Who really gets to be an artist

It has nothing to do with talent.

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What makes someone an artist?

I don’t think it has anything to do with a paintbrush or, dare I say it—even talent.

An artist is someone who tries to bring a little more of themselves into the world.

It’s the kind of person who thinks, “You know what? I want to make something new here, even if it might all go horribly wrong.”

You become an artist by daring to show up differently.

Charlie Chaplin was an artist. He made people laugh without saying a word. That’s artistry.

Jonathan Ive, the guy who designed the iPod, is an artist. He took something functional and made it beautiful. That’s artistry.

Marie Kondo is an artist. She took something as mundane as tidying and turned it into a movement—a way for people to reconnect with themselves. She made folding socks an art form!

Or take Dominique Crenn, a chef who reimagines recipes. She’s not thinking, “How do I make this perfect?” She’s thinking, “How do I make this me?”

Every time you step out of your comfort zone and think, “What if I tried it my way?” you’re tapping into artistry.

If you’re doing that in your field—whether that’s business, teaching, engineering—you’re an artist.

Every time you’ve “winged it,” solved a problem in a way no one else would’ve thought of, or put a bit of yourself into something, you were doing the work of an artist.

Why do people get all tense when someone calls themselves an artist?

I’ll tell you why: it’s because calling yourself an artist means you’re claiming space.

It means you’re putting your hand up and saying, “Yes, I create, I show up, I dare.”

And that’s intimidating for people who see labels as exclusive and sacred.

But really, you don’t need validation from some pretentious gatekeeper who thinks artistry is all about berets and tortured souls.

Because you don’t do it for the applause.

You create because you can’t help it.

Because in those moments, you’re connecting with something bigger.

And if you’ve ever felt that quiet satisfaction of making something, even if no one else “gets it,” then you know what I mean.