For the past decade, we’ve been a culture obsessed with optimisation. Platforms chasing growth at all costs. Brands trying to hack the algorithm, seed the meme. Creative people pushed to shrink their creative canvas to suit the platform. What started as a mindset in tech - move fast and break things - gradually became a universally adopted cultural operating system.
That system now feels strained. And the response has swung to the opposite extreme: headlines declaring 2026 the year of “going analog”, of rejecting the internet altogether. We always seem uncomfortable sitting in the liminal space - one defined by balance and boundaries.
The internet and social media are not the same thing. Social media, in itself, isn’t inherently evil - though it’s fair to say it’s becoming hard to defend. A few weeks ago, I went to a talk at Marc Jacobs’ Bookmarc in London where Tom Sachs, in conversation with Tom Dixon, put it simply: “In every tool, there is a hammer.” The problem isn’t the tool; it’s how, and how relentlessly, we’re encouraged to use it.
For me, and for many others I suppose, underneath the sweeping statements, social media where I discover ideas, people, and work that expand my own thinking and inspire my own projects. Without that input, much of my creative output simply wouldn’t exist.
But let’s zoom out, it’s clear the system itself is out of balance.
We’ve normalised terms like “bed rotting” “slop” and “brain rot” - neatly naming our behaviours in ways that reassure us it’s not just us. In practice, we no longer see most of our friends’ posts. We’re constantly served ads for things we don’t need. And on the other side, businesses are increasingly convinced this is the only way to reach people - that growth requires total surrender to the feed. We’re told our attention spans are shrinking, that we can’t hold long thoughts. But this isn’t because we’re lazy or incapable; it’s because sustained attention is structurally disfavoured.
Quiet Media begins from the belief that this isn’t the only way things can work. Alternative modes of operating are emerging - led by people who are questioning what success looks like when it’s no longer defined by reach, frequency, or algorithmic approval. People experimenting with different relationships to input and output, consumption and creation. Sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing - but where the attempt itself becomes the success metric.
So, officially, this is an introduction. Let’s start with a definition (or three).
quiet media /ˈkwaɪət ˈmiːdiə/ noun
1. An ethos of creation and consumption that prioritizes depth over speed and consideration over reaction; the practice of making and engaging with creative work - ideas, stories, artefacts - that earns attention rather than demands it, grounded in craft and intention.
2. Media formats that respect attention: Substack, long reads, apps that allow you to dive into your passions, podcasts - content designed to invite rather than interrupt, characterized by absence of constant notifications, infinite scroll, or artificial urgency.
3. A print publication examining and redefining these concepts through physical artefact; a zine that embodies the philosophy it explores.
On that last definition - Quiet Media as a zine, an artefact - I’ll be launching it in the coming weeks. It’s a project that’s been in the works for the past ten months, and it’s finally coming together. I can’t wait for you to see it.
Now on Substack, this space will act as a digital cousin to the print edition. I’ll be sharing the making of the zine, starting a new series spotlighting “tastemakers of attention,” and publishing writing that will feed into future editions - all rooted in a simple belief: that our attention is our most valuable resource, and it should be treated with care. There is so much in this space to explore and I invite you to think with me.
Thank you for your attention.
Charlotte
Oooo, here for it!
hâte !