Dever Art Museum, 2016
Art has been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. Throughout my undergraduate years at Tsinghua University, my dream was clear: I wanted to become a world-famous fine artist. I spent countless hours in the studio, experimenting, pushing my creative boundaries, and envisioning a future where my work would hang in galleries and museums worldwide.
In 2015, I took a major step toward that dream by moving to Chicago to pursue my MFA at the School of Art Institue of Chicago. It was an exhilarating time. I was surrounded by talented artists, engaging in thought-provoking discussions, and exposed to new ideas and techniques that expanded my understanding of contemporary art. This was my passion, my purpose.
But somewhere along the way, my relationship with art changed. Instead of feeling inspired, I became overwhelmed. The immersive environment of art school, where creativity should have thrived, started to feel suffocating. Every critique, every conversation about theory and meaning, made me more self-conscious. Art-making no longer felt like a personal expression. It became a task, something to be scrutinized rather than enjoyed.
I found myself caring too much about what others thought of my work. The ego, the competitiveness, the pressure to create something profound—it all started to weigh on me. The art world, for all its brilliance, is not always kind. I realized that my love for art had become entangled with external validation, and that wasn’t sustainable.
After graduating, I tried to land a job as a graphic designer, thinking it would be a more stable way to stay creative. But the studio and agency environments didn’t feel right for me. Creativity was treated as a commodity, and much of the work wasn’t creative at all—it was about fulfilling client expectations, meeting deadlines, and following brand guidelines. It felt like a compromise I wasn’t willing to make.
So, I pivoted. I moved into marketing, a field that was mostly unrelated to art. At first, it felt strange to step away from what I had always seen as my purpose. But deep down, I knew I needed space. For a few years, I completely detached myself from the art world. I stopped following art accounts, I didn’t go to museums, I avoided conversations about art altogether—almost like a detox.
Then, about three years ago, something shifted. The desire to create started creeping back—not for others, not to build a portfolio, not to exhibit—but purely for myself. I picked up a pencil, then a brush. I started drawing and painting again, without pressure or expectation. My work was inconsistent, and I didn’t always know what I was doing, but I was happier.
Now, I create on my own terms. Art is no longer tied to my identity or my career. It’s something I do because it fulfills me. Stepping away from the art world felt like losing a part of myself, but in the end, it helped me find a way back to creating with joy.
Final Thoughts: Three Takeaways for Fellow Creative Minds
1. Your creativity doesn’t have to be your career. The idea that you must monetize your art to be a “real” artist is a trap. Creating for yourself, without the weight of financial or industry pressures, can be just as meaningful, if not more.
2. It’s okay to take a break. Sometimes, stepping away is the best thing you can do for your creative spirit. Detaching from expectations and outside influences can help you rediscover what you love about making art in the first place.
3. You define what being an artist means to you. Whether you create every day or once in a while, whether you exhibit your work or keep it private, your relationship with art is yours alone. Let go of external validation and focus on what truly brings you joy.
At the end of the day, art isn’t just about making something for others to see. It’s about expressing yourself in a way that feels right for you. And that’s enough.