This Studio Note is about why a career in art is going to take time. I think it’s common to find someone on the internet when they’re already successful and think that it happened overnight, but in the majority of cases, it didn’t.

I remember reading a book a few years ago about how people expect things to be instant. Instant food, instant communication, instant success. They want things and they’re not prepared to wait. But speaking from my own experience, where the success I have now has taken 15 years to achieve, I can honestly say there is so much beauty, power and reward with letting things unfold over time.

I want to take you through some reasons why taking the slow approach is best.

You create more authentic work.

I have a copycat. She lives on the other side of Australia and copies not just my paintings but my entire painting process and social media offering. I’ve wrestled with this a lot and even engaged a lawyer, but the more I’ve sat with it, the more I’ve realised she is completely missing the point of art making. In her efforts to become ‘successful’ as quickly as possible, she has chosen to copy someone else’s work, rather than taking the time to find her own voice. What she doesn’t realise is that everyone can see it. Her work doesn’t feel authentic and if you’re copying another artists work just to try and get successful as quickly as possible, then you’ll never really know what honest accomplishment feels like. By allowing yourself time to explore, try, grow and fail, you become more sure that when you do offer something to the world, it is yours completely, and there is so much reward in that. You will feel authentic, and authenticity matters.

You learn the value of a dollar.

It is a great skill to be frugal and know the importance of a few dollars. I am eternally grateful that I was never given lump sums of cash, never bank rolled by someone else and always encouraged to make it work for myself. There was at least 11 years where I ate bags of carrots and tins of tuna for lunch, worked multiple jobs like nannying or making beds in an hospital and purchased the bare minimum to afford art supplies. To have a career in the arts, there is often a lot you must sacrifice. I think this is important because it filters out the people who like the idea of it vs the people that really, really want it. It’s an uncomfortable road. If it were easy, everyone would do it and it wouldn’t be special anymore.

Let’s say someone in your life gives you a studio for 5 years and $50,000 a year to create work. If you’re still working out your style and offering, this would be intensely overwhelming, because technically you’d have no reason not to be successful other than that your work isn’t very good. As opposed to working the side jobs, saying no to overseas holidays, thrifting clothing, making it all work with whatever funds you can scrounge up.

When careers grow slowly and you pay your own way, happily learning skills over time and fine tuning your offering, success will feel magical. It will feel honest, worked for and genuine.

Taking all the credit for your success because you were willing to sacrifice, weren’t given a free ride and learnt the power of frugality makes that success so much sweeter.

Life experience leads to better work

I spent most of my twenties heartbroken. I had a boyfriend that I wanted it to work out with so badly. It broke me time and time again until I realised he wasn’t meant for me. That sometimes the things we love and desire, are simply put in front of us to learn valuable life lessons. The repeated heartbreak made me stronger, more curious about myself, more aware of my blind spots. It showed me the wounds I needed to heal from and areas I needed to grow, and because of that I believe I was not only able to withstand the storms of an art career, but understand that the heartbreak gave my work substance. Art and love go hand in hand, but so do art and heartbreak, (maybe even more so?)

When you’re not out there living your life, what will you have to paint about? You can’t paint about nature living in an apartment in the city. Nor can you paint about heartache if you’ve never felt it. The accumulation of experiences is what makes for full and authentic work. Experiences like these happen over large expanses of time, not a single trip to a rainforest or a crush that never eventuated to anything. So please, spend time living and worrying less about ‘making it big’ or going viral.

It takes time to know yourself.

I really thought I had it all worked out at 22. I was prepared to become a mum, I’d had a swimwear label that I didn’t want to continue, I painted or illustrated here and there. But the truth is the time between 22 and 32 was a time for significant growth, and I’m sure with each decade that passes I’ll feel the same.

If I were in my twenties wishing for a career in art, I’d focus less on the art and more on living my life and working out who I am. I’d do exactly as I did; painted on my mums dining table, worked countless side jobs, travelled, read books (important!), got my heart broken, moved house 300 times and formed the most beautiful friendships a person could ask for. I partied, I did yoga, I ran, I cleansed, I applied for 8 university degrees I never started. And I’d do it all again because all those things have got me closer to discovering my authentic self; a vital ingredient for honest art making.

