What is it like to not get into any art university?
It sucks.
But I learnt a few things.
By the way, this isn’t going to be a “I got rejected but now I made it” article, but it is going to be a completely honest post. And I’m telling you my story, because no one ever shares their rejections. So here you go. You're kind of welcome.
When I was a teenager I had this urge to study art, but I felt like I knew I wasn’t good enough. In my mind, my ideas were great, but when I put them onto canvas my hand or my patience lacked training or natural skill. Still, I wanted to learn, I knew I had some potential in me.
It wasn’t therefore a huge surprise that I didn’t get into all five universities I applied to study Fine Art at around the UK. But it did suck.
They all replied, somewhat sympathetically, saying I needed to do a foundation degree. I thought “fuckit there isn’t any money in art anyway”, “I didn’t want to do art that much anyway”, “I probably would have been shit anyway"...
So at 18 years old, I sort of gave up on the art dream.
For the next three to four years during Uni I might have done one lousy drawing, maybe two. I mean, I really did no art during this time, which Is actually crazy to think about now. It was like I was in an art depression.
Also, I got pretty caught up in London life. I started to think that the only route I had to follow was a corporate job after uni. That I needed to make money, save money, spend money. You know, the usual big city rat-race life style.
But I also felt torn, I knew I was missing something in my life. I craved more freedom, more creativity in my life.
Years later, as I write this from Barcelona, I’m getting flashbacks to my Dad asking me how different my life might have been if I had been accepted into (at least one) art university.
And it is something that I still think about. To this day I daydream of what life would have been like if I had been one of those cool kids at Central Saint Martins, wearing vintage clothes, having green hair...
I can imagine myself smoking a cigarette and talking about how stressed I am about completing all the coursework in time. I would have been great, successful, trendy. A real artist?
I giggle a bit. What the hell am I talking about?
The Barcelona days
After moving to Barcelona about five years ago, this was after graduating Uni (where I eventually studied something non-art related), I got back into painting.
Yep, one day I randomly bought a canvas, and some paint. And I started painting.
Maybe it was the city itself which inspired me, with street art on every corner, the non-judgmental atmosphere (so different to London!), the freedom, the chaos, the sun, the colours. I soaked it in and wanted to also express myself.
I made some friends.
I made some contacts.
I got an art studio. Impulsively. Happily.
I bought a massive canvas and carried it down Las Ramblas towards my studio with a big grin on my face.
It was all quite easy actually.
Buy paint, buy canvas, rent a studio. Paint more.
Post art on Instagram. Make more contacts. Sell some things. Exhibit.
Paint more. Do a mural. Post about it. Land some commissions.
Paint more.
Experiment with street art.
Do some live painting shows for events.
Paint murals for bars and restaurants.
Host painting classes.
It was all pretty exciting.
I worked full time, but invested my money and free time into my art, it felt fun, rewarding, and new. It all felt right.
I got to a point where I got a little cocky. I started thinking about my next goals and steps. I had an idea, “It would be good for me to learn more and be better at art. I’m going to try really hard to get into an art university”.
Again, like deja vu, I started applying to art universities. This time to Fine Art and Painting masters courses across Europe. I worked pretty damn hard on applications, writing compelling cover letters and inspiring motivation letters.
I scouted out universities where I could study for free, or for cheap, applying to scholarship programs and things like that.
I created many portfolios, which included artwork I had exhibited, even sold. Artwork that I really thought was quite interesting, that told stories. I was proud of my art this time round, not like when I was 18 years old.
I applied to universities in Iceland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway.
But guess what, again I did not get in any of them. Most unis didn’t even have the courtesy of formally rejecting me.
I got art ghosted by the Nords!
So, that sucked.
I also applied to a masters at the Royal College of Art, in London. Which, according to an artist who I met the other day in Barcelona at the studio, is now letting every Tom, Dick, and Harry in, and becoming of such low quality, “it really is a shame” she explained to me. But, when she said all of this to me, my heart had lifted and I felt hopeful. My portfolio was in the mail at the time heading in their direction. Maybe I did have a shot!
But no luck, yet again, I got rejected. Ouch! That one did sting.
Now what?
Questions I asked myself:
1) Should I stop painting because I’m not good enough to even study art?
2) But I’ve sold paintings and exhibited work?
3) What type of art gets accepted into an art school?
4) What makes an artist or good art?
5) How come I'm not allowed to learn?
This was all so confusing. My art esteem was all over the place.
I kept these rejections silent until now, because yeah, it is a bit embarrassing.
I do not enjoy that you are reading this right now, and thinking wow she really got rejected from every single uni she applied to… like that’s pretty bad!
But that’s the truth, and I want to be as honest as possible. So it sucks to say, but well it is what it is.
Now I’m older and feel like not getting into a university does not mean failure, at all. Actually, it all sounds rather childish that I got so worked up about it all. But art is an emotional thing, right? Lot’s of ego involved in it too, unfortunately.
I think real failure, for me, would have been not to try, to have not done anything. Failure would have been to have stayed static.
Now having done so much with my art, I feel so happy and grateful. I might not have "made it", but I've done a lot.
And the more I do, the more I improve.
I understand now that I want to express myself more honestly, more authentically and more creatively.
I will accept rejection, that’s cool, and I’ll keep going. Adsorb it and grow, like a kick-ass sea sponge!
But, back to the question, now what? Now what? Well, to take it all as a learning experience I suppose.
8 important things I learnt
Number one, I might not be an academic artist, but that is cool too.
Number two, that you don’t need to go to art school to create or make art.
Number three, doing is always better than not doing.
Number four, success and failure are completely relative.
Number five, do what makes you happy. Cheesy but true.
Number six, keep trying.
Number seven, don’t take things so personally.
Number eight, there are many routes, options and opportunities in life. Don’t think there’s just one way of doing things.
Living in Barcelona indeed shaped me creatively and changed my outlook on things. I have met so many successful artists, especially street artists, who are self taught, and who prove that you don’t need a formal academic art education to create meaningful artwork or have a career in the art world.
Some of these artists I know have exhibited all over the world, they are sponsored by big brands, signed to art galleries, and, overall are really, really successful and established artists.
I've also learnt what's important to me, about who I am as a person, and as a creative. I love to express myself, I like to experiment. So that's what I will keep doing.
My advice for other creatives
I don’t want to get too soppy, but I genuinely think it is always worthwhile to try hard.
It’s a good thing to aim high, and put yourself out there.
Please don’t get discouraged by things not working out how you expected them too.
Just keep going, keep learning, and most importantly, keep creating.
Thanks for reading!
P.S. Central Saint Martin, please give me a chance!