Presence Is Not Mass Production

We have all been raised by a society where people were constantly trying to lose weight. Not out of real necessity, but because aesthetic standards demanded it, because the context encouraged it, because public opinion normalized it. Weight was something to get rid of almost by default, as if becoming lighter was always and unquestionably the right direction. And in the attempt to become lighter, many ended up losing something else. Not just kilos, but presence.

Today we say “consistency is key” and repeat it across almost every domain, from training to work to social media. Consistency has become an unquestioned value, almost a moral requirement. But when the pursuit of consistency is combined with urgency, with constant pressure to produce, and with the fear of missing a deadline, the outcome changes. We are no longer choosing what to share. We are reacting. And so we end up releasing into the world content that is technically correct, but mediocre. Content that does not fully represent us and that, more often than not, does not even satisfy us.

This is how mass production enters creative processes. Not as an explicit decision, but as a gradual adaptation to rhythms, deadlines and expectations. Content is published not because something is ready or necessary, but because it is time to do so. The result is often meh.

Technically sound, visually acceptable, but lacking that sense of necessity that makes something truly worth sharing.

Do you know the 80–20 rule? Originally theorized by Pareto and later recognized as a social pattern, it was applied to management as the principle according to which roughly eighty percent of results come from twenty percent of causes. A concept meant to help focus energy on what truly matters, not to legitimize approximation. And yet, over time, this rule has been simplified to the point of becoming something else entirely. The idea took hold that eighty percent of potential was more than enough, that doing “well enough” was always acceptable, regardless of context.

The problem is not the eighty percent. The problem begins when we stop asking where the twenty percent is. When we lose sight of what gives meaning, weight and direction to what we do. This is not an invitation to mediocrity, nor to systematic approximation. It is an open question: how do we find a real balance between quality and perfection, without falling into either obsession or superficiality?

Perhaps one key lies in the acceptance of imperfection. Which is not mediocrity, but authenticity.

Authenticity remains strong even when it is imperfect. It can be incomplete, rough, unfinished, yet it maintains a clear direction. Mediocrity, on the other hand, tries to imitate an unattainable perfection without ever truly reaching it. It mimics forms, languages and structures that appear correct, but lack necessity.

And while authenticity has thickness, mediocrity is simply weak.

Real, substantial content is stronger than frequent content.

Presence is not measured in quantity, but in density. The world pushes forward, demanding speed, continuity and immediate reaction. But authenticity requires time. You cannot produce meaning the way you would run an assembly line. You cannot manufacture presence at scale.

Perhaps we should normalize waiting. Give dignity to the time it takes to create something truly worth creating. Stop filling time simply to ease the anxiety of having to do so.

Accept imperfection, but in the same way one accepts a few extra kilos: by adapting the clothes to the body, not the body to the clothes.