Last December, my eagerly awaited Spotify Wrapped arrived with a special Christmas bonus I wasn’t expecting: a healthy dose of existential dread.
After months of anticipation for the annual distillation of my listening habits into brightly-coloured, Instagram story-ready infographics, I was appalled to find that a song I despise with every fibre of my being had somehow infiltrated my top tracks list. Despite my continuous efforts to skip, hide and remove it every time it inevitably resurfaced in one of my personalised ‘Made for You’ playlists, there it was, uninvited yet unavoidable.
CULTUR.ART's visit to the 2024 Spotify Wrapped exhibit at Outernet London
In this digital reality we’re living in, programmed automated systems — also known as algorithms — are the invisible gears that keep our online world afloat. But increasingly, they’re becoming more than just mechanisms making sure our tech runs smoothly. With the explosion of platforms offering seemingly endless options for artistic or cultural content — everything from music, film and TV to short-form videos and webpages — personalisation algorithms are becoming inescapable, too. And with that comes a whole set of questions to consider.
The fact that a song I actively tried to avoid ended up as one of my most-played tracks is a clear example of the influence algorithms have on our consumption habits. And if these algorithms control what gets recommended to us, are we truly in control of the arts and culture we consume online? Or are unseen forces shaping our consumption choices, or even dictating what gets created in the first place? If so, what does this mean for the future (and present) of arts, culture and ideas? And perhaps most importantly — what can we do about it?
Personalisation algorithms, as the name implies, are automated processes that collect and analyse a vast range of data from individual users. This data is used to create personalised profiles for each user, which in turn help curate their experience on the platform. As a result, the content displayed on their home feed is tailored to reflect their perceived individual interests and preferences. In the context of artistic or cultural consumption, this could look like algorithms deciding the films that appear first when you log into Netflix, the songs Spotify adds to your personalised playlists, or even the top results when you Google 'best art galleries near me'.

With all this in mind, it’s easy to wonder why it matters at all. After all, aren’t algorithms just showing us what we’ll probably enjoy? And isn’t that a good thing? Well, yes and no.
The same algorithms designed to enhance user experiences can also restrict them by preventing you from discovering new works you’ve never encountered before. When a personalisation algorithm detects that you’re spending significant time on a particular type of content, be it a film, song or podcast, it adds this data to your personal profile and begins pushing more of the same onto your feed. And as this content appears more frequently, you're more likely to see it and engage with it, which can create what’s known as a ‘filter bubble.’ Within this bubble, you're effectively intellectually isolated, as the only content you’re seeing is what you've already expressed an interest in.
On an individual level, this keeps you in your comfort zone, limiting your exposure to new and diverse artistic and cultural content, and by extension, ideas. On a wider level, algorithmic feedback loops start to form, meaning that popular content gets prioritised over niche, lesser-known works as this is likely to bring in more overall engagement. Because of this, what’s popular continues becoming more dominant, while everything else gets buried. And while there’s definitely nothing wrong with enjoying popular or familiar content, the overwhelming dominance of this content can stifle the spread of important ideas outside the mainstream. For example, the dominance of works from certain cultural backgrounds and perspectives might lead to the continued overlooking or underrepresentation of voices from minorities or marginalised groups.

