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Social Media is the Toilet of the Internet
Lady Gaga once said, “Social media is the toilet of the Internet.”
The moment I heard that, I knew there was truth in it.
Not because the Internet is all bad. It is not. In many ways, the Internet has been a gift to photographers. It has allowed us to find rare books, study forgotten processes, connect with other artists, discover materials, share our work, and learn things that would have been nearly impossible to find years ago.
But it has also changed photography in ways that are not healthy.
It has trained too many photographers to confuse attention with meaning. It has made people chase likes, comments, views, and approval instead of doing the deeper work. It has created a world where a photograph can be judged in seconds by people who may never see the print, understand the process, or care about the intent behind the work.
That is a dangerous place for an artist to live.
Photography Before the Internet
I began photography in a different world.
Before the Internet became the center of everything, photography was slower. You made photographs because you were drawn to the work itself. You read books. You studied prints. You looked at negatives. You learned by doing. You failed in private. You improved slowly.
There were no computers. There were no software engineers writing code to simulate an effect. There was no button to make something look old, handmade, imperfect, or historic.
There was only light, chemistry, paper, and the creative mind of the photographer.
And honestly, I miss that world.
That older way of working forced you to develop a relationship with the materials. You had to understand exposure. You had to understand paper. You had to understand chemistry. You had to understand failure.
The photograph did not come from a preset.
It came from your hands, your decisions, your patience, and your willingness to keep working when things did not go right.
That kind of photography shaped you.
It did not just produce images. It built photographers.
The Problem With Fake Expertise
One of the worst parts of the modern Internet is fake expertise.
Anyone can sit behind a keyboard and sound like they know what they are talking about. They can give advice about a process they have never done. They can criticize work they have never seen in person. They can repeat bad information about chemistry, lenses, paper, exposure, printing, or archival practice, and many people may read it as truth.
AI has magnified this problem.
Used carefully, AI can be a useful tool. But it cannot replace earned knowledge. It cannot replace time in the darkroom. It cannot replace watching an image appear in the tray and knowing from experience whether something is right or wrong.
We are now entering a world where words can sound experienced without coming from experience. Images can look handmade without being handmade. Advice can sound confident without being tested.
That should concern every serious photographer.
Photography is not only about information. It is about seeing, failure, patience, memory, craft, and time. It is about learning through your hands.
That cannot be downloaded.
That cannot be simulated.
That cannot be faked for long.
Why Handmade Photography Matters More Now
This is one reason I remain so committed to handmade photography.
When I make calotypes, salt prints, silver gelatin prints, or other historic-process work, I am not trying to imitate the past. I am trying to stay connected to something real.
The materials slow me down.
The process forces me to think.
The failures teach me.
There is no instant preview. There is no delete button. There is no shortcut that can replace the relationship between light, chemistry, paper, and time.
In a world full of copied words, simulated effects, fake expertise, and machine-made confidence, a real handmade photograph carries evidence.
It carries touch.
It carries time.
It carries decisions.
It carries mistakes.
It carries the quiet authority of something made by a human being who was actually there.
That matters to me.
Share Less, But Share Better
I also think photographers need to rethink how much they share.
You do not have to post everything.
In fact, you probably should not.
Let some work stay private. Let some images mature. Let some thoughts become clearer before you put them into the world.
When you do share, share with intention. Tell the truth. Explain the process. Invite people into the meaning of the work, not just the surface.
You may have noticed that I have not published a new YouTube video for a few months. That has been intentional.
I felt like the channel had lost its purpose. It had started to feel separate from the deeper work I am trying to do. So instead of forcing myself to keep posting, I stopped. I stepped back. I gave myself time to think, reflect, and decide what the channel should become.
Going forward, my videos need to support the artwork, the process, and the personal journey behind it.
The art comes first now.
Everything else has to serve that.
Getting Back to the Real Work
One of the things I started recently is keeping a sketchbook for my Pictorial Whispers work.
At the top of each page, I write the same question:
What feeling is this plate supposed to hold?
Then I answer it with one simple sentence:
This plate should feel like _______.
From there, I begin sketching the next plate. I work through the placement of the flowers, the vase, the window, the shadows, and the empty space. I live with the idea for several days before I ever sensitize a calotype or set up the camera.
That quiet time matters.
It keeps the work from becoming reactive. I am not rushing to make an image. I am trying to understand what the plate is supposed to become before I ask the materials to hold it.
That is the kind of work I want to protect.
And that is the kind of photography I want to keep making.
A Simple Challenge
Here is my challenge to you.
Make one photograph, one print, or one serious test that is not designed for social media.
Do not think about posting it.
Do not think about likes, comments, or approval.
Make it because it matters to you.
Then write one sentence in your notebook:
This work matters to me because _______.
That sentence may teach you more than the Internet ever will.
The Internet can help us. But it should not own our attention, our confidence, or our artistic direction.
Use the Internet as a tool.
Use the darkroom as your teacher.
And never forget that the real work still happens away from the noise.
Want the Deeper Version?
I wrote a longer, more personal version of this article for my Darkroom Diary Premium Members, where I go deeper into the effects of social media, fake expertise, AI, handmade photography, and why I am reshaping my creative life around Pictorial Whispers.
Inside Darkroom Diary, I share the deeper work behind my handmade photography: lab notes, formulas, process updates, calotype and salt printing experiments, behind-the-scenes decisions, artist reflections, and practical darkroom lessons from my ongoing work.
Art Collector Resources
- Collector and Student Testimonials [read]
- Collector’s Guide [read]
- Why Analog Photography is Essential to Fine Art Creation [read]
- Why I Create [read]
- Aura – What is it, and why does it matter? [read]
- Why Analog Photography Is a Smart Investment [read]
- Analog photography in the Digital Age: Examining transformation, alienation and authenticity in modern photographic practice. https://doi.org/10.55927/ijads.v2i3.11019