Dear Artists, 

I want you to know that I see you. I see the work you’ve been putting in, and what it takes to live this life you’ve defined for yourself. And I’m really talking about the work behind the work that most people get to see, and all that it takes to turn a creative practice into a creative life or career: the drive and dedication you have to continue working towards something that is hard to explain or define, and unfolding only as you begin to move closer toward it. The self- motivation and self-accountability to see your ideas become a reality. 

I was both excited at the idea of writing a letter that spoke to artists everywhere, and then intimidated as the perceived magnitude of the task began to set in. And then I thought that, actually, this described the ethos of being an artist quite well—the mixture of faith and enthusiasm and uncertainty and criticality that artists are somehow able to hold space for simultaneously. That “blank canvas” feeling we bring to our work and life, and continually seek out in search of an idea, a fleeting experience or feeling, an answer to a question, or a better question. 

For inspiration, I went back and listened to MacArthur fellow Teresita Fernández’s 2013 commencement speech on “what it really takes to be an artist,” and while it didn’t make my task of writing this letter any easier, I found it highly inspiring for the way she so beautifully describes the process of feeling your way into the future, and learning to sit with and navigate ambiguity and the unknown. I highly recommend everyone give it a listen. 

What I really wanted to do here is just acknowledge all of the unseen work of being an artist. And all of the small and big sacrifices you’ve made in service of orienting your life around your creative work (because it is work), and to this ever-evolving, sometimes hard to justify, nonlinear lifestyle or career... 

...from prioritizing hours spent in the studio contemplating marks on a piece of paper or just thinking about ideas, without always coming away with something tangible—meanwhile there are a million other things to do or people to take care of—and that seem frivolous when measured by today’s standards of productivity. 

...or the decision to add passion projects or side hustles on to your already full schedule, so it always feels like you’re working multiple jobs... 

...to come home from your day job and switch into artist mode, or to choose jobs or careers that don’t always make sense to your family or peers so you can give yourself the flexibility of spending more time on your creative work... 

...of making financial sacrifices, delaying things like homeownership or having kids, or going out on the weekends, to re-invest in your work, or just be able to afford studio supplies... 

...to forego social gatherings in favor of time alone in the studio, or to meet goals or deadlines you’ve set for yourself... 

...to fill up your nights and weekends installing a show, or researching materials, or crafting an application, writing a proposal, rewriting an artist statement, updating a website, and the list goes on. 

To call it a hobby falls far flat of the reality, and we all know to make it a career takes time, money, energy, and resources stretched out over long periods of time. 

This is not to say that the life you have dreamed of is not possible or that it isn’t realistic to have or do all of these things and live a creatively fulfilling life, but to acknowledge the level of faith and understanding it takes to trust in your own instincts and process. 

How you work quietly without fanfare or recognition, because you’ve decided this thing you’re making is important enough to you to keep working towards. And is worth the amount of time invested working in obscurity, the endurance, the seasonal flow of work, and the long- standing faith in a future reality or vision. 

And I know you have what it takes to get there, because you approach your work with equal amounts of confidence and vulnerability, because you solve problems in the studio that others wouldn’t think to ask, and you are creative, resourceful, adaptable. These are highly valued skills that extend far beyond your work in the studio, but you dear artist possess. Because artists are uncommonly good at navigating uncertainty, sitting with ambiguity, and I hope you continue to embrace the unknown in favor of your work and vision, with the knowledge that you are capable of solving whatever problem is in front of you, of inventing your own reality, finding a way to get to where it is you want to go, and have the resistance to keep rerouting course whenever the road isn’t as straightforward as you hoped, even if it takes longer than you thought, because Success = Persistence. 

I’ve been working for 8 years and feel like I’m only just starting to see the fruits of my labor—relationships started 4, 5 years ago just now coming to fruition or manifesting in concrete opportunities. It takes time. 

Trust in yourself. Trust in the process. 

Because we need examples of people who have been so bold as to live a creative life, and remind us of the emotional, intuitive, feeling sides of ourselves. 

To pull a quote from the intro of Andrew Simonet’s book “Making Your Life as an Artist:” “Thank you. Thank you for making your work. Thank you for choosing to be an artist. It’s incredibly important that you do it. And that you make it sustainable.” 

I see you. I believe in you. I admire you. 
With love, your secret admirer, 

Nicole Mueller 

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Website: www.nicolemueller.com
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Podcast: Beyond the Studio