Another key issue is that algorithms don’t just shape what we consume; they also impact what gets created.
Take TikTok, for example. Many videos follow a similar format: catchy intros, the same popular sounds, and often specific ‘trends’ that dictate specific templates the videos need to follow. Over time, many creators have adapted their content to be more 'algorithm-friendly' in an effort to improve their odds of having their videos favoured by the system and seen by more people. And while not all creators follow this path, the allure of virality often makes it hard to resist altering content in ways that might prioritise algorithmic approval over originality and individuality.
One great example of this is the ‘TikTok voice’ phenomenon. Have you ever scrolled through TikTok and noticed that people are starting to sound eerily similar? Last year, the BBC published an article detailing a fascinating linguistic event — the rise of the TikTok accent. This distinct speaking pattern, often marked by uptalk (ending sentences with a rising intonation) and vocal fry (pronouncing words in a low-pitched, creaky voice), has become increasingly common among content creators, likely in an effort to sound more engaging and persuasive, thereby increasing their chances of holding viewers' attention and boosting their video’s value in the algorithm’s eyes.
BBC reporter Sophia Smith Galer explains the ‘TikTok voice’ phenomenon
Another interesting case is the ‘TikTokification’ of music—the idea that TikTok is reshaping the way music is being created, with the platform’s prioritisation of catchy, repetitive beats over depth and originality. TikTok has become a major promotional tool for artists, as short snippets of songs can easily go viral as ‘trending sounds’ when users incorporate them into their videos.
Because of this, musicians including Charli XCX, Florence Welch and Halsey have all spoken out about how their labels are pushing them to create songs designed to go viral on TikTok. The Berklee College of Music, one of the world’s most prestigious music schools, has even adapted its songwriting curriculum to include classes focused on writing and arranging music tailored specifically for TikTok.
The watering down or altering of artistic and cultural content to fit an algorithm’s standards is harmful because it suppresses the diversity and originality of ideas, art and culture that online platforms are uniquely positioned to amplify. The internet offers a rare opportunity for ideas to spread rapidly and globally, but by homogenising content to fit an algorithm-friendly mould, we risk stifling creativity, discourse and progress. We shouldn’t let that happen.
That said, it’s important to emphasise that we’re not being entirely complacent in this issue. In recent years, a growing number of people and organisations have been pushing back against the threats that algorithms pose to our creative freedoms and artistic exploration.
One example of this is the interactive art project Art I Don’t Like, an ‘anti-art recommender’ whose website encouraged visitors to explore unfamiliar art by recommending pieces that were deliberately different from what they expressed interest in. The project not only served to broaden users’ knowledge of unfamiliar works and artists they might not have encountered otherwise, but also highlighted the negative effects of personalisation algorithms in shaping the art they consume.

However, while some efforts focus on improving algorithms or using them for good, others are opting to bypass them entirely. For instance, MUBI, a film streaming service not dissimilar to Netflix, curates its selection through traditional human curation rather than relying on algorithms, often spotlighting filmmakers from diverse cultural backgrounds. The platform’s rotating collection ensures that users are consistently exposed to new and varied art, and also gives the art and artists that might be overlooked in an algorithm-driven platform their time in the limelight. Other algorithm-defying initiatives include the DailyArt app, which delivers to users a daily dose of new art, and randomiser features on platforms like Wikipedia, which generate randomly selected content, are also working to bring the unfamiliar and the niche to the forefront.

This movement extends beyond the digital realm as well. The Museum of Bad Art in Boston, for instance, is exactly what it sounds like — a museum showcasing and celebrating works that typically wouldn't make it to the mainstream art world. It defies the logic of personalisation algorithms by elevating works that would likely otherwise get lost in the digital noise.
Similarly, the Museu de l'Art Prohibit in Barcelona is a censored art museum housing over 200 works that have at some point been censored or banned for cultural, social or political reasons. The museum challenges the algorithmic tendency to amplify familiar and dominant art, and instead focuses on highlighting alternative and often oppressed voices and perspectives that have been historically prevented from reaching mainstream audiences.
With all this in mind, a question remains — what can we do? As everyday users of the algorithm-driven platforms that dominate the online world, it might feel impossible to escape the tight grip they have on our consumption choices. But despite this, there are still ways to take control of what we consume. And hey, if you’ve made it this far, you’re already on the right track.
First off, let’s be clear: it’s not a crime to keep using these platforms (yet). After all, giants like Netflix, Spotify, TikTok and Google are the gatekeepers for most of our content. But it's helpful to become more aware of how algorithms are shaping what we’re seeing and being recommended. And while escaping these systems entirely might not be realistic, simply being mindful of this can still help you make more informed choices. Recognising the illusion of choice these platforms create is the first step to taking control over what you consume.
Another way to break free from algorithmic dominance is to look to alternative sources the next time you’re looking for your daily dose of art, culture and ideas. For example, you could try asking friends or family for recommendations or look to local galleries, museums or public institutions like the British Film Institute if you’re based in London. And if those options aren't available, consider turning to human-curated platforms like MUBI, Google Arts & Culture or DailyArt. And while you’re at it, why not subscribe to CULTUR.ART’s substack? Our monthly newsletter is packed with handpicked arts and culture recommendations for you to explore. And for a quick hit of inspiration for when you’re short on time, check out our Arts and Culture Tips series on TikTok for unique artist-recommended picks.
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