There’s a strange hesitation around the word artist.
People will say:
“I paint.”
“I take photos.”
“I make things.”
“I’m creative.”
But they stop just short of the word itself.
As though “artist” is something handed out by a panel somewhere.
As if there’s a test.
A level.
A permission slip.
I’ve noticed how uncomfortable I can be with it too. When it comes to explaining what it is I do, I hesitate.
Not because I don’t create.
Not because I don’t spend hours painting, photographing, editing, thinking, learning, doubting, trying again.
But somewhere along the way, many of us learned that being an artist only counts if it’s profitable, impressive, consistent, or validated by someone else, not to mention the stereotypes attached to what an “artist” is supposed to look like
If your work hangs in galleries.
If people buy it.
If you went to art school.
If you’re confident enough.
If you’re fearless enough.
If you’ve “made it.”
And if you haven’t done all those things?
You feel like a fraud for even considering the title.
The strange thing is, I would never look at someone else creating with honesty and tell them they aren’t an artist yet.
I wouldn’t look at someone covered in paint, trying again after ruining a canvas, staying up late editing photos, carrying ideas around in their head constantly, and say:
“Come back when you’re more legitimate.”
But we say it to ourselves all the time.
Maybe because calling yourself an artist feels vulnerable.
The moment you say it out loud, it feels like people might start judging not just what you make, but you as well.
Your taste.
Your talent.
Your right to take up space.
For a long time, I think I believed artists were people who created effortlessly.
People untouched by self-doubt.
People who knew exactly who they were.
But the more artists I meet, the more I realise most of them are quietly questioning themselves too.
Some just create anyway.
And maybe that’s the difference.
Not perfection.
Not recognition.
Not numbers.
Not confidence.
Just the need to make something that didn’t exist before.
A painting because the feeling wouldn’t leave you alone.
A photograph because something in the light mattered.
A piece of work that had to be made, even if nobody fully understands it yet.
The other day I realised I’ve been doing my art this way, learning, experimenting, and practicing new techniques, for over 20 years. It’s strange how something can be so consistent in your life and still feel like it doesn’t “count” until you say it out loud.
But even with that, I still found myself questioning whether that was enough.
It counts!
Maybe you become an artist long before you feel ready to use the word.
Maybe the hesitation never fully disappears.
Maybe being an artist isn’t about certainty at all.
Maybe it’s simply about continuing to create, even while doubting yourself.
And if that’s true, then I think a lot more of us are artists than we realise.
With love and art,
Corinna Anne
A Little About Me
I’ve always believed in the power of creativity to connect us to ourselves and each other. I’ve seen firsthand how art can be a form of therapy. It can also be a mode of self-expression and a tool for personal growth. As a creative mentor, I strive to help others tap into that power to manage their mental well-being.
But here’s the twist: as much as I want to help others, I struggle with the same issues I’m guiding people through. There are days when I don’t feel like a “real” artist. There are moments when I wonder if anyone will ever like my work. There are times when my anxiety takes over and I procrastinate over everything.
Imposter Syndrome and Anxiety: My Silent Struggles
On one hand, imposter syndrome has been one of my biggest battles. I often catch myself thinking, “Who am I to teach others about creativity and mental well-being? I struggle with these things too!” It’s that nagging voice that says I’m not good enough, or that I’m just pretending to be an expert.
I know I’m not alone in this. Imposter syndrome affects so many artists and creatives, even those who have years of experience. It can feel like we’re all just faking it and waiting for someone to call us out. But the truth is, those thoughts are not facts—they’re fears, and I’m learning to challenge them.
On the other hand, Anxiety, comes with the fear of failing or not living up to expectations. There are times when I question my worth and wonder if my work will be accepted or appreciated. I push through those moments though, because I know that it’s not just about other people liking my work at all. It’s about me liking my work first.
How I Push Through the Struggles
I won’t lie: managing imposter syndrome and anxiety isn’t always easy. But here are some of the strategies I’ve developed along the way to help me overcome these obstacles and continue creating:
My Journey, My Wins
There have definitely been days where I wanted to throw in the towel. There are days when anxiety stops me from picking up my camera or brush. But I’ve also had moments of breakthrough. I’ve created something I’m genuinely proud of and I’ve helped someone else push through their own creative blocks.
One of the biggest wins for me has been learning to step into my role as a mentor. Despite my fears, I’ve helped other artists and photographers manage their mental well-being through their own creativity. Seeing others make progress, watching them grow in confidence, and knowing that I played a small part in that is very rewarding .
You Are Not Alone
If you’re reading this and struggling with imposter syndrome or anxiety, I want you to know that you’re not alone. These feelings don’t define you, and they certainly don’t make you any less of an artist. In fact, acknowledging these struggles is the first step toward breaking free from them. Together, we can learn to push through the doubt and celebrate our creativity—imperfections and all.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, remember it’s okay to take a break, to be kind to yourself, and to ask for help. Whether that means seeking support from other creatives, finding a mentor, or simply giving yourself permission to step back and breathe. We’re all in this together, and we all deserve to create from a place of joy, not fear.
Thank you for being part of my journey. I’m excited to continue sharing my story, my struggles, and my wins with you. Let’s continue this journey of creative growth together, embracing vulnerability, and showing up for ourselves and each other.
With love and art,
Corinna Anne