Cards on the table time. A week today I will be turning on the premium features for this newsletter. These weekly essays will of course always be free but I will be creating additional walled-in material for the Chosen Elite who kindly opt to give me the price of a beer for my wares each month.
The prospect of this makes me nervous, I’ll admit. Very nervous.
Not so much out of fear of failure (or indeed its deadlier cousin fear of success) but because this venture could potentially mean a dreadful thing- that I will soon become a professional content creator.
This is a hideous fate on the face of it. Because, as I have recently been mulling over at some length, this beast called ‘Content’ is the cornerstone of all of the problems of our contemporary world.
A bold claim?
Well let me try and line up all of my intuitions and feelings on it. Try and turn this gut-level hunch into something that resembles vague coherence.
Ready?
Content and Its Discontents
A playlist of instrumental songs is content.
A press junket interview with Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson is content.
A thirty-two tweet long twitter thread about serial entrepreneurship is content.
A meme incorporating Casper David Friedrich’s Wanderer Above The Sea Of Fog is content.
A reaction video reacting to a reaction video in which a vocal coach listens flabbergasted to some Norwegian Death Metal song is content.
Do you see the problem?
Everything now, essentially every form of human expression and creativity and dissent and complaint made public (up to an including this very newsletter) is a piece of content. It’s all the same at root. It’s all so much ballast used to fill the holes in our souls and in our schedules and to help kill time in our extremely online present while real life- whatever that means- goes on some place else.
This content keeps us just above water, existentially speaking. Or it certainly seems that that is its true purpose.
Now that was a heavy few sentences to get through. I overstate the case I’m sure. I project most likely. It’s just that I am completely burned out on ‘content’ (I continually place it in inverted commas to signpost my contempt for it).
I’ve had enough.
See, in a world without distinctions there can be no meaning. There can be no firm ground upon which you can find your footing, let alone build a life. And content is a swampland. It looks firm enough but it offer a no solidity at all.
Content, as hinted at above, is a bland and homogenising force which gobbles up everything in its path- art, photography, the spoken voice, the written word. So rather than being a swamp, it is more like The Blob, an amoeboidal mass that swallows up everything it encounters.
And to kill this beast, or at least to prevent ourselves from becoming its victims we must first try to understand it.
Which will take a little while here. So indulge me. This will make sense in the end.
The Content Of Content
In trying to figure out what it is that bothers me about the world at present- or at least the sad, square world inside screens which can unfortunately take up so much of your time if you let it- I have read a fair few non-fiction books.
They all talk about behavioural addiction and gamification and the perils of unchecked, echo-chamber-facilitating algorithms. This is all well and good, and it is interesting, as far as it goes. But what do these algorithms algorithmize?
You’ve guess it- content.
Content is the meta-problem. Whenever I take an issue that irks me- the state of Hollywood, say, or why the publishing industry rarely produces novels that speak to my experience- and subject it to three or four of those childlike ‘but why?’ questions I invariably end up at the issue of content. The contentification of culture, you might say.
Because ‘content’ isn’t the content itself necessarily. It is a procedure. And this procedure creates a worldview.
Content is transactional. It’s impulse at root is the same as advertising. It is looking to sell you on something. The message behind content is always a covert ‘buy my course’, ‘subscribe to my email list’ or ‘pick up some of my merchandise.’
The fact that this often exists alongside an overt and outright ‘hey guys, make sure to smash that like button and don’t forget to turn on that notification bell’ message is simply a case of insult being added to injury.
See, back in the Camelot heyday of Madison Avenue the wits used to say that ‘advertising advertises advertising.’ Well the same thing goes for content. Content is simply an informercial for itself, for its creator, perpetually and forever. Which is why content binges bring about this vague unease and sensation of being trapped in a mirrored maze where you and your chosen content guru are shouting affirmations at your own refracted and distorted reflections.
It’s all transactional, it’s all advertising. Which is why, when closely examined, so much content has about as much substance and coherence as those fever-dream Johnny Depp fragrance ads where he inexplicably buries his jewellery in the desert like some sadly demented grandmother who has implausibly gained access to a muscle car.
It’s an advert, it doesn’t have to make sense. If coherence and substance and beauty and form are an impediment to getting you to sign on the line which is dotted then they will be nixed without question or regret. Whatever makes the metrics move.
And this is why I am burned out on content. When you are perpetually being bombarded in your lived environment and audio-visual landscape by actual advertisements- billboards, radio spots, sign-twirlers, TVs seen through shop windows- the prospect of unwinding with more ads in your off-hours loses its allure. Once you see content for what it is, and for what it wants, you lose interest in it.
So what, then, is the alternative?
The ‘Artistic Temperament’
Recently, as I have been reflecting on creativity and money while I build up to turning on the premium newsletter money tap, my mind has turned to that age-old idea of ‘selling out’
I am dead against the cliches that artists are destined (or should even welcome) the prospect of poverty and purity in some musty riverside garret. I think that real artists don’t starve. I think that’s what defines a real artist.
But. The purity question is a nagging concern. No compromise, no quarter. You’re with me or you’re not. You get it or you don’t. That kind of rhetoric.
