Content Goggles
Observing the way creators observe the world
I went viral in the 2010s (saying that like it was a different era because it feels like it). My followers grew and grew by the tens of thousands every day. I remember refreshing my notifications every half second to see a list of new usernames taller than my screen. I think some of you have been around since then, which is wild. You feel like extended family I’ve never met.
This was before it was okay to call yourself an influencer or a content creator. I was a serious photographer with integrity, I thought. Well, I was actually a graphic designer who built websites for a fun little company called Rareview.
I also loved road trips with my dog Momo. I discovered the “Avoid Highways” feature on Google Maps, a method of travel which was an expression of my curiosity (I even started a Tumblr called Avoid Highways which has been dormant for a decade). These back roads were more interesting, which made me love road life even more. I miss it all the time. But there was a part of my life on the road that started to feel icky. Like I was constantly content farming.
At this point, I started wearing content goggles.
If you’re a writer, your life experiences become writing material. This is even a good tool for disarming some traumatic events. To view your life objectively. To wear your writer goggles. As a photographer, you’re watching light and composition and moments that will convey a story. You’re basically looking for magic. But as a content creator, everything is harvestable fodder.
Content goggles do not discriminate. They don’t allow genuine curiosity. They restrict compassion. They commodify the human experience. We too often see human interaction reduced to engagement bait. At the extreme end of this we have the manosphere, recently (and rightly) ridiculed thanks to Louis Theroux’s documentary.
A good question to ask when viewing (or creating) something might be: would this creator have made this for themselves?
After Momo died, I didn’t want to take photos as much. Or at least I thought I didn’t. I was confusing my content goggles with my photography goggles. It’s easy to confuse these two. I had grown tired of the internet machine. My burnout was for my content goggles. Not my photography ones.
When I was in Croatia with my friend Zach in 2018, he shot so many photos and videos that he never shared. He was shooting for the love of shooting. We’d have lengthy discussions about the internet machine. I was so wrapped up in it I had a hard time understanding why he captured so much with no intention to share it.
On that same trip, all throughout Europe, my cheap fabric camera strap dug into my neck. My Canon DSLR and 24-70 lens slammed into my hip bone every step I took. I had a constant bruise. But I carried it anyways. I wasn’t truly aware of my goggles back then, and I wore both. My goal was to create a great book about Europe. And honestly, I’m really proud of that one. I tried my best to stay curious. Admittedly, I think this book was fuelled by both of my goggles: the photography and the content ones.
I’ve been shooting a little more lately, and it’s been an effort in shooting for myself. My relationship with my camera, with my work, is always evolving. I’m constantly trying to keep the curiosity but lose the commodification. To keep what feeds me, and lose the thing that disconnects me.
The writer, the videographer, the photographer, they all need compassion and curiosity. At least to create anything long-lasting and meaningful.
Am I curious about my subject, or am I curious about how this will perform online?
Give too much to the former and you may lose your audience. Too much to the latter and you may lose yourself.
You can be a content creator who is empathetic and engages with her surroundings with curiosity and compassion. You can also be a photographer or writer whose intention is to share his work with the world.
Creating for the sake of engagement isn’t always wrong or bad. We live in an online world that requires us to think critically about how our work will engage with its audience. This very article was inspired by the idea that I was trying to write something to engage people. And maybe because my life lately has been pretty uneventful and I’ve been in my head too much so I have to be introspective.
But creating for yourself doesn’t mean it can’t be shared, it just changes the intention. It changes your relationship with the world. More importantly, it changes the way you connect with the world.
Maybe I’m overthinking again. Maybe I’m taking myself too seriously. Maybe I just need a road trip for the sake of a road trip.
Lots of love,
Andrew, Yaya, & Boo
A few things to share:
Event with Brianna Madia
I’m going to be in Portland in conversation with Brianna Madia at Powell’s City of Books about her new book Homesick Nomad.
Event info here: Wednesday April 8th, 2026 at Powell’s City of Books
How to be a man.
I secretly started a publication with my good friend Tom Ward about men’s mental health and being a man and all of that. I’ll be posting over there about things most likely unrelated to dogs. Which feels wrong. But really, everything I do and say is about dogs, because that’s who I am.
Anyway, you can check it out here: Really Good Friends
Yaya’s Surprise Bag!
Last week I announced that I’m giving away Yaya’s Surprise Bag, a custom tote filled with cute things that’ll make you smile. You won’t know what’s in it unless you win it. So far, we have 180 entries (!) and 28 new supporters on Patreon (thank you!).
You have until March 31st to add a comment to this Patreon post to win it. There will be one every month for the next 6 months.
Become a supporter on Patreon and I’ll be forever grateful. You can also upgrade to a paid Substack subscribtion. Or both. Sorry. Hopefully one day I don’t have to ask for your money on here. Love you.
Stickers & Prints
I’ve added shipping to the USA again on my store because I don’t understand what is happening with the tariffs anymore. I’ve shipped a few stickers and packages to the United States with no problems, so hopefully I can keep doing this.
Check out my store! (hopefully restocking the classic Momo stickers soon)













Thank you for mirroring back to me so beautifully the exhaustion I am feeling (and the lesson I am now learning for myself). Beautiful read. Felt like an exhale.
I've had this feeling but never knew how to talk about it. Content goggles! Yes! Thanks for putting a name to this mental stress. It's tough to know when to film and when to just be present. And when I am being present, am I just collecting details that I'll share in a Substack post later? So many things to think about. Thanks Andrew! And I remember that Europe trip – I have a photo somewhere of you and Momo in our Amsterdam apartment!