There’s a generational gap right now—an artificial one, I’d argue—between what used to be known as the creative class and what’s now often dismissed as “content.” This isn’t just semantics: it’s a vision problem.
No one really loves the word “content.” It signals commerce over craft, utility over skill. It emerged partly because “influencer” had become polarizing, and the content class needed a new label—one that could separate the noble work of creating from the messier business of self-promotion, even if they often share the same feed.
(Personally, I’ve got no beef with influencers. They’re the spiritual offspring of both Andy Warhol, who in 1968 predicted everyone would be famous for 15 minutes, and Nick Currie—a/k/a Momus—who in 1991 foresaw a world where everyone would be famous to 15 people. The democratization of star power isn’t a bad thing, imho.)
In a few years—maybe less—we’ll look back on this divide the same way we now look at early bloggers being dismissed by the mainstream press: as a failure to understand where culture was headed.
I was thinking about this yesterday while talking with Matt Shearer—a walking case study in why these semantic barriers are bullshit. If you don’t know Matt’s work, where have you been? He’s taken one of the oldest, dustiest tools in local news—the man-on-the-street interview—and transformed it into must-watch short-form video for TikTok and IG, all while operating under the brand of WBZ (which is, among other things, an AM radio station).
Matt is one of the most interesting people in media today. He’s a solo creator making work for vertical video platforms, with the personality of an influencer and the journalistic standards of a newsroom. We were talking in the café at Gupta Media, where our agency was co-hosting a first-of-its-kind Boston Content Creator Summit, in partnership with the City of Boston. The guest list spanned the city’s creator ecosystem—from fashion to food, comedy to civic engagement. Many attendees had followed each other for years but never met in person. Watching them connect was a reminder: the tools may be digital, but the community is real. (For a vibe check, see these on-the-scene reports from @armayadoremi , @giamiapia__, and @hautekoture, and more at the bottom of this page.)
Matt’s understandably allergic to the word “content,” but not to the format—or the people. We’re living in an era where technology and culture have converged to produce a generation fluent in both filmmaking and self-making. Where storytelling can be a solo craft. And where a creator can reach millions from a bedroom, or shape public discourse from a smartphone.
I grew up in what we then called the alternative press—a corner of discourse that relished its distance from the mainstream media. For a long time, journalism ignored us—until it needed us. Today’s creators remind me of that lineage. They’re building brands around passions: music, style, identity, community. They prize authenticity. They challenge the line between how life is lived and how it’s packaged.
Is there a performative element? Of course. But there always has been. The new journalism of the 1960s and '70s—Esquire, Rolling Stone, New York—was just as theatrical. Authenticity and performance are not mutually exclusive; they’ve always existed in tension. That’s what makes them powerful.
Boston Mayor Michelle Wu got to the heart of this when she addressed the 70 or so creators in the room. “ What we see, what we consume, and most importantly, how the people around us in our community think about what they're capable of,” she said, “that can have a generational impact, day after day after day.”
“If there's anything I want Boston to be every day, it’s that we are working to make Boston a home for everyone,” she continued. “That means for you to have everything that you and your family and your loved ones need—but also for you to feel like you can be yourself in any way you want to show up in this moment, and that you will be treasured, you'll be welcome. You will be connected and celebrated in the fullness of who you are and what you bring to our amazing city.”
That’s a cultural blueprint, not a marketing brief. And it mirrors the best of what the creator community is already doing: building belonging, celebrating difference, and reflecting the full, complicated, joyful experience of living in a city like Boston. If you want to know what kind of future a city is building, pay attention to the stories its creators are telling.
City of Boston Content Creator Summit
May 6, 2025 at Gupta Media
Photo credit: City of Boston/Isabel Leon
Photo credit: City of Boston/Isabel Leon