The Evolution of Beauty: From Artistry to Aesthetic

Real Artists vs. Real Trends: What It Means to Show Up in a Social-Driven Industry

There was a time when makeup was about connection and beauty not content. Before the Reels, before the filters, before the pressure to post, there were artists, brushes, and the kind of beauty that unfolded face to face. Now, we live in a world where algorithms shape artistry and virality often outranks value. The goal for so many is virality vs. artistry.

As a working artist in today’s beauty industry, I’ve had to ask myself: how do you stay rooted in your craft when everything around you tells you to perform? How do you protect the heart of your artistry in a world obsessed with aesthetics?

I started my business in 2011. There wasn’t Instagram yet. I didn’t even have an iPhone, just an old-school Galaxy S-something with horrible photo quality. But we didn’t know any different. It was before the age of contouring… honestly, before the girls even filled in their brows all the way.

One of my first big weddings - 2013

While it wasn’t the most aesthetic era…and don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the glow-up …. it was a more authentic time. You either mastered Google SEO or relied completely on word of mouth. Sure, we had Facebook, but social media wasn’t a portfolio. It wasn’t a strategy. It was just… social.

The only thing that truly spoke for you was your work, and the way you made your clients feel. If they couldn’t vouch for your artistry or your energy, the next booking didn’t come. You had to be on point, because there wasn’t a polished feed to convince anyone. People booked you because someone loved their experience enough to talk about it.

Then one day, things changed and Instagram arrived, and with it, an entirely new definition of what it meant to “show your work.” Suddenly, it wasn’t just about what you could create for your client… it was about what you could capture for the camera. Your artistry had to translate to pixels. The angles, the lighting, the aesthetic, they all started to matter just as much as the makeup itself.

At first, it was exciting. The reach felt limitless. We could share our work with people across the world. But as the platform evolved, so did the pressure. We weren’t just artists anymore. We were creators. Influencers. Content machines. And what we posted began to carry as much weight, if not more, than what we actually did behind the scenes.

The glam doesn’t stop, but now the camera’s always rolling. These days, it’s not just the makeup that matters… it’s how well you can capture it

But let me be clear, I don’t hate social media. In fact, it challenged us. When people can zoom in, slow down, rewatch in 4K... there’s no room for error. It forced us to sharpen our skills. To be cleaner, more precise, more intentional. And for artists like me who thrive on growth and accountability, that part was a gift. It made me better. It made all of us better, or at least, it gave us the chance to be.

Still, there’s no denying that social media didn’t just give us exposure.. it rewrote the rules.

Here’s where the shift gets tricky, and a little dangerous. Social media gave anyone with a camera and a few friends the ability to look like a professional. And let me be clear: there’s nothing wrong with using models or friends to create content. Honestly, not every client wants to sit through 50 angles, 4 ring lights, and 10 minutes of post-glam filming. We all know that. Creating clean content takes time, and sometimes a model is just more realistic. But where things start to fall apart is when the artistry becomes only for the feed and never for the actual client. We’ve created a system where anyone can set up a beautiful visual. The right lighting, the right model, endless time, no pressure. But the MUA behind that crispy, perfect reel? She might not know how to run a business. No contracts. No sanitation. No time management. No client communication. No real-life pressure of a wedding morning with a six-person timeline and three different skin types.

Because all they’ve practiced is content, not service. And unfortunately? Clients shop with their eyes first. They see 10K followers, a dreamy portfolio, and assume they’re in good hands… only to end up in a chair where the artist has never taken an actual paying client, worked on mature skin, or stayed on track during a full bridal morning.

Now, I don’t believe that high follower count or strong content automatically means someone isn’t skilled. There are tons of artists have really done the work, built their business from the ground up, then figured out how to make their social reflect it. They’ve blended art, business, and social beautifully. (Just don’t include me in that part... I suck at social, lol.) But the problem is when the artistry is all aesthetic… and none of it is experience.

