. Sometimes they get the jokes – oftentimes, they don't. But they can feel the authenticity of the effort. I work in AI, at the bleeding edge of technology, and this is my biggest product win from 2025: a paper object.
I'm not sure if it's a midlife crisis or whatever, but I have been abjectly bored of the internet. And not just the scrolling type – I got rid of those long ago. I mean the entire effort. Every new streaming show is boring, every new movie is treacly and expected. Hell, even our “disruptor” President’s outrages don’t land anymore — they’ve become reruns. I’d chalk it up to aging out of the moment, if nearly everyone I mention it to didn’t nod in instant agreement. Each path already worn.
I have a tingly feeling on the back of my neck that we are the end of something, and the beginning of something else. And what's more, we– heck, I – need to rediscover why we're doing whatever the hell we're supposed to be doing in the first place. We need to go back to the beginning, as we are lost.
We currently live in an age of insta-grokking. By B2C social metrics, a social media impression that doesn’t prompt action in under 3 seconds is considered an abject failure. Netflix bases its new shows on data, publishing houses use data to make publishing decisions. Response metrics, Net-Promoter scores, app store reviews, user feedback, ad nauseam. We are awash with giving others what they want, yet for diminishing returns. If you feel like you are in an era of being both too full and too hungry, you are not alone.
I have recently been retreating and watching old movies from the times before this mania. I have been playing old video games. I have been reading old books and listening to old music. As a result, I have been consumed by a single big picture question:
What if getting what we want isn't the end goal?
This is a weirdly holiday message, but turned on its side, as appropriate for these looking-glass times we are living in. By giving others what you have to give, you give them what they don’t yet know they crave.
Everyone wants to know what you want. Let's go back to reframing this. I would like to gently tell everyone that I want to see something genuine. I want to see what's inside of you, not what I think I want.
Next year, give yourself a gift: make whatever the fuck you want. Don't worry about who will like it. Don't worry about who will buy it. Don't worry about whether someone understands it. Make what is in your heart. You have my official permission to tell everyone else to step off.
I'm always at a disadvantage in any argument about art, because most of my deeply held beliefs are exactly that – beliefs. In an age of provable data-battleships, I am always rowing backwards in a leaky feelings-rowboat. But here's what I know to be true: Art matters. Physical media matters. Hands and touch and hugs and stitching things together matter. Feelings matter, and emotion matters, and the things that are not convertible into data matter.
Go make shit. Happy Holidays.
XO, Joe
🎙️ Programming Note: My day job is working on a piece of ed-tech that helps students who struggle with focus. Take a look, and let me know what you think!
❤️ Like what I'm doing? Thank you! Tell your friends! This blog is totally free, but available only to members. Make sure to add me to your contacts list!