There is a certain stereotype of the creative genius: the young genius with irrepressible talents. Unlike a surgeon or politician, the artist is not expected to accumulate years of knowledge and experience before taking on the role. You can say that people are not artists, they are born artists.
But history offers many counterexamples. French post-impressionist Henri Rousseau worked as a tax collector until he picked up a paintbrush in his 40s. West Country fisherman Alfred Wallis took up painting and drawing in his 70s. After his wife’s death, he began painting pictures of his life on the coast and at sea, mostly on scraps of cardboard, “for companionship,” he once said. Grandma Moses, an American folk artist who turned from a domestic servant to a farmer, began producing New England landscapes at the age of 76; Her work became so popular that she appeared on the cover of Time magazine in December 1953, at the age of 93.
These late bloomers are often described as “pure” or “outsider” artists; In a way, the terms used to describe people without a formal art education seem arrogant. But they were also known for the originality and mastery of their work; This showed that new beginnings are always possible, no matter what stage they are at.
Of course, depending on one’s circumstances, there will be different ways to start over and succeed as an artist, meaning make money and gain recognition. London-based Libby Heaney, whose exhibition Heartbreak and Magic opened at Somerset House in February, told me that her favorite subject at school was art. “But because I came from a working-class background, my teachers and parents suggested I study theoretical physics with German at university, in a field they thought was ‘more serious’,” she says. Heaney soon doubted his choice but did not have enough money to start over. So he decided to specialize in quantum physics, completed his PhD, and then took up five-year postdoctoral fellowships at the University of Oxford and the National University of Singapore. She continued to make art in her spare time, but viewed it more as a personally enriching “hobby” like “yoga or going to clubs,” she said.
I come from a fairly working-class background and my teachers and parents advised me to study something more serious.
Libby Heaney
As an expert in quantum physics, Heaney has received awards and published nearly 20 articles in international peer-reviewed journals. But during this period he was also “slowly saving enough money to return to university and study art”.
In 2015, in his early 30s, Heaney graduated from Central Saint Martins in London with a Master’s degree in Arts and Sciences. Two years later, she opened her first solo exhibition at a gallery in Aarhus, Denmark. Heaney now draws on tools and concepts from his scientific research in his artistic practice. For example, she uses her own quantum computing code to manipulate and animate digital images of watercolor paintings. So Heaney’s years in science while saving money for art school were by no means wasted.
But Heaney hesitates to present his story as a template for success. “The ability of working-class people to take risks – whether by going to art school [where an aspiring artist crucially discovers peers and mentors and develops their credentials]or doing less business is much less compared to people who have existing financial support, such as family wealth,” he says. “How likely is it that other working-class people would take a circuitous route into the arts to reduce financial risks?”
Others take a more spontaneous approach. Arjan de Nooy, who lives and works in The Hague, is a photographer and award-winning punter; This year we witnessed the publication of the photography book called Photology. At university in the 1980s, Nooy studied chemistry and art history. He was already interested in photography but eventually graduated with a master’s degree in chemistry and then a doctorate. While working at the patent office, his interest in making art increased. He was in his late 30s when he made the impulsive decision to enroll in the photography program at the Royal Academy of Arts in The Hague in 2004. “It was a decision made out of curiosity rather than a conscious plan to become a professional artist,” he tells me. “Since I knew very little about the ‘art world,’ I was mainly interested in meeting like-minded people.”
De Nooy graduated in 2009. Like Heaney, he found that his scientific training enriched his approach to art-making. “I always felt there wasn’t much difference between the way I worked as an organic chemist and the way I worked as a photographer,” she says. “I tend to combine existing knowledge to obtain new knowledge.” He makes extensive use of “found photography” and collage in his books and exhibitions, for which he has a large collection of historical photographs.
Fifteen years into his photography career, De Nooy agrees with Heaney that lack of financial resources is the biggest obstacle for most artists; And not just in terms of funding for the university. “I know very few artists who make a living solely from their own work,” she says. He says you need a combination of skill and serendipity to support your career; meeting the right people at the right time, winning awards or receiving grants. “If you can write a solid grant application, that’s also an advantage,” she adds.
But sometimes the obstacles are as much psychological as they are practical. Making creative work and showing it to the world is an extremely delicate experience. Helen Downie, who lives in London, produces works under the name Unskilled Worker, a reference to her lack of formal art training, and did not complete her first adult painting until the age of 48. I was an artist but I had somehow forgotten along the way,” she says. She once considered enrolling at the University of Creative Arts in Epsom, but was unable to do so. “My life got pretty chaotic, and it wasn’t until I was 48 that things suddenly calmed down and my mind made room to start.”
In 2013, at the suggestion of a friend of his son, Downie uploaded an image of the first painting he painted as an adult—a portrait of a dark-haired woman with large red lips and almond eyes—to Instagram. She then says: “Once I started, I couldn’t stop.” His following grew, and two years later his expressive, boldly colored portraits caught the attention of the fashion and art worlds. He was hired by fashion photographer Nick Knight to produce illustrations for the website. Since then, orders have continued to arrive for brands such as Gucci and Vogue, as well as for art museum and gallery exhibitions.
“There will always be many reasons not to start,” says Downie. “The conditions are not perfect: there is no space; there is no time; I left it too late. “The basis of it all is fear.” But once you get started, he finds, it’s much easier to maintain creative momentum. Another strategy is to not take yourself too seriously so that the fear doesn’t come back. “I deceive myself into not paying any attention to what I’m doing. I tell myself: ‘I’m just playing, I’m just playing.‘”
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It is remarkable that each of these artists knew what they wanted to do when they were young. In order to re-route into adulthood, they had to find a way to give up adult behavior by going back to school or simply allowing them to play without restrictions. This is perhaps good advice for all of us. Artist Grayson Perry agrees, inviting everyone in the country to try their hand at art-making through his popular quarantine TV series Grayson’s Art Club. “The biggest obstacles to being creative are the fear of making mistakes and not being able to trust one’s intuition,” he tells me. “Just keep going and going; “No one can make a masterpiece on the first try.”