Aura farming and the Birth of a Star: Reflections on Art Today

 Aura farming and the Birth of a Star: Reflections on Art Today

painting by Tim O'Brien 

      I have recently visited the African Culture Museum under the theme Light Bulb Sun in Tangier, and I found myself unmoved by most of the works on display. Only one painting lingered with me—one I would rather not name—that sparked in me what I call the birth of a star. This is my personal term for those rare moments when art pierces through the everyday and ignites a flicker of wonder, presence, or even transcendence. It reminded me that while art is often compared to nourishment, it is food one cannot eat: it does not always fill, and not everyone shares the same tastes. When it does, it feeds something essential.

This experience led me to consider how Walter Benjamin’s concept of aura might function in our contemporary world. In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction (1936), Benjamin describes aura as the unique presence and authenticity of an artwork—with the rise of photography and film, Benjamin argued, aura withered. Art became reproducible, endlessly copied and circulated, stripped of the uniqueness that once made it sacred. But in today’s cultural landscape, this “loss” has not ended the pursuit of aura. Instead, it has transformed.

Benjamin’s concern with the decline of aura finds a surprising echo in contemporary social media culture, where users attempt to deliberately manufacture aura—a practice colloquially referred to as “aura farming.” On platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, aura farming refers to a deliberate, curated presence, charisma, and visual intensity. It can involve a staged performance, a meticulously styled fashion look, or even a short clip. A viral example is 11-year-old Rayyan Dikha’s boat dance at Indonesia’s Pacu Jalur festival, showing how staged performances can captivate audiences and generate widespread attention. In this sense, aura is no longer the ineffable quality of a singular artwork; it becomes a repeatable aesthetic strategy, produced and circulated like a commodity. Aura farming can be seen as echoing what Adorno and Horkheimer called the culture industry: a system where art is mass-produced.  It risks reducing art to an empty trick—although it dazzles, it ultimately leaves the audience hollow.

And yet, my own experiences complicate this pessimistic view. While it is true that much of manufactured aura feels shallow, there are moments—though rare—when a staged performance or even a video clip can still move me. The popularity of aura on social media also points to a continuing hunger for what Benjamin described. People still long for presence, charisma, and moments that feel unrepeatable, even if they chase them through curated images. Aura farming may produce surfaces; yet audiences often respond to flashes of genuine appeal—a dancer’s gesture that cannot be scripted, a look of rawness that slips past the filter. Manufactured aura can become a doorway into aesthetic experience, not its negation. 

The irony, then, is striking: what Benjamin mourned as lost—authentic aura—has become precisely what social media users try to recreate through artifice. Aura farming may dilute uniqueness; however, it testifies to our refusal to abandon the search for intensity and presence. Whether real or simulated, aura remains a language for the aesthetic spark we crave. If I chase that birth of a star moment in art, others chase it through aura farming, and perhaps the two pursuits are not so different. Both reveal the same truth: we are rarely content with the mundane, secretly seeking an intense fire reflected back at us.

If aura can be reproduced, does that make it any less real for the person who feels it?

In this way, I do not believe all aura farming is inherently bad or tasteless. Rather, it reflects a paradox: while much of what circulates online is performative, certain images, or movements can still break through, striking an individual viewer with intensity. 

The experience is subjective, fragile, and deeply personal. but some manufactured works resonate widely.

-Contemporary jazz and house music performances, where DJs remix classical compositions such as Berlioz, create immersive experiences that inspire awe.

-Manga such as Blue Period or Dance Dance Danseur captivate readers through their visual storytelling and emotional depth.

-Video games like Life is Strange immerse players with narrative and visual design that evoke intense emotional response.

-Even One Piece has had real-world impact: its symbols have inspired collective actions, such as the raising of its flag in Indonesia to protest governmental injustice.

These examples show that carefully crafted art—though manufactured—can still generate authentic intensity. 

I'm usually unfazed by most artistic works and the paintings at that museum left me feeling indifferent; yet that one painting, an explosion of depth, was enough to remind me that aura is never guaranteed, though always possible. This is my own metaphor, which I call the birth of a star. It resonates with Benjamin’s aura but is not identical: unlike aura, which he locates in uniqueness, my birth of a star can sometimes emerge even from manufactured or staged works. 

Whether experienced in a museum, on stage, or through a carefully crafted social media post, the rare moments that spark the birth of a star remind us why we continue to seek, create, and cherish art. Even in an age of aura farming, the possibility of true aesthetic experience—however fleeting—remains alive. This suggests that aesthetic experience is not extinguished by reproduction, but reconfigured, waiting to be felt by those who seek it. 

References: 

Benjamin, W. (1968). The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction (H. Zohn, Trans.). Schocken. (Original work published 1936)

Adorno, T. W., & Horkheimer, M. (1972). Dialectic of enlightenment (J. Cumming, Trans.). Herder and Herder. (Original work published 1944)

Footnote

I use “the birth of a star” here as my own term to describe an aesthetic experience, not borrowed from any established theoretical source. it goes beyond the typical philosophical notion of aesthetic experience. Unlike contemplative appreciation, it is an intense, visceral encounter in which art pierces through the observer, producing goosebumps, tears, a tightening in the chest, or a lingering daze. It feels like a star igniting within—a sudden, almost mythic explosion of awareness and presence that transcends the mundane. Importantly, this phenomenon can occur even in manufactured or staged works, distinguishing it from concepts like Benjamin’s aura, which are tied to uniqueness and authenticity.

Essay written by Eslam Shabi