The Quiet Cost of Creating in a Social Media World
Social media has given us visibility and connection, but it has also changed something deeply personal.
advertisement
This article has been authored by a member of The Quint. Our membership programme allows those who are not full-time journalists or our regular contributors to get published on The Quint under our exclusive 'Member's Opinion' section, along with many other benefits. Our membership is open and available to any reader of The Quint. Become a member today and send us your articles on membership@thequint.com.
There is something about creating that I cannot quite explain, but I feel it deeply, every single time. It might be a canvas waiting patiently for colour. It might be a colouring‑book page I know will bring joy to anyone who touches it, inviting them to pause. It might be a journal—first inspiring someone to colour, then quietly holding space for the thoughts that feel too loud to speak.
Because the truth is, we are constantly thinking. Somewhere between, 12,000 to 60,000 thoughts pass through our minds every single day. And in the middle of all that noise, creating art does something magical.
It quiets the mind.
Creating art does something magical.
(Photo Courtesy: Anu Singh)
But today, I do not want to talk about the outcome. Not the products. Not the finished art pieces that find a place in homes or offices.
Today, I want to talk about the process. Because that is where the real magic lives. It begins with a thought, a fleeting idea or a quiet spark. A vision of something that does not yet exist, but somehow already feels real.
And that moment in itself feels deeply fulfilling, like something within you has quietly come alive, a gentle reminder of why you create at all.
And then, slowly, it begins.
The first stroke.
The first line.
The first movement of your hand.
There is a rhythm that takes over, a silence that is not empty, but full.
You feel the texture of the canvas, the softness or resistance of the paper. You smell the paints….Oh the paints! You move your fingers instinctively, blending, shaping, correcting, discovering. Sometimes your hands seem to know more than your mind.
Social media has given us so much, visibility, connection, opportunities we could not have imagined before. But it has also changed something subtle, something deeply personal.
(Photo Courtesy: Anu Singh)
There are moments when you step back and it does not look right at all. And then there are moments when something unexpectedly beautiful appears, and you do not even know how it happened.
That is the joy. Not perfection. Not applause. But presence. The act of being completely immersed in what you are creating.
And somewhere along the way, I realised I have started losing parts of this.
Before I even begin, there is a thought waiting for me…
Should I record this?
Should I take a video?
Will this make for a good post?
And I find myself rushing through something that once made me slow down.
Social media has given us so much, visibility, connection, opportunities we could not have imagined before. But it has also changed something subtle, something deeply personal.
The need to share has slowly started overpowering the need to feel.
We see artists across the world creating moments that are designed to go viral, work created for instant impact, designed to be seen, shared, and remembered for the moment it creates.
And it works.
It gets attention.
It gets seen.
And somewhere, quietly, a question begins to form within me: Do I create for the world? Yes, for the world, true, because somewhere visibility is crucial. It helps me reach people, and it helps my work find homes.
Or do I create for myself?
Yes, for myself, because what I create comes from within me, and it deserves to be seen, but not at the cost of losing the joy of creating it.
Maybe the answer is not one or the other. It cannot be! Perhaps it is about returning, again and again, to where it all began. To the joy of dreaming something into existence. To the feel of colour on my fingers. To the stillness that comes when my mind finally quiets down.
Maybe I can share my work with the world, but not at the cost of losing the experience of creating it. Because long after the posts fade, and the numbers stop mattering, what remains is the process, the feeling, and the quiet joy of creating.
(Anu Singh is an artist, certified Zentangle teacher, Neuro Linguistic Programming Master practitioner (Life Coach), art workshop facilitator, creator of handcrafted colouring books, journals, and diaries. This is an opinion piece, and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)