How to live without social media?
How to take back control in our lives?
How to use the internet as a tool and not be its slave? How to create content and read content and find content that is worth seeing, reading , creating?
How to escape the trap of FOMO, the trap of having to be one of the “early adopters”, the trap of thinking we need to create content for other people´s platforms, content with which other people will make money … all for some vague promise of fame and money. That will hardly ever materialise.
People work so hard on their social media profiles in order to get the followers they so desperately need, want, think they want… no one in their right mind would work for free in a normal job in a company worth unimaginable amounts of money … and help them make even more … but we all do, because we all bought into the “you have to do this in order to …. “, we adapt, we create not because we wish to create but because we think this will make us more likeable and we fear we will miss on out on …. something. The thing is, we do miss out. On our lives. We are being manipulated in quite an unprecedented way, although we have uncountable sources of information, we chose to read what Facebook algorithms serves us … not a good way to learn to think for ourselves.
How can we find a way to reclaim our lives, to use our technologies for our own good without falling into the traps that we encounter all the time? How to re-learn how to live?
Ok, let´s make this more personal: I check my phone all the time, social media especially. And there is hardly ever anything of interest on it. My Instagram profile(s) do not get more then 20 likes, whatever I post, no one reads my blog, and I hardly get any e-mails, except ads and mails from mailing lists. And the only Facebook likes I get are those after I post a picture of myself.
So, today, I decided to get rid of this addiction, the social media addiction. I am glad to say that I checked only three times, until now, nearly at 9 p.m. in the evening. It feels a bit strange, but it also feels incredibly liberating.
I spent this day going through my DVDs and data CDs … thousands of pictures … I put them on external hard drives and then destroy the DVDs … that feels good … and then I accompanied C. into the cellar … and we began cleaning it out as well … I destroyed all my old diaries, after realising that I have been writing the same old stuff over and over again. Depressing. It felt good to say goodbye to those old thoughts, old fears, old hopes.
… I went for a run afterwards…. short … but the first one in quite a while. Freed myself from being so annoyed at the competitive running everyone seems to be doing at the moment that I gave up running myself. I used to love it, the exploration of the city while running through its streets …
To be continued.
old pictures from 2005 (Weissensee and Lichtenberg)
What are experience that I cannot write about online worth?
What are pictures that I never show worth?
Do they benefit me in one way or another?
I want to be online less, much less, but whenever I consider being really offline I feel some kind of strange emptiness, a feeling of uselessness. What and who am I when I cannot share what I see, experience and make?
Maybe the way for me is to accept that I like putting my thoughts, pictures, ideas, words out there. And that it is part of who I am and how I function.
And that, on the other hand, I could very well be more offline by reducing the time I spend online as a reflex, a way of avoiding being present, a way to cope with potentially embarrassing or awkward situations, as a means to escape the sometimes really ugly physical reality I am in.
Stop that and see what is really going on around me.
I believe that the possibility to escape our mobile devices give us are the reason so few people notice what is going on around them and don´t care anymore, as a means of escape is always available. I wonder if, for example, people would care more how their neighbourhood looks and the state of public transport and the shocking transformation and destruction of nature, etc. etc. if their means of escape would suddenly disappear and we all had to cope with what really is, here, in the physical reality we are very much part of …
Black cat, Paros, 2017
Everything I worked on this summer somehow disappeared or fell through … In a way it makes me laugh, all this effort and stress, all for nothing … or not really, but almost. My works that I sewed for Fotonoviembre, nobody knows where they are, they seemed to have vanished at the customs in Teneriffa, my application for funing on which I worked hard, made videos and works for: nobody seems to understand what it is about and I have been advised to re-write, find more sponors and re-aply next year.
I wonder if aynone realises what my work implies, how much time, passion, thought, reflection, mental and physical effort it takes, not to speak of the financial invenstments that go into such work? To be then lost or easily dismissed in a way that makes me laugh in disbelief.
But. It shook somehting lose in me. I don´t care anymore. And I am free now. To do exactly as I please, to be exactly whom I want to be.
I do not belong to anyone.
The day before yesterday I went to the sauna, lying there in a red light, sweating and breathing in fragrant hot air, listening to but not understanding two big russian speaking women, I felt good and live and wild and free again. And I know that all will be fine and that this needed to happen and actually I somehow feel relieved.
I love my work.
No, it´s not even that. I exist through my work. My art is the only thing that feels right to me.
Sometimes I wish, I could simply work in my studio, think about my work, take long walks and take pictures outside, think, write, read, meditate …. Do I need to explain that I am not terribly keen on “networking” and that selling my work is something that really makes me feel awful. Not if someone asks to buy something and then actually does. But whenever people are interested and take weeks, months to decide that finally they have had enough attention and need the money to buy something “more useful”. It makes me feel dirty, used, sad, ashamed that I had dared hope, and tired. And angry. At myself for giving so much again, at people who do not stop to think for one second what it is that they are doing, no one wants to think about the fact that I spend all my time working on those works they pretend to like so much, that all my resources are used up buying material, paying the rent of my studio … and that, funnily enough, even artists need to pay for their food, insurances, and even need to pay bills and their rent. And that a fun picture in the newspaper is not getting money into my account. And that saying that my work is great is not filling my bank account.
