Between Algorithms and Handwork – Where Did Presence Go?
“The truth is, doomscrolling doesn’t nourish me anymore. It doesn’t give me energy. Quite the opposite”
There’s something that’s been taking up more and more space in my thoughts lately. Something I keep returning to as I sit with a cup of coffee, staring out the window, or when I try to find peace amidst the digital noise.
It’s about technology.
And it’s about the analogue.
And most of all – it’s about how we, as creative beings, find our balance between the two.
Today, almost everything happens on social media. We scroll through tiny glimpses of other people’s creativity – reels, tutorials, images – and sometimes forget how much time, heart, and soul actually went into it. Because creating something, even when it’s digital, is often deeply time-consuming. There are countless hours behind the scenes, rarely reflected in the fleeting attention it receives on someone’s feed.
We now have access to AI tools that can assist us with many things – and I don’t underestimate their value. I use them too.
But I can feel a growing longing in me.
For something else.
Something slower.
Something deeper.
The truth is, doomscrolling doesn’t nourish me anymore. It doesn’t give me energy. Quite the opposite. I find myself wanting to spend less time on social media, and more time seeking out things that feel meaningful. Things that actually enrich me.
That’s why I’ve started following people I genuinely find inspiring on a platform called Substack (a platform whwer you can subscribe for the content you want to support and reed deeper). Every week, I receive a newsletter I actually pay for – and that feels right. Because by paying, I also know that the person writing it has poured time, thought, and energy into it. It’s not created to please an algorithm – it’s created to share something real.
And it makes me wonder:
What happens to us when everything we create is measured by likes, views, and reach?
When did it become more important how something performs than what it actually contains?
I’ll be honest – I’ve sometimes thought: “Is it even worth it?”
Because if you don’t hit the algorithm just right, if you don’t follow the latest trends or formats, there’s a real chance your work doesn’t reach anyone. Not even the people you hoped it would speak to.
It’s frustrating.
It leaves you feeling empty.
So I’ve been playing with a thought.
The thought of returning to something a little more analogue – or at least, something slower in pace.
I want to write more.
Create deeper tutorials.
Make content that doesn’t aim to grab your attention in a single second, but instead invites reflection, presence, and immersion.
Is that old-fashioned?
Maybe.
But to me, it feels real.
… if I’m being honest, back in the “old days” – before social media really took off – I spent much more time creating exactly that kind of content.
I want to document the work I pour hours, days, sometimes months into. The beautiful embroidery. The well-developed dress. A new pattern. I want these things to speak for themselves through quality photos and words written in calm – not in a rush.
And here, I’m sitting with a question I’d like to pass on to you:
Could you imagine supporting this kind of content financially?
Maybe through a small subscription, a donation, or some form of membership?
Not for the sake of profit – but to make it possible to prioritize the time and depth it takes to create something of real quality.
Because if I’m being honest, back in the “old days” – before social media really took off – I spent much more time creating exactly that kind of content. Back when the blog was a natural extension of one’s business. A space where you invited people behind the scenes and into depth. It felt natural. Sustainable. Mutual.
Can we find our way back to that?
To a way of being in contact that focuses more on depth than reach?
Maybe it’s a quiet rebellion against the fast-paced.
Or maybe it’s just a longing for presence.
But truthfully – I don’t know if I’m alone in feeling this way.
Am I speaking past everyone?
Or can you recognize something of yourself in what I’m describing?
Do you, too, long for something slower?
Something deeper?
Something that isn’t just in and out in a second?
I would truly love to hear your thoughts.
How do you navigate the balance between digital and analogue in your creative life?
How do you protect your energy, your presence, and your joy in creating?
L O V E Nanna