In the Age of Filtered Creativity, Who Do You Create For?

By Maya Davila

The internet has made creativity a commodity, creating an endless chase to perfectionism and disillusionment from ourselves. Our ability to create has been tainted by the idea that we must share every second of our creative journey for external digestion and approval, rather than pursuing an internal sense of fulfillment. 

Somewhere between striving for individuality yet remaining shackled to trend cycles, we’ve all become embarrassingly alike. In the age of constant curation to remain relevant, is anyone truly authentic?

According to T.S. Eliot’s poem, “Burnt Norton,” the persistent stream of distractions on social media leaves us in “a state of being constantly pulled in multiple directions by different stimuli, preventing any deep or focused thought.” Eliot came for my neck—and probably most of our necks— by stating the blatantly obvious…I couldn’t help but think about how much of my day is spent scrolling on TikTok (more doomscrolling than anything nowadays, thanks America).

We live in an age where, unfortunately, everything is content. Whether consumed or created, we are constantly under a microscope and perceived by our actions, or sometimes lack thereof, when we are online. We have more to consume than ever before, but because of our growing inattention as a result of social media’s abyss, we’ve become masters at multitasking yet lost our ability to properly digest information along the way.

This endless cycle of consumption doesn’t just fragment our focus, it also distorts our emotions and creative instincts. In a space where visibility is now a gateway to building one’s career, social media inevitably brews jealousy. As a creative, there is already an underlying sense of judgment, an unspoken competition that pits us against one another, even when we don’t intend it to. Being chronically online only adds fuel to the fire; the pressure to produce and post has made the creative process feel more like a performance rather than a true act of self-expression. Does our most curated version of ourselves present itself in reality? Or are we truly just living in a fantasy?

Attending the Fashion Institute of Technology introduced me to a plethora of creatives, partly because of my time as a Resident Assistant and participating in one of the largest club organizations on campus. I think one of the strangest experiences was witnessing people forming friend groups based on appearance and aesthetics rather than searching beyond surface level. This took me back to my childhood, when I moved out of Brooklyn and into the unknown…New Jersey.

Embracing my individuality was always encouraged growing up, so when I was dropped in an unfamiliar environment where everyone was white and had nuclear family dynamics, it was a culture shock, to say the least. One of my earliest memories of elementary school in NJ was being made fun of by the boys in my class for having bushy eyebrows, hairy arms, and a pixie cut at 10 years old. I felt ashamed about my appearance and being Hispanic, despite being fair-skinned, everyone around me knew I was different. I began to question if I had to dilute the parts I loved about myself to fit into an ever-shifting standard.

Fast forwarding from the childhood trauma lore, as I moved through high school and eventually made it to FIT, my journey of self-love led me to understand that it’s not my responsibility to fit in for the sake of other people’s comfort. This was not and still isn’t a linear process, but rather just accepting that failure and embarrassing yourself is just a part of life. It’s a cycle of putting yourself out there over and over again, and then gluing yourself back together again in the aftermath, on and offline.

The fear of perception, being scrutinized or misunderstood, often manifests as self-sabotage and procrastination (whether we can admit it or not, we have all been there). We hesitate to act, we overanalyze ourselves, and we edit ourselves down until we are palatable, digestible, and easy to consume. Why? How has something as trivial as an opinion from someone else become so debilitating for our generation? Can we please just do whatever the fuck we want?

At its core, this fear is rooted in losing control of the illusion that if we curate ourselves just right, we can dictate how others see us. But trying to control everyone’s perception of us is time and energy wasted. As American singer-songwriter Christina Grimmie once said, “Confidence isn’t that they will like me, it’s ’I’ll be okay if they don’t.” We don’t owe anyone a version of ourselves that exists solely for their approval. 

To contort ourselves into an image that appeases friends, family, or the broader social gaze simply for the sake of avoiding judgment stunts our growth and hinders us from discovering who we were meant to be. The more we allow ourselves to be seen as we truly are, the closer we get to the fulfillment that comes from within. 

Creativity flows through every aspect of my life, there is simply inspiration all around us. I also think some of our most powerful ideas can come from the most mundane; for me, it’s pigeon-watching while listening to music or even just staring at my wall until something strikes. However, I’ve found myself in phases of burnout, where I bite off more than I can chew and my ego refuses to back down and accept that it’s okay to not say ‘yes’ to everything. The burnout eventually leads to voices in my head that question whether something I’m pursuing is worth the effort in the first place, or even worth sharing online. This is where I fall victim to the very thing I am critiquing. Self-doubt can cause us to have the most crushing moments where we find ourselves asking, “Is this worth it? Why am I doing this?” But if you enjoy it, why not keep indulging…it is passion!

Being outwardly passionate and driven can be misinterpreted as being cocky or full of yourself, but we need to normalize that nonchalance and false humility just isn’t cutting it anymore. We shouldn’t have to apologize for being obsessed over our craft. When we’re being honest with ourselves, it translates into our work and is the ultimate form of vulnerability. I love caring about what I do, and although I’ve been called a ‘bitch’ and bossy and every other name under the sun for trying to push those around me to achieve greatness, the intensity of my dreams is always worth chasing. Authenticity isn’t found in detachment or in mystery…it is in caring. In refusing to apologize or second-guess reclaiming our individuality as creatives.

We grasp onto the qualities and styles of people we admire rather than forging our own paths. Do we actually resonate with what we follow, or are we simply trapped in the fastest-moving trend cycle in history?

Our generation’s obsession with trying to be ‘recognizable’ and achieve peak individuality has led us to become carbon copies of each other. We scroll until we feel suffocated. We tailor our feeds to what will generate the most engagement, filtering creative impulses through an algorithmic lens rather than an authentic one. When we do take the leap to share art that resonates deeply with ourselves, why does it feel soul-crushing if it isn’t met with enthusiasm? When my loyal followers don’t comment or like my work, does that mean I did something wrong?

At some point, sharing our creativity online became less about expression and more about validity, something that is measured in likes, comments, shares, etc. When something doesn’t perform as well as we thought it would, it can feel like a direct reflection of our worth. We start to wonder if we are good enough.

Artists have now become entertainers, not thought provokers. True creativity isn’t rooted in approval, it’s in the act of making something because you felt compelled to. The ones who made an impact were those who didn’t allow external reception to dictate their choices. True, it’s easier said than done. Social media encourages us to create something neat, aesthetically pleasing, and relevant. We internalize that pressure and start to self-censor and second-guess our instincts. We trade in originality for what we think will perform well, even if it doesn’t feel entirely true to us.

The most compelling work I’ve seen online has always lived in imperfection, in rawness, in unfiltered beauty. We shouldn’t strive to create for approval, but to create despite the possibility of failure and rejection. To put something back into the world simply because you felt it needed to exist, because it mattered to you! Real success is found in the simple act of making something that feels honest, and not because you didn’t reach a certain amount of stupid likes, like who cares? (Sorry influencers, I know you probably do.)

At the end of the day, what’s more fulfilling: having your work validated by others or staying true to yourself?