I’ve never been one to follow the crowd.
Long before stepping away from social media I made other unconventional choices. I lived without electricity, not as an experiment but as a way of life. I pumped drinking water by hand, split firewood for heat and cooking, and lit my home with oil lamps and handmade candles. It was challenging, but it taught me patience, resourcefulness and the quiet beauty of simplicity.
Years later, just as cell phones became ubiquitous, I went without a phone entirely. Friends and family knocked on my door, tracked me down at work, or left messages with neighbors. There was something beautiful about connection that required a little effort.
Later still, I voluntarily gave up my car for several years, relying on buses, trains, bicycles and my own two feet. Life slowed down. I noticed more: conversations on public transit, familiar faces along daily routes, strangers who gradually became part of my world.
Those choices shaped how I think about attention, presence and ownership. They also inform how I approach creative work and the internet.
Increasingly, I believe artists and makers benefit from maintaining spaces of their own rather than relying entirely on platforms they don’t control.
Social media can be useful. It can also be temporary and fragile. Algorithms change. Platforms come and go. Sometimes accounts disappear, and years of work and connection can be altered or lost with little explanation or recourse.
For now, I’ve chosen to step away from that system and put more of my energy into direct connection, independent spaces, and real-world community.
So while I may not maintain a thriving social media presence, I’m absolutely here. I’d love to hear from you.
Or wherever good coffee is served “black as midnight on a moonless night.”
— Karri