Now this kind of bordering-on-self-destructive obstinacy and digging in of heels is a cliche of the artistic temperament. It’s almost as widespread as the aforementioned garret misconceptions.
So why is that?
Well, I would argue that this is because Art- in procedure, in intention, in temperament if you like- is the opposite of content.
Content is a transaction presented as utilitarian exchange, art is an emanation of the spirit presented as a gift. These are two fundamentally different modes of being and as such lead to two fundamentally different kinds of end product.
This is where fear of selling out comes from. And it is reasonable. Before we even had the internet-birthed homogenising buzzword, the fear of selling out was rooted in the artists concern about degenerating into a mere ‘content provider.’
The ensuing filthy lucre is to the artist a mere symbol of the descent, not the cause of the problem itself. It’s symptom and not disease, byproduct and not root cause. It’s only a rare artist who wouldn’t want to be rich if they could gain the wealth on their own terms, without having to compromise the work or themself in some way.
I think also, incidentally, that when people dismiss certain genres of art (visual or otherwise) as being crap such ideas are at the root of it. I don’t believe that audiences particularly care about the level of objective talent and skill it takes to make a piece of art. But even (or especially) an unsophisticated audience can smell BS and can sense when something that calls itself art is really a transactional money-grab.
Hence why all of that YBA art was peddled by an Adman like Saatchi and why your Everyman instinctively dislikes it. The Everyman senses that someone is trying to pull the wool over his eyes and that there is no meaning to it because the gift-giving mechanism is absent. And he’s not wrong.
The Triumph Of The Shill
I want to avoid misunderstanding now that I have gotten onto the subject of money. I say art is a gift and content is a transaction. And I stand by this. But the distinction is rooted in intent and not what the respective creators bank balances look like at the end of the quarter. Understanding this is crucial to understanding my point.
It’s possible to make content and make no money. Further, it’s possible to make mere content without even the aim of making money. But there is always a transaction being sought- usually in the form of fame or internet points.
Don’t forget to smash that like button.
Content wants something from you, that’s what defines it. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. It’s just a question of domains that is the issue, of content masquerading as art- or at least as being art-like- while still seeking that transaction to take place.
This is the downside of the death of the gatekeepers. You as artist have to hock your own wares now. You as artists have to make content to advertise the art. You play the gig but you also print off the flyers beforehand. And the commingling of these two domains gets very blurred and very confusing and that is how so many would-be artists slide down the slippery slope of becoming jaded hacks and cynics (I believe the labelling of oneself as a ‘creative’ or ‘content creator’ are two common ways of inadvertently signposting this sad slide).
In the bad old days, you would be exploited by a rapacious and comically lopsided contract but at least the marketing department took care of the ‘content’ side on your behalf. You just had to show up- invariably wasted and/or dishevelled- to some junket or press event once in a while.
Now we are all our own marketing departments, for good or ill. And ‘how do you aggressively sell something you are offering as a gift?’ is more zen koan than brainstormable business problem.
Hence why content ascends and the shills triumph. Because ‘I’ll scratch your back and your scratch mine’ is easy. It’s sellable. The fact that in such a transactional world everyone ends up sore and bleeding and itching is an unfortunate side effect.
Like I said above, content is a procedure and the procedure creates a worldview. And that worldview is centred around the quid pro quo. Around the idea that everything and everyone is out for themselves and that they are selling you something. They have motives- money-making motives- which they wrap in the mesmerising, criticism-erasing techniques of ad-copy.
And that might be objectively true. Everything might essentially be for sale. But a worldview such as that is damaging. A world like that is hard to live in.
And in a world where all backs are red and raw and bloody from the scratching the only salve is art. Because a gift asks for no gift in return.
Art Therapy
So you see the problem. As the engulfing amoeba of content grows the conditions for art become less likely. Reticent gift-givers are crowded out by the stentorian carnival barkers with their content sideshows.
But there is hope. Awareness can set you free. As consumer, simply understanding the two domains means you have won a fair portion of the battle. Realising that you are oversaturated with content (something that exists to get something from you) and are undernourished with art (something that simply is) is a quick fix. You just amend your inputs and see the difference.
This is why I am dismayed whenever I seek book recommendations via my twitter account (I know, I should know better by now) and rather than being pointed in the direction of art (novels, poetry, stories) I am given well-meaning but infuriating suggestions for book-bound content (self-improvement and self-help nonsense, pop-psychology, rampant TED talk friendly best-sellers and their ilk).
I realise that so much of my own content (up to and including this very piece you are reading right now) is concerned with pointing people away from content and towards art. Which in the list of activities sits somewhere between fools errand, rank hypocrisy and those slightly-too-on-the-nose karmic punishments that are the preserve of the type of classic fiction that the Content Brained are sadly oblivious too.
You can call me Tom Quixote.
Yes, I am an artist in the gift-giving sense. Yes, I do realise that making content- to a greater or lesser extent- is a necessity for the contemporary artist, as unfortunate as that may well be. Yes, this thing you are reading is an example of content. Yes, its implicit aim is to get you to subscribe and maybe even give me money.
