What Really Happens When You Drop Out To Become An Artist
Well, this is gonna be a fun one.
For those of you that don’t know, in October 2024 I dropped out of my master’s degree to pursue being an artist full-time.
Whether that was admirable insanity or worrying delusion, I’ll let you decide.
The journey – even just over the last month – has been a crazy one. It’s been full of my highest highs and my lowest lows. Safe to say, I’ve learned a lot, possibly even too much, about the art world, having a small business, and being a full-time creator.
Turns out, there’s just as much business hassle as there is creating. Probably even more. I’m certainly still learning to strike that balance between my art routine and my business management schedule, but I’m getting there – and I’m sharing the specifics, my top tips and tricks.
Let’s dive in and unpick my scattered artist brain, shall we? You might get the inspiration you need to chase your passion, too…or you might decide I should be sectioned. We’ll see.
Deciding to Drop Out - Passion, Pain, and Pressure
Ever decision, big or small, ultimately comes down to three things.
- Motivations
- Influences
- Fears
I’m certainly not the last word on this topic, so you might like to watch the video below if you’re dealing with a big personal or career decision yourself.
The short version is that I felt like I was choosing pain over passion.
Many people can handle the constraints of a postgraduate degree, and understand the need for short-term pain in order to achieve long-term gain. And I had held onto this idea as an undergrad.
But when you have so many creative ideas, so much business learning to put to the test, and n real desire to rack up any more debt than you already had done…I decided that I couldn’t be in any more pain than I currently was if I dropped out.
Maybe I’m just not built to put up with the pain of being an academic. Does that mean I’m weak? Not necessarily. Does it mean I have a higher standard to apply to my life? Possibly.
I even began to wonder about how much of my typical academic career had come about due to outside pressure, as opposed to inner passion or even personal preference.
Had it been a choice, or had I simply followed the path others had laid out for me?
Was this really the best way to share my archaeological ideas with the public?
Could I contribute to the world of archaeology in a way nobody had ever told me I was allowed to do?
Notice that lovely word.
So my decision felt squeezed out of a place of impossible-to-bear tension: between the pain points of pain, passion, and pressure.
But my motivations were bigger than my fears, and my influences were my idols in the art world, entrepreneurs I admired, and blog posts just like this one.
I reckoned, “if they can do it, why can’t I?”
Reality Check
After the initial decision has been made, whether it’s love or hate which has motivated the student-turned-artist In question, a reality check is due.
Like any big decision, the results can be scary and uncomfortable. And like any endeavor in life, the results can be nothing like we imagined.
My initial struggles and shocks consisted of another three pain points:
- Finances
- Isolation
- Self-Discipline (or lack thereof)
Financial Factors
Any student worries about their finances, especially when they log into Student Finance England and realise they’re 50k in debt (unless your parents can substitute for a Maintenance Loan, which mine could not).
When I applied for my Master’s degree, and had to therefore apply for the postgraduate loan, I thought “what’s another 12k on top of the money I already owe?”, but then I had a bit of a panic attack about it when I was on holiday with my boyfriend and his parents in the Caribbean.
You can imagine that this anxiety did not recede after withdrawing from my course – in fact, I had already received one third of my postgraduate loan, so that is to be repaid, with interest, in due course. Despite, naturally, my having only been enrolled for little over two weeks.
Ah, the financial joys of academia.
However, worries about repaying the loan in the future did nothing to dampen my regret for the past. I must have turned the following questions over in my mind a hundred times:
- Have I wasted all that money on an archaeology degree I’m never going to use?
- Will I ever even make enough money as an artist to start repaying the loans?
- If I’m going to be in debt anyway, maybe I should just go all the way and get a PhD?
My reality check was this; I may have fucked up financially. There is nothing I can do about it now.
Besides, I knew when I was studying that Archaeology degrees don’t get people jobs. They do provide people with hands-on skills, theological perspective, and scientific analysis that can carry you far in life…if not too far in the job market.
I would never have been able to explore archaeological topics the way I have been able to in my degree. I would never have learned so much at such a young age. I would never have made my particular group of friends, got to handle human remains, attended so many interesting talks. You get the idea. The regret is passing.
Ultimately, the financial worries were big ones. The thought of wasting money is anathema to many of us. But where money was spent, I gained knowledge, perspective, experience, joy, friendship. These things are priceless.
I also confirmed my desire to be in the archaeological industry – just not as an academic. Not even as an excavator. As an artist.
Problems With Transitioning From Academic to Artist
My main problems so far have been self- discipline and isolation.
As an academic, discipline definitely comes into play. When you have an unpredictable schedule, crafting your own routines and sticking to them is a real skill.
But when you’re at university, you have deadlines to meet, professors to report to, and your peers to hold you accountable. As a self-employed artist, you don’t often have that.
Sure, you might have commissions promised to customers, and perhaps an Open Call deadline you’re working towards, but these are all self-imposed. They’re still choices.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t have the threat of a bad grade or academic failure hanging over me. It was great, but also uncomfortable.
I started to feel lost and unmotivated. What was the point if there was no accountability? No good grade at the end of it?
Well, it was time for some adjustments.
How I Adapted (And Am Still Adapting)
I had to learn, and do so quickly, if I wasn’t to lose out on valuable time to build up my art business (and hold onto my sanity in the process).
One of the first things I realised was that my community had been keeping me accountable and motivated. I no longer had an academic community, so I went about finding an artistic one.
I would like to take this opportunity to shout out Stacie Bloomfield’s Creative Powerhouse Society.
This is not a paid plug, and I am not affiliated with CPS – but I am a very grateful member of this community.
It’s amazing how a little social encouragement can add depths to discipline, and how a place to share your wins and losses can be the greatest comfort to someone who otherwise works alone.
Finding this society to join was possibly the biggest answer to my isolation and motivation issues. It turned out that my real solution was simply “other people”. No artist is an island.
Now, I wonder whether the thing that I really loved about archaeology was the human interaction. I was studying humanity, after all, and I needed other people to inspire me and keep me going.
Loneliness cannot sustain creativity.
What You Need To Know If You Want To Go Full-Time As A Creative
I haven’t found a solution to all my problems. Running your own business is just dealing with problems, one after the other. But they’re my problems, not some far-off CEO’s.
My main tips for anyone wishing to leave academia for art are these:
- Find a community
- Find a way to organise your now-infinite time
- Keep the faith
Learning how to motivate yourself and look after yourself are real, essential skills. You are your business, so remaining organised, happy, and healthy are necessary for your success.
One thing we always say in the Creative Powerhouse Society is “slow growth is good growth”.
Take it to heart, and have faith in your art.
Life doesn’t get much better than being a self-employed artist, I reckon. Remember to enjoy it.