͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

Forwarded this email? Subscribe here for more

INSTAs vs. INSPOs: curated inspiration vs. lived inspiration

… the difference between looking and living ...

MARTINA NICOLLS

Jan 29

READ IN APP

Instagram has become one of the great idea engines of contemporary creativity. But is it also becoming one of its great replacements for contemporary creativity?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the INSTAs vs. INSPOs – curated inspiration versus lived inspiration – and how it affects creativity.

Instagrams (curated inspiration) are fast, visual, algorithmic, and endless. INSTAs are seductive because they offer immediate stimulation, clear aesthetics, constant novelty, and the feeling of BEING in the creative world. They can educate, connect, showcase, and motivate.

INSTAs also reshape the creative process. They reward visibility more than depth. They focus on instant recognizable styles over originality that takes time. They privilege output over incubation.

When ideas arrive pre-packaged as images, trends, palettes, and formats, we risk being someone who responds, rather than someone who creates. The risk is not that Instagram kills creativity; it’s that it can crowd out the conditions where creativity is born. We start making work that looks like ideas instead of work that grows from experience.

INSPOs (lived inspiration) are slower and often invisible. They aren’t ready-made aesthetics. They are feelings, sensations, contradictions, memories. They don’t say “make this” – they say “what can you create from this?” INSPOs require participation, presence, and time.

They include reading without harvesting, walking without documenting, conversations that go nowhere useful, staring into space, noticing how light moves across a wall, remembering something someone said, mulling over a question, being bored, being moved, being confused, and the feeling of LIVING in the creative world.

The core difference is that INSTAs are external stimulants, whereas INSPOs are internal musings that ferment over time. INSTAs show us what is being made, whereas INSPOs ask us what is becoming and who are we becoming. INSTAs fill the eye, whereas INSPOs feed our inner selves.

Both can coexist, but they do not nourish the same layer of our creative self. A diet of INSTAs can make us visually sophisticated but existentially undernourished. INSPOs, by contrast, often feel unproductive. They don’t photograph well but they are where our personal voice comes from.

There is a hidden cost to being in a near-permanent state of aesthetic consumption. When we are always looking at INSTAs, we borrow moods instead of discovering them, we learn trends instead of creating them, we collect styles instead of stories, and we are refining what we see instead of questioning what we see.

INSPOs, on the other hand, often lead us somewhere unfashionable, inconvenient, or unoptimized. They might lead us back to our childhood, to a place, to loss and grief, to a long-held fascination or obsession, or to a form no one is posting. Isn’t that exactly where the most interesting work begins?

Where did your last real idea come from: a scrolled image or a moment that changed the way you felt?

This isn’t an argument for abandoning INSTAs. It’s an argument for rebalancing the ecosystem of “being” versus “living.” It’s an argument for treating Instagram as a gallery but treating Inspiration as the studio.

If we cultivated our INSPOs with the same devotion we give to our feeds, we would take more walks that lead nowhere, read more books for enjoyment, talk more about living than content planning, and spend more time where nothing is posted but something is forming.

Long before ideas become images, they are atmospheres. And atmospheres cannot be scrolled.

Or Buy Me A Coffee

Can’t see the whole article? Want to view the original article? Want to view more articles? Go to Martina’s Substack: The Stories in You and Me

More Paris articles are in my Paris website The Paris Residences of James Joyce

Buy Me A Coffee

You're currently a free subscriber to The Stories in You and Me . For the full experience, upgrade your subscription.

Upgrade to paid

Comment

Restack

Forwarded this email? Subscribe here for more

What makes a gas noble? Does it apply to humans too?

… don’t mingle, stay single, do nothing, react not …

MARTINA NICOLLS

Jan 27

READ IN APP

What makes a gas noble? The term comes from an old idea in chemistry that compared some gases to nobility – i.e., elements that do not mingle or react with others.

Noble gases (helium, neon, argon, krypton, xenon, radon, and oganesson) have their electrons arranged in a specific way. Their very special feature is an outermost layer of electrons, called a shell, that is complete (full). Helium is complete with 2 electrons and the others are complete with 8 electrons.

In chemistry, a full outer shell is a state of maximum stability.

Atoms “want” to reach this condition because it requires the least energy. Because their outer shell is already full and complete, noble gases don’t need to gain electrons, don’t want to lose electrons, and rarely share electrons.

So, they almost never form chemical bonds. That makes them extremely unreactive (inert) and found mostly as single atoms, not as molecules.

Everyday examples include:

argon, the gas for protecting welding arcs and preserving documents;

helium, the gas for balloons (light and non-flammable);

neon, the gas for city signs; and

xenon, the gas for camera flashes and headlights.

In short, a gas is “noble” because its electron structure makes it stable, self-contained, and chemically aloof.

Or Buy Me A Coffee