Still not a real job?

The other day, I tried to do something rather boring: renew my car insurance. Instead, I ended up in a minor existential crisis.

Apparently -- I wish I were joking -- being an artist is seen as less financially secure than being unemployed. When I marked my profession, the insurer refused to cover me. But if I selected "unemployed"? No problem at all. Ford even double-checked. 

Now, don’t get me wrong — this isn’t about car insurance. But this is far from the first time I’ve been told that what I do doesn’t really count. People hear “artist” and immediately jump to “struggling.” 

I won't pretend that what I do is easy, but which job is? The truth is, I’m lucky enough to say that some of my pieces go for several thousand pounds. I even manage to donate huge percentages to charities I love. But even then, the assumption lingers: that this can’t possibly be a real job. 

And it's absolutely crazy that this is still how some people think!

Behind every painting is so much work — emotional, physical, creative, strategic. Artists are not floating around on clouds, waiting for inspiration to arrive. We are researching, trying ideas, hating them, scraping the paint off, trying again, brainstorming with other artists, creating content to market ourselves, packaging, planning exhibitions, networking, crying, starting again — running our own micro-businesses, day in and day out.

I’m lucky. My parents always believed in me. They never once told me that being an artist wasn’t realistic. And I think that belief gave me the stubbornness to keep going. But not everyone gets that. And that breaks my heart. Because if no one trusts in the power of art, how will we ever change the world with it?

So this is me, saying it loud for the people in the back: Art is a real job. A beautiful one. One that shapes the world, challenges us to be better, invites us to feel and to dream, and brings us together as communities. It’s not just pretty pictures on walls. It's magic.

So yes — I’m an artist. And I’ll keep saying it proudly, even if it means I have to fight for car insurance every year.

Thank you, as always, for being here. For reading, supporting, believing. You’re proof that people do value art — even if not everyone has caught up yet.

P.S. If you’ve ever had someone question your job, your passion, or your value — especially in creative careers — I’d love to hear from you. Let’s shout a bit louder, together.