No, I don’t feel bad about this because I am at least being honest and primarily trying to entertain you here. Yes, I will be focusing more on art from this point onwards. Yes, I do feel good for having gotten some of these concepts and distinctions and qualms off my chest, thank you for asking.
And Yes, I do think this piece has now gone on for long enough now and yes I am aware that ending this on a ‘sign up to my newsletter’ call to action would both undermine my point but also be pretty amusing.
So perhaps that’s what I’ll do as a final reminder that content can be great but content is transactional and it wants something from you. Enjoy content from time to time, but keep it in its place, in the background behind actual art and actual attentive experience in the world itself.
And if you agree with this make sure to smash that like button and let me know in the comments!
Until next time,
Live Well
Tom.
> Ever wondered why those Netflix originals are full of narrative holes, incoherence and unbelievable characters and yet people love it?... We know how and when to shock the viewer/reader, we know what to feed a certain segment of the population. Art is not a guaranteed investment, precisely because it requires more than just a methodic approach.
A counter question: Notice how even the mainline critics now are neither well versed in spotting them (e.g. "games journalism" in its failed intentions, Rotten Tomatoes v Audience), OR they point to such insufficiencies when it is necessary (e.g. limits of the medium, resource constraints)? Is there even a reason for this, since artists know they are being forced to do so, and the audience are being dull with fat wallets?
P.S. The Menu is some sad stuff about every kind of artistic mess-up from the focus of disillusioned artists against critics and blind audience. Let's just say that this is the angry westernized version of the King of Cookery by Stephen Chow https://holapapi.substack.com/p/the-menu-serves-up-creative-class
> You want proof of that? When did "content" exploded? When the first smartphones were introduced... 2007
The same complaints applies for all forms of new media when they arrive, like radio and the newspaper. The alternative hypothesis is that whenever the economy is becoming excessively unequal, mass media gravitates towards content (serialization and metamedia) whilst high art of antiquity gets put on a pedestal (vaporwave archeofuturism). If this theory is true, then the 1910 era of radical equality would lead to a bourgeois "degenerate art" (more content-ish) boom paired with a public that prioritize quality content (more art-ish). https://peterturchin.com/age-of-discord/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Degenerate_art
But to further further back to the 1840s and 1850s of a previous era of excessive inequality, the last era has a lot of weird development: the industrial evolution is nearing its end with the invention of vulcanized rubber, petroleum distillation, Bessemer's steel, and faster logistic technologies; bio-hacking becomes appealing e.g. Darwin's evolution, Mendel's genetics, and Snow's epidemiology (maybe even Marx and Engels' social theories too); literalist religious sects are getting embarrassed by bad predictions e.g. Succession crisis and Great Disappointment; political activism becoming more common e.g. Slavery Abolition, Women's Suffrage, Indian Mutiny, Taiping Rebellion, and Springtime of Nations; income tax and philanthropy is changing the economy.
In this time period, Kierkegaard's existentialism (on the right) and Marx's materialism (on the left) are on its rise. The media landscape of that time consists of: very wholesome tales from Charles Dickens, "sigma/schizo" satire from Edgar Allen Poe, hustle porn from Samuel Smiles, financial news from Reuters and The Economist, quit quitting from Herman Melville, true crime from "George Eliot" (pen name for a fujo), pop-sci from Scientific American. For some reason this zoomer-speak caricature of this era weirdly make sense, or maybe I am just seeing things IDK.
> I also think content is so popular these days because nothing is "stand alone" anymore; everything must be trans-media... if you're an artist, you HAVE to pump out "content" to stay in the race, always degrading your art a little more in the process (since we know long periods of deep work, free from distractions, are necessary to create anything of value).
Something from Venkatesh Rao AKA Ribbonfarm: we are exiting "High Kairos" (time period equivalent to Turchin's start of the "Ages of Discord"), and within this iteration of the 200~220 year cycle as the "Great Weirding" of 2016-2020, things will more likely be defined through chronologies (clock time), rather than through canonical events. With this within an unequal and impoverished world, the diverging Bergsonian subjective worlds (increasing preference for multiverses) is displaced by the necessity for co-ordination through objective singular reality (narrative-proof data-based history). https://archive.ph/hoqHM https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/clock-time-event-time/
Rao also hypothesized that the Marvel Consoomer Universe is an ossified polytheism, and that devotion/fandom displaces morals, autonomy, and creativity. Conversely western monotheistic "resistance art" is impossible since it is incapable to create a multiverse by its design. https://archive.ph/Lhl1l https://www.ribbonfarm.com/2015/01/16/on-the-design-of-escaped-realities/
Thank you for putting this feeling into words. I have been struggling internally to resolve this problem for myself. As someone who writes things to invoke emotions, I keep getting blocked by the pressure to create content.
"It's not worth anything if no one reads it", they say. If having a large audience is more important than good writing and the way to grow audience is pushing out more content, then the audience you are building is just looking for more content rather than good writing isn't it? At other times it feels like not everyone can appreciate art, but in order to get to those who can you need to show it to as many as you can.
In the end, the purpose of art is to share something deep inside of yourself in a way which is genuine and unwavering. The purpose of content is to reach inside others to share things that are generally agreeable and relatable to them.