Who I am at 35, is very different to who I was at 25, and I have no doubt that 45 will bring a new offering entirely. Allowing your work to grow alongside you is a beautiful thing.

Learning new skills takes time.

Even if you’re one of the lucky ones with an insane amount of talent, you need a variety of skills for an art career; especially a self managed one. I’m going to speak from own experience here, because it’s all I’ve got, but I never trained in art. I studied fashion design and quit half way through second year. I’ve always been ‘studious’ and had a proficiency for creative writing and entrepreneurship, so the business side of my work has come naturally. It’s fine tuning my painting style that required years of development. For others, the opposite is often true. They have all the talent in the world for expressing their ideas, but no clue how to turn that into a business. Whichever way you spin it, learning the skills you aren’t proficient in, takes time. If you’re a self directed learner like I am, there won’t be a single course that will teach you better than trying and failing. For some reason people seem so scared of that nowadays?

I once posted a reel on materials I use; it was my most saved reel ever. I deleted it because one, I think many copycats felt it was permission to copy my work (which it absolutely wasn’t,) and two, it made me sad to think people so desperately wanted the cheat sheet. It is MAGICAL to discover what works for you. Don’t waste time looking over your shoulder, obsessing over someone else’s work and content. You are you, and your gifts and offerings are unique and special - don’t try to be like someone else!

I think I got off track, but my point is, learn the skills you need to learn through trial and error. Learn them over years not months or weeks. Allow your practise to grow as slowly as a tree.

I think that might be all from me for now.

Please let me know if you found this helpful, or if there are some different topics I can cover that you’d find valuable.

Sara xx

Please note: I don’t use AI for Substack, so there may be spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. I’d rather be imperfect and real, than perfect and artificial, wouldn’t you?

I’d been drawn to fashion since I was around 14, so it felt natural to study fashion design straight after high school. I got halfway through my diploma before deciding to leave as I was only attending my drawing and textiles classes. Studying can be really difficult when you have an entrepreneurial spirit. So I left.

At the time, I was working in retail and nannying, which gave me just enough income to buy basic art supplies. I set up a small space at my parents’ house and started painting and drawing, mostly in a fashion illustration style, I had no plan. Recognising my love for drawing, surface design, and a desire to build something of my own, I decided (somehow) that a swimwear label at 21 would be a good idea.

When I say I had no idea what I was doing, I mean it. I created some Australian botanical-inspired placement prints, hired a production manager who didn’t understand my vision, and pushed ahead with getting a range made in Bali.

That swimwear label ended up costing me around $30,000 to get off the ground (funded by nannying jobs). It was picked up as a new label at Perth Fashion Festival and stocked in 3–4 boutiques. Overall, a success? Maybe. But I could see I wasn’t going to make money for years, and the creative part made up about 10% of the job. So, no second season. But a lot of lessons learned.

From there, I did an array of side jobs while trying to build momentum as an “illustrator.” (I definitely didn’t call myself an artist yet.) I said yes to things that scared the hell out of me, like live painting in shopping centres and murals for site activations. I have vivid memories of lugging a huge box of paints through crowds. I began very small.

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Hi, I’m Sara.
(not Sarah)

I’m an abstract artist based in Western Australia. You may follow me on Instagram or Tiktok for my paintings, my studio process, or the little glimpses I share of being a mother alongside it all.

But Substack I want to bring you something a little different.

Instagram certainly has its place; snapshots, reels, and life in the studio. But lately, I’ve felt the need for a different kind of space. Somewhere I can share what I’ve learnt over the years.

It dawned on me one day that I have over a decade of discoveries, not just in painting, but in art. In self-doubt. Burnout. Purpose. Money. Progress. Boundaries. The pressure to share more than I want to. The real, often invisible, costs of building a creative life.

And it feels like a shame not to share it.

I know I would’ve lived off every word of something like this when I was starting out. I would’ve clung to the honesty, the ‘behind-the-scenes’ no one was really talking about.

So this is where I’ll share those parts. Not the how-to. Not the perfect version. Just the real stuff…. for those who are building something too, and want to feel less alone while doing it.

More soon,
Sara x

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