The Existential Crisis That Comes with a Paintbrush (or a Musical Instrument, or a Pair of Dance Shoes, etc etc)

Let’s face it—at some point, every person who’s ever doodled on a napkin or wept openly at a well-lit bowl of fruit has asked:

“Wait… am I an artist?”

Cue the identity spiral: Do I need a degree? A gallery show? A brooding expression? A tattoo of a raven holding a paintbrush?

Relax. Being an artist isn’t about ticking boxes. It’s more like wearing a pair of enchanted glasses that make everything weirdly meaningful and slightly poetic, even your compost bin.

So, what does it mean to be an artist? Let’s dig in, minus the snobbery and with plenty of snacks.

You Don’t Need Permission to Be an Artist

One of the biggest myths in the creative world is that someone needs to certify you as an artist. Like a soggy diploma arrives in the mail one day saying, “Congratulations, you are now legally allowed to suffer beautifully.”

Nope.

Being an artist is a choice. A declaration. Sometimes a quiet one. Sometimes a bold, neon-lit one. But it’s always an inner commitment to see, feel, and express more than what’s expected.

Whether you paint murals or fold laundry in interesting ways, artistry is a way of being, not a job title.

What Makes Someone an Artist?

It’s not just about talent. It’s not about followers or sales or your ability to explain your work without cringing.

An artist:

• Feels deeply.

• Notices what others overlook.

• Translates the messy, mysterious experience of being human into form.

• Might spend 45 minutes arranging spoons just to “see what happens.”

Artists make meaning. Sometimes they make messes. Sometimes they make memes. And that’s the point. They respond to life with curiosity, intuition, and a refusal to accept that “this is just the way things are.”

The Many (Messy) Forms of Artist Identity

So you don’t wear black turtlenecks or hang out in dimly lit lofts talking about angst. That’s fine. You can still be an artist while:

• Parenting.

• Waiting tables.

• Crying over spreadsheet errors.

• Building weird little sculptures out of sea glass and driftwood.

Creative identity is fluid. It changes with the seasons. Sometimes you’re on fire. Other times you’re staring at a blank page wondering if you’re just a glorified crayon collector.

Spoiler: you still count.

Becoming an Artist vs. Realizing You Always Were One

Many of us don’t become artists—we realize we’ve been artists all along.

That weird thing you did as a kid? That imaginary world you built out of sticks and shoelaces? That feeling of being just a little out of sync with “normal”? That was it.

Being an artist is often about remembering. It’s peeling back the layers of shoulds and supposed-tos until you find the glorious, glittery you underneath.

Who Is Considered an Artist? (Answer: Anyone Brave Enough to Say So)

Here’s the deal: you don’t need anyone else’s approval to be an artist. Not your parents. Not your high school art teacher. Not the lady who raised her eyebrows when you told her you make performance art with puppets.

Art is not a popularity contest. It’s an act of courage. It’s showing up to your own weirdness, over and over again, with love and maybe a bit of glitter.

The Artistic Life Is Not Always Aesthetic

Contrary to Instagram, the artistic life isn’t all clean lines, candlelit studios, and inspirational quotes written in calligraphy.

Sometimes it’s:

• Creative chaos and existential dread.

• Ink-stained fingers and strange dreams.

• Joyful breakthroughs and full-body “what am I even doing with my life” moments.

But it’s yours. And it’s real. And being an artist means saying yes to that rollercoaster.

You’re Allowed to Be an Artist and Still Feel Like a Mess

Here’s a radical truth: you don’t have to feel like an artist to be one. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t need a plan. Or a studio. Or matching socks.

You just need to keep creating. Keep noticing. Keep honoring the part of you that whispers, “This matters.”

Because it does.

Final Thoughts: Define It for Yourself

In the end, asking “What does it mean to be an artist?” is like asking, “What does it mean to be alive?”

It’s personal. It’s evolving. It doesn’t always make sense, but it’s always meaningful.

So go ahead. Claim the title. Make the weird thing. Feel the feelings. And remind yourself:

If you create with honesty, you’re already an artist.
The world didn’t give you that title—so the world can’t take it away.

🎨 Want to carve your own definition of artisthood in bold, unfiltered strokes?

You’re already doing it. Keep going.