Instagram Wasn’t the Problem. Our Obsession Was.

Instagram was great until it ruined the art of photography. Somewhere along the way, the app that once celebrated still images traded intention for attention, and in doing so, it didn’t just change photography — it helped ruin the art.

Lately, I have seen more salt poured into Instagram's wounds from photographers. Comments like, “I am deleting Instagram,” and “Instagram is no longer for photographers, I am out!” These statements are factual, especially since Instagram is no longer mainly for photographers. I have never really gotten into Instagram; I have a little more lately, but I am never consistent. I find it more of a place to be inspired and see what others do. Lately, it's hard to do that.

I find myself scrolling, trying to find what I am looking for, only to be served up more reels than I care to see. There are great reels out there, and I do not completely hate them. What I hate is the content they are serving me, and I wonder what I did to have the algorithm serve me the content I am seeing. All these reels are provocative, and the goal is to get me to go to their OnlyFans page. What happened to the photography, and where did the photos go?

The Early Days: Promise and Possibility 

Instagram was once the place to be as a photographer. It was simple, portable, and made for discovery. You could grab your phone out of your pocket and instantly have a mini portfolio to show others. You can still do this, which has not been lost, but its simplicity has. There was no pressure; you had a chronological feed. It was not full of reels, but great images! Instagram is still full of great photos—more than ever! You could find photographers worldwide, and a sense of community started to be built. Photographers were talking to each other and discovering each other simultaneously. You could find behind-the-scenes photos from shoots and visual day-to-day diaries. Slowly, a community was built, and photographers interacted and shared information. We loved being there, but no one knew what was lurking in the shadows: an algorithm.

The Shift: When Photography Became Content    

The transition to an algorithm-based feed began. Photographers started optimizing for visibility; the days of the chronological feed were gone. They began digging into their social media metrics, where hashtags, posting times, and aesthetic conformity of their profiles took center stage. Worry arose after we were told that our profiles needed aesthetic conformity and that all images should be presented similarly. Don’t get me wrong—it looks impressive, but I know others wouldn’t post a great image because it didn’t match the others.

The metrics mentality started to take hold. Likes equaled validation, the number of followers became your legitimacy, and comments equaled your worth. Photographers began to think we were not legitimate because we had few followers. I prefer 500 highly engaging followers to 1,000 who rarely or never interact. All of this started to percolate, and it began to taint photographers—bad habits and poor mentalities took hold. All this started to warp creativity. No longer were we asking, “Is this meaningful?” Instead, we began to ask, “Will this perform?”

Copy culture crept in, taking the main stage. When asked, “Will this perform?” rather than “Is this meaningful?” photographers were only worried and making decisions based on performance, not art. Then, the rise of trends started, and neon portraits, foggy shots, and milk baths became the next big thing. Soon they faded away, and others took the stage, while photographers tried to create trending content that would perform—or so they hoped. The algorithm rewarded repetition, and we fed into it. The feed lost its originality, and copy culture finally took hold. You couldn’t scroll through your feed without seeing the same image—or now, reel—over and over.

The Consequences: Art Started to Suffer

As art suffered, feeds became all the same. Most images that were once experimental, weird, or imperfect disappeared from the feed. With only a few changes, many were chasing the copy culture, thinking they could amass a following overnight by copying other creators. Entire genres of photography started to become a parody. Take “Instagrammable travel”—no longer about having a photographer’s eye. A playbook had been created, repeated, and repeated over. Feeds were filled with the same drone shot done 500 different ways, or the video of camper vans driving through a tunnel, only to expose a magnificent view at the end, or wedding photographers with wide-brimmed hats.

Photographers curbed their personal work and replaced it with lackluster images missing authenticity. “If it won’t get likes, is it worth sharing?” took the place of emotionally raw photos, telling the story and making the viewer feel emotion. Don't post it if it did not fit the grid—this was also becoming a trend. All of these occurred only to chase reactions from followers so that they could feel validated. Time took a toll. Burnout and disconnection became a reality for many. Comparisons turned into impostor syndrome, and many quit as they were not feeling validated. If they were not getting likes, they felt unseen. Then came the pressure to constantly create so we could post on a regular schedule. Posting consistently was supposed to be the magic bullet, and then the algorithm changed.

We Made These Choices: Not Instagram

Choices were made by Instagram users, not Instagram itself. Instagram just provided a platform to the masses, and we made it the popularity contest it became. It was no longer about the community of photographers and seeing inspiring work on a chronological feed. It was about how many followers one could amass and reaching for validation. When changes started to happen, the algorithm became center stage. Rebelling against it didn’t happen; we embraced it. We began creating for audiences so we could again amass followers. No longer were we making work for ourselves. Risk was replaced by reliability, style with trends, and vision with virality. The photographer’s work was based on trends, not themselves, creating a further landslide into the social media abyss. Many dug the hole, and very few brought the ladder to climb out of the abyss.

How to Reclaim Photography from the Feed

Post What Matters to You (Even if It Doesn’t “Do Well”): Post the experimental work that scares you to post. Don’t be afraid of not doing well or not having your typical “style.” As an artist and creative, keeping yourself confined to a box does not allow you to grow in your art and skills. It holds you back! Also, share the progress and not just the polished, final piece. I took the plunge and started posting more interesting work and images that were way off my normal. I was hesitant to post, afraid it would not do well. I reminded myself that likes don’t pay the bills, and I had nothing to lose. If my work were not being organically found, what harm could it do?

Take Breaks: Do this without guilt! There is nothing to feel guilty about stepping away, taking a breather, and recharging the creative battery. You can only grow from this experience and get better. I took a lengthy break several times over the last few years. I didn’t pick up the camera but went to art museums and events. This only helped to recharge my battery, and I focused on the elements of art pieces—not creating them!

Print More, Scroll Less: Print, print, and print your work. When our work becomes more tangible, we start to value it more. I started experimenting with Polaroid transfers and creating one-of-a-kind pieces, and I am happy I started. I started valuing my work more!

Create Work That Does Not Belong Online: Find a project you can work on that will not be displayed online. Private projects are a great way to create images you want to make without posting them online. They won’t perform because they're not online, and the feeling is that your work is not good. I am not saying that down the road, once it is completed, you can’t post it. Just remember, not everything needs to be posted.

In the End

We can’t take back what has happened, but we can affect what happens next. If that means leaving Instagram and no longer being a part of the platform, good! If it means posting only images you want to and ignoring creating reels, great! Instagram didn’t kill photography—it only revealed what we were willing to sacrifice for attention and 15 minutes of fame. Start shooting as if no one will tap those like and follow buttons. There is nothing to lose by taking a step back to reevaluate things. You don’t need a platform to permit you to be a photographer. You need to remember why you picked up the camera in the first place.

I am curious—has Instagram helped or hurt photography? Let me know in the comments!