Terrible Advice About Art School (And Why I Was Wrong)

Time Well Wasted: On Giving Terrible Art School Advice

A few months ago, my niece asked if she should go to art school.
Without even thinking, I said, “Oh my god, no. Don’t do it. Waste of time. Just paint.”

And honestly? I believed it when I said it.
Art school felt like a detour in my own story—expensive, impractical, and not what actually made me an artist. I learned more by doing, failing, and starting over than I ever did in a classroom.

But lately I’ve been chewing on that moment.

Because who the hell am I to tell her not to go?
Just because my road had potholes doesn’t mean hers will. I’m almost fifty. She’s at the starting line. She might go to art school and find her people. Or her purpose. Or, hell, her future spouse. She might even hate it—but that’s her lesson to learn, not mine to block.

Maybe I’m Just Old and Jaded. Or Maybe I’m an Ass.

Yeah, I said it.
Who tells a young artist not to chase their dream? Who just casually shits on someone’s spark? Apparently—me.

And I didn’t mean it in a cruel way. I meant it in a been-there, done-that, save-your-money kid kind of way. But the truth is, art school gives you something most of us don’t have anymore: dedicated time to make art.
Twenty-four hours a day, surrounded by people just as obsessed as you are.
That kind of focus? You can’t buy it back once real life starts stacking up around you.

And to make matters worse—I know better. I know several insanely successful illustrators and animators who built their entire careers off those years in school alongside me. So what was I even thinking? How very myopic and self-centered of me.

Is Art School Worth It, or Just Expensive Therapy?

Here’s the thing: art school isn’t the enemy. It’s just one path.
Some people thrive in structure. Others and this was year 2 of Sheridan College for me, not so much.
Most of us need both.

When I look back, I realize college gave me more than a degree.
It gave me friendships I still have, memories I wouldn’t trade, and yes—my husband.
I didn’t party. I didn’t even “find myself.” But it was still a chapter I wouldn’t erase.

So maybe my advice was garbage.

Or maybe it was just incomplete.

Becoming an Artist: No Map, Just Mileage

The art world loves rules—degrees, galleries, credentials. But becoming an artist isn’t a checklist.
Some people learn best in critique rooms. Others in basements or between kids naps.
All paths are valid. Each make art.

To My Niece (and Anyone Standing at the Crossroads)

Go. Don’t go.
Just don’t let some jaded cynic like me talk you out of your future. I’m basically the old lady yelling at clouds over here.

If you want to try it—try it. Love it, hate it, whatever. Just live it so you never wonder what might’ve been.

Turns out, the years I thought I “wasted” were actually the ones that made me who I am. And honestly? I’m doing pretty damn good.

Go make your mess. I’ll be over here making mine.

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