Learning to Call Myself an Artist
There is a saying I come back to often:
All children are artists, until they are told they are not.
I think about that a lot, because calling myself an artist has not always come easily to me. Even now, there are moments when imposter syndrome creeps in and whispers that the word ‘artist’ feels too formal to apply to me.
When that happens, I remind myself of the truth: I have been an artist since I could first hold a crayon.
I drew constantly as a child. I made things instinctively, without questioning whether they were good or valuable or worthy of a title. Creating was simply how I understood the world. Nothing about that disappeared just because I grew older.
So I actively fight the urge to disqualify myself. I say the word anyway. I claim it gently but firmly. Because there is nothing wrong with calling yourself what you are.
Creating Without Permission
I still take art classes.
When I do, I make a conscious decision to create freely. I allow myself to work without judging whether something is “good” or not. I try things. I experiment. I let myself follow instinct instead of outcome.
If I don’t like how something turns out, I don’t show anyone. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth making in the first place.
I notice that some of the other students don’t feel that same freedom. They put pressure on every piece to be successful, to be polished, to be worthy of being called art. And that pressure holds them back. I see people restart paintings over and over, never actually finishing them.
That mindset feels familiar, because it’s something many of us are taught. That art has to be perfect to be valid. That if it isn’t good, it somehow shouldn’t exist.
But art has never worked that way.
Art lives in the mess. In the attempts. In the willingness to keep going even when the result is uncertain. That freedom is where creativity actually thrives.
Art Is Not One Thing
I believe everyone is an artist at something.
Some people are artists in the garden, coaxing life from the soil. Some are artists with engines, shaping metal and motion. Some sculpt their bodies through movement and discipline. Some create beauty through care, ritual, or problem-solving.
Who decides what counts as art?
To me, art is the human urge to shape chaos into meaning. To take what exists and arrange it with intention. To leave a trace of yourself behind.
By that definition, art is everywhere. And fashion has always been one of its most enduring forms.
The Beauty of Process
Designing clothing follows this same artistic rhythm.
The first fit sample almost never fits perfectly. That is not a failure. It is just the beginning. You make adjustments. You refine proportions. You tweak details. You keep going until the piece becomes what it was meant to be.
That process is part of the art.
Perfection is not the starting point. It is the result of patience, iteration, and care. The willingness to sit with something unfinished and trust that clarity will come.
With my pastel paintings, there is always a long stretch where the work looks ugly. That ugly phase is deeply uncomfortable, because the entire time I’m thinking this is going in the wrong direction, it should look better than this by now.
But I keep going. I add more layers of color. I refine shapes. I move into finer and finer details. And then, almost without noticing when it happens, I step back and realize it no longer looks that ugly.
I return to the drawing board and add even more layers, more nuance, more care. When I step back again, it feels even further from where it began. Eventually, the piece reaches a point where it feels complete. And it’s always a little astonishing to remember that something which looked so wrong for so long could become something beautiful.
This is one of the reasons I love slow, intentional fashion so deeply. It embraces the long arc of making.
An Invitation
If this way of thinking resonates with you, if you believe creativity belongs to everyone and that art lives as much in process as it does in outcome, I invite you to stay close.
The Collector’s List is where I share early access to limited editions, private releases, and quiet moments from behind the making — from artwork and fabric decisions to fit development and final presentation.
There is no pressure here. Only an open door.
This reflection continues in Part II, where I look outward toward history, craftsmanship, and the long lineage of makers that fashion belongs to.
You can read Part II here: Clothing as Fine Art Part II: Honoring a Human History of Making