The Chronically Offline Artist
BY LIAM GILLINFor the longest time I used the internet to escape reality. Now I use reality to escape the internet. I never thought in a billion years I would write those words. Before we jump in, you can read my previous blog about my life on the internet here.
A few years before I was born, a retired firefighter was getting ready for the next stage of his life. A new concept called “World Wide Web” had begun to rise. He went to the library to take a class on how to use the computer. “What is even the point of this?” he muttered, storming out within minutes of the class. Years later as a kid, I remember asking why he was the only person I knew who didn't have a computer in his home. He just recounted that night at the library and told me he’d continue operating offline for the rest of his life. That man was my grandpa.
Now I sit here with the same question: “What is even the point of this?” The internet and social media were supposed to bring everyone together but only divided us more than ever. We became more overstimulated. We learned how to become capitalistic robots to gain traction. Our world went from defining ourselves by intellectualism to identifying ourselves through an algorithm.
Don't get me wrong—the internet built my career and introduced me to some of my closest friends. For that, I’m incredibly grateful. It isn't inherently evil, but the landscape has shifted. What once felt like a tool for connection now feels like a factory for chaos.
As memories fade and long term attention spans became a luxury, I realized it was taking our humanity away. I wanted to gain my life back so I deleted a few apps. I felt significant difference almost immediately. I’m gaining my attention span back. I avoid self check out in order to retrain myself to make small talk with the cashier.
At times, I am met with confusion as I put myself out there in the real world. However, I know I am doing the things my older self will one day thank me for. I am also implementing the social skills my younger self craved immensely. Discovering yourself is about completing tasks that every version of you can benefit from.
Replacing the loud noises of doomscrolling with the sounds of birds chirping at my window has been incredibly healing. Consuming the light of the sun over the LED glare on my phone makes me realize how grateful I am to live not just exist. These moments have shaped me not only personally but also professionally. I am more productive on projects when I seek inspiration from reality over the internet. It has helped me recover from burnout and rebuild my originality.
In the state of the world right now, the only way we will ever combat these troubles is by celebrating what makes us unique. Reclaiming our attention is an act of rebellion against a system that works to turn our lives into data.
As I discuss all the positives of being off-line it leads to one major conflict I am still working to navigate. As an artist you need to post your work. Having to figure out how to go about this has been challenging. To conquer this I have decided to create strict boundaries. This helps me protect my peace and put myself out there. These are the rules:
I am only on social media when I am posting a project, looking for work, and/or responding to a DM or a positive comment/question.
I take inspiration from random Google searches, art boards, YouTube videos, reading, and music over doom scrolling on TikTok/Instagram Reels.
The maximum amount of time I spend on an app is 30 minutes.
I would say that I'm off-line 90% of the time now. Life has shifted for the better over this decision. Nick Drake once said, “Now we rise and we are everywhere.” To me I believe the “rise” symbolizes the moment we stop conforming to the digital feed and start living in the world again. “We are everywhere” represents the moment when we are finally present- not just showing up as a 15 second clip or a number in the algorithm. We were placed to live our truth and make every moment count. Reality will do far more for us than the internet ever could.