The Internet Is Loud (and It Has No Plans to Lower the Volume)
She goes online with a modest intention: to encounter something genuinely interesting.
Within seconds, that aim is overtaken by instructions.
A video begins without invitation.
An item she already owns is reintroduced as a necessity.
A stranger with conspicuous efficiency is suggested as someone worth following.
Content engineered for maximum “engagement” arrives, polished and oddly synthetic.
The internet no longer feels like a destination. It behaves like a crowd, conducted by an algorithm that believes it knows better.
Algorithms Don’t Listen—They Infer
Despite the mystique, algorithms aren’t perceptive. They are energetic guessers.
A single click becomes a declaration of identity. A passing glance turns into a personality profile.
From there, the volume increases. The pace accelerates. Variations narrow.
What follows isn’t exploration; it’s inertia.
When Noise Pretends to Be Useful
The frustration isn’t rooted in quality alone—it’s the refusal to pause.
Pop-ups interrupt. Videos autoplay. Notifications feign urgency. Suggestions insist on relevance.
All of it claims to be helpful while demanding constant attention.
For a painter, this is more than irritating. Silence isn’t indulgent in creative practice; it’s structural. Subtlety can’t be heard while something keeps shouting for approval—an idea closely tied to how perception functions in When an Abstract Painting Starts Talking Back.
What Slips Through the Cracks
Algorithms favor what repeats. They reward familiarity. Proven formulas rise quickly.
Art rarely follows that path.
Meaningful work develops away from trends, in stretches of uncertainty, in periods that feel unproductive before they become necessary. That kind of progress resists packaging. It doesn’t thrive in a feed.
So it disappears beneath louder, simpler patterns.
The Loss of Aimless Discovery
There was a time when the internet resembled roaming an unfamiliar city—links followed out of curiosity, not coercion.
Now it resembles being escorted by an overzealous guide, endlessly presenting more of what it assumes was enjoyed moments ago.
She wasn’t asking for reinforcement. She was savoring disorientation.
Quiet as Deliberate Choice
These days, she edits aggressively. Muting, unsubscribing, abandoning a scroll halfway through. Not out of irritation alone, but out of respect for attention.
When everything competes for notice, meaning evaporates.
In the studio, enough voices are already present—material, resistance, hesitation, possibility. There’s no room for an algorithm offering performance metrics. That attention to process and presence connects directly to The Value of Her Work.
Less Volume, Deeper Focus
The internet shows no interest in softening its tone. That decision has long been automated.
She can, however, step back. Slow the intake. Decide what earns space. Safeguard the kind of concentration that sustains actual work.
Creativity doesn’t benefit from optimization.
It requires air.
Available Work:
