In recent days, I have been closely observing the debate unfolding about Rodeo, the new social network that allows users to collect digital artworks for just a few cents. This platform is generating both criticism and praise, raising a series of reflections on the value of art, the identity of a social network, and the future of artists in a context that seems increasingly oriented toward consumerism. Is it really a social network? The first question I ask myself is: can we define this platform as a social network? Its structure seems more geared toward encouraging buying and collecting artworks rather than fostering the simple exchange of ideas or interaction between users, which are the pillars of traditional social networks. Here, art seems reduced to a quick consumption item, a commodity to be bought and sold as casually as a fast-food hamburger. This makes me reflect: how much does this dynamic influence the way we perceive art and the role of the artist? A traditional social network is built on creating connections, sharing experiences, and publishing content that often tells personal or collective stories. Rodeo, on the other hand, seems constructed around the economic value of the artworks, minimizing the relational component. Perhaps it’s worth questioning whether the term "social" is still appropriate to describe a platform that centers commerce rather than people. A new gold rush There’s an air of "gold rush" surrounding Rodeo, with FOMO dominating users’ choices. But is this FOMO really justified? What are people running after? From a collector’s perspective, it might be fun to return to collecting in this way, with a model reminiscent of collectibles. However, it is important to call things by their name: this is a market for digital collectible items, not a cultural revolution. This phenomenon leads us to reflect on the nature of modern collecting. Once, collecting meant building an emotional connection with the objects gathered, dedicating time to the search, and attributing personal value to each piece. Today, however, a more superficial approach seems to prevail, driven by the desire to own something popular or the hope of making a quick economic gain. This transformation risks impoverishing the collecting experience, reducing it to a mere act of consumption. New perspective Is there a need to adopt this new formula to chase a sense of dopamine, to try something new? Of course, evolution and experimentation are part of an artist’s journey, but can we truly call it experimentation to sell phone wallpapers for a few cents? One day, unique artworks (1/1) sold at significant prices are celebrated, and the next, multiple editions at very low prices are embraced, often after openly criticizing this model. Another aspect to consider is the emotional and psychological impact of this dynamic on artists. Selling works at rock-bottom prices can generate a sense of devaluation of one’s work, undermining confidence in one’s creativity. Additionally, adopting a model based on quantity rather than quality risks compromising artistic integrity, pushing artists to produce standardized works to satisfy mass demand rather than expressing their unique vision. It is inevitable to ask: doesn’t an artist risk feeling devalued in this context? What message is being sent about the value of artistic work? It’s possible that economic pressure lies behind this trend, but we must question whether this business model can truly ensure an artist’s survival. We’ve seen many false hopes in this space, and it’s not certain that this is the most sustainable direction. Quality versus quantity The crucial point seems to be balancing quality and quantity. There is a risk of falling into a vicious cycle where lowering prices also reduces the perception of quality, devaluing not only the works but also the artist’s image. When will we find a balance? We swing from one extreme to the other: first, complaints about exorbitant prices, then about prices being too low. This oscillation only generates instability and uncertainty. Another topic linked to quality is accessibility. Making art more accessible through lower prices could be seen as a positive aspect, but only if it does not compromise the dignity and perceived value of the work. A way must be found to balance these needs, creating a sustainable market for both artists and collectors. Reflection before action I do not write these words to disparage but to try to understand what the best course to take is. Before embarking on a journey that risks sinking at the first wave, it is essential to stop and reflect. Are we truly building a sustainable future for digital art? Or are we simply being carried away by a trend that risks reducing art to a disposable consumer good? The debate is open, and perhaps the answer depends on the value each of us decides to attribute to art and the artist’s work. But it is essential to face these questions with awareness and critical spirit, to avoid losing sight of what truly matters. Ultimately, the future of digital art will depend on the ability to find a balance between innovation and respect for the intrinsic value of art and creative work.