Reflecting on What I Needed to Learn to Survive as an Artist in Light of Recent Art School Closures
This article is from Ekaterina Popova's Substack, Art & Cocktails. Subscribe to get personal writing, essays, and more from Kat here.
I exited the dark auditorium, swapping the blue glow of the screen featuring a small sculpture of Venus of Willendorf for the bright fluorescent hallway of the art building. I held back my tears as I stared at the paper in my hand, featuring an ugly “C-.” The emotion was bubbling in my throat, and tears were streaming down my face.
“No, no, no,” I thought, "this can’t be happening." At first, I wanted to accept it and run away to cry in private, but I mustered up the courage to approach my professor, and then the words spewed out.
“I’m currently couch surfing and staying in someone’s basement. I don’t have a place to study. I carry all my belongings with me… I didn’t qualify for a housing loan, so I am hopping around. Can I please get another chance?” I pleaded, explaining my situation.
My art history professor did give me another chance, and a few weeks later, a notice of a Pell Grant appeared in my mailbox. It wasn’t much, but it gave me hope. I couldn’t afford to get a C, and I couldn’t afford not to go to college. I had no plan B. I had to make this art thing work for me.
While my experience at art school wasn’t negative, I faced many personal struggles. Not having financial support, coming from an immigrant background, and struggling to simply live and go to class presented me with a multitude of challenges early on.
Despite doing everything in my power to show up, despite troubling family dynamics and housing trouble, I took advantage of every opportunity I could. After I graduated, I was still missing a lot. While I believe in lifelong learning, I also wish art schools would prepare their students just a little bit more for survival. The elite art world so many of us were taught to revere and aspire to be invited into was so far removed from meeting basic necessities like food, bills, and shelter that I think it’s worth noting why there needs to be a change in the education system, not just for artists but especially for them.
The Crisis in Art Education
A few months ago, a bombshell of news dropped on our community. Art school after art school was shutting their doors. At first, it was PAFA losing accreditation, then Delaware College of Art and Design announced its closure, and the biggest and most sudden in our area was the University of the Arts closing after nearly 150 years. Though I did not attend these institutions, it hit me all the same. A pang of fear, grief, and worry about the future of art education.
As much as I mourn the decline in art education, art opportunities, and overall cultural funding in the US, I also recognize that I still live in a place that offers a bigger level of support and opportunity than elsewhere in the world.
I am also not a stranger to the disappointment and awareness of what I did not get from higher education. While I think of my days in my Fine Art BFA with fondness and have massive gratitude for the support and individual kindness of my professors who truly did their best and, in many cases, went above and beyond what they were asked to do, what I’m about to share now is my personal feedback and dream for the future of art education.
Despite taking advantage of all available resources and taking a position as a student-run gallery director, when it was time to plan my graduation and figure out where I would work, I would ask all my professors for their advice on how to move forward. To my dismay, the only solution was to get a job as a professor and spend another $50-200k on a master’s degree. At the time, someone in my position did not, in fact, have any money left over from my first round of student loans. Having no co-signer, I qualified for the basic government aid, and grad school was not an option. At the time, I was hoping to be an art therapist, but when I got accepted and received the massive bill, it would cost $80k+ a year, and I just couldn’t make it work.
So, I did what I saw others doing. I applied for internships and entry-level jobs at museums and shops, and to my great disappointment, I got rejected from every single one of them. I was running out of hope and had to take ANY job. I remember the shame that filled me when I had to set my ego aside and take ANY job. I got accepted to work at IHOP, and after a humiliating round of training practicing carrying plates on my forearm without a tray and earning half-moon burn marks on my forearm, I was starting to wonder what I had studied for the past four years. Sure, I improved my art-making and learned to infuse my work with meaning, which is super valuable. But what about survival? How would I make it work? Shouldn’t there have been something to help us budget, sell work, and pay the bills?
While I am heartbroken over the recent art school closures, they also come as no surprise given my personal experience. These challenges ultimately pushed me into entrepreneurship, where I built my own platform to support others and taught myself to create my own reality and design my life. However, some of my personal wishes for art education may also be part of the reason for these closures.
Dream Art School Curriculum and Reframes I Had to Learn on My Own
Sales Are Not Sleazy: Teach Artists How to Sell (Art and Beyond)
When I was a sophomore, an old acquaintance inquired if she could buy my work. Elated, I told my professor about it, and he said, “No, save it. You don’t want to part with your art." As a college student with no personal storage, I questioned this early on. Why not? What am I saving this for? The taboo of art sales was deeply programmed into my brain since then. Despite me already selling work in high school, I was taken aback by this revelation that selling art is not cool. Then where does it go? Where does one put it? Are artists excluded from surviving and paying bills? Do we just paint and die homeless and starved? It didn’t seem fair given that our professors had a salary and benefits.
Years later, I would learn that my art can be a source of support and abundance, and people lovingly want to hang it on their walls in homes, offices, hospitals, and more. It brings them joy, improves their wellness, and simultaneously supports my practice so I can keep improving my skill and showing up. Sure, there may be a taboo around making art for commercial purposes only in the higher art world, but this belief in the higher art world is hypocritical because they profit off artists' work themselves. It doesn’t seem fair that artists must give up their control, their income, and be judged for simply trying to survive and keep going. Does this make sense to you?
Learning a Skill to Support Yourself Isn’t Shameful
Let’s hypothetically say you don’t come out of art school selling your art like hotcakes, or maybe you are a conceptual artist, performance artist, or someone who doesn’t create tangible sellable work. What then? Shouldn’t there be a way to learn a creative skill to support you as you pursue your higher calling? In my opinion, this should be part of the curriculum, and it’s not as hard as you can imagine. Students should be encouraged to take an elective like vo-tech in high school and learn photo editing, design work, welding, photography, or whatever they have strength in to help them transition into society. Not having income directly violates your hierarchy of needs, disregulates your nervous system, and lowers the quality of life. Glamorizing struggling artists is harmful, bad for mental health, and directly increases the chance that 1) they will give up on their craft altogether, 2) fall into addiction, depression, and anxiety, and 3) continue passing on this harmful belief to others by becoming a martyr. Would it be so hard to invite all of us to learn a skill that maybe isn’t as sexy as painting, sculpting, or weaving but can contribute something positive to society and pay for studio rent? Am I asking for too much? I often regret not taking electives in graphic design or marketing to help me be more hireable.
I think it’s a waste of resources to not utilize the creative minds of artists, historians, and designers in today’s economy. If we learned to lean into our strengths and help contribute to the economy, we would all win. Here is some heartbreaking data from The Art Newspaper: “According to recent data on post-graduate labor market conditions released by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York (New York Fed), Art History, Visual and Performing Arts, and Graphic Design majors are associated with the highest rates of unemployment in the US. In the wake of the Creatives Rebuild New York (CRNY) survey illustrating the financial inviability of artists, the numbers paint a grim picture of the city’s art ecosystem, despite the arts contributing 7.4% of New York’s overall economy. ‘Fundamentally, our economy doesn’t view artists as workers,’ CRNY executive director Sarah Calderón told Hyperallergic in response to the study. ‘For this reason, among others, there is no wage protection, paid—or even affordable—healthcare options or any other elements of the social safety net that are afforded to other classes of workers’” (Akers, Torey. "Art History Grads Face Highest Rates of Unemployment in the US." The Art Newspaper, 11 July 2024).
Financial Management
If the art department didn’t dismiss or shame others for sales or financial success, one aspect of education that would be incredibly useful is learning how to manage finances. Let’s say you learned sales, whether it was your art, creative services, or even landed a lucrative position. Learning how to manage finances for creatives is so rare and underrated. I, for one, had the hardest time learning about cash flows, money management, and what to do with my money if I landed a big commission, a grant, or had a sell-out show. I would panic, pay all my debt as fast as possible, and be left with nothing. This is a horrible cycle that leaves you poor, struggling, and anxious. It would be great to learn about how to allocate money after art sales, how to save for retirement, and pay self-employment taxes. Luckily, I’m not alone in griping about this issue, and Hannah Cole from Sunlight Tax teaches artists and small business owners to do just that. Check out her amazing resources. Once again, I love when artists create what they wish existed, but I also think this should be part of general education. I am a proud affiliate of her Money Boot Camp (use code ARTQUEENS to save).
Networking, Professionalism, and Communication
One thing I’m grateful for is my experience working at a student-run gallery, where I did have to learn networking and realized that artists are normal humans excited to share their work with the world. This allowed me not to put anyone on a pedestal but to learn to invite, collaborate, and work with others. However, there were other areas where I felt like I did not have good communication skills, such as advocating for myself, figuring out my strengths and skills, and what I could offer, especially when it came to getting internships and eventually jobs. In the end, I had no choice but to learn this skill for survival, but it would be nice to have resources and practice prior to having everything be on the line. I recommend all of us read books and listen to podcasts on marketing, communication, and writing.
Artist as Entrepreneur
For some reason, there was a lot of shame in me when I started my first magazine, but I truly wish art schools highlighted the role of artists as innovators, entrepreneurs, and trailblazers. A few key historical figures come to mind. Keith Haring, who was criticized for his pop-up shops back in the day; Picasso, who apparently started his own magazine; and the artists creating their own opportunities and exhibitions in Montmartre by Sue Roe. In Ninth Street Women by Mary Gabriel, abstract expressionists rented their own storefronts and put on shows, which would later influence the rise of the white cube gallery. So while the higher art market takes credit and tries to gatekeep, once these practices were avant-garde and created out of necessity. I wish I knew that thinking differently, not being satisfied with the status quo, and creating your own opportunities is a gift and a way forward, not just individually but as a society.
By incorporating these lessons into art school curricula, we can better prepare future artists for the realities of life after graduation, ensuring they not only survive but thrive in their artistic careers. I have many more ideas and dreams of what I wish I learned, but we will start here. I took my years of lessons, frustrations, and solutions I discovered on my journey and turned them into a flagship course for artists called the Artist Navigation Course. Join the waitlist here to get treasure maps, sales strategies, and plans to support your dream art career without burning out or selling out.
Ekaterina Popova is an artist, founder of Create! Magazine, and entrepreneur. She is the host of the leading Art & Cocktails podcast and co-author of The Complete Smartist Guide and The Creative Business Handbook with Alicia Puig. She loves empowering artists through coaching, writing, podcasting, and more. Join her newsletter and Substack to stay in touch.
