Happy New Year - 2025

Happy New Year

It’s 2025, and starting (yet another) new blog feels like a more achievable goal than pretending those last mince pies don’t exist or committing to a gym membership I won’t use. Over the years, I’ve mothballed a few blogs. I enjoy writing, but I tend to reread my posts and cringe. Honesty is great—until it’s staring back at you in your own words.

I’m not a writer, but as a full-time artist, creativity is part of what I do. That said, the actual process of making art often feels overshadowed by the constant juggling act of turning it into a livelihood. Selling my work hasn’t exactly been a straightforward journey. I’ve been creating for a long time, but it’s only in the last five years that I’ve started selling consistently. Sometimes I wonder why it took me so long, but looking back, I think I just wasn’t ready.

There’s so much pressure on young artists to make that leap into selling. Personally, I’ve benefited immensely from spending years focused solely on learning and refining my craft—without the added stress of trying to make it marketable. That time gave me the freedom to experiment and grow at my own pace.

When I left school, I didn’t have a clear direction. I loved art and began a foundation course, but it quickly became clear that it wasn’t for me. Back then, the idea of earning a living through art seemed like a pipe dream, and I believed it. So, I worked around my art.

My CV? Let’s call it “eclectic.” There are gaps, temp jobs, and a long list of roles where creativity had to squeeze into the cracks. One of my earliest jobs was as a car valet at a local dealership. That job was at least entertaining. The boss was a textbook second-hand car dealer: a fast-talking Bristolian with forearms like bowling pins. The cramped portacabin office was a revolving door of shady characters whose banter, overheard as 15-year-old me waited to be paid, was… enlightening. Customers were lambs to the slaughter.

The temping jobs were far less colourful. Factory lines, call centers—you name it, I probably tried it. One call center job stands out: the phones were permanently live, connected to your headset, and a manager hovered within arm’s reach at all times. It was soul-sapping. After pushing the limits on water dispenser trips and toilet breaks, I finally reached breaking point. I stood up, turned off my headset, and walked out. I could hear my manager’s faint protests as I made my way through the doors. Not my proudest moment, but I’ve learned that some people thrive in those environments, and I am not one of them.

Now, years later, things are very different. I love what I do—although creating art is often a strange mix of joy and torment—but that’s another story. I still pick up the odd job when the chill of reality bites, but I’ve realized that going all-in on art doesn’t mean chasing every opportunity. It doesn’t mean entering every competition, traveling to every fair, endlessly posting on [insert online gallery], or trying to please galleries. For me, that would be like putting on the headset all over again.

It’s not the most straightforward recipe for success, but I’ve learned that art has to come first. I can’t chase trends, force repetition, or mold myself into something I’m not. Modern hustle culture glorifies burnout as the only path to “success,” but to me, that’s the opposite of what art—and life—should be about.

So, I’ve decided to focus on what feels right. I’ll make the work I’m drawn to, pour my energy into the process, and trust that the rest will follow. I’ll pursue opportunities that align naturally with my work, not ones that make me feel like I’m back in that shiny office with a headset.

This blog is part of that decision. It’s a space to share my work, my process, and my thoughts—without algorithms, categories, or boxes to tick. It’s about rejecting the constraints and expectations that too often overshadow what being an artist is truly about.

If you’re here, I hope you find something that resonates—whether it’s the art itself or the journey behind creating it.