There’s a weird thing about the word “artist.” People use it constantly, and have for centuries, but most of us still don’t really know what the hell we even mean when we say it.
Tbh, I think society has trained us to picture something very specific when we hear the term. Usually like I dunno, a painter. Maybe a sculptor. Some tortured person in a studio covered in paint with burned out cigarettes and unfinished canvases everywhere. That image is buried heavily in culture at this point. Even artists themselves buy into it, if I'm honest.
Meanwhile, the term actually applies to an absurdly wide range of people. Musicians. Writers. Poets. Dancers. Filmmakers. Photographers. Designers. People making things from nothing. People trying to communicate ideas and emotions and experiences through creation.
But despite that, a lot of creative people still refuse to identify themselves as artists.
They’ll say they’re “just” photographers. Or content creators. Or they “just shoot.” Or they provide a service. Or they make marketing material. And yes, to be fair, some people really are operating strictly in that mindset, and that's fine. Not every person with a camera is trying to create art. That’s perfectly valid.
But a lot of us absolutely are. And I think it matters whether we admit that to ourselves or not.
Because once you recognize that creating is not just some side activity you do for engagement or attention or social media bullshit reasons, everything changes a bit. You start realizing this thing is embedded into who you are. It’s not a hobby. It’s not just a business model. It’s not fucking “content.”
It’s compulsion.
You make things because you have to.
That doesn’t mean every piece is profound. It doesn’t mean every artist is some enlightened hyper-visionary floating above society. Artists can be emotional, inconsistent, irrational, self-destructive, distracted, insecure, egotistical, brilliant, lazy, obsessive, and all of it at once. History is full of artists who needed managers, producers, agents, editors, friends, spouses, whoever the fuck was willing –– to basically drag them back into focus and say, “Hey. Finish the damn thing.”
Write the album.
Paint the piece.
Shoot the series.
Make the work.
Because artists, shit, we are weird creatures. We’ll spend six months spiraling emotionally while simultaneously feeling guilty for not creating. Then suddenly disappear for 14 hours straight and make the best thing we’ve ever done. Then hate it two days later.
That’s part of the deal, tho.
Of course, there’s balance to this. I’m not saying artists should become content factories grinding themselves into dust chasing productivity goals straight out of marketing manuals. That’s another death trap entirely. Burnout is real, and mass-producing empty work eventually hollows people out creatively.
But the opposite extreme can be just as damaging.
When someone who is genuinely an artist starts convincing themselves they’re not, something starts disconnecting inside them. They start living against their own wiring. They start treating the thing that gives their life meaning like it’s disposable or embarrassing or impractical.
That’s where people lose themselves.
And look, society has always had this bizarre relationship with artists. On one hand, culture worships art. Music changes lives. Films shape generations. Photography documents history. Writing reshapes how people think. Art absolutely influences society at a foundational level.
But at the same time, artists are often treated like dumbass dreamers. Like flaky weirdos who don’t contribute anything practical or useful to the world.
Which is funny, because artists are part of the reason society even has an identity in the first place.
Art shapes aesthetics. Emotion. Fashion. Politics. Philosophy. Language. Memory. Protest. Romance. Rebellion. Hope. Grief. National identity even. Subculture.
Human connection itself.
Artists don’t sit outside society, they help define it.
And once you realize that, the role starts feeling less like some self-important title and more like a responsibility.
Not in an arrogant way. Not in a “look at me, I’m an artist” way.
More like understanding your role in the whole system.
If you’re one of those people who feels genuinely incomplete when you go too long without creating something, then this probably applies to you. The work has to happen. Not constantly. Not performatively. But truthfully.
Some seasons you’ll make garbage, just utter shite.
Some seasons you’ll make the best work of your life.
Most of the time it’ll bounce back and forth between the two.
That’s normal.
Being an artist is honestly kind of a curse sometimes. But it’s also a beautiful one. And I think accepting that reality is healthier than pretending you’re something you’re not just because society is more comfortable with practical labels than creative ones.
Be an artist. Make the damn work. It's who you are.