Make a Mark – The Antidote to a Hollow Age

Look around and you’ll see a civilisation that no longer knows how to interact with and manipulate the world. It's an uncomfortable truth, but we can't ignore it - humanity has slowly detached itself from the instincts that once made us who we are.

We live in an age where almost everything is made for us, delivered to us, and curated for us. A world where people once built, mended, painted and stitched now spends its days scrolling, tapping, and consuming. There has been a detachment between people and the act of creation, leading to a loss of connection with our instinctive abilities as makers. 

For centuries, creating and manipulating wasn’t a hobby - it was how we existed. We shaped our world with our hands, and used our minds to direct acts that turned nothing into something. We wrote letters, baked bread, fixed things that broke, and felt the quiet satisfaction of self-reliance. Nobody thought of this as “being creative.” It was simply being human.

But we’ve now drifted so far from that landscape in such a short distance of time that it's hard not to feel a deep sense of loss. The industrial age taught us to chase efficiency, and the digital age taught us to expect convenience. Together they’ve turned us into passive creatures - ones that no longer engage with reality, choosing instead to sit back as it washes over us.

We don’t fix; we replace, and we don’t make; we buy. In doing so, we’ve hollowed out the very essence of living and eroded what it means to be human. Our cognitive muscles - once kept in shape through regular engagement in curiosity, creativity and problem-solving - have atrophied through neglect. We now fill our minds with the creations of others instead of our own, confusing consumption with the acquisition of meaning.

We’ve lost the indescribable satisfaction that comes from leaving a trace of ourselves in the world - a physical, undeniable mark that says “I did that”. And if that feels nostalgic, believe me - it isn’t. It’s a warning. Because when we stop creating and choose not to manipulate the physical world around us, we stop being fully human.

The Attention Trap

Sadly, the problem isn’t only that we’ve stopped making things - it’s that when we do, it’s often done as an act of performance. And while that has always been so to an extent (e.g. artists creating art for the appreciation and respect of others), contemporary society has turned creation into a performative process. For many, the documentation and dissemination of engagement has become the central purpose for creating. 

That's because our creativity has been absorbed by the attention economy - hijacked by a commercial model devised in Silicon Valley. We no longer create for fulfilment, but for validation on platforms we didn't create for the benefit of businesses making money from our efforts. Our motivation to create has shifted from how it feels to us to how it looks to others, not to fortify our lives but to maximise revenue for big tech. 

We decorate our homes not for comfort, but for photos. We bake not to relax, but to gain likes. We write not to express, but to engage an algorithm. This fundamental shift flips the purpose and role of creation from intrinsic to extrinsic, misdirecting its function from enrichment to display. 

What was once a dialogue between the self and the world has become a spectacle for an invisible audience. Expression has been replaced by exposure, and engagement in creative acts has been repurposed for engagement in the digital world. 

This turns creativity into a simulation. We paint for the camera, not the soul. We act out versions of ourselves for the approval of others, confusing being seen with feeling alive.

This is problematic because the more we perform in this way, the emptier we actually become. We receive quick dopamine hits, but little nourishment - using our creative energy for others means we give much more away than we receive in return. It's fast-food meaning - synthetic fulfilment that talks the talk instead of walking the walk. 

And so we scroll, post, refresh, repeat - building a civilisation of curated lives and unfulfilled minds. A world in which genuine self-expression has been replaced by digital exhibitionism.

What we’re left with is a paradox. The tools that pretend to connect us actively disconnect us from the very thing creativity should give us - a sense of personal authorship.

The Invisible Like Count

There is, fortunately, a way back from this - and it’s surprisingly simple. All we need to do is to make a mark.

By engaging in one act of creation every day - not for algorithms, and not for applause - we can return the creative act to ourselves. We can make a mark on the world and our own lives by stepping away from consumption and diving headfirst into action. 

Write a sentence. Sketch a shape. Fix a hinge. Cook a meal. Build something small - even if it's imperfect. In fact, do it because it's imperfect, and stands in stark contrast to the soulless, sanitised world tech has forced upon us over the years. Just ensure it never gets in spitting distance of an algorithm. Don’t post it. Don’t hashtag it. Don’t perform it.

If you need to share it, do it in person. Show a friend your sketchbook. Read a poem aloud to your partner. Offer someone a cake you baked, just because you felt like baking.

Why? Because we need to rediscover what fulfilment feels like when no one is watching. Private creativity is one of the most endangered practices of our time, and yet I think it’s the key to restoring our internal balance. When you make something and keep it to yourself and those close to you, you feel a quiet pulse of satisfaction - the invisible like count inside you begins to rise.

It’s that tiny, internal click that confirms you've done something original, for you and you alone. Not for an audience, and not as an act of performance. Just to feel the sense of alignment that comes when you connect mind, matter, and the world around you. 

Do that, and you'll find that each invisible ‘inner like’ strengthens your sense of self; each small act rebuilds the creative muscle that the attention economy has caused to wither. And the benefits this brings cannot be underestimated. 

To be clear, I'm not writing about this to turn Making a Mark into a brand, a viral trend, or the next internet challenge. I want people to use it as an undocumented, personal rebellion - an individual refusal to let algorithms define our worth. Making a Mark should be a private uprising against the idea that existence requires validation in the digital space. It's a way of saying: I don’t need to be seen to exist.

Reclaiming Agency in the Age of AI

None of this is about turning more people into artists - it’s about survival in the decades to come. Because as we move deeper into the Intelligence Revolution, machines will continue to take over more and more of the creative and practical tasks that once defined us. AI is learning to design, compose, write and build - faster and more efficiently than our capabilities allow. Sure, AI-generation lacks soul, but when raw consumption is the goal, and when attention and engagement are the chief concern, that doesn’t always matter. We are striving headlong into a landscape of ubiquitous mediocrity designed to serve the capitalist system we reside in. 

If we don’t reclaim our creative instincts now, we risk entering this new era as spectators - applauding our own creative obsolescence. And that simply cannot be allowed to happen. 

Making a Mark is one small example of how we resist that. It’s how we can stay human in an age of abundant automation. When you write a sentence, fix a broken object or sketch an idea, you are doing something extraordinary - you are reasserting personal authorship. You are reminding yourself that your hands, your mind, and your instincts still matter.

In a world where machines will increasingly do the making on our behalf, the act of making becomes an expression of defiance. Creation shouldn’t be a competition with each other, or technology - it should be our way of maintaining connection with ourselves.

So here’s the invitation: Every day, make something. Anything. Don’t measure it, don’t monetise it, don’t upload it. Do it quietly. Do it imperfectly. Do it for you.

Because in a society that has forgotten how to engage with the world, even the smallest act of creation becomes an act of revolution.

Make a Mark

If this idea struck a chord, don’t let it slip from your mind as just another passing thought. Try it - tonight. Make something no one else will ever see. Scribble a note. Sew a button. Draw a line. And when you do, pay attention to the feeling that follows - that pulse of satisfaction isn’t trivial. It’s your humanity coming back online.

You’ll feel something subtle but profound - the sense that you’ve interacted with the world again, rather than simply consumed it. And in that moment, you’ll understand the truth at the heart of all genuine creativity: To make a mark is to exist twice - once in thought, and again in matter.

So, make a mark - not for them, but for you.

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