There’s a side of being an artist that people don’t really talk about enough. The side where your mental health can slowly get tied to numbers, likes, engagement, sales, opportunities, and comparison. The side where you pour your heart into a painting, share it online, and somehow let the response to it affect how you feel about yourself. I’ve found myself in that place more times than I’d like to admit.
For a long time, I didn’t realize how much I was measuring my success through social media. If a post didn’t do well, I’d overthink it. If another artist sold work, landed a gallery opportunity, or seemed to be gaining momentum, I’d catch myself comparing my journey to theirs. And when certain opportunities didn’t work out for me, whether a roster was full, applications were closed, or it simply wasn’t the right fit, it was easy to internalize it and question myself.
Lately, though, I’ve been learning how important it is not to let those things define me.
That quote, “Comparison is the thief of joy,” may sound cliché, but I’ve realized there’s a lot of truth in it. Comparison has a way of shifting your focus away from your own growth and making you feel like you’re falling behind, even when you’re actually moving forward in your own way.
Social media especially can create this illusion that everyone else is constantly winning. You see the sold stickers, gallery announcements, packed workshops, and viral reels. What you don’t always see are the quiet moments behind the scenes — the doubt, rejection, burnout, and hard seasons that almost every artist experiences at some point.
Over the past year, I’ve really been trying to approach my art differently. I want to create work that genuinely means something to me. Paintings that connect with me on a deeper level and remind me why I fell in love with painting in the first place. Not work rushed for the algorithm or made just to keep up, but honest work with intention behind it. Quality over quantity.
I’ve also been learning the importance of slowing down and resting when I need to. For a while, I felt like I constantly needed to be producing, posting, and proving myself. But that nonstop mindset can quietly drain the joy out of creating if you’re not careful.
Most importantly, I’m learning not to hand my self-worth over to numbers on a screen. Likes and engagement don’t define my value as an artist or as a person, even though it can be easy to forget that sometimes.
I know these feelings probably won’t disappear overnight. There will still be moments where doubt creeps in or comparison sneaks its way back into my mind. But I’m getting better at recognizing it and choosing not to sit in it for too long. I’m learning to celebrate other artists without seeing their success as something that takes away from my own journey.
A friend once told me something that really stuck with me: my path isn’t supposed to look like anyone else’s. Success looks different for every artist. We may all be heading toward similar goals, but we’ll arrive there through different experiences, different timing, and different paths.
And honestly, I’m starting to see that maybe that’s the beauty of it all.
