So... Should You Call Yourself an Artist (or Writer, or Whatever)?
If you're a multifaceted creative, these labels can be a little tricky. Here’s one way to look at them – and why they may or may not be the right fit right now.
Welcome (or welcome back!) to Multifaceted, a weekly newsletter about finding delight and direction in a creative life made up of many different interests.
I originally published this piece last spring — before I really had anyone to share it with here on Substack. It’s based on a lightbulb moment that has helped me make sense of all the creative labels out there.
Anyone can be an artist or writer — no fancy diploma or pedigree required. But sometimes those lauded labels don’t feel right when we try them on. Here’s my take on why that might be.
Raise your hand if you’re one of these people:
First, there’s the person who frantically Googles “Am I an artist?” after spending way more money than they intended at Blick. (Hey, it happens.)
Then there’s the person who laments to their friends over novelist-inspired cocktails, “Can I really call myself a writer?” And that’s after celebrating their latest (paid!) publication.
Finally, there’s the person who squirms around awkwardly whenever they hear, “I didn’t know you’re a painter; you’re so good! Why don’t you sell your work?”
I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been all three of those people at different points along my own creative journey. As creative humans, we're all searching for the right words to express ourselves. We all just want to be understood.
So, why do these pesky little labels get under our skin so much?
As someone who gets a little obsessed with words and what they mean, I’ve finally found a way of looking at these “creative person” labels that I hope will make sense to someone on the fence.
It’s all about seeing the differences between what somebody is creating and what somebody is.
Spot the difference: “I’m singing” versus “I’m a singer”
They’re two statements that feel pretty similar – but they couldn’t be more different.
The first statement tells us that you’re using your voice to make music. You’re singing!
We don’t know how often or how seriously you’re doing it, though. You might sing “happy birthday” on Saturday night, belt out a few hits in the shower on Sunday morning, and keep quiet for the rest of the week. Or, you could be on tour with a chart-topping band.
It doesn’t matter. When we hear you say “I’m singing,” what we know is that you’re actively creating.
The second statement – “I’m a singer” – clues us into something beyond the act of creation. Now, we’re getting into the territory of labels and identities.
Here’s the thing about these kinds of labels, though. They don't just describe what you do. They tell us about your role and who you are in relation to other people.
We can all agree that you’re a daughter or son (to your parents). You might also be a client (to your accountant) or an employee (to your supervisor).
It wouldn’t make much sense to use those labels without the parties on the other side of the relationship, would it?
In other words, when you’re using creative labels like “I am [an artist, a writer, or a fill-in-the-blank-er],” you’re saying your creative actions have some kind of significance to other people. And that’s pretty cool!
Try it on for size and swap out the details based on what’s relevant to you.
Kelly is a singer (to her listeners).
Joe is a writer (to his readers).
Tori is a designer (to her clients).
These relationships often extend to broader spaces and communities. Sometimes, there may also be a commercial or transactional element. And it’s natural for other people to wonder if they can learn more and maybe even get involved.
If someone says they are a photography instructor, where do they teach, and can you take a class?
If they say they are a dancer, where can you see them perform?
If they say they are a poet, where can you find their work?
These words reflect identities. But, more than that, they signify roles and relationships.
Sprinkling in some outside perspective
I recently skimmed The Practice: Shipping Creative Work. It’s a tiny little book that’s jam-packed with perspectives on art and creativity.
Throughout it, author Seth Godin defines art as a generous act. A contribution. Something that changes another person.
He makes a good point: If you want your work to have an impact on other people, you can’t really keep it hidden away. Instead, you need to be intentional about forging relationships. That way, there’s someone else – maybe even a community of someone elses – on the other side of the creative label you’re using.
That’s not your only option, though.
By all means, create and explore in private to your heart’s content! I do it all the time. Just consider that it might feel a lot more natural to say what activity you’re doing (“I’m writing fiction” or “I’m painting with watercolors”) instead of labeling your role in the world (“I am a writer” or “I am a watercolorist”).
The latter phrases can feel out of place when your work isn't out there for other people to consume. And, despite what social media (or Seth Godin) would have us think, not every outcome of your creative practice needs to be “shipped” or shared.
Finding the right expression
When you’re trying to explain your creative practice to other people, your choice of language matters.
It’s hardly ever easy to put yourself out there, no matter what stage you’re at in your journey. But it can be a little easier when you feel like you’re expressing yourself authentically. After all, authentic expression helps pave a path to understanding – for yourself and others.
So, let’s break it down one more time:
I am ___.
Saying “I am an artist” suggests a relationship with some kind of outside community or audience. It’s reasonable for others to assume there are observers and even customers out there engaging with your work.
Don’t be surprised if people show enthusiasm. They might ask about how to buy your work. Maybe they’ll suggest getting a booth at the local art fair to promote your stuff. Now you know why!
I’m creating ___.
Saying “I’m creating art” suggests that you have a creative practice going. But it may be something you’re exploring for yourself. Your work may not be out there for public consumption – at least not right now.
This can be a helpful way of celebrating process rather than product. Plus, you’ll have an easier time side-stepping commercial questions that aren’t relevant to what you’re doing.
Which phrase feels right to you right now?
Whether you prefer to say “I’m making ceramics” or “I’m a ceramicist” – whether you tell people “I’m writing” or “I’m a writer” – it’s totally up to you. And it’s natural that your use of expression might change over time, depending on what’s going on in your creative practice.
If you’re struggling with these types of labels and definitions, reflect on what creative relationship(s) you’re in. Are there other people – audience members, customers, readers, clients – on the other side? Or are you primarily creating for yourself?
It's easy to let yourself and others devalue your creative practice just because there's no money and audience involved, but there’s equal value in both types of practice.
The inherent value in whatever you're doing is so much easier to see and celebrate when you can describe it in a way that feels good to you and makes sense to other people.
Either way, when you know what you’re actually saying, you’ll know why one phrase or the other feels downright weird – or just right.
Thanks for sharing this Jess, such a great perspective and way of looking at creative labels! I can absolutely comfortably claim all the actions - I am doing xyz- so much more comfortable than I am a writer etc. Great read 💛💛
You hit the nail on the head in how you differentiated the "ing" activity from the "er" person. Also, the "er" person considers the label as part of their identity. I can paint, but there is no way I'd consider myself a painter.