I was recently meeting my web designer to talk through changes to my website. He also happens to be part-owner of a fine wine shop, so we decided to meet there, enjoy a glass of wine and some cheese, and talk work.
At one point, a friend of his walked in. I was introduced as an artist, and it was mentioned that we were enjoying some wine while discussing my site.
It was a small moment, but it connects to a wider misconception — that being an artist is hard work only some of the time, or not at all.
His response was, “Well, that’s what artists do.”
It was said half-jokingly. I laughed it off at the time, but if I’m honest, the comment stayed with me. It irritated me more than I expected, because it taps into a stereotype that still refuses to disappear — the idea that artists don’t really work.
The Lazy Artist Myth
There’s a persistent belief that artists spend their days drifting between coffee shops, galleries and long lunches. That creativity simply happens. That art appears without effort, structure or pressure.
I’ve written before about this kind of thinking — particularly the idea that you can’t call yourself an artist unless you’re selling your work — and how damaging those beliefs can be to confidence and identity.
I understand where the stereotype comes from. Art looks expressive and emotional. From the outside, it doesn’t resemble “work” in the way spreadsheets, meetings or deadlines do.
But that assumption couldn’t be further from the truth.
In reality, artists — at least those who take their work seriously — are often some of the hardest working people you’ll meet.
Being an artist is hard work, even if it doesn’t always look like it from the outside.
What People Don’t See
Painting is only a fraction of what my working day involves. It’s the visible part — the bit people recognise as “the work”.
Behind that sits everything else.
An artist today also has to be a photographer, videographer, marketer, content creator, salesperson, administrator, strategist and, at times, delivery driver. Every finished piece has to be photographed, edited, uploaded, priced, described, promoted, packaged, shipped and followed up.
There’s no department to pass things to. No team waiting in the background.
If it doesn’t get done, it simply doesn’t happen.
Treating Art Like a Job
A successful artist friend of mine once said something that has always stuck with me:
“If you want to make this work, you have to treat it like a full-time job — at least 9 to 5.”
He’s right.
There’s a romantic idea that creativity only works when it’s free and unstructured, but consistency rarely comes from waiting for inspiration. It comes from showing up, day after day, whether you feel like it or not.
For me, that also meant creating a proper working environment — something I touched on when I wrote about building a studio at home. (Internal link → Why I Built a Garden Art Studio)
I paint during the day as if it’s my job — because it is my job.
But that’s only part of it.
The Work Doesn’t Stop at 5pm
When people with traditional 9 to 5 jobs finish for the day, there’s often a clear mental switch-off.
For me, that’s usually when the second part of the day begins.
Evenings are spent posting and responding on social media, sending invoices, updating my website, planning content, sketching ideas and thinking about what needs to happen next.
There’s rarely a clean break.
The work just shifts form.
The Invisible Weight of Creative Work
One of the hardest parts of being an artist isn’t physical effort — it’s mental.
There’s always something unfinished. Always something that could be improved. Always a decision waiting.
What should I paint next?
Is this working?
Is this the right direction?
What needs to change?
That internal dialogue doesn’t switch off. It sits quietly in the background, even when you’re trying to rest.
Corporate Life vs Creative Life
Before becoming a full-time artist, I worked in marketing, climbing the corporate ladder and earning decent money.
The structure was clear: start at 9, finish at 5, go home.
Once the laptop closed, the responsibility stayed at work.
As an artist, there is no such boundary.
Your work is personal. Your progress is personal. And whether things move forward or stall is largely down to you.
That difference is hard to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it.
Why Artists Often Work Harder Than People Realise
In today’s digital world, artists don’t just compete locally — they compete globally.
Visibility takes effort. Consistency takes discipline. Momentum takes time.
There’s no guaranteed income. No steady pay cheque. No safety net.
And yet artists keep showing up — not because it’s easy, but because the work matters.
Rethinking What “Work” Looks Like
The idea that artists don’t work usually comes from measuring work by what’s familiar.
But work doesn’t always look like meetings and emails.
Sometimes it looks like thinking. Planning. Experimenting. Failing quietly. Starting again.
From the outside, it might look relaxed.
In reality, it’s anything but.
It’s Not What You Think It Is
So yes — I may occasionally drink wine while talking about my work.
But I’ll also be back in the studio the next morning. And the morning after that. And the evening too.
Because being an artist isn’t about doing nothing.
It’s about showing up — again and again — even when no one sees it.