Do I sound bitter? You know what, I could´t care less. Actually I just decided to stop caring what anything thinks of me anyway. At least then I can be poor while staying true to myself.
I am tired of the internet. Of the bragging and selling, of the shouting and ignorance. I find it difficult to find good and interesting websites and blogs anymore, “everyone” seems to have moved on to instagram to post their content. And instagram is seriously getting on my nerves, tiny pictures, so may people posting the same “beautiful” pictures, all edited a certain way to conform to the flavour of the day …
I miss seeing good photography and reading inspiring texts.
The internet, to me, has be
come a place where I am invited to buy stuff, but I am not inspired anymore to do things ….
Remember the times when bloggers used to put a “blogroll” with interesting links to other bloggers on their site? Not any more, now the links lead you to shops of various sorts …. buy this, buy that, then you will be as cool as me ….
Damn, just stop buying all this crap! The environment will not become less polluted if you buy tons of “eco-friendly” outdoor clothes you will probably only wear in the city anyway… Stop making a hype out of everything! Now you can´t buy any cheap second hand clothes anymore because they have become “hip” and cost the same or more then “normal” clothes ….
Housing prices go through the roof because people keep on posting oh so super cool pictures of certain cities and now everybody wants to live there …. and the people who made the place special can´t afford to pay their rent anymore.
This childish “I want this too”, “I was there as well, am I special now?” is depressing …
Is there any chance this will change to the better? Maybe more people will become fed up with this and start posting content again instead of advertisements? I doubt it though … I don´t think young people even realise that there are alternatives to a life in which everything is for sale …
All pictures are from the one day stay in Los Cristianos, Teneriffa on our way back from La Gomera to Berlin ….
I took a crappy selfie today to send my girlfriend a picture of my haircut … and just found another one from 2005 … that one obviously taken with a real camera.
And yes, iphone picture might look o.k. on instagram but they remain low quality shitty pictures, and no, that does not have to do anything with the fact that I do look ten years older then I did, well, 10 years ago …
But, 2005 was a rather good year for me as far as I had “good” years … I then began to really develop my art practice and what I still do today comes from what I began then … I lost my way rather a lot in the meantime, but my art is the thing that remains a constant, even if it often felt threatened by the opinion and the judgment of others.
Writing this reminds me to keep it safe from outside “attacks” (they can be positive in meaning and still influence me too much) and fresh in me and to stay free in what I make.
Maybe I need to sometimes remind others that my art is part of me and if they bulldoze over it or disrespect it, it really is me that that they are treating this way.
You don´t have to love or even like or understand what I do, but it does help if you intend to be friends with me …
This is the first time that the sun was shining since I have moved my studio to Johannisthal … and I went for a walk on the former airfield.
This airfield opened in 1909 and was one of the first (if not the first) in Germany, the “Kaserne” in which I work housed the Wehrmacht, then the Red Army after them the Stasi …. and after 1989 the Telekom …. now artists are trying to get rid of the old ghosts ….
It´s interesting to see how places change function depending on politics, ideologies …
The parc on the former airfield is now part of the new Adlerhof development …. the Berlin-Adlershof City of Science and Technology …..
New times, new ideas, new ideologies.
Après 26 jours ici des souvenirs commencent lentement à ressurgir … La mémoire de qui j´étais adolescente, ce que j´aimais, ma relation avec le monde francophone, une relation que j´ai sevré après 1991.
Soudainement il y deux jours je me suis rappelée pourquoi je venais à Paris, en bus, en tour organisé par … le groupe de théâtre dont je faisais parti au lycée. On est venu voir pour ca, le théâtre, pour voir des spectacles qu´on ne pouvais pas voir au Luxembourg. En autre on était voir un spectacle du Theatre du Soleil de Ariane Mnouchkine, á la Cartoucherie. Cela m´avais vraiment impressionné à l´époque … une époque ou je voulais devenir actrice, non pas de cinéma, er pas une star, mais actrice de théâtre …. Un rêve que j´ai également abandonné en 1991.
Et je n´ai presque plus lu aucun livre en français depuis …. ni écouté de musique française … je commence á me rendre compte seulement maintenant á quel point j´ai i renoncé á toute une partie de moi, une partie de ma culture et de mon héritage après le d´dès de ma mère. Comme si tout ce qui était „français“ était lié à elle et je ne le supportait plus, Ou ne supportait plus les souvenirs que cela évoquait.
Peut être que ce refus de tout ce qui était trop lié à elle était également une façon de la punir post mortem. Une façon d´exprimer mon impuissance et ma colère vis a vis de cette disparition que j´ai considérée injuste et inacceptable vis á vis de mon frère et moi. Une rage enfouie que je n´ai pas pus et pas su exprimer d´une autre façon que d´éradiquer tout ce qui me liait á elle et de passer une bonne partie de ma vie à fuir d´une façon ou d´une autre … C´est bizarre que là ou j´écris ces mots cette rage je la sens, elle est là, soudainement, de façon „pure“ , et je sais que je ne la tournerai plus contre moi-même …
Je suis allée à le librairie Gilbert hier après – midi …. je recommence á lire en français … tout un autre univers.