What happens when your art becomes content… and your career becomes a feed? There’s a pressure in today’s beauty industry that’s hard to explain if you’re not in it. It’s not just about doing great work anymore, it’s about making sure that work performs. That it fits the algorithm. That it has the right music, the right hook, the right thumbnail. And somehow, you, the artist, the human have to be present enough to serve your client, and polished enough to package that moment in 15 seconds or less.

It’s exhausting.

It creates this weird double life. One where you’re trying to ground yourself in the integrity of your artistry, while also wondering if anyone will even see your work if it’s not edited a certain way. You question everything:

Is my makeup good, or is my content just bad?

Am I falling behind, or just not loud enough?

And the worst part? The comparison

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You could be fully booked, working all week and all weekend, and still feel behind because you didn’t post a single reel. It messes with your confidence, not because your work isn’t excellent, but because the internet has a way of making silence feel like irrelevance. And for artists who are built for connection… that kind of pressure can kill the joy.

We didn’t get into this to be influencers, at least not all of us. We got into this because we love making people feel beautiful. But now, somehow, that’s not enough unless you film it.

And then there’s the added layer: the rise of the beauty influencer. Now don’t get me wrong, I respect people who genuinely love makeup and build platforms around sharing it. But we’ve reached a point where influencers, many of whom have never worked a day in the field as actual artists, are treated as the leading experts on what everyone else should be doing with their routines. And that gets… frustrating. Brands reward them with entire PR collections. I’m talking every single shade in the line, when they’ve never touched another person’s face. I think influencers are great salespeople. They’re valuable for visibility and marketing. But if you're going to gift someone the full range of complexion products, why not give it to a working artist who’s actively serving real clients?

Give it to the artist who’s testing it on set, on camera, at a wedding, through the sweat of a baby shower. Using it In natural light and studio light, on skin that’s oily, textured, dry, mature, and everything in between. Let the education come from the ones who know how a product wears, not just how it looks in perfect lighting after luxury skincare, dermatology facials, and personal chefs. That’s not shade… it’s the truth. Because real artists understand how to make beauty work in the real world.

Somewhere along the way, the job doubled.

We didn’t just become makeup artists, we became videographers, editors, marketers, and content strategists. And while that’s part of growth in today’s world, it’s also where a lot of us started to unravel. Because you’re no longer just showing up for your client, you’re showing up for the camera, too. You’re trying to keep the energy right in the room, respect your client’s comfort, get your kit in order, stay on time… and also remember to film a before shot, capture the transformation, and get a polished close-up. You’re wearing ten hats. And sometimes, the pressure to document the moment completely pulls you out of the moment.

I’ve had to remind myself: there’s a difference between sharing your work and “selling your soul to the scroll”. And I’ve felt that pull..the urge to perform, the guilt when I don’t post, the fear that if I’m not visible, I’ll be forgotten. But I’ve also come to realize: my artistry isn’t less valuable just because I didn’t film it. My impact isn’t erased because I prioritized presence over content.

This is the part they don’t always see, the presence, the quiet care, the real connection. But it’s the reason I do what I do.

I’ve learned to stay grounded by asking myself the real questions:Does this serve my client?Does this reflect my voice?Am I creating for connection, or chasing approval?

That’s what keeps me centered. That’s what helps me show up in a way that feels real. Because while I may never master the content game, I’ve mastered something far more important: how to make people feel seen.

If you’re an artist reading this, I hope you know: you’re not behind. You’re not invisible. You’re not failing just because your last reel didn’t land. This industry will try to make you believe that content is the only currency, but I promise, connection still matters. Experience still matters. Presence still matters. Showing up for your clients with skill, softness, and care still matters.

And if you’re a client, thank you. Thank you for trusting us in your most important moments. For choosing artists based on how we make you feel, not just how our feed looks. For understanding that not every part of this work fits in a 15-second clip. I believe there’s still room in this industry for real artistry, for craft over content, and people over performance. If I have to grow slower to stay rooted in what’s real… I’m okay with that. Because I didn’t become an artist to go viral, I became one to help people see themselves. And I’ll always stand by that.

A candid smile caught by one of my wedding photographer besties while sneaking peaks in between my bride's portrait session after her ceremony.