The Never-Ending Game: When Did Artists Become the Product?

 The Never-Ending Game: When Did Artists Become the Product?

I recently watched a video by another artist talking about how the "game" keeps changing for creators.

Her words stayed with me because I have lived through every stage of this transformation.

Artists have always had to adapt. Creativity has never existed in a bubble. We learn new tools, explore new ideas, and find new ways to share our work.

But somewhere along the way, the expectations changed.

Artists were no longer just expected to create art.

We became photographers of our own work, website designers, graphic designers, marketers, social media managers, videographers, editors, and content creators.

And the list keeps growing.

I graduated from the Professional Photography program at Langara College in 1995. The world was completely different.

There were no smartphones. No Instagram. No TikTok. No websites.

We studied photography seriously. I spent hours looking at photographs in magazines like Vogue, studying composition, lighting, storytelling, and the choices great photographers made.

Photography was expensive. Film, processing, printing, equipment—it all required commitment.

And your portfolio was everything.

We were told: Never leave your portfolio with someone. It could be lost or stolen.

Your work existed in your hands. You carried it. You protected it. You presented it in person.

Then the internet arrived.

Artists were told:

"You need a website."

So I learned HTML when many people had barely heard of it. I learned Photoshop. I created branding, designed online spaces, and adapted to the digital world.

Then came social media.

"You need a presence."

So I learned blogs. I created hundreds of YouTube videos. I learned Instagram. I learned how to tell stories online and connect with audiences.

I adapted.

Again and again.

But the finish line kept moving.

Now artists are told:

You need video. You need reels. You need to understand algorithms. You need to post constantly. You need to build a personal brand. You need to make yourself visible every single day.

One artist described how far this has gone. She talked about the pressure of creating TikTok videos and even making sure her hands looked perfect on camera.

And that comment made me stop.

Not because there is anything wrong with wanting beautiful hands or enjoying self-expression.

The problem is what it represents.

When did artists become responsible for not only creating the art, but packaging ourselves as the product?

I am an artist.

Not a salesperson.

Of course artists need to share their work. Of course we need to connect with people. Selling art is part of being a working artist.

But there is a difference between sharing your creativity and spending endless hours feeding platforms that decide whether anyone gets to see it.

Every hour spent chasing algorithms is an hour taken away from creating.

Every new platform creates another learning curve.

Every new trend creates another demand.

And we have to ask a bigger question:

Are these technologies truly helping artists share their work?

Or are they creating another layer of unpaid labour that takes artists away from the very thing they are here to do?

Create.

Who benefits from this endless cycle?

Are artists truly being empowered, or are we providing free content, free data, and free labour to massive companies that profit from our creativity and attention?

Artists have always adapted.

We are curious. We are problem-solvers. We learn new tools.

But adaptation should not mean that the art becomes secondary.

A painting is not valuable because it went viral.

A photograph is not meaningful because an algorithm approved it.

A sculpture does not become important because it received thousands of views.

Art is human connection.

Art is storytelling.

Art is emotion, history, imagination, and a reflection of the world around us.

And now we face another enormous shift: artificial intelligence.

Once again, artists are being told to adapt.

But we need to ask:

How do we create a future where technology supports artists instead of replacing, overwhelming, or exploiting them?

The purpose of technology should be to expand human creativity—not turn creativity into fuel for machines.

I am not against technology.

I have spent my life learning it.

I am asking for balance.

Artists are not content factories.

We are not algorithms.

We are not engagement numbers.

We are human beings with something to say.

And maybe it is time to remember:

The value of art was never measured by a number on a screen.

It was measured by the connection it created between one human being and another.

Create.

10 Reflective Question

1. When did being an artist shift from creating art to constantly marketing ourselves?

2. Are digital platforms truly helping artists reach audiences, or creating more unpaid work?

3. How much time should artists spend learning algorithms instead of creating?

4. What happens to creativity when artists feel pressured to constantly perform online?

5. Should the success of art be measured by views, likes, and engagement—or by the connection it creates?

6. How can we use technology as a tool without allowing technology to control the creative process?

7. Are artists being empowered by social media, or are they becoming free content creators for large corporations?

8. What skills should artists reasonably be expected to learn, and where should we draw the line?

9. How can we protect human creativity in a world filled with AI-generated content?

10. What would a healthier relationship between artists and technology look like?

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