Creating and using the web to share while the rotting Internet collapses in on itself

Since reading Jonathan Zottrain's Atlantic article in 2021, I have ascribed to the opinion that the Internet is a rotting collective of junk.

The overview of the theory is built on a few nested concepts:

1. Since humankind has been documenting, we have been continually doing so via physical media

2. Stores of physical media required physical space and informed physical beings who could not only protect but help organize and file documents

3. With the advent of impermeable internet storage and no centralized filing system, link rot is endemic to our web (that is, nothing maintains a link from that medical study slash law review slash article once the owner of the content either moves it to a new link address or removes it from their public site and slash or private storage altogether)

4. Libraries, previously the bastion of documenting any and all media and all organized with a sensible system (both locally and globally), now hold only a fraction of the information documented on the web.

5. The decentralized nature of the web means there is no singular responsibility to maintain or keep the web tidy, or at least documented

6. What had been used casually with an air of ephemeral informality has the capability of being documented eternally, compromising authenticity

7. There are no incentives or obvious repositories for physical counterparts for everything created and shared on the internet

8. Purchasing digital products does not equate to full ownership, merely access to the product which is always threatened due to impermanence

9. Deletion of content only ever stored digitally becomes a permanent loss for consumers and masses

10. Veracity of information is compromised, building on number 6. Given the refresh rate the internet creates for media, there is a retroactive malleability. Nothing is ever truly known to be final. Sites like Wikipedia are revered as public parks while also being targets for vandalism, brigading, and discourse surrounding perception and opinion being portrayed as facts

So where does that leave us today?

Many creators have gotten around the dust-bowl-like silt burying content required to gain points with search-engines in mind by retreating to private, pay-walled or subscription-only content. Subscription private content probably sounds seedy, but if you spend any time following recipe creators or authors, you'll come to quickly learn that creators are sharing the cream of their content privately with tools like Substack.

Any why shouldn't they? On top of the rotting impermeability of the endlessly archived web (I know it sounds like a contradiction. It is, I promise. Read up on the film Coyote v. Acme), socio-political and legal complications can have publicly-recognized platforms (like X fka Twitter, verified Instagram accounts, Facebook for businesses, etc) suddenly hostile to creators and internet citizens. Sure, in the event someone is using one of these platforms to disseminate or engage with the worst the internet has to offer, it makes sense and is healthy for platforms to remove, recall, and refuse to entertain or host certain accounts. Consider the endless anecdotes of your friends or creators who share that "Youtube removed my content and account with no notice and it took a lot of time and effort to try and recover it," or "Instagram kicked me out and I couldn't get back in." At any point in time these privately-held and managed platforms can exclude and censor anyone for any reason.

So where does this leave me? In the dust, largely. I hate social media, but as a designer and photographer I feel an obligation to maintain at least a "creative" social media presence for others to find me and my art. I cannot apply to new jobs without a website for a portfolio or a LinkedIn. And then the benefit of being around the virtual art circles helps me stay apprised of the newest trends, techniques, and what is going on in the art world.

I have long-said that this space is my space. It isn't meant to host hoards of followers or gain lots of traction. It is simply meant to be a space where I can share what I'm learning, doing, and creating. It is a spot for me to document my digital work, capture my thoughts since my fingers type faster than my script will flow out of a fountain pens' nib, and share when I do create something I think others might enjoy. Ideally I'd be publishing way more recipes, but my a sentimento style of cooking means I sometimes forget what I did exactly and trying to recreate takes too much energy between when I conceived a dish vs. when I'm ready to try and replicate what I did.

Where does that leave you? Dear reader, if you're even there: learn to be aware of the content we're consuming and how we're consuming it. Pry yourself away from the algorithms and monetized content enough to recognize how pervasive it is. Then, if you feel so compelled, push back by creating your own space on the internet. It doesn't have to be an appealing blog, but could just be an archive of past creative projects. Speaking from experience, carving out my own space that is truly defined and designed by myself feels a little radical and 2010-tumblr free. The new frontier here isn't trying to game engagement, rage bait, or political pipe-lines masked as lifestyle choices. Cast aside the drive for perfection, but pursue creating, documenting, and preserving what matters and tossing the drive for drivel-dressed-as-content aside.