a love letter to imposters everywhere 💌
Something I love about making art is how much I discover about myself and the world in the process.
Through the making of Pieces Of Us, I was surprised to discover that my background is, in fact, working class. It might sound odd to say that, but I realised that while I am culturally middle class, in terms of my childhood, background, & resources, I am 100% working class.
It was useful and liberating and it has even helped me understand past experiences in a new way.
However, it does not change how limited my resources are now and how much I sometimes feel like being working class and being an artist are at odds with each other.
First, to be an artist you have to have spare time and you need support, network, luck. You also need to have resources when things go wrong (someone loses a job, a parent gets sick, etc.). That is difficult when you have to earn simply to survive; aspiring towards a larger goal can feel almost impossible and make being an artist feel like a luxury at best, and make you feel like you are being selfish to the point of abandoning or betraying your loved ones, at worst.
The very notion of social mobility is predicated on the idea that I need to leave my working class station, but moreover, that I should want to leave it. The only reason I want to “leave” the working class is so I can earn a living wage. Like so many, I am struggling to balance these opposing forces.
In thinking about my teaching, my art, my blog, The Imposter Newsletter and what I’ve dreamed of expanding it all into: more original work, scratch nights, collaboration with other artists, an educational resource for anyone interested in creativity, and a production company, I was researching the word ‘imposter’ to try to articulate why I instinctually chose it as the name for this blog and my newsletter.
I came across an old article in the Guardian in which the writer defines ‘Imposter Syndrome’ as a pseudo-medical term to address the issue of class inequity in our society; it really resonated with me.
It helped me understand what I am trying to say with the work I do: that I want to believe that anyone can do anything and I think choosing to be an artist is an important political act. And – while there are very real inequities in this world – a way to combat those inequities are by making art from myriad perspectives and encouraging a wider and wider range of people to trust their own voice & make their own art. Which makes continuing being an artist feel all the more important.
It was only going through the process of making my art that I reached this newly articulated understanding of myself, my ambitions, and my views.
So if this resonates with you: please keep making art. Make art. Make art. Make art. The world needs you. I need you.