Selling Out, Showing Up, and Staying True

The other day I went for an interview for a job outside the arts, the first one since working at Pret a Manger aged 17.

It left me feeling extremely uneasy, and it’s taken some time to process why.

It’s not that I don’t want to, or can’t, work outside the arts- I’ve been actively curious and proactive in exploring other directions for a while. Remaining within such an unsustainable sector has become untenable and, frankly, feels recklessly irresponsible at times. Most of my current professional practice is in the intersection between arts and health or arts and education anyway, where there's often a creative leadership element, or where my artistic skillset is known and understood. In those spaces, I can still exist as "the artist," even within less obviously creative roles. Because I feel secure in the value of what I can offer to these roles, others tend to see and respect me in the same light.

This job was within my local Council. There were enough transferable skills for me to apply, and the application and interview process was relatively straightforward- apart from an accuracy test and a sight-reading exercise to assess my public speaking skills!

As expected, it was a new and quite surreal experience, but I had anticipated feeling some excitement at the prospect or even a fun, novelty element. Instead, I felt flat- like I’d sold out, betrayed someone, myself. Even the clothes I’d chosen to wear felt like I was playing a part rather than showing up authentically. I think such a huge part of who I am felt irrelevant to the role- so I just brought the bits I thought they wanted to see and that left me feeling vacuous and dishonest.

Like all freelance creatives, I’m used to stepping into new spaces, foregrounding the relevant parts of myself for different situations, taking on new challenges, and developing new skills. Chameleon-like. But there’s usually a sense that it is contributing to my growth as a creative professional.

This experience left me feeling like I’d undervalued the expertise I’ve developed through decades of hard work, dedication, and passion for a profession I love and believe in. I don’t mean to sound entitled- like I’m too precious or above doing certain kinds of work. I’m definitely not. But I’m realising there are lines I’m not yet ready to cross.

I also know I’m not alone in feeling that working in the arts has, in recent years, come to feel like a privilege to be eternally grateful for- even to the point of guilt. That can be confusing, especially after having functioned for so long as a credible, meaningful arts professional and leader.

I’m grateful for the complex combination of circumstances, opportunities, and personal qualities that have allowed me to build a rich and varied career so far. I’ve always felt fortunate to work in a sector that is vibrant, expansive, and eternally curious- one that invites the whole of me to contribute. I’m also painfully aware of how the current setbacks in the arts are activating more challenging personal attributes- like low self-esteem- that when redirected, make artists such sensitive, nuanced and powerful communicators, teachers and leaders. I witness the erosion of both art and artist. Somehow the erosion of confidence makes it harder to step up on cue and communicate ideas with the certainty needed, or pivot into new roles altogether, especially when outside your comfort zone and direct expertise.

Needless to say, I got the job, but the low pay and insufficient hours made it an unviable option with zero incentive or ability for progression.

But still, I wonder: if the pay had been higher, the hours better, the prospects more secure - what would I have done? What would I need to let go of? What survival strategies would I need to adopt to function in a role like that?

In the short life we have, these decisions matter. Personally, I need to feel I’m contributing what I can, where I can, to whom I can- making a difference, micro or macro, positive or challenging. Trying to be the best version of myself. The arts has allowed my 27 years of that so far, and until I find a viable alternative I’m going to hang in there.

Solidarity to those facing similar atm.

A flower shop in Prague!