Owning What We Create

Hey - Vítor here. Let's talk about ownership. Not in the traditional sense, like owning a car or a house, but in a deeper sense of what truly belongs to us: our creations, our ideas, our digital identity. A late-night thought: "Who really owns the things we share online?" That one question spiraled into a deep rabbit hole. I guess it's the kind of thing that happens when you (practically) quit social media and start building your own website from scratch. You begin to realize just how much of your creative presence you've outsourced to platforms that were never really yours in the first place. So I did what I usually do - I started digging. Turns out, we're living in the Web 2.0 era. And it's not just a buzzword - it actually means something. Web 1.0, as I understood it, was like a digital library. People built static websites. No profiles, no likes, no followers. The person reading the site was often the same one who built it. You were the writer, designer and publisher - all in one. It wasn't glamorous, but it was yours. No algorithm decided whether your content deserved to be seen. You made something, put it online and that was that. Fast forward to now: Web 2.0 is dominated by platforms like Instagram, YouTube, TikTok, X. They provide the space and you bring the content. But here's the catch: you don't really own what you post there. You're creating within their system, for their ecosystem - one that's optimized for one thing: keeping users hooked so they can sell more ads (...and make more money). If they want to hide your post, they can. If they want to delete your profile, they can. If they want to tweak the algorithm so fewer people see your work? They absolutely can - and often do. Suddenly, your creative work isn't yours anymore. It's at the mercy of a machine you can't see, read or control. That realization hit even harder while I was building my personal site. For months, I've been coding, designing, tweaking, adjusting - trying to make a space that actually reflects me. A real, intentional space. But even then, I noticed I was still relying on third-party services: Firebase for data, Cloudinary to host images. So even outside social media, I was still dependent on systems I don't control. I'm trusting companies to host my music, my photos, my blog entries - the very things I left social media to protect - and hoping they won't disappear, change their rules or increase their prices overnight. Then a bigger question hit me: "Am I really creating for myself... or just building on someone else's "land"? That question pushed me deeper into how ownership works online. Even domain names - like .com - aren't truly owned. They're leased. Managed by centralized bodies like ICANN. It brings order to the chaos, sure, but it also means if someone with enough authority wants to take your domain down, they can. And this isn't just about websites. The same thing happens with music. As a musician, I can spend months making a song, only to upload it to DSPs like Spotify or Apple Music through a distributor I pay. The track then sits on their servers, is streamed through their apps and earns royalties based on their model - which prioritizes major-label deals, editorial playlists and volume over artistry. I might technically "own" the masters, but the actual experience - how it's delivered, discovered and monetized - is completely out of my hands. So again... do I really own it? Or am I just leasing it with invisible strings attached? That line of questioning led me to something I'd brushed off before: Web 3.0. I've heard about it, sure - usually through terms like crypto, blockchain, NFTs. It always felt more like financial speculation than creative liberation. But digging deeper, I started seeing something different. At its core, Web 3 is about decentralization. The idea that you can own and control your data, your content, your identity - without having to depend on platforms, labels or gatekeepers. You can host content on decentralized networks. You can register domains like .eth (on the Ethereum blockchain), which - at least in theory - are censorship-resistant and can't be taken from you. That idea fascinates me. What if my website, my music, my art - lived outside of traditional systems? What if only I had control over it? Of course, Web 3 still feels early. There are fees and even new gatekeepers, just of a different kind. But the spirit of it feels closer to Web 1 - only evolved. It's about putting creation, curation and distribution back in the hands of the individual. And maybe... that's the future I want to lean into. But here's the trade-off: No social media means leaving behind built-in audiences. Posting on Instagram or TikTok guarantees at least some eyeballs. My own site? It exists in a vacuum unless someone actively finds it - or I send them there. And not all browsers are fully supporting Web 3 applications yet. So it becomes clear: it's reach vs control. Lately, I'm starting to feel like control matters more to me. Not in an ego-driven way. Just in the sense of having a space that's truly mine. A space that doesn't depend on someone else's algorithm or quarterly revenue targets. It's the same reason I make music the way I do - not to please a playlist, but to express something honest and authentic. So if I'm going to share that music, that writing, that art... shouldn't the platform feel just as intentional as the work itself? I'm still figuring it out and researching things. I'm not going full crypto-maximalist. I don't even know if I'll get a .eth domain or migrate fully to decentralized systems. But I'm questioning. I'm building. I'm looking for something that feels more aligned with who I am and how I want my identity online. And if you're an artist, a thinker or just someone tired of flirting with the algorithms... maybe this resonates. Maybe it's about having more control over the things we create and how they live in the world. Or, do you think that's just a utopia? Thank you for reading "Inside The Mind Of An Artist". Until next time, Vítor