The Illusion of Intimacy in the Digital Age

I enjoyed Justin Bieber’s Coachella performance, but I can’t quite shake this feeling...

There’s something about it all that really lands. The close-ups, the softness, the way he looks straight into the camera as if there isn’t a crowd — as if it’s just you. It feels intimate in a way that’s hard to ignore. Not performative in the obvious sense, but quiet, almost personal. Like you’ve been let into something. 

You can feel the influence of artists around him too — people like Dijon, and Mk.Gee (who I LOVE), especially on “Daisies”. There’s that rawness, that slightly unpolished emotional tone that makes everything feel closer, more human. Add to that the nostalgia running through the performance — him singing with his younger self — and it creates this deep space that’s easy to fall into. That we all kind of crave for. 

And I think that’s the point. Or at least part of it. 

Because what it gives you, very effectively, is intimacy. 

But then there’s this other layer to it that’s hard to ignore. 

That same intimacy — the eye contact, the softness, the sense that someone is speaking directly to you — it’s also the exact same language we see everywhere else now in this digital age. On social media. On dating apps. In those late-night conversations with people who feel close very quickly, and then just as quickly disappear. Experiences that are not real, almost echoing love bombing but on a massive scale.

It’s not necessarily intentional. It’s just how things are now. 

We’ve learned to recognise intimacy through a screen. Through a lens. Through someone looking “at” us in a way that feels like they’re looking “into” us. And artists have picked up on that — or maybe just naturally evolved into it — creating performances that don’t just entertain but simulate connection. 

And it works. 

It feels real while you’re in it. The emotion is real. The reaction is real. But the connection itself isn’t. It can’t be. It’s one-sided. It exists only for the duration of the moment. 

And that’s where it starts to feel familiar in a different way. Because it mirrors how we live now within the digital spaces. This constant exposure to curated intimacy — conversations that feel meaningful but aren’t grounded in anything, interactions that feel personal but aren’t actually shared in person. The sense of closeness without the reality of it. The performance of connection, rather than the thing itself. So, watching that performance, I found myself holding two thoughts at once. 

On one hand: This is beautiful. This is what art does. It creates a feeling, a moment, a shared experience between strangers who all recognise something in it. Art can create intimacy between strangers. 

On the other hand: This is also exactly how connection and intimacy functions in the digital age. Carefully framed. Emotionally precise. Designed to feel personal. But ultimately, not something you can hold onto because it is not real. 

Close, but not quite. 

Personal, but not really. 

An intimacy we keep returning to — not because it’s real, but because it feels like it could be.

p.s.and yeah, that camerawoman deserves a raise